Starr Fated Page 7

  The Creative Team comprised of two staff under Simon. Of course they were both male, although they acted more like old women as they got themselves in a terrible state about pitching to the Big Boss.

  “He’s not going to go for any of these options. He’s asked for radical change, but I’m not sure these new designs fit the bill or look different enough from the existing ones,” Tom worried. He was a serious young man in his mid-thirties, and I’d gathered from conversations I’d overheard that his wife was expecting a baby any day now. And he was right. They might have all the latest equipment and software at their fingertips, but apart from tinkering about with the font and spacing, nothing different stood out at all with their suggestions. Boring and bland about summed up their proposals.

  “I disagree. Changing the font and altering the spacing makes a huge difference, but still ensures we’ve followed Mr Starr’s instructions to the letter, so I don't see how he can complain,” Simon whined. “I really don't know what more we can do.”

  Grow some balls. Stand up to him. Offer him some decent alternatives. Show him you know what you’re talking about instead of being brown nosed sycophants.

  Of course I kept these thoughts to myself. It was not the place of the lowly tea girl to make comments.

  “Well, seeing as I’m leaving at the end of the month, I'm not going to work myself into a frenzy over this, when we all know he’s not going to take a blind bit of notice of any of our recommendations, however boring and conservative we make them. It’s just a complete waste of our time, and I don't know why he doesn’t just get on and do it himself, instead of interfering and micro managing every little thing we try to do,” Rob grumbled. “The Boss might know the business inside out, and a tight brief is theoretically supposed to give you freedom by defining the paremeters, but he’s far too restrictive. ”

  I’d quickly worked out that Rob Lewis was disillusioned and that was why he was leaving to take up a position in another company after a couple of frustrating years at Starr Capital Ventures. He was only in his late twenties, so I couldn’t blame him for wanting to move on to be able put his creative talents to far more effective use. He was the only one who had shown the slightest interest in me, asking me what I was studying, giving me a few helpful tips when I asked him a few questions about things I wanted to include in my own project.

  ~*~

  It was the final week of my placement. The pitch to the Big Boss was all set for Monday. And with perfect timing, on Sunday evening a threatened wildcat strike called by all the transport unions in London unexpectedly went ahead, because they were determined to show a united front to the government over their latest pay deal. So on Monday morning there would be no trains, no tubes, no buses - and it would be chaos. But that didn't really worry me.

  I always walked whenever I could – it saved money and was a great way to keep fit while I saw more of London life. So on that Monday I just walked the few miles to work. I wasn’t going to be beaten by a strike, and I certainly wasn’t going to give Simon any kind of an excuse for a black mark against me for being late. I enjoyed my walk, and I easily made it in time, it was just eight fifty five when I arrived. Ha! to Simon then, who always glanced at the clock when I walked in every morning, just to let me know he was taking note.

  But it turned out I was the only one who’d made it into the office so far. As I took my coat off, hung it up and changed out of my walking trainers, the phone rang. As there was no one else to answer it, I took the call.

  “Good Morning. Creative Team, Seraphina Jones speaking. How may I be of assistance?” I said, using my best ‘I’m a professional’ voice.

  “Seraphina? Simon here. Has Rob made it into the office yet? I can't get hold of him, although I've left several messages.”

  “No, I’m the only one in so far.”

  “Oh Christ! I’m stuck out here in Surbiton because of the strike - they can’t say when there’s going to be a train into town. Tom’s wife went into labour last night, so he’s at the hospital with her. I was counting on Rob to pitch to Mr Starr in my place this morning. The meeting is set for nine thirty and there is no way I'm going to make it to the office in time now.”

  “Well, surely Mr Starr will understand and cancel or at least postpone the presentation– that’s if he’s even made it into the office this morning himself?”

  “Oh, he’s in alright, I’ve just spoken to him. He drove in as usual and didn't see what all the fuss was about with the strike, so I had to assure him the presentation would still go ahead. Look, hopefully Rob is on his way and will be there shortly. I made sure I left everything prepared, so can you use the master keys to get the memory stick from my desk as well as all the presentation boards out of the cupboard, and make sure everything’s ready for Rob, so he can take it up to Mr Starr the moment he walks in. Do you think you could do that?”

  “I think I can manage it,” I said dryly. Did he think I was stupid or something? “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything is ready for Rob.”

  If he turned up. From his attitude previously and the fact that he was leaving anyway, I wasn’t at all sure he’d be trying that hard to make it in today, which was probably why he was ignoring Simon’s calls.

  “Thank you. And get Rob to call me the moment he gets in, would you?”

  “Of course. Anything else, Mr. Draper?”

  “No, just make sure you don't muddle up any of the flip charts, because they’re in the correct order to go with the notes. And for Christ’s sake don't spill tea over them or anything. They have to be perfect for Mr Starr.”

  “Leave it with me. Look, it’s nearly ten past nine, so I’d best crack on with things, hadn’t I?”

  The way that idiot was talking to me, I decided it was best to finish the call before I said something I might regret later.

  I quickly got everything out and checked it through. I’d watched them going over and over it, so I was pretty familiar with it all, and it was really quite simple, because they hadn’t got many new ideas to pitch. So when it got to nine twenty, and there was still no sign of Rob, I had a decision to make when Mr Starr’s PA rang down and asked what was happening. She was demanding to know why no one from the team had appeared to set up the presentation yet.

  I had a ‘sod it’ moment. I was used to presenting my own ideas at uni. We’d had tutorials on how to pitch, and we’d practiced our skills by running our own version of the Dragon’s Den TV program. I knew there was nothing in this presentation that I wasn’t able to explain. If I set everything up, hopefully Rob would arrive to take over, but if not, then I was more than capable of pitching these simple designs to Mr Big Boss Liam Starr, I told myself. It would be good practice for me, and I should rise to the challenge, not shy away from it. Pitching and presenting were always going to be essential skills in my future career, and it was about time I got something useful out of this unpaid internship apart from just being able to put their precious name on my CV.

  “I’m just on my way up now,” I told the PA. Then I gathered everything together, and gave myself a little pep talk.

  Passion, preparation and presentation. The three essential qualities for a successful pitch. Keep calm. Keep everything simple and clear. Have all the facts at your fingertips. Act the part. Look the part.

  Hmm. I was just about conforming to the strict Starr Capital Ventures dress code. I didn't have a great selection of appropriately boring office clothes to pick from in my wardrobe, so I’d had to be a bit creative, as I certainly couldn’t afford to go out and buy lots of new work clothes. So today I was wearing the black skirt I wore when I worked in the restaurant waitressing. It was quite short, but as I was wearing black patterned opaque tights, I didn't think it looked too tarty or slutty, especially as I was wearing my favourite low heeled pixie boots, rather than sky high fuck-me stilettos. I didn't possess a classic silk blouse like the other women wore to the office, so I’d made do with a white blouse I’d picked up for a bargain price in the
sales. On a limited budget like mine, the skill was to pick out the pieces that looked more expensive amongst all the nasty, tacky dross. The blouse I’d picked out was quite clingy, with lace panels across the boobs, but I thought it looked reasonably smart, and not as boring as a perfectly plain blouse. I’d added a nice studded black belt to cinch it in to complete the outfit.

  My hair was extra wild and curly this morning after my brisk walk into work, so I quickly twisted it round and pinned it into a bun of sorts. Now it was noticeable I wasn’t wearing the normal conformist banker’s wife diamond stud earrings. Instead, I was wearing my silver angel wing drop earrings that had been a twenty first birthday present from my Irish cousin, Aoife. I always wore earrings, feeling naked if I went out without them. The pair I was wearing today were a personalised design that Aoife’s husband Sean had made for me. He was a very talented silversmith with his own workshop, trying to make a living by selling his handmade jewellery to tourists in the little town of Kinsale where they lived in Southern Ireland. Well, these earrings could be my lucky talisman. I had a feeling I was going to need all the help I could get today.

  I took a deep breath as I entered the lift, trying my best to dismiss the butterflies in my stomach, and pressed the button for the top floor. I ignored the phone that started ringing in the office as I was walking out because whoever it was, I didn't have time to answer it right now. It was most likely Simon again, worrying like the old woman he was. He’d probably have a heart attack at the thought of the tea girl possibly being about to pitch to his precious Mr. Starr.

  Of course, in true top executive style, I knew Liam Starr was going to have a huge office on the top floor, and of course he was going to have wonderful views across London. I’d never been up there before, but I just knew that’s how it would be. But I refused to be intimidated. I pulled my shoulders back and took a deep breath to calm myself. You can do this. Just pretend he’s a college lecturer. He’s nobody special.

  The lift doors opened, and I stepped out, my arms full of folders and flip charts as well as a lap top.

  “And who might you be?”

  The woman I took to be Liam Starr’s PA was standing there waiting impatiently, her arms folded, her lips pursed. She was blonde, looked to be in her forties, and was wearing the statutory black trouser suit with the statutory white silk blouse. Elegant, but oh so boring.

  “Seraphina Jones. From Simon Draper’s Creative Team. I’m here to set up the presentation,” I explained.

  “You’re cutting it a bit fine. Mr Starr does not appreciate being kept waiting,” she snapped as she led the way. I didn't bother to argue, or make any comment about the strike that had affected everyone’s journey to work today.

  I was led into a meeting room, which was not quite as big as I was expecting, but I guessed that was probably because there were not going to be that many attendees to this meeting. I realised I had no idea of what kind of audience I was about to pitch to, but never mind. I’d just focus all my attention on the Big Boss.

  All the furniture was light beech and chrome, the walls were white; even the thick luxurious carpet was white. There were no pictures on the walls. And yes, the windows framed an impressive view of London. The Starr Capital offices looked out onto the Bishopsgate financial district, so there was a great view of the iconic Gherkin building set amongst the other modern and stark buildings.

  I quickly set everything up, then popped my head round the door.

  “We’re good to go,” I informed the PA, whose name appeared to be Joy Pearce, according to the name plate on her desk. “Only a few minutes late. Not bad all things considered.”

  She ignored my words, picked up the phone and pressed a button.

  “Mr Starr? The presentation is ready for you now, sir.” She replaced the receiver, then gave me a glacial stare.

  “He’ll be with you in a minute,” she stated, then went back to her keyboard again.

  “Fine. Be a miserable cow,” I thought to myself, deciding her name was a misnomer if ever there was one, as I went back into the meeting room to wait. It wasn’t long before the door opened, and in walked the man himself.

  I could immediately see why my housemates called him The Big Guy. He was at least six foot three or four. He was broadly built, and beneath his obviously expensive well cut grey suit, it was easy to see that he was built. I literally felt my stomach lurch as I instantly felt the powerful aura emanating from him.

  I looked up at his face, and saw straight away the family resemblance to his younger brother. But whereas Jamie was handsome in an almost pretty kind of way, Liam was much harder looking. They both had dark blonde hair, but Liam wore his short and spiky. His face had the same high cheek bones but he was rugged rather than handsome, and I noticed he had a scar at the corner of his mouth. He had a strong, straight roman type of nose, and the only slightly softer feature of his face was his full mouth, which was fascinating for some reason, and I found myself wondering what it would be like to be kissed by those lips. But it was his eyes that drew my full attention. They were the most intense shade of steely blue, and right now they were glaring at me.

  “Who the hell are you? Joy said you were Miss Jones, is that right? Where’s Simon, Rob or Tom?”

  His voice was both deep and melodic, although right now it was laced with irritation.

  “Unfortunately they’ve been delayed, Mr Starr. I’m Seraphina Jones, the intern, and I'm standing in for them until they get here,” I explained as coolly as I could, meeting his gaze, refusing to allow myself to be cowed by his overwhelmingly macho presence as I calmly held my hand out for him to shake.

  He looked at me for a beat, and then I saw the penny drop. There are some benefits to having an unusual Christian name.

  “Seraphina Jones. The girl my brother gave the room to in the student house,” he said, staring intently at me, letting his eyes wander right from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. It must have taken him only a few seconds, but it felt like hours as his gaze burned into me. Then he seemed to shake his head slightly before taking my proffered hand. As he firmly gripped it with his very large hand, I gasped as a bolt of electricity literally shot through me. He snatched his hand away, as if he too had felt it. It must have been static created by the plastic soles of my cheap boots. How embarrassing. We both pretended nothing had happened.

  “That’s correct. I rent a room in the house with Jamie and the other two boys. So, how many other attendees do we need to wait for before I make a start with the presentation?” I asked, seeing as no one else had come in with him, and there was still no sign of Rob.

  “There won’t be anyone else. The two heads of department that were supposed to be sitting in have failed to make it in this morning, just because of the strike. It’s pathetic. So how come you managed to get to work when so many others have failed miserably?” he looked at me curiously.

  “I walked. As for the others, Tom’s wife is having her baby, otherwise I’m sure he would have made it in, and the other two are on their way,” I tried to cover for my colleagues.

  “That’s quite a walk,” he murmured as he tapped his finger on his lips and continued to stare at me. I wished he wouldn’t draw attention to his mouth, because suddenly images were popping into my head of his big muscly body pinning me down on a large soft bed, while his mouth wandered all over my naked body. I want him. Where on earth these erotic images were coming from I had no idea, but I had to pull myself together.

  “Shall I make a start then? I understand that you are a very busy man, Mr Starr, so I’ll keep it brief and to the point.” Because there isn’t actually much to show you.

  “Are you sure you’re up to this? Aren’t you just an art student?” The disdain was apparent in his voice, and again those steely eyes bore into mine.

  “As I have sat in on all the recent team discussions, I’m confident that I can present all the relevant information to you, sir. And I am about to complete the final year of my BA Graphic Des
ign degree at Central Saint Martin’s, having specifically chosen to specialise in Design and Interaction.” Which you would know if you’d bothered to read my CV, which clearly you haven't.

  I think a hint of sardonic amusement passed over his face as I stared back at him.

  “Very well, Miss Jones. You may proceed,” he ordered, as he sat himself down on one of the chairs in front of me. He folded his arms, and arrogantly crossed his legs out in front of him. Bring it on, his body language was saying, because I think you’re going to be pathetic and useless.

  Well, although I knew what I was presenting was pretty pathetic and useless, I was determined I wasn’t going to give this horrid man the satisfaction of finding any fault with the way I presented it.

  Chapter 9

  Liam

  I don’t know what I’d expected this girl my brother was chasing after to look like, but when I came face to face with Miss Seraphina Jones, she was nothing at all how I had imagined her to be. I suppose I’d expected her to be blonde and busty to have got Jamie so obsessed with her, despite being led such a merry dance. That’s the kind of overtly sexy female I expected him to be lusting after, I suppose because that’s the type I’ve always enjoyed fucking. Big tits. Curvy. Blonde.

  Seraphina Jones was the absolute antithesis of this. She was brunette, petite and slim, with average sized tits, although I could see from the way her blouse was clinging to her that they were a great shape and totally in proportion with the rest of her figure. I imagined they looked good even when she wasn’t wearing a bra, not droopy or saggy like big tits tend to be. And I guessed she was feeling the cold because I could see her nipples standing out through the thin fabric too, which I have to say I rather appreciated. And she had great legs, long and slim and shapely.