Skinny Dipping (Skinny Sagas) Read online

  “She’s just shopping with him. She could be anyone… a friend, anyone,” Carol murmured, although Sophie could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

  Sophie dared a look over her shoulder. Of course they were together. The pair remained huddled over the Chanel counter. The least Derek could do was go out with someone with different taste to her.

  “If he felt anything for me, he would have explained to me what was going on there.” But why did she deserve that right? They had broken up. She just thought he might care, might respect her enough to explain, to try and reduce the pain throbbing in her chest.

  Sophie continued to rush towards the doors of the department store, swimsuit clutched in a grip of death. Carol looked concerned but stayed silent.

  “I think... well... I think he cheated on me,” Sophie finally gasped. “How did I ever trust him? How can I trust anyone ever again? He used my work as an excuse.” She cast another look in Derek’s direction – he was holding the girl’s hand. She felt physically sick.

  “He probably didn’t. He wouldn’t do that.”

  Their fingers were entwined, interlaced, together. “He did.”

  “He’s a dick,” Carol said.

  “Yeah. A dick.”

  “Let’s go buy this,” Carol muttered. In a zombie-like trance Sophie walked back to the swimsuit counter and paid. She didn’t even bother to try it on. What was the point in all the effort, when a guy just dumped you? Cheated on you? Who needed men anyway? How could you trust them with your heart? With your life? With your dreams, when they hurt you? That’s why they had artificial insemination; scorned women didn’t need men. Women needed to stick together.

  Sophie was shaking, thoughts racing through her mind. “Do you think I work too much?” she asked, clutching the bag with the new swimsuit. Was it her fault he cheated?

  “Yes,” Carol said softly, glancing at the bag. “And I’ve only known you a few days.”

  Sophie swallowed. “I love my job. That’s okay isn’t it?”

  “It depends on what the other person wants and how much time they want with you and visa-versa.”

  “Hmmm. Is it worth it do you think? Would you give up dancing?”

  Carol shrugged. “Depends on what you miss out on. Or who. But I probably wouldn’t. I’d probably try to find a partner more willing to compromise.”

  Sophie furrowed her brow. What exactly was the price of losing Derek? Her heart? But he’d ripped that out. So was it really her work that had ruined their relationship?

  She grasped the bag containing the red swimsuit. Her job couldn’t hurt her, not like the sensation now rippling through her. All the times he’d told her he loved her. Lies.

  “I do love my work,” Sophie muttered, mostly to herself, and as she walked with Carol to the tube she focused her thoughts, deciding to immediately email Matthew Silver. She was focusing on work, trying to think of anything other than Derek.

  A lump formed in her throat as she thought of the pretty girl next to him. Georgina. Fucking Georgina, fucking Derek. She’d left some of her things at Derek’s place. The mistake of an innocent, naïve woman. Not anymore.

  She felt dizzy, and clutching the swimsuit she asked Carol to hold on for a second and began to type into her smart phone. She needed to clear her head, to change somehow. Forget Derek.

  Maybe swimming lessons could help her.

  From: Sophie.Smart@ClarksAdvertisingAgency

  Sent: 05 October 2007 13:31

  To: Matthew.Silver@SilverSwimmingChain

  Subject: Swimming Proposition

  Hi Matthew,

  Just a quick note to say I have been thinking about the swimming proposition. I’ve shopped and if you’re serious then I’m good to go for the swimming lesson, although I’m absolutely petrified as I type this.

  Looking forward to hearing from you.

  Warm regards,

  Sophie Smart

  ***

  At the Highbury flat Sophie was alone: Carol was at her audition. There was a clattering on the front steps as Mickey arrived. Mickey was short for Michelle. Michelle Vermont. Mickey grew up idolising her brother Jack, who’d saddled her with the nickname ‘Mickey’. If someone dared call her Michelle, she’d clobber him or her with a mighty fist. She was feisty and not afraid to go after something she wanted. Once she’d made up her mind about something, it was very difficult to change her point of view. She knew exactly who she was and decided to open her very own coffee shop. Rather than taking the traditional route of work after university, she'd taken her business degree in one hand and started pulling cappuccinos with the other.

  “Are you okay?” Mickey asked as she hugged Sophie.

  Sophie struggled to disentangle herself from Mickey’s embrace. “Of course,” she snapped. “Come and look around.” Sophie knew that would be exactly what Mickey, always curious, would want.

  “You’ve been crying.” Mickey was direct as only she could be, her rich voice resonating around the house like she should have worked in theatre instead of making coffee.

  “I probably look awful.”

  “Ah, but you advertising gals all look like crap – it’s common knowledge,” Mickey teased. Her friend ran up the stairs, taking them two at the time, and yanked open Sophie’s bedroom door as Sophie chased her up. “Oh my God, how long have you been here again? You haven’t even unpacked.” Mickey shot Sophie a sharp stare, cutting through all her defences.

  “Only a few days really. Derek and I split.” It was time to face some truths.

  “I’ve brought wine.”

  “Wine would be good.”

  “Soph, why didn’t you call me? I could have helped you move. I could be more supportive if you felt you could tell me things like this. This is big, breaking up and moving out from your boyfriend’s place. You don’t have to do it alone. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “This isn’t about you. It’s about me, and I can tell people whenever I’m ready.”

  “Okay,” Mickey said carefully. “You must have been stressed out of your mind. You do know Soph, that I’m here to help. I’ve known you forever.”

  “I’m fine, I’m always fine. We weren’t meant to last anyway.” Sophie couldn’t bear to tell Mickey the humiliating truth that not only had they broken up, but that Derek had cheated and she hadn’t even known until afterwards.

  At that exact moment Carol returned from her audition, entering the flat and bounding up the stairs with her endless energy. “Sophie?” she called, stopping at the doorway to Sophie's bedroom, lowering her sunglasses as she saw Mickey.

  “Hello.” Carol extended her hand, becoming quite formal. “I’m Carol. Sophie’s flat mate. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Mickey.” They shook hands. “Nice to meet you too.”

  Sophie’s head darted between the two. Would they get along? They were distinct opposites. Carol was dressed in her flamboyant colours and Mickey in the designer clothes she always wore. Mickey had a passion for quality, evident from her store and the lengths she went to. She’d even gone to South America and distinguished herself from the average barista. She’d got right into coffee buying and even sourced coffee beans directly from the farm. She didn’t settle for second best and her position on quality didn’t falter when it came to clothing.

  Mickey wore black: velvet skinny jeans and a trendy frayed t-shirt. Everything was expensive and well made. Mickey’s red hair was tucked under a branded black baseball cap, and her pretty green eyes shone with amusement as she sized up Carol.

  Sophie ended the silence. “How’d the audition go, Carol?”

  “My car broke down and I missed it. I’m still unemployed, but there’s another audition next week,” Carol said.

  “That sucks.”

  Carol nodded. “Bloody cars.”

  “You’ll get something,” Sophie said. “Fingers crossed for next week.”

  “I suppose you’re here to help Sophie finally move in, and get over Derek the douche bag.”
r />   “Douche bag,” Mickey laughed. “Love it. He is a douche bag. I like you, Carol. Let’s both help Sophie settle in and get over him.”

  “Did she tell you about seeing Derek at the shops with his new super skinny blonde?”

  Mickey’s eyes settled on Sophie. “No.” Her voice changed, stern like steel.

  Sophie felt her face freeze, suddenly unable to meet her friend’s gaze. “It’s nothing. We don’t really know anything yet. He was buying Chanel perfume.”

  “Your favourite,” Mickey pointed out.

  “They were holding hands,” Carol insisted.

  The reality gripped her heart. “Yes.” Sophie admitted, refusing to cry. “They were holding hands. But we don’t really know if she… Georgina… was…. ” She couldn’t complete the sentence.

  “He was practically canoodling with the girl as soon as we turned our backs, the bastard,” Carol hissed.

  “There’s a lot Sophie doesn’t say.” Mickey said, and she and Carol both folded their arms, suddenly united. “Sophie, we’re here to help.”

  “But how can you help? You can’t undo it,” Sophie said. “Let’s not unpack.”

  “Let’s just get drunk,” Mickey suggested.

  Chapter 5

  A weekend of heavy drinking ended. Monday rolled into Tuesday, then Wednesday. Each day Sophie felt light-headed from lack of sleep. Dreams of Derek continued, but there was one significant change, a humiliating reminder. In her dreams Derek was accompanied by the gorgeous Georgina.

  Each morning a fresh surge of hope fuelled her. Her daily arrival at work would involve Sophie bolting through the office corridor with the red splattering motifs (Sophie thought they looked like psychiatrist’s ink blots) and past the kitchen. Her desk was near the ‘think tank’ of ideas: a whiteboard covered with coloured flash cards. She collapsed in her chair and opened her email. All week, there had been nothing from Derek.

  This morning, again, her inbox was empty.

  She was still expecting to have Georgina explained so that it all made sense. Maybe he’d just met her and hadn’t actually cheated….

  Today, it was hump day, Wednesday, and Jessica was the next to arrive in the office. She was a capable woman, not only was she Bradley Clark’s personal assistant, but had stepped up as the group secretary for no extra pay, being in the midst of a recession and all. Jessica was in her mid-twenties, and had recently started studying full time at London Metropolitan University. Although she was now a mature student, she was sharp as a knife, with intelligent, warm, brown eyes.

  Jessica’s enthusiasm reminded Sophie of herself when she had started at Clarks. She often assaulted Sophie with technical questions, asking for loads of help with her assignments to complete her degree. Usually Sophie didn’t mind.

  Today the student in Jessica was satisfied. Instead she was eager to impress and she started her own pitch.

  “I’m an advertising student and I could help you out.”

  Sophie nodded. “I have a client meeting in about an hour which I’ve got to prepare for. But after that, I promise to consider it.” She’d heard Jessica’s words before.

  “I can help you free up time,” Jessica reiterated.

  Jessica desperately wanted experience on campaigns. But Sophie would have to teach her, and time was important. Sophie was having a tough enough job holding onto her own career. “And Sophie you need my help so you can find some work-life balance. You need to find some time for that man of yours.”

  “I’m single now.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Jessica said and hurried back to her desk. Jessica was the group secretary and her desk sat outside Bradley’s doorway, with a view of the rest of the office. She began making personal phone calls and babbled like she usually did, which would continue throughout the day. Even over the sound of the whirring printer, Sophie could hear Jessica chatting idly. “Francine, you’ll never guess what she wore to the wedding….” Jessica was anything but discreet, her voice loud and strident.

  A mailman arrived and stood at Jessica’s desk, stacking packages like Santa Claus would under a tree. Jessica signed for the special deliveries and team post. She then flicked through the parcels, shaking envelopes and packages for simple amusement. Jessica swept her gaze over Sophie, in slow motion, shaking a large, rectangular-shaped box.

  Bradley’s door burst open.

  Jessica dropped the receiver in her hand and catapulted from her chair, a stack of papers in her arms as the rest of the office snapped into life with dramatic energy like actors performing on stage. Everyone was all too aware of Bradley and his dominating presence.

  Staff shouted across the office with great intensity. A girl burst into tears about something.

  Bradley scanned the floor and scowled. He was undeniably handsome; a little too handsome for his own good. His combination of super good looks, charm, and the fact he was the boss, ensured he wasn’t the easiest person to work with. He was incredibly moody, with a temper much like a grizzly bear.

  He then leaned over Jessica and her mountain of papers. He signed a document and then looked up; his broody gaze settling on Sophie.

  Their eyes locked before he barked a general order. “Progress meeting. Every manager to the boardroom, in five.” Everyone stopped what they were doing and the managers exchanged glances.

  Bradley stalked down the corridor toward the boardroom. Sophie shot off like an arrow, following Bradley, her heart pounded rapidly. “Excuse me Bradley?” she called out.

  Bradley tossed a look over his shoulder. He stopped in the corridor, pausing for Sophie to catch up.

  “How are you?” he growled.

  “I’m well,” she countered. “I need to talk to you about the Silver account.”

  “That can wait. Silver is small billing. I saw you at the gala night deep in conversation with Tom Johnson from Barney’s Chocolate Bars.” He tilted his head. “Did you make any progress with signing him up?”

  “Tom Johnson and I get along spectacularly.”

  “I’m hoping to see big things from you on that account.” Bradley swept into the boardroom with Sophie close behind, struggling to get her question in. He settled himself at the head of the almond shaped, conference table. He brushed down his suit jacket. Finding her composure, Sophie trailed after him and gave up on explaining that Matthew Silver had found out she couldn’t swim. She slid into one of the ten chairs set up for the management meeting.

  Desmond from the Art Department arrived next and settled into a chair opposite her. He was a little overweight, wore crisp suits and always managed to look suave. Sophie concealed her surprise by closing her gaping mouth. Desmond was notoriously unreliable and for him to even attend a last-minute management discussion was almost unheard of. When he regarded her with his intelligent eyes, Sophie glimpsed the genius which must have secured his position at Clarks in the first place. She wished she could access his talent more often. If only he was more dependable, then more campaigns could tap into his ideas. In her position as a project manager, Sophie invariably found herself micromanaging Desmond to ensure he stuck to budgets, or bothered to show up to meetings she’d set. It was like a game of cat and mouse with Desmond, but with persistence she generally tracked him down.

  Desmond beamed. “I’ve got artwork for you to look at when you get a chance.” Desmond tipped forward in his chair and his gaze dropped to her cleavage.

  “You’re a star, Desmond. What would I do without you?” The trick with Desmond was to bolster his artistic ego. “Remember, the casting’s next week.”

  Desmond practically licked his lips. “Yeah, I’ll find the right model, um I mean actress.” Desmond was a ladies’ man and tried to have it off with every girl in the office, as well as the girls he auditioned. It was not a problem for Sophie, as he generally left her alone. At casting calls Desmond busied himself collecting phone numbers for his own personal use rather than doing anything productive. Sophie would be left deserted, saddled with the burden of finding t
he right model or actress while he disappeared.

  A few other advertising colleagues entered the boardroom, until the table was half full. Bradley rapped the long wooden table. “Morning.” His smile skimmed the room, lingering on each person’s face. His acknowledgement created a Mexican wave effect where each person lit up under his gaze, hoping he’d throw a scrap of appreciation in their direction.

  Sophie tore her eyes from Bradley and inspected the empty seats in the boardroom. “Where’s everyone else?” she asked brightly.

  “We’re a small firm, Sophie,” Bradley grunted. A deep line etched itself into Bradley’s forehead. “Where’s Jessica?” he barked as he examined the vacant chair beside him.

  A low snigger came from the doorway as a new comer arrived. Kelly. “I think Jessica’s finding gossiping on the phone much more exciting than a management meeting.” A smug smile transformed Kelly’s face. She met Sophie’s gaze and winked before entering and closing the door behind her.

  Everyone averted their gaze, looking down at the table as Kelly found her place. An odd silence circled the room, as each person pondered the truth of Kelly’s remark. Jessica’s constant chatter on the phone hadn’t gone unnoticed. Sophie needed to warn Jessica; it was becoming a problem.

  “Let’s start,” Bradley said.

  “Where is everyone else?” Sophie repeated her query, head darting around the half empty board room, scrutinising the faces.

  Bradley adjusted his tie, then rubbed his hands together. “As you all know, Clarks is a small firm. Although we have a presence in New York and London, I like to call us a boutique operation with all hands on deck. There have been a few changes recently, and the purpose of this meeting is to remind you all that we’re in a recession.”

  Sophie nodded, feeling suddenly wary of where this conversation was going.

  Bradley continued. “Some of you have probably heard about Joey Symonds, Katie Stevens and Julia Brown all being made redundant last night. I took them all to The Dorchester. We celebrated their successes and their time with the firm.”