rock-hard eggs and we were taking it in turns to do our spiel, and the last guy up was some poor downtrodden bastard from a plastics company in Barrow in Furness, and when he’d finished talking he whipped his business card out and – ta fucking dah – the guy’s business card is made. Of. PLASTIC. Here, I’ve still got it. Check that out.’
It was a small one, the size of a credit card with the same rounded edges. Neil Stannah, it said, Head of Sales and Business Development, Northern Region. ‘Hmm, yeah. Wow. That’s… that’s quite something.’ Jazzy handed Mack the card back and stood up, the better to survey the crowded room.
‘Isn’t it just? But that’s not the worst bit. That’s nowhere NEAR the worst bit. After he whipped it out, everyone else round the table started pissing themselves laughing.’ Mack himself let out a humourless bark of laughter and shook his head. ‘And not at what a loser this guy was. They genuinely thought it was funny, like, “Hey, this guy works for a plastics company and even his business card is made of plastic! Can you believe this shit? Are we having fun here or what?” I genuinely thought I might pass out, or puke up my hash browns. I saw it then, forty years of this, up and down the M6, in and out of Premier Lodges, talking the talk and eating the swill and it was like someone had flicked a switch in my head. I’ve got to get out, Jazz. I’m drowning.’
They had had conversations along these lines many times before, even prior to the plastic business card incident, but this time there was something different. The panic in Mack’s eyes was real, there was genuine desperation in his tone. ‘I’m quitting,’ he said. It was something he had said before, and Jazzy half-ignored him. He was drunk, he was tired, it was three minutes to midnight and he had misplaced his fiancée. Plus Jazzy had his own work problems on his mind. The small, private investment bank he had been a software developer for since he returned from Japan, had put him and the whole of the IT department on notice of redundancy three weeks before Christmas. He did not particularly want to listen to someone threatening to put themselves out of work through choice.
‘No, really,’ Mack went on. ‘I really am this time. I’ve spoken to Keith about it.’
Jazzy had instantly become alert. This was something he had always worried about, that Mack would somehow allow himself to fall into Keith’s hands. Jazzy did not know anything for definite about Keith, did not even know that how he made his money was illegal, but he could not believe that anyone could become as wealthy as Keith purely from selling second hand cars and cheap imported electrical goods. And he knew that becoming part of Keith’s world was emphatically not something that Mack wanted. He had hinted as much several times, had told Jazzy that the reason he had gone into sales was so that he could make enough money to never have to go asking his mum or Keith for anything (Jazzy had known that really Mack was only talking about Keith. Mack’s mother had no money to speak of, and nothing other than a bottle of aftershave at Christmas that Mack might need). It had seemed like a point of pride, but also of self-protection. ‘Keith?’ Jazzy said, unable to keep the shock or disapproval out of his tone.
‘Don’t worry,’ Mack shook his head, his words smooth and fluid after all the champagne. ‘It’s legit. He’s got a new arm to the business, he thinks I’d be ideal to head up the sales section. Well, I say head up, I think to be honest I’d be it.’
‘What is it then? This new “arm”?’ Jazzy hoped he sounded less suspicious than he felt.
Mack smiled. ‘Wedding dresses.’
‘Wedding dresses? Keith?’
Mack laughed. ‘I know. Sounds pretty unlikely, doesn’t it? But he’s got this contact over in Russia or somewhere – some guy he used to play golf with I think, who’s gone back to the motherland. Anyway, he makes these really high-end wedding dresses – they’d retail for a few grand here – and Keith can get them at a good price. He’s been flogging a few on eBay recently and they’ve gone pretty well, but he wants to start bringing them in wholesale, selling them on to retail places. That’s where I come in.’ He flashed a grin. ‘Now, go on, admit it. Am I not the perfect guy to do that job? These shops are all run by nice ladies of a certain age. I don’t think I’m flattering myself to suggest I do have a certain way with nice ladies of a certain age. I think I’ll be able to turn their heads in the direction of Keith’s bridal gown range pretty successfully.’
Jazzy had to laugh. ‘I suppose you’re right. I can’t think of a better person to do that job. Is that going to be the name of the company then? “Keith’s Bridal Gown Range”?’
Mack laughed too. ‘No. It’s not really called anything at the moment, but I think he’s going to call it “Anastasia”. Can’t really call it “Russian Brides”, can he? Might give off the wrong impression.’
Jazzy had tried gently to nudge Mack away from the idea of working for Keith. Although the wedding dress thing did not sound screamingly, actively illegal, it could surely not be entirely above board either. But Mack would not be moved. He gave his notice at the anti-static flooring company and, a few weeks into the new year, he became the regional sales rep, national sales rep, director of sales and deputy director of sales for Anastasia Ltd. ‘I’m desperate,’ he confessed to Jazzy on the only occasion when he had expressed anything approaching doubts. ‘I know it’s a cop out, taking a job from an old family friend.’ (That was how Mack always referred to his and Keith’s relationship if anyone asked.) ‘And I know Keith’s not exactly man of the year at the Inland Revenue or anything. But he’s promised me this is legit, and I believe him. Anyway, I’ve got to get out. And this ought to be a laugh. Come on, women’s clothing? I was born to do it.’ His laugh had been a little too hearty, Jazzy thought, his enthusiasm a little too full, and when Jazzy looked into his friend’s eyes, behind the chilly blue he could see absolutely nothing.
A few weeks after that, Jazzy’s redundancy was confirmed. He had started looking round for something else as soon as the redundancy was mooted as a possibility, but the task seemed overwhelming. His job at the bank had been the only proper, grown-up job he had ever had. He had liked working there and he had been good at his job, but nevertheless that did not leave him with much confidence that he would be equally successful anywhere else. He and Petra could live pretty comfortably on her salary for the foreseeable future, and she was keen that he didn’t rush into anything. ‘Wait,’ she kept telling him, ‘find something that really feels right.’ But after a few months, the novelty of being at home all day, of getting up when he wanted, going to the pub or the shops or the library in the middle of the day, cooking elaborate meals for Petra that they would eat together when she finally got home, usually well after seven in the evening, began to wear off. The longer Jazzy was out of work, the more impossible seemed the task of not only finding another job, but actually doing the job once he had found it. He was beginning to doubt himself, to suspect that the strengths and abilities he had taken for granted in his old job may have deserted him altogether. Petra noticed it, of course, and Simone noticed it too, the pair of them fussing over him, encouraging and cajoling and transparently leaving print-outs of job ads all over the house. But Mack noticed it too, and he was the only one who offered any kind of concrete solution.
‘We could do with someone at Anastasia,’ he had said, ‘to look after the IT side of things. We need a decent website, we might start selling direct online too if we can make it pay. All the files need computerising too. Nothing too taxing, but we’d pay pretty well and you’d be as good as your own boss.’ Jazzy knew a charity hand-out when it was shoved under his nose, but by this time Petra was pregnant with Rory. They were due to get married in the summer. Petra taking anything more than the minimum maternity leave was out of the question, financially speaking, but even so the fact that they would need an extra income was now unarguable.
He had agreed to take on all of Anastasia’s IT-related work on a temporary basis until he found something more suited
