Don't Tell Eve Read Free

had been, there were a few people prospering under the new regime. Jess, for one, thanks to her insurance policy. And Phil. The Phil who sauntered in leaving the aquamarine doors swinging, saloon style, just after everyone had presented their new projects – and had been told these projects were too new, too old, too dull, too small or too, too, just too.
    ‘So, where are we at, kids?’ was his opening line; there was never a ‘Sorry I’m late’ from Phil. He glanced lazily at the agenda in front of Daisy in foreign rights – beingadmin-focused, she always ticked items off as they happened – and then tilted his neatly trimmed goatee in Eve’s direction. ‘I have four words for you: football, key, player, signed. My work, for this fiscal, then, is done.’
    ‘And everyone’s budget, for this year, then, spent? How much did you pay?’ Jess addressed Phil in a manner that she reserved for him alone.
    ‘Don’t you worry your pretty little shaved head about it, sweetie-pie – more noughts than you can count.’
    Jess’s pretty little head wasn’t close to shaved, despite Phil’s regular description of it as such. It was simply that he liked women with long hair and had been appalled when Jess turned up one day with a messy pixie cut. Before that he’d considered her attractive, in a blue-eyed, honey-haired, slim-figured way that required little imagination for any viewer to admire. Now, though, he wasn’t sure what to make of her.
    ‘I’m sure Phil ran it by Finance before offering,’ said Eve.
    Jess wasn’t. If he hadn’t run it by his beloved leader, he wouldn’t have run it by Finance. She’d worked with Phil long enough to know how he operated.
    But Eve believed that anyone who could have been a body double for a young Clint Eastwood could only be a straight shooter, incapable of deception. ‘Speaking of money,’ she said to Jess, ‘tell me about Alex.’
    Jess’s insurance policy was known as Alex, superstar chef, best-selling author, national treasure and the sole reason the company remained solvent. He was also the business partner of Jack, Jess’s ex-boyfriend. Not that anyone was supposed to know that Jack was now ex – Jess had decided it was strategically wise to keep that a secret. Jack had been an amenable and easygoing boyfriend, and was proving an amenable and easygoing ex – he’d agreed with her request, having understood why she’d made it.
    ‘He’s working hard and we should have some material soon. We’re still on track for an early October release,’ Jess lied.
    ‘I heard he was on vacation.’
    ‘Yep, that’s right, recharging the batteries, but the book’s under control.’ Jess’s legs, toes and fingers on the hand under the table were all crossed. Her other hand was touching wood. Alex was on much more than a holiday. The book didn’t exist, and if Alex had anything to do with it, wouldn’t. Ever. He’d told Jack that he planned to stay in his Himalayan mountain retreat indefinitely.
    ‘So when will we have material?’ It might have been years of marketing experience that gave Roger the ability to sense when someone wasn’t speaking the whole truth.
    ‘Soon.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘Soon – I’ll let you know.’
    Phil raised an eyebrow. For him this wasn’t a subtle movement, as it also involved cocking his head. But nothing Phil did was subtle.
    For some reason, Jess had a sudden conviction that Phil knew something. It was conceivable that he did. After all, he and Jack and Alex played on the same social football team. But Jack had promised not to say anything, he knew how it important it was that Jess resolved the problem before her colleagues, and in particular her new boss, discovered there was one. Had been one. She would solve it. And as for Phil, he couldn’t know, she was just being paranoid. There was a lot of it going around.
    Just as the shuffling that denoted the end of a meeting began, Eve, ever the performer, held up an ornately manicured