It was a slim metal box, rectangular, almost hidden in the folds of fabric at the bottom of the bag. I knew what it was on sight. I had a few of my own – white gold, mainly – that I’d been bought at one time or another by various well-meaning, but essentially unimaginative, relations. I didn’t use any of them.
It was a business card case. I tried to open it, but it wouldn’t give. I prised at it with my fingernails…I had to get it open. It wouldn’t budge. It was clearly a cheap one, and the mechanism seemed to be fucked. I tried again. Still nothing – not even enough play to indicate I was doing it right.
Finally, it snapped open, revealing a clutch of bright white cards, a red and blue logo emblazoned across them. I knew I had to get one. I tried to tease them out, but they were wedged in.
Just then, I heard the shower stop, and the door of the shower enclosure swung open with a creak, spatters of water splashing onto the marble floor. I tried again to get a card out of the box, but there was no way. It needed a woman’s fingers. I tossed it back inside her bag, snapped the clasp together again, and positioned it carefully back where I’d found it, on the dresser.
I moved back to the bed, grabbing the sheets and billowing them across it. I slipped back under them, and leaned across to take the camera from its hiding place. I turned it off, and tucked it into the hidden compartment in the unit next to my bed. I’d have to get her laptop bag in the morning. I knew exactly where it was, in the living room, next to the sofa. Anything she’d previously downloaded could be on there. I smoothed the pillows over again, and lay down.
Just in time. She sauntered back in, towel drying her hair as she came. She stopped, when she saw me looking.
‘So, this is what you want?’ She turned to where her clothes lay, hanging across the back of a chair.
‘Yes,’ I said, watching as she started to get dressed.
Fuck it. I couldn’t let it end like this. I knew this would be the last time I’d see her and, whatever she’d done, I felt sorry for her. She really was fucked up. Anyway, I needed time to think. ‘No. Come back to bed, Charlotte. Let me hold you.’
One more time. I didn’t speak the words, but they lay heavy across my heart. The bitch was a journo. It was almost unbelievable. I hadn’t been able to get her business card out, but it didn’t matter. I knew the logo, better than I’d have liked. She worked for the City Herald, and I was her story.
She dropped her clothes where she stood, and slipped back into bed beside me. I opened my arms to her, and she draped herself across me, her skin warm and still slightly damp from the shower. Her hair smelt of sage and mint; a manly scent, but she was all woman and, at this moment, as trusting as a child. Soon, she was asleep, I was sure of it. Her breathing came sweet and shallow, her slim, smooth shoulders rising and falling in rhythm with my chest.
But could I really be sure? I wasn’t sure of anything now. I lay there awake all night, wondering how best to deal with her. None of the options seemed attractive.
Four
I’d finished chopping the fruit, and the news had finished with Grace Anderton and the inestimable shit that was Leo Sparkes. For the time being, at least. I scraped the fruit off the chopping board and into the juicer, still thinking about her. That face; an enchanting blur of tears and cosmetics, haunted me. Why were footballers such pricks? It seemed to be written into their contract. Which reminded me…
I turned on the juicer. It was supposed to be quiet, but it was anything but, and I knew it. For the first time that day, I heard movement in the bedroom. A minute or so later, Charlotte was standing in the doorway. She’d thrown her clothes on – hadn’t even buttoned her shirt. She was wild-eyed with panic.
I turned off the juicer. ‘Breakfast?’
‘I…I’m late for work.’
‘Really?’ I poured juice into two tall glasses. ‘I thought you lot kept your own hours.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her eyes widened briefly, and she couldn’t hold my gaze. I could tell I’d unnerved her.
‘I mean, since you were working all night, I thought you’d be okay to lie in this morning.’
She didn’t reply, just turned and ran back into the bedroom. I could hear her rummaging through the bed clothes. I followed her in. She was on her hands and knees, looking under the bed.
‘Now, really, Charlotte.’ I couldn’t help but be amused. ‘There’s no need to grovel. The session ended last night.’
‘Where is it, you bastard?’ She jumped to her feet, almost panting. I thought she was going to hyperventilate.
‘Where’s what?’
‘Don’t…’ she took a deep breath and looked like she was about to cry. ‘…do this.’
‘Do what?’ I shrugged. ‘I’m doing nothing.’
‘Don’t come all high and mighty with me.’ Her voice wobbled, and I was half tempted to go over to her, to comfort her, but she’d brought this on herself. ‘You got as much out of this as I did. Don’t pretend you didn’t.’
‘I got nothing out of this, Charlotte.’ I turned away from her. ‘Except peace of mind.’
‘You arrogant prick.’ She pushed her feet into her shoes. ‘Did I mean nothing to you?’
‘On the contrary, your safety meant everything to me.’ I stood at the door, and watched as she buttoned her shirt.
‘My safety?’
‘You were out of control, Charlotte.’ I didn’t want to remind her of how we’d found her. She’d come such a long way since then.
‘Out of…’ She gave that harsh laugh again, and walked into the living room. ‘Entrapment, dear.’
I shook my head. I’d been had. We all had. It was hardly worth asking - I knew the answer - but I couldn’t help myself. ‘Why?’
‘Because of who you are, of course,’ she said, simply. ‘It was a guaranteed story. I’d heard enough about you to know you fancy yourself as some kind of knight errant. The preux chevalier of spoilt little rich boys. I wanted to get behind the myth. Find the real story. And, boy, what a story it’s turned out to be. I went round every Dom in Dominion, trying to get on the inside, to get a story. I never thought I’d end up in the confidence of the Kingpin himself.’
‘Always the fondness for the melodramatic, Charlotte,’ I said, watching her hunt around the sofa for her laptop. She could look all she liked…it was in Max’s office, in his safe. ‘How did I not guess before you were a hack?’
She looked up at me, suddenly. She looked taken aback for a moment, then she seemed to collect herself. ‘Well,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘I got a good story.’
‘You got nothing,’ I said. ‘You were never in my confidence. You’ll have to write lies, because I’ve told you fuck all.’
She didn’t say anything, just looked down at her nails with a secretive smile. She seemed so sure of herself that I almost felt alarmed, but I had my ace card at hand. ‘Whatever you think you know, you signed a confidentiality clause. I witnessed it myself.’
‘That?’ She picked up her handbag, wielding it like a weapon. ‘Worthless. It’s not even my real name.’
I cursed inwardly. I should’ve kept that business card box. Maybe I should even have fucked her. She’d fucked me anyway, in her own way. ‘So what are you going to do now?’
‘Well, I’d almost convinced myself to drop the whole thing.’ For the first time, her resolve seemed to weaken and something approaching a sob escaped her lips. ‘That is, I thought…’ She looked up at me, her eyes softer, almost appealing. ‘But now…’
‘Now?’ I returned her gaze, but without softening mine, without conceding at all. I had to know the worst. What was she planning to do? I raised my eyebrows, waiting tensely for her to reply.