Chapter 49
‘Ollie?’
‘Who?’ said Jasper.
‘He’s that work colleague I told you about.’
But what was he doing here?
‘There she is.’ Ollie sauntered over to her, slow clapping. His chinos and shirt looked like he’d slept in them, and his eyes were bloodshot.
‘Are you drunk?’ she said.
‘I should be. I had a shot for every time I thought about what a skank you are.’
‘Hey!’ Jasper was up out of his seat.
She held up a hand.
‘Did you really think it would be this simple?’ said Ollie.
His pupils were dilated and he was having difficulty controlling his jaw. She recognised the signs; he was coked up to the eyeballs.
‘What would be?’
‘Saving your shithole of a shelter.’
So he’d got wind of what was going on. But she wouldn’t be intimidated.
‘We’ve raised enough money to cover the gap for three months.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I think we’re going to raise more.’
‘Whoop-de-do. Your naivety is almost charming. Did you not for a second wonder how Wolfe knew this place was struggling for funds?’
In all the furore and everything that had happened since, it hadn’t really crossed her mind.
‘Because he created the funding issues in the first place, you idiot.’ Ollie spun around to see the reaction his words might have. Nobody said anything, but both Jasper and Gayle looked like bulls, ready to charge. She stayed them with a glance. If this was true, and she feared it was, it would be better to let him talk.
‘You’re bullshitting,’ she said.
‘Nuh-uh,’ said Ollie. ‘Wolfe’s the one who’s been leaning on the shelter’s funding sources. A posh lunch here. A scratched back there. It’s all been very carefully orchestrated.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘Because he likes to talk. He’s like any narcissist. It’s not enough to pull off the trick, he has to explain how it was done. It’s all been quite irritating if I’m honest – talking down to me like I’m some lackey. I’m pretending to lap it all up until I work out how I can use the fat cunt to my advantage.’
Her brain whirred. ‘But what he’s doing is corruption.’
Ollie sneered. ‘The thing you never grasped, Simone, is that sure, money is useful, but influence is what gets you the boardroom backslaps and the keys to the fancy bathroom. And by influence I don’t mean those idiots on Insta. I’m talking genuine power. The kind that comes from status and breeding. Influence is the real currency in life, and your problem is that you don’t have any.’
It was like a hole had opened up in her chest and fetid water had rushed in. It was grotesque that Wolfe could care so much for profits and so little for people.
‘You know it’s funny,’ said Ollie. ‘I wasn’t sure whether I should put the police on to you that night at Secret Cinema, but then I figured it might be fun to spook you a bit.’
Her head whipped back. ‘You did what?’
‘Have you not worked that out yet either?’ A leer emerged from his grinding teeth. ‘Simone, Simone, Simone. All it took was a little tip-off. I was disappointed you didn’t have any drugs on you; I always assumed you were a coke whore.’
‘That’s rich, coming from you.’
‘But then you let your fiery little temper get the better of you, didn’t you? Got yourself arrested anyway!’
It felt like the air had been sucked out of her lungs. He had to be lying.
‘The conviction was pure poetry. They must have really disliked you.’
‘There’s no way you could engineer that.’
‘Couldn’t I? The simple fact is, I know people. Who do you know?’ He gestured around the room.
He didn’t recognise Steve, although Steve knew exactly who he was. Again, Simone wordlessly warned him off doing anything crazy.
‘That doesn’t stack up,’ she said. ‘Why work at DA if you have that kind of leverage?’
‘Because knowledge is power. And where better to uncover the kind of knowledge that can be incredibly powerful than at the very place where people come to cover up their dirty secrets?’
The notion he would be so calculating gave her goosebumps. As did the knowledge that he would and could have gone to such lengths just to spite her. One thing was clear: it didn’t matter how much money they raised. If this was what they were up against, Gayle wouldn’t be securing additional funding. She sat down before her legs buckled and dropped her head into her hands. When Hozan had said it was no accident she was there, she had taken it as the ramblings of a disordered mind. It turned out he’d been inadvertently right all along. Ollie had managed to royally screw her over. She only glanced up when she heard the crack of a fist puncturing plasterboard.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ shouted Gayle. ‘Where’s Hozan’s bleedin’ camcorder when you need it?’
Hozan eyed Gayle in a curious way. ‘You told me my camcorder wasn’t allowed.’
‘I know!’ She laughed sourly.
Hozan seemed in two minds about something, but then he pointed to his lapel. ‘But no one told me I couldn’t have this one.’
Gayle stopped rubbing her knuckles. ‘Eh?’
‘No one told me I wasn’t allowed this one,’ he repeated. Again, he pointed to the buttonhole on the lapel of his suit. There was the tiniest little glint where fabric should be.
‘Are you joking right now?’ said Simone, barely daring to believe he might have a tiny camera hidden there. But Hozan was to joking what ballerinas were to plus-size clothes.
He pulled a phone out of his jacket pocket. On the screen was a grainy version of them all.
‘Are you telling us you recorded that?’ asked Gayle.
Hozan’s great eyebrows furrowed.
‘It’s okay, Hozan,’ said Tasha. ‘Did you?’
He nodded. He passed Simone the phone, then removed the pin and placed that in her palm. It was no bigger than her fingernail in length and width. She gently nudged it around her hand.
‘Where did you get the money for this?’
‘Begging. Like you taught me.’
Sweet Jesus. It was pure poetry.
‘You beautiful, brilliant man!’
Ollie’s addled brain had caught up with events. ‘The cretin has a secret camera?!’
‘Don’t you dare call him that!’ Jasper was over like a whippet after a rabbit. Steve and Gayle jumped to their feet.
‘Don’t touch him!’ she said, despite wanting Ollie to sustain a second broken nose for his hatefulness. ‘We physically hurt him, we’re in proper trouble. He’s going to be screwed enough when Wolfe has to back down.’
‘Ha!’ said Ollie. ‘How’s that happening? Are you going to call the police?’
‘No. I’m going to call an organisation that’s far more powerful. The press.’
He seemed wholly unconcerned. She couldn’t wait to knock that look off his stupid, snivelling face. She took out her mobile, brought Marcus’s number up, and prayed he’d answer. He did.
‘I was wondering when you’d be in touch,’ he said.
‘I have a story for you.’
‘Is it a saucy one? You’ve not been returning any of my messages.’
‘I’m about to make it up to you.’ She gave him a précis of what had happened, her excitement building as she went. This was potentially significant, wasn’t it? They had proof of Wolfe’s misdeeds.
‘Not as much pussy as I was hoping for, to be honest,’ he said when she finished.
‘Get your head out of the gusset for one second!’
But his tone hadn’t been playful.
‘I’m not interested in the story.’
‘But you heard, we have proof.’
‘You’ve got nothing. Wolfe’s dodgy dealings are well known. He’s got holding companies within holding companies, hiding things even he probably doesn’t know about. One story isn’t going to do anything.’
‘I’m not trying to topple an empire,’ she said, ‘I’m trying to save the shelter!’
Ollie sniggered. It was obvious to everyone this wasn’t going how she’d hoped.
‘I know Wolfe,’ said Marcus. ‘He’s a friend.’
Of course he was. Of course they were all part of some extended boys club, with their power and their entitlement and their constant and unerring ability to shaft her every which way. She couldn’t bear everyone looking at her, disappointment etched on their faces.
‘Jesus, Marcus,’ she said quietly. ‘These are people’s lives.’
‘I know. And I publish stories about them being destroyed every day. If you think a few down-and-outs are going to move the needle, you’re wrong.’
She rubbed her temples. Her head throbbed.
‘Babe,’ he continued, ‘trust me. The shit that passes my desk, the things people do, it would make your hair turn white. It’s cute you got yourself a conscience, but the world is fucked, and there’s nothing you or I can do about it. Hang on, I’ve got another call coming in. I’ll call you back.’
She stared at the screen. That wasn’t it, was it? The whole thing was slipping away like dander on the wind. It had all been for nothing.
Ollie pulled an exaggerated sad face. ‘Ahh, was Mr Marcus Millner not interested? There, there.’
The mention of his name caught her off guard. She’d not said it out loud, had she?
Ollie frowned at her. ‘I’ve been given full access to your emails, you dimwit. They make for very interesting reading. What was the last one? Something about a blowjob you owed him. All very colourful.’
Jasper looked up sharply.
‘Here I am,’ said Ollie, ‘a bona fide member of the in-crowd. Whereas you’ve resorted to boning the in-crowd.’
‘Simone?’ said Jasper. ‘Is this true?’
‘Not in the way he’s making it sound.’
Jasper’s face was a maelstrom of confusion and dismay.
Ollie pointed between them. ‘Are you two…? Oh, I do apologise.’
‘Go suck a bag of dicks, Ollie!’ she barked. ‘Jasper, let’s go outside. I can explain.’
He was shaking his head; processing; judging.
‘Please,’ she said.
When he stepped into the corridor after her, his face was as expressive as wet cement. She could already feel the change in him.
‘There’s nothing going on between Marcus and I,’ she said. ‘I promise you.’
‘So what was he talking about?’
She explained how she’d asked for Marcus’s help in tracking Tasha down. ‘It was a stupid joke.’
He relaxed a little. ‘So when you told me you’d finished with him, that was true. Nothing else has happened between you?’
She swallowed hard. Fuck. She’d kept meaning to tell him about the night of the charity event, but with every passing day it had become more difficult, more awkward, until eventually she’d changed tactics and convinced herself it was irrelevant. But all this time it was incubating like a parasite, waiting for the perfect conditions in which to crawl out and wreak maximum damage.
‘Something did happen.’
He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. ‘Go on.’
‘That night at the gala. I ended up in bed with him. But I was drunk…’
Any hope that he might take the news in his usual sanguine way quickly dissipated.
‘Oh, you were drunk, were you?’ His voice was thick with sarcasm. ‘Well, that’s okay then.’
‘I know it’s not great. I felt terrible the next day, and I thought about telling you. But equally, we weren’t officially dating, so?—’
‘No, no, you’re right.’ He pointed a finger at her. ‘We forgot to shake on it, didn’t we? I forgot to bring out my standard twenty-page document with the wax seal that says we wouldn’t go off and screw other people that very night.’
‘Hang on a minute. You walked away from me.’
He threw up his arms. ‘You told me to fuck off, remember? I was hurt. Did you ever consider that? In fact, did you ever stop to think about me at all?’
‘But you never called me afterwards!’
‘Why the hell was it my responsibility to do so? Most relationships are two people for a reason. It’s give and take. And I came to see you.’
‘Eventually.’
‘Some of us have proper jobs to do.’
It was a low blow, and her first instinct was to retaliate, but she needed to pull the joystick back a little and stop the whole thing from plummeting.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I was pissed off.’
But he was wound up, his usual measure gone.
‘That’s as may be, but most normal people talk about these things. They find a way through this shit. How did you think it was going to work? That you’d go and sleep with Marcus every time we argued? That’s not how adults go about things.’
‘Oh, so you’re calling me a child?’
His jaw worked like he was chewing something over. It was clearly leaving a bitter aftertaste.
‘No, I don’t think you’re a child,’ he said eventually. ‘Do you want to know what I do think though? I think you use sex as a proxy for power. You conflate being fuckable with being loveable, and you use your body as leverage in situations where you think who you are isn’t enough.’
‘Oh god, thanks for the pseudo-scientific psychobabble.’
‘Say I’m not right.’ He was looking imploringly at her.
‘You’re not my psychologist, Jasper. You don’t know what’s going on in my head.’
‘You’re damned right I don’t. You act like you like me, like there’s some connection between us, but then the moment things get a bit spicy… What about this Marcus? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you really like this guy? You’ve been seeing him a while.’
‘Don’t be stupid. He’s never going to leave his wife for me.’
‘And that’s the only thing holding you back?’
‘No. I mean…’
She was fucking it up.
‘Why do you even want to be with me?’ he said. ‘Am I some kind of novelty act? A bit of rough. A mixed-race guy to add to the collection. Or perhaps it was all just a bit of fun to help your time here pass more quickly?’
Her face betrayed her.
‘Oh, so it was?’
‘At first, maybe. But not now.’
‘Think about it, Simone. I don’t have money. I don’t have influence. I don’t have a team of intelligence people I can lean on in emergencies. This is all I have to offer. And deep down, I’m not sure you think it’s enough.’
She couldn’t think straight. Everything was too emotionally raw.
Her phone rang. She instinctively looked at the screen. It was Marcus. Jasper had seen it too. She rejected the call.
‘I need some space,’ she said.
He nodded, resigned. ‘Here you go. I’ll give you all the space in the world.’ He walked off down the corridor without a backward glance.
Marcus rang again. This time she picked up. Perhaps there was still hope for the story.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Sorry about that. Where are you now?’
‘I’m at the shelter. I lost my job.’
‘I know, I heard.’
‘Who from?’
‘Tony.’
‘You know Tony?’
‘I know everyone,’ he said, like this shouldn’t be news to her. ‘But it’s okay. I can help.’
‘How?’
‘I can get it all put back the way it was. I’ll send you a car. Come and meet me. I’m at the hotel. I miss you.’
‘I can’t just?—’
‘Abandon them? Of course you can. They’re not your responsibility. If you’re worried what they’ll say, pretend you have a meeting with me. To discuss the story. Come on. Come back to me. Let’s give it another go.’
‘But—’
‘Drop me a pin. The car’s on its way.’
He hung up.
The darkness of the corridor crowded in on her. Marcus made it all sound so easy. Forget all about the shelter and put the pieces back the way they were. Everything she’d worked for, everything she’d sacrificed for her job, the thing with her mum, it would finally have been worth something. It wasn’t like she had anything else to offer these people. There were no moves left to play. She’d tried her hardest to help, and it hadn’t been enough.
And what about Jasper? Early doors, Wei had questioned whether her experience at the shelter was like a holiday romance. Incredibly intense and meaningful at the time, but the emotional impact would soon fade. Did he have a point? Annexed from her real life, had Jasper’s appeal been magnified? Had she been swept along, without really considering the broader context within which anything between them would need to function? Was whatever they had going on destined to go wrong? They’d already had two major arguments and they hadn’t so much as been on a proper date yet. Of course she liked him. But she’d liked someone before, and he’d made another woman pregnant. Even if she could persuade him to give her another chance, with that knowledge tucked away in her back pocket, how soon before the Hindenburg of further doubt floated overhead, casting its huge shadow as she waited for the whole thing to come crashing down?
What was it he’d once said about determinism? You can never be truly independent of the influence of other people, no matter how much you tell yourself you are, or how much you might like to be. And you can never be free of yourself. You can never entirely escape the person you are or the conditioning you’ve had. She was who she was. Simone Stephens: Cynical. Rational. Fuckable.
She closed her eyes and pressed her head to the cool wall, turning over the tangle of thoughts, grasping for the loose thread to pull on to help straighten it all out. Marcus was right when he said the world was screwed. Perhaps it was time to stop fighting against that and surrender herself to the inevitability of it, even if it meant she was letting everyone down.
She headed back to the lounge.
‘I’m going to have to head out,’ she told them.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Gayle.
‘Nothing!’
But of course, her face gave it away.
‘I’m going to go and speak to him in person. Find the angle. Make it work.’
Tasha looked searchingly at her. She wasn’t buying it either. ‘You’re lying.’
‘There are details we need to go over. He needs to understand what evidence we’ve got.’
Tasha shook her head. ‘No, something’s not right. I know what lying looks like, and I know what leaving looks like.’
‘Tasha, listen?—’
‘No. I won’t!’ she shouted. ‘I’ll never listen to you again, you lying cow. You’ve not changed at all. You’re still a selfish, materialistic bitch!’
* * *
Ollie followed her out of the shelter, relishing in watching her moral failure play out in real time. The world outside was turning in exactly the same way as it had been. Life carried on. It always did.
‘Why are you even here?’ she said to him. ‘Wolfe was always going to get what he wanted. Did you really need to come and rub everyone’s face in it?’
His mouth had finally stopped wobbling like a ventriloquist dummy’s. The cocaine crash would come soon. The exhaustion, the headaches, the depression, and the feeling that there isn’t a single pleasurable thing left to enjoy in the world. Welcome to the club.
‘You’re the kind of scrote who watches a parade passing from your balcony, then takes their trousers down and shits all over it. Does that make you happy? Does that bring you contentment? Are you not privileged enough? You’re already in a lofty position; crushing people underfoot doesn’t get you that much higher, you know.’
He leered. ‘This has nothing to do with them. And I couldn’t care less about Wolfe’s plans. I just like to win.’
She wasn’t sure she’d ever hated anyone more than she hated him.
The car pulled up, a sleek dark Jaguar, with smoky glass windows. She opened the door.
‘It doesn’t matter how many times you win, Ollie; to me you’ll always be a tiny scrap of smegma clinging to the skin creases of someone else’s bellend. Have a great comedown.’
She got in, slammed the door and told the driver to take a detour via her flat. Her phone pinged. It was Marcus.
Hurry up. I’ve only got a few hours before I need to be somewhere.
She tapped out a reply.
Just going to get changed into something less comfortable. Promise it’ll be worth the wait.
If she was going to do this, she may as well do it properly.