Page 37 of Reinventing Cato
“Yeah.”Can I?
“Come up and stay with us for a few days. Get your head straight while you watch the hotel getting ripped apart. Even wield a sledgehammer. It might cheer you up.”
“I’m okay.”
“You say that and yet I don’t think you are.”
Cato desperately wanted to tell him about the message, but he didn’t. If he went to stay with Devan and Jonty, he’d end up telling them. He had to sort this out himself.
“Remember—whatever you decide, I’ll support you,” Devan said. “Knock ’em dead anyway. Better to turn the job down thanyouget turned down. Don’t even think about deliberately throwing it.”
“Yeah. Thanks. Bye, Devan.”
Cato turned his phone off and pushed it into his pocket. He still had a while to wait but he couldn’t face more coffee. His gaze snagged on a red-haired guy in glasses coming out of the lift and Cato recognised him. An American he’d met at a conference in Switzerland, and again at a more recent one in Brighton. Grant Muller. The guy was wearing a blue three-piece suit and a spotted orange and black bow tie. Had he been for an interview? Their research was in the same area so Cato thought it was more than likely. He didn’t think Grant had seen him but when he turned in Cato’s direction and walked over, Cato pushed to his feet and held out his hand. “Hi, Grant.”
“Cato.”
Grant shook his hand—hard.Ouch.Why did people have to be such pricks?
“So you’re the other candidate,” Grant said.
“Just two of us?”
“The only two in this country. I’m surprised they’re considering a non-American.”
“I was born in Dallas.”
The reward for that lie was the look of shock on Grant’s face.
“Well, good luck,” Grant muttered and strode off.
Cato dropped back into his seat.
He considered turning up late for the interview, but in the end, he didn’t do that either.Christ, I’m not a bad boy at all.At least that made him chuckle.
When it was time, he headed to the lift and a few moments later knocked on the meeting room door two minutes before he was due to arrive. He felt sick with nerves, his heart jumping on his stomach. None of that was from worry about how the interview would go.
A young guy in a smart dark-grey suit opened the door, his eyes widening slightly as he took in Cato’s un-interview-like appearance. “Mr Smith?”
Cato nodded.
“Come in. If you’d like to take a seat? They won’t be a moment.”
Cato dropped onto a chair and put his bag at his feet. He checked his phone was fully off and dropped it in his bag. If there was another message, he definitely didn’t want to know about it.
“Can I get you tea, coffee, water?”
“No thanks.”
Cato took some quiet, deep breaths trying to calm his racing heart. If part of him didn’t want this job, he wouldn’t be here, would he? He wasn’t going to do anything except be the best he could be. That threat had been intended to put him off. He wasn’t going to let it.
“Mr Smith?”
He looked up.
“If you’d like to go in.”
Cato grabbed his bag and walked into the room.
