“Oh. You haven’t got any other interviews after mine?”
A smile flickers over his face. “Well I did have … consider them cancelled.”
“No! Don’t do that on my account.” My voice shoots out.
I know how hard it must have been for those journalists to get this interview with him. It seems to have cost Vicky dearly from the reaction I got yesterday when I probed her about it. But I do like the fact he would do that for me.
I like it a lot.
His face darkens, prompting me to add, “I don’t mean I’m not happy to see you, of course I am, and would love to talk old times with you, but I don’t want others to miss out on a great opportunity because of me.”
“A great opportunity?” he smirks.
I shrug. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
“Look Tru.” He turns his body toward me. “I haven’t seen you for twelve years. The last thing I want to do right now is talk business with you, or anyone else for that matter. I want to know all about you – what you’ve been doing since I last saw you.” He looks at me curiously. His blue eyes piercing intrusively into mine.
A shiver runs through me.
“Not much,” I shrug, looking down.
“I’m sure you’ve done a lot more than ‘not much’.” His tone is surprisingly firm.
He seems so much more forceful than he used to be. But then of course, he was teenager back then. He’s a man now.
A very rich and very famous man.
And I instantly feel intimidated in a whole other way.
“What did I do after you left Manchester?” I shrug, looking up at him. “I lived my life, I finished school.” My voice suddenly sounds a little bitter, it surprises even me.
“How was it?” His face stays impassive, eyes trained on me.
“School? It was school. A little lonely after you left, but I got through it.”
That was a dig meant to hurt him. But if it does, then it doesn’t show on his face.
His just continues to stare impassively at me, and I’m starting to squirm under his heavy gaze.
“You still see anyone from school?”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “No, I’m friends with a couple of people on Facebook but that’s about it. What about you?” I ask.
I’ve always wondered if he kept in touch with anyone else; not that he had many other friends aside from me, after he binned me off that was.
He laughs. “No. Then what did you do after school?”
“Moved here to go to uni. I got my degree in journalism. Then I landed a job at Etiquette, the magazine I work for, and I’ve worked there ever since.”
“Cool.” Another drag of his cigarette. “You’re not married.” His words come out with the smoke, and I see his eyes flicker to my left hand.
“No.”
“Boyfriend?” He takes another drag, then leans over and stubs his cigarette out in the waiting ashtray.
My heart halts. I don’t know why but I have the sudden urge to not want to tell him about Will.
“Yes,” I say slowly.
“Live together?”
“No.” This seems a little personal and a lot grilling. Why is he so interested? “I live with my flat mate Simone in Camden.”
His face stays impassive. “How long have you been with the boyfriend?”
“His name is Will, and we’ve been together for two years.”
“And what does Will do for a living?”
Why is he suddenly so interested in Will?
“He’s an investment banker.”
“Smart guy.” I can’t actually tell if he’s being sarcastic or not.
“He is.” I nod. “He’s very smart – top of his class at uni and he’s climbing the ladder at work very quickly.”
I don’t know why but I suddenly feel the urge to needle him with Will and how great he is.
Seeing as though Jake is a rich mega star, I don’t want to seem so left behind I guess, even though all I can sell myself with, is Will.
Jake gets another cigarette out of his pack and lights it up.
Wow, he smokes a lot.
I curl my fingers around the edge of my notebook.
The atmosphere has shifted, and I’m not entirely sure where to. And I suddenly just want to get out of here. I want to get this interview done, so I can leave.
He’s not the Jake I remember. Or the Jake from the papers. I‘m not actually sure who this Jake is that’s sitting before me.
I unclip my pen from my notebook, and open it up to the page where my prepared questions are.
“It’s been really nice catching up with you, Jake, but I really should get to the interview - especially if I want to keep my job.” I try to keep my tone professional and add a smile for good measure.
Not that Vicky would ever fire me, well I hope she wouldn’t, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“You won’t get fired.”
“You sound pretty confident of that.” I force a little laugh out.
“I am.”
He takes another long drag of his cigarette, eyes fixed on mine.
Looking away, I shift nervously in my seat.
“You okay?” he asks. “You seem a little uncomfortable.”
Still as direct as ever. That obviously hasn’t changed obviously.
“Of course I’m not uncomfortable.”
Yes, I am. I’m a little intimidated by you and confused by your questions, and flustered and ready to leave to be honest.