‘The MD of mortgage trading?’ Chris asked.
‘That’s right,’ Alex said. ‘Calhoun said that Risman wanted me to stay. But I got a severe warning. “Any more of that and you’re outta here.”’ He did a passable imitation of Calhoun’s voice.
‘And what about you?’ Chris asked Lenka.
‘I told him we were right and Waldern was wrong,’ she said. ‘I said it was him they should be getting rid of, not us. He told me to shut up and get out.’
‘I think Calhoun was after me,’ said Alex. ‘Waldern made a big deal of the way I had questioned his authority.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re both still here,’ said Duncan, raising his beer bottle. ‘Let me get you one.’ He turned to look for a waiter.
‘It’s lucky Tom Risman found out about what happened, or I wouldn’t be,’ Alex said. ‘How was that, by the way?’ He looked round the table. Eric was smiling quietly. ‘Was it you?’
Eric nodded. ‘Risman said he’s always hated Waldern. He was glad to help.’
‘Thanks, buddy,’ said Alex. ‘Now, where’s that beer?’
Newark Airport was crowded. It was Friday evening, and everyone wanted to be somewhere else for the weekend. Chris had escaped the instant class had finished, and had fought his way there by subway and bus. He needn’t have rushed. He had been waiting three-quarters of an hour and she still hadn’t come through customs. Her flight was half an hour late and she was presumably still waiting for her baggage.
‘Chris!’
Somehow he had missed her. She dropped her bag and gave him a warm hug.
‘Tamara! It’s great to see you.’
She kissed him quickly on the lips and nestled into his chest. He ran his hands through her blonde hair. It was great to see her again.
They broke apart and headed for the exit.
‘Hey, where are you going?’ she said.
‘The buses are this way.’
‘And the taxis are that way.’
‘The bus is easy enough.’
‘Oh, Chris, you’re so mean. I’ll pay,’ and she marched towards the queue for the taxis.
Chris followed, and they were soon crawling towards the Holland Tunnel and Manhattan.
‘Well, what are we doing tonight?’ Tamara asked.
‘I thought we could go out for dinner. And then we could go on to a party.’
‘A party! That sounds fun. I can meet all your nice new friends. Oh, but will that dreadful Duncan be there?’
‘He’s not dreadful. And yes, he will be there. You know we share an apartment, so you’ll just have to put up with him. Ian Darwent will be there, too, though. You like him, don’t you?’
‘Oh, yes. He’s yummy. I suppose there will be lots of Americans?’
‘New York is in America, Tamara,’ said Chris, smiling. ‘I expect there will be one or two.’
Tamara sighed. ‘They’re not all bad, I suppose. I shall just have to be patient with them.’
‘You’ll like Eric and Alex, the guys having the party.’
‘Good. Now, come here.’ She snuggled up to him, and ran her hand inside his shirt and over his chest. ‘This is going to be a very nice weekend.’
The taxi battled across Manhattan and eventually reached Chris’s apartment. The fare was huge, and somehow Chris ended up paying it.
They talked a lot at dinner, Chris about the training programme and Tamara about her wide circle of acquaintances in London. They had known each other at Oxford, but had only got together after the exams in the final year. Tamara was thin, blonde and sophisticated. Chris had always fancied her, but had never thought he had a chance. He was surprised when they had ended up in bed together after a party in the last week of term, and even more surprised that she still wanted to see him after they had both moved on to London: he to Bloomfield Weiss and she to Gurney Kroheim, a very British merchant bank. The relationship had developed over the following six months, although not quite to the point where they had moved in together. But she was enthusiastic about visiting him in New York, and for that he was grateful.
They arrived back at the apartment at about eleven. Loud music was coming from Ian’s room. He had been out when Tamara and Chris had changed earlier in the evening, so Tamara hadn’t yet seen him. She barged straight into his bedroom without knocking, Chris following. Chris wasn’t too worried that she would interrupt Ian changing. It wouldn’t bother Ian and it would give Tamara a minor thrill.
Ian was fully clothed, but he was surprised. He was bending over a small mirror on the desk, on which was arranged a thin line of white powder. He turned towards the intruders and his face reddened instantly.
‘Ooh, Ian, just getting ready for the party, are we?’
Ian looked from Chris to Tamara. ‘Um...’ was all he could say.
‘Hello, darling,’ said Tamara, clearly enjoying his discomfort. She presented her cheek to him for a kiss, licked the tip of her finger, dipped it in the powder and rubbed it on her gums. ‘Yum. Can I have some more?’
‘Er... hi, Tamara. Yeah, yeah, sure,’ said Ian, glancing at Chris uncertainly.
Tamara laughed. ‘Come on, Chris. I’m sure Ian can spare some for you, too.’
Chris stared, unsure how to react. After a couple of seconds, he turned and left the room. He shut himself in his own bedroom and looked out of his window at the busy street twelve floors below.
He was angry. He didn’t take drugs and he assumed that his friends didn’t take any either, especially his girlfriend. What was Tamara thinking of? Taking drugs was what stupid people did. Ian was a surprise, but understandable if Chris thought about it. But how could Tamara be so stupid?
The trouble was, he was the one who felt stupid, and that made him angrier still. Of course he knew people took drugs. Occasionally, at university, he had seen people slipping away together for that purpose. And, from reading the press, the financial world was full of it. But he had always avoided drugs, or to be more accurate, drugs had always avoided him. And that was what made him feel stupid. He was an unsophisticated Polish hick. What else did he expect before a party in New York City of all places?
Get a grip, he told himself. Stay cool. He took a few deep breaths and left the bedroom. Tamara emerged from Ian’s room giggling. She stopped when she saw Chris.
‘Oh, Chris, you look so shocked.’
‘I didn’t know you took drugs, Tamara.’
‘I don’t. Not really. Just every now and then. I’m hardly a junkie, Chris, am I?’
Chris shrugged. He couldn’t help it, but he looked for signs that the drug was having an effect. Tamara’s eyes looked normal; in fact they looked exactly the same as they had a few minutes ago. Of course they did: he was being stupid again.
‘You’re so uptight,’ she said. ‘You should try some.’
Chris shook his head.
She pulled him down to her and kissed him long and deep. ‘Better?’ she said, when they broke away. ‘Look, I wouldn’t have done it if I knew you were going to get so upset. Let’s go, shall we? Are you ready, Ian?’
They took a taxi over to the Upper West Side. Chris sat in silence as Tamara talked animatedly to Ian, who charmed her back. When they arrived, the party was in full swing. Eric greeted them at the door. A girl was with him, whom Eric introduced as Megan. Chris was curious. This was the mysterious girlfriend who lived in Washington, or somewhere, and whom Chris had not yet met. Not surprisingly, she was attractive, but not in the striking way he might have expected of Eric’s girlfriend. She had long frizzy black hair, a pale intelligent face, freckles, a snub nose and bright blue eyes. She looked very young, barely eighteen, but there was something about her that seemed wise beyond her years. Chris instantly liked her.