Sacha shook his head, only half listening as he poked at his phone on the descent to the ground floor. “I have vodka at home. I don’t need to waste my money on someone else’s opinion of what is good.”
“So come and be social then. It might make your grim reaper impersonation at staff meetings less traumatic.”
Sacha sighed and pocketed his phone, still waiting on Jonah to send his current location. “Traumatic for who? I am not traumatised.”
“I meant the rest of us. You’ve got everyone running scared that they’ll be made redundant before Christmas.”
“They will be if we do not make our deadline. And they should be scared. If they are not, they should work somewhere else.” Sacha was bored of saying it. In fact, today, he was bored with his own voice entirely, especially as no one seemed to be listening. Why would I want to spend more time with these people? Helga aside, he stood by his initial assessment of them. They’re all idiots. “I cannot come with you,” he stated. “Even if I wanted to, I have other plans.”
“With who?”
“Why do you care, Helga?”
“I don’t.” Helga’s gaze flickered as close to humour as her stern, beautiful features ever got. “I’m just curious about whoever has you itching to get your phone out again. I’ve never seen you text and smile at the same time.”
“You’ve known me a matter of weeks. You have never seen me do many things.”
“Sacha.”
“Helga. What do you want from me?”
“I want to get drunk with you.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Helga slid a sly look to Sacha’s pocket. “I want to see how long you can hold out before you run out on us for whoever is blowing up your phone.”
“This long.” The lift doors opened. Sacha stepped out and strode to the revolving doors that would take him outside.
Helga followed and chivalry made him wait and walk her across the street to the pub where the Blutecc team had decamped after the day from hell.
“Just one drink,” she said.
Sacha shook his head. “No. Thank you. You have my credit card, yes? Use it to pay for the drinks and I will see you on Monday.”
“But—”
“Goodnight.”
Sacha pushed her into the pub, pulled the door shut behind her, and walked away. Helga had proved an unflinching ally in recent days, and he was glad to know her, but he had zero interest in confirming her suspicions about his phone were correct.
He walked to the tube station before he let himself look.
JG: Come to Farringdon. Castle Inn, by the sandwich shop.
Sacha navigated the busy underground station to the correct line and caught the next train. It was jam-packed, and he squeezed himself into a gap at the end of the carriage. Bodies pressed against him, elbows and knees digging in. Scowling, Sacha squared his shoulders, claiming the space around him, and scanned the message thread between him and Jonah again. Despite all he’d said to Helga, he couldn’t help questioning his sanity at ditching his own team’s Friday night drinks to join whatever fuckery the Flash Gray staff called fun. It said a lot about Jonah’s bewitching powers that Sacha was even considering it, let alone that he was halfway to Farringdon already.
Sacha: later, Jonah Gray.
JG: Given that you’re using my whole name, can I assume it’s you, Ivanov?
Sacha: you can assume whatever you like.
JG: Can I buy you a drink too?
Sacha: maybe. I thought you were out with your team
JG: I am…for now. And I think they want to buy you a drink too, especially Carl and Nico.
Sacha: I do not know these people.
JG: And yet you saved the day for them this morning. Let them spend money on you.
Sacha: and then what?
JG: Then I believe your…friend owes you dinner.
Sacha: I believe he does.
JG: Come to Farringdon. Castle Inn, next to the sandwich shop.
Sacha hadn’t replied to confirm he was on his way. His fingers hovered over the buttons, but hesitation stilled them. Disquiet. Doubt. Dashing across the city for an unspecific rendezvous was as ludicrous as it had been to go home with Jonah the night before, and this time, they’d have an audience, a prospect that made Sacha’s skin crawl. Go home then. No one’s making you go. But Sacha stayed on the train. Got off at Farringdon and emerged above ground with laser focus on the pub across the street.
Maybe it is you who is the idiot.
Sacha had no answer to that. He crossed the road and entered the pub, absorbing the wall of noise from the lively weekend crowd, and familiar enough with the FG team to believe he would spot them easily enough, but as he scanned the faces around him, bracing himself against the overloud Christmas music, he found none that he recognised, not even Jonah’s.
The bar called his name. He ordered the vodka he’d been craving all day, with ice, and pulled out his wallet to pay for it.
“No, you don’t.”
Warmth settled in Sacha’s bones before he’d even turned his head. A solid body pressed up beside him and pushed the hand clutching his wallet aside.
“I’m getting this,” Jonah said. “Don’t fight me.”
“Or what?”
“You’ll lose.”
Sacha let the transaction happen. Jonah ordered a rum on the rocks for himself and paid for both drinks with the swipe of a black card. Then he turned with the grin Sacha dreamed of when his mind wasn’t full of website code, bandwidth disasters, and clunky interfaces that had failed from the start.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show,” Jonah said.
Sacha shrugged and reached for his drink. “You left your card where I would see it for a reason, no? Maybe I want to know that reason.”
“You know the reason.”
“Say it.”
Jonah glanced around, then leaned closer. “We’re friends. That’s reason enough. And, I wanted to thank you for helping my team today. It’s crazy what can happen when you leave the office for an hour.”
“It would not have mattered if you were there. The problem would have been the same.”
Sacha didn’t add that he’d probably have left his post and gone to Jonah’s aid a lot quicker than the ten minutes it had taken him to decide to intervene that morning. Or that he’d only done that because Helga had told him FG were about to flunk the pitch Jonah had spent all night writing. He didn’t add anything at all. Just tracked Jonah’s mouth as he sipped his drink. Followed his tongue as it darted out to lick his pillowy lips.
“Anyway,” Jonah said. “Thank you. That pitch was important to me—to us.”
“I know. I watched you sweat over it all night.”
“I did not sweat.”
“Yes, you did.”
“That had nothing to do with the pitch.”
“I know that too, Jonah Gray. You are so easy to rile.”
“Am I?” Jonah stepped closer, invading Sacha’s personal space.
Sacha took a slow sip of his ice-cold vodka and stole a glance beyond Jonah to the rest of the pub. He still saw no one he recognised. “Yes. You are. But never mind that. Where are your team? I heard they want to buy me vodka too.”
Jonah smouldered for another few seconds, then stood down, retreating to his own bubble. “They’re next door in the student place.”