Page 51 of The Layover
Except it feels like they’re actuallyactivelylistening, not just waiting their turn so they can say,Yeah, that sucks, but I …And it doesn’t feel so much like a competition. It’s more like … like I’m getting something off my chest, trying to ease the burden a bit by sharing it.
How novel.
Is this how other people feel when they talk to their friends? That must be nice.
I tell them about how our team were overworked and our direct manager stretched too thin so we constantly had to redo work and re-prioritise, and things fell through the cracks until they became urgent and we’d have to break our necks to get them done in time. So I’d looked into the budgets, crafted a role that would be an intermediary step – manage our team, butfeed into our boss, and we’d ultimately be more productive and efficient at our jobs and even able to take on more, because there wouldn’t be this huge gap in communication.
I tell them how tricky that was to present – impossible to get time with the right people who could sign it off, a fine line to walk between shaming our current manager for being shit at her job and showing support for how hard she was working. And I showed them all the waysIwas perfect for that role.
But of course, it was Kayleigh who ingratiated herself with our manager, Kayleigh who went out of her way to ‘be seen’, even if it meant shirking work she knew the rest of us – me, always me – would pick up because it needed to be done. It was Kayleigh who went behind my back to interview for the role when they hadn’t even advertised it, Kayleigh who made it sound like I was overworked and struggling and couldn’t handle the pressure of a promotion.
It was Kayleigh who got the fucking job.
Just like she gets everything else.
By the time I’m done, I’m breathing hard and I’ve demolished most of the olives. Whoops.
I down my drink, and pour myself another.
Fran reaches over to squeeze my knee. ‘That’shorrible. Oh, Gemma, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine doing all that work, just to have it thrown back in your face like that.’
And Leon says, ‘Are you going to quit?’
I choke on my vodka-Coke, which is once again more vodka than it is Coke. I can’t tell if it’s already hitting me and that’s why my head feels so fuzzy, or if that’s down to this blinding, all-consuming anger that’s hit me once again.
‘Quit?’ I echo. ‘Are you kidding me? What, and walk away, just let herwin? After everything I’ve done there, all the grafting, the overtime … Just throw it all away andquit?’
He looks at me steadily, with a quietness and calmness that Kayleigh has never possessed. If Kayleigh is a raging waterfall with a bubbling spring at the bottom, her brother is a vast, deep lake that you could throw a stone into and it would hardly cause a ripple.
I wish I’d been his friend instead.
The thought flits away as quickly as it arrived, but something leaden settles in my stomach.
‘I didn’t realise it was a competition,’ he says. ‘Talking about letting Kay “win” like that. Isn’t it just a job?’
‘Well, sure, but …’
But I’ve put blood, sweat and tears into that job. I actuallylikewhat I do. I like the fast pace and the high intensity, even if having to redo work or down tools to focus on something else that we could’ve had sorted weeks ago had been pissing me off. And if I leave – if Kayleigh gets that promotion, and I leave, it’s …
‘It’ll be like throwing all my toys out of the pram, just because someone said I wasn’t good enough. And—’ I snort. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time I’d heard that.I’mnot the one who walks away.’
Wow.
I guess the booze is getting to me after all.
Fran’s hand is still on my knee, and she gives it another squeeze as she says, ‘Is this about your ex?’
And at the same time, Leon reaches to top his drink up with some more Sprite and says, ‘Is this about your dad?’
And I burst into tears.
Chapter Twenty-six
Leon
While I could count easily the number of times I’ve seen Gemma upset over something, I have never seen her cry. Kay cries all the time over the smallest things, but Gemma …
There are fat, round tears clinging to her eyelashes and splashing onto her cheeks. Francesca gives a little gasp and starts rummaging through her bag to offer some Kleenex, and Gemma just stares ahead, breathless and tearful, looking sort of catatonic.
