Текст книги "The Billionaire Banker"

Автор книги: Georgia Le Carre

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Twenty four

Blake has a business dinner that he expects to run late, so Billie and Lana are going to a wine bar that has just opened in Seymour Place.  She washes her hair and dresses in tight jeans and the top that Fleur had called basic even though it is rather grand, with lace and pearl buttons down the front.  Peter is on holiday and Blake has left strict instructions for her to take a taxi to and fro.  Lana goes to see her mother first.

Her mother looks well.  She is steadily gaining weight, there is color again in her cheeks, and seems in good spirits.  The pouch with her supply of antineoplastons is strapped around her waist.

‘My, don’t you look nice,’ she says, bustling Lana into the kitchen.  She puts a skillet on the stove.  ‘You can’t drink on an empty stomach.  We are having grilled chicken and salad.’  She sprinkles nuts on a bowl of salad.

They sit to eat and it is like old times.  Afterwards, she refuses all offers of help with the dishes and shoos Lana away.  ‘Go.  Go and have a good time, you.  Call me in the morning.’

‘OK, OK,’ Lana says laughing as she is bodily pushed out of her mother’s door.

At Billie’s, Lana is ordered to lose the lace top and slip into one of Billie’s skinny tops.  She has to admit the red top looks hip and a whole lot sexier.

The taxi drops them outside the entrance of Fellini’s.  They open the wooden door and enter the dimly-lit interior.  It is all green walls, chrome fittings and framed black and white photos of movie stars from the forties and fifties.  The clientele is quite a mixed bag, but seems to be mostly office folk.

They find a table and Lana buys the first round.  When it is Billie’s turn, she goes up to the bar.  A guy sidles up to the half-circle seat that Lana is sitting on.  He is wearing a suit and must be in his mid or late twenties.  He smiles at her.  Friendly face.  She will also remember later that he looked clean and trustworthy.  There is nothing about him to suggest otherwise

‘Hello, doll,’ he says. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

‘Thanks, but my friend’s gone to get me one.’

‘Mind if I join you girls?’

‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ interrupts Billie rudely.  She is standing behind Lana and actually glowering at the man.  She looks quite tough and fierce.

‘No problem,’ he says immediately, and with a wink to Lana, gets up and goes back to join his friends, who are gathered at the bar.  He says something to them and they slap him on the back and laugh uproariously.  For some reason, their laughter disturbs Lana and makes her think it is somehow connected to her.  But Billie is saying something and she turns her head to listen.

Blake feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and instantly perceives that it is from Lana.  Why, he cannot say, for she has never called him before.  He takes his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen.  It is her!  He excuses himself, walks away from the table, and puts his mobile to his ear.

‘Hi,’ says a voice he does not recognize.

‘Yes,’ he says, his voice, strangely abrupt.  Some part of his brain registers surprise at the state of his voice.

‘This is Billie, Lana’s friend.  Don’t panic, but some wanker has slipped a roach into her drink, and she’s gone down.’

Her accent is hard for Blake to understand, and he has never heard the term roach, but he guesses instantly that Billie must be referring to a date rape drug.  ‘Gone down?’ he repeats.

‘Look, I’ve had to leave her at the table with one of the bar staff to come outside and call you, so could you hurry here, please?’

‘Where are you?’

She gives him the address.

Without going back to the table to make his apologies, Blake rushes out of the restaurant.  He double parks outside the entrance of Loren, and bounds into the bar.  His eyes scan the room.  A young girl with extremely white hair is waving at him.  Lana is slumped against her and her head is lolling on the girl’s left shoulder.

Billie stands up and tries to keep Lana up with her hand, but Lana flops over it and moans.  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ Billie says.  ‘Almost all my friends have had it slipped into their drink before, and we’ve all survived.’  She jerks her eyes towards a group of men.  ‘I think it’s them over there, but over my dead body will they be taking this girl home with them.’

Blake glances over at the men.  Six lads.  Youngish.  Their idea of fun.  As soon as they sense his eyes on them, they quickly turn away.  Blake experiences a fury that he has never know.  The urge to go over and punch their smirking faces burns his guts.  He turns towards them, raging uncontrollably.  A hand on his arm stops him.  He looks at it.  The nails are painted to look like slices of watermelon.  The sight has a strange effect on him.  He loses the edge of his anger.  He drags his eyes to hers.

‘If you prop her up on one side, we can walk her out,’ she urges.  Her voice is surprisingly strong and purposeful.  He had dismissed her, the spiders and the boiled-egg white hair.  She was more.  No wonder Lana held her in such high regard.

‘No need,’ he says, and scoops Lana up easily, as if he is Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind.

‘Oh!’ Billie exclaims.  Then she turns around and, flicking her middle finger at the group of guys who have turned to watch, follows Blake out of the restaurant.  Billie opens the passenger door and Blake deposits Lana into the seat.  He closes the door and turns to face Billie.

‘Thank you for calling me.’

Billie shrugs.  ‘No problem.  Thanks for coming.  Couldn’t take her home.  Her mum…you know how it is?’

Blake nods.  ‘How will you get home?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about me.  I’ll just hop on a bus.’

Blake frowns.  ‘Is that safe at this time of the night?’

Billie’s eyes widen.  Suddenly he seems so much older.  ‘It’s only ten o’clock, Mr. Barrington.’

Blake takes his wallet out of his pocket.  He pulls two fifties out and holds them out to Billie.  ‘Here, take a cab.’

‘Uh…taxis don’t cost that much, Mr. Barrington.’

‘Call me Blake, and please, don’t argue with me.’

Billie reaches out and takes the money.  She shifts from one foot to another.  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.  Tomorrow will be the killer.  She’ll think she’s dying, but she’ll be OK.  Give her lots of water to drink.’

‘Thanks again.’

‘Oh, and if you want to do anything kinky to her now’s the time.  She won’t remember a thing in the morning.’

For a moment Blake stares at her in shock, and then he realizes that it is her attempt at a joke.  He shakes his head.  Strange girl.  Billie pulls Lana’s phone out of her pocket.  ‘Here’s her phone.  She’ll need to call her mum before twelve or there’ll be trouble.’

Blake takes it distractedly.  ‘OK, I’ll make sure she does.’  He walks over to his side of the car and gets in.

Billie watches the car roar powerfully into life, pick up great speed almost immediately, and take the corner at an alarming speed.  She stuffs the money into the back pocket of her black jeans and casually ambles over to the bus stop.  At the bus stop she sits on a cold plastic chair and replays the moment when Blake picked Lana up.  She will never have that, but instead of that usual tinge of envy because someone else has more than her, her little heart is soaring for Lana.

Banker boy cared.

Lana moans and Blake takes his eyes off the road to briefly look at her.

‘Ooh uuugggg  why uuuuuuggggg,’ she says, and covering her face with her hand, mumbles unintelligently.  Blake doesn’t try to talk to her.  When he reaches the apartment block, he takes his keycard from the dashboard and goes out to Lana’s side.  The night porter’s eyes are round with curiosity when he carries Lana through reception towards the lift.  The porter stands up, but Blake shakes his head, and he sits down again.  Blake elbows the lift button.  It opens immediately.  He slots in his card and they are transported up.  The movement of elevator makes Lana stir in his arms.  ‘Sorry, Mummy,’ she says.  ‘Oh it’s you’… more gibberish…then clearly, ‘where’s Mum?’

‘She’s home safe.’

But she appears not to hear, and seems to be trapped in some nightmare of her own.  ‘Don’t die, Mummy.  You promised to come to my wedding.’  He watches her with a frown.  ‘You said you would.’  She begins to cry.  ‘Mum, it’s cold.  I’m so cold.’  Blake curses.  The lift door opens and he carries her into the apartment and deposits her on the bed.

She grasps his arm and looks into his eyes, frowns, and does not seem to recognize him.  ‘Where’s my mother?’  She shivers.  He covers her.  ‘I’ll tell you now.  You won’t break me, Barrington,’ she slurs and turns on her side.  ‘I’ll tell Jack what you did.  He’ll sort you out.’

‘Jaaaaccccckk,’ she wails.

It makes the hair on his neck stand to see her this way.  But it is only when she starts talking gobbledygook in earnest that he gets worried.  He goes into the kitchen and phones his doctor.  After a few minutes he ends the call and stares at the granite top.  He is simmering with anger—with her, for being so careless, so naïve, and with those pigs that thought they could drug a girl and rape her.  His hands clench.  He breathes deeply and lifts his chin.  He closes his eyes.  They didn’t get her.  They didn’t get her.  His hands unclench.  He takes another full breath.  It is not her fault.  She is as innocent as a child.  Grimly, he goes to sit by the bedside and listen to her ramblings.  In all of them, he is the enemy.  The one who wants to use her for sex.  He clasps his hands and says nothing.

The porter brings the doctor up.  Dr. Faulks is very quick with his analysis.  There is nothing much to do.  Wait it out.  Fluids are the key.  Tomorrow will be bad.  She will have memory lapses, most likely won’t remember a thing.  Oh, plastic sheets might be a good idea.  Sometime incontinence can occur.’

After the doctor is gone, Blake undresses Lana.  She sighs elaborately.  ‘Oh! It’s you again.’  She seems confused, sad.  He pulls the duvet over her.  She pushes it away.  ‘I’m hot.  Really hot.  I thought you wanted to fuck me, anyway.’  She grabs his hand and kisses it.  ‘Thank you.  Thank you for what you did for my mother.’  She moans and falls into a stupor.  She sleeps for half an hour and wakes up retching.  He brings a large salad bowl that he finds in the kitchen, but it is only dry heaving.

He lays a cold towel on her forehead.  Her fingers come up to push it away.  She pulls his face towards her.  Her breath smells strange and stale.  He doesn’t care, he kisses her back.  Suddenly she turns away and begins to cry.

For hours he sits beside her as she goes from comatose to babbling idiot to crazed sex fiend, wondering when it would be over.  When the sky is beginning to lighten, purely from exhaustion she finally falls into a restless sleep.  He texts his secretary to reschedule his morning appointments and gets into bed beside her.  He puts his arm around her narrow waist and closes his eyes with relief that her suffering is over for the night and that she will never remember this long and terrible night.  His nose hovers over the crook of her neck and finds the faint but familiar scent of her perfume.  He registers in his tired, tense body a sense of victory that they did not get her, and then, a strong sense of possession. He tightens his hold on her.

She belongs to him.

Twenty five

While they are having dinner on the balcony Lana says, ‘We’ve been invited to a party tomorrow.  Do you want to go?’

Blake looks at her strangely.  ‘It’s my birthday tomorrow.’

‘Oh,’ she says, surprised.  ‘You never said anything.’

‘No, it’s not something I am looking forward to.’

‘You will be thirty.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want to come to the party then?’

‘I can’t.  My family is flying over to be with me.  They’ve arranged something for me in a hotel.  It will be insufferably boring, I’m sure, but I am obliged.’

“Of course, of course.’  Lana tries her best not to show how his news has affected her.  Was he never going to tell her?  ‘That’s OK then.  I’ll go with Billie.’

Only this morning she has tasted the name of Lana Barrington on her tongue. The whisper is her secret.  It felt right.  As Billie would say, so fucking right.  So she said it louder.

Lana Barrington.  Daring the fates.

Mrs. Lana Barrington.  Your husband has been delayed.  Would you like to wait for him at the bar?  The fantasy was so perfect she wanted to cry.  What a fool she has been.  How on earth did she manage to fall in love with such a cold and heartless man, a banker for God’s sake?

‘Let Tom drive you there and back,’ he is saying.

‘I’ll just take a cab.’

“I’ll feel better if Tom drives you, waits for you and brings you back.’

‘Will she be there?’

‘Yes,’ he says very quietly.

‘Well, that’s that then.  I hope you have fun.’  Her voice sounds high and too merry.

‘I won’t,’ he says, but that doesn’t soothe her one bit.

That was yesterday.  Today she is walking into Billie’s bedroom wearing a pair of white shorts, a cut off, sleeveless, white T-shirt that left her midriff bare and white trainers.

‘Wow, you look seriously hot,’ Billie comments.

‘You don’t think it’s too slutty?’

‘Are you kidding?  It’s white.  You look like a wet dream.  Besides, it’s Tom’s party.  It’s always full of working girls.’

Billie is wearing combat boots, a fur trimmed, green beret and a clinging black cat-suit.

‘You look very Miley Cyrus,’ Lana says.

‘Thanks.  I was going for rock chick, but obviously I’m not ever going to say no to Miley,’ Billie replies with a grin.  ‘Now get in front of the mirror.’

Lana sits on the edge of the bed and Billie picks up a curling iron and takes up position behind her.  With meticulous care she begins to put corkscrew curls in Lana’s hair.  She is concentrating so hard she does not speak, so Lana lets her mind wander to Blake.  She wonders about his world.  So entirely different from hers.  At a hotel, he said, careful not to mention the name of the hotel, as if he feared there was a possibility that she might turn up and embarrass him.

In a little while Leticia comes to join them.  She is wearing a plain grey T-shirt, ripped jeans and a surly expression.  Her hair is gelled to spikes around her head.  She is a big, butch girl.

‘How’s it going, Let,’ Lana greets.

Leticia grunts moodily.

Suddenly, an image of Leticia tied spread eagle on her bed with a chocolate bar stuck between her legs pops into Lana’s head.  Lana presses her lips together to hide her amusement.

Leticia turns towards Billie.  ‘You told her, didn’t you?’ she accuses.

Unfazed, Billie takes another small section of Lana’s hair and carefully coils it around the curling iron.  ‘Be thankful I didn’t tell her what I did to you last night,’ she says, and crusty, cross Leticia squirms.

When they are ready, the girls walk over to Tom’s place.  It is such a warm evening they don’t even need coats.

The music is loud and there are many people there, but Billie is always the centre of any party and gets pulled to the middle of the dance floor.  When Lana’s mobile rings she almost does not hear it.  She looks at the screen.  It is only ten o’clock and it is Blake.

‘Hey,’ she says, but it is very loud and almost impossible to hear him.  ‘Wait one moment,’ she tells him and fights her way out of the crowd.  ‘Hi, what’s up?’

‘Nothing.  My party was rather flat, so I left.  Can I come join you, after all?’

‘Of course.’  Suddenly her heart feels light and happy.  He wants her company.

She is sitting on the stairs waiting for him when he arrives.

‘Where’s Peter?’

‘Sent him home.’

He locks his car and walks up to her.  ‘What are you doing sitting here?’

‘Waiting for you.’

He turns to look at a group of youths.  They are swearing loudly and holding beer cans.  ‘It looks dangerous.’

She laughs.  ‘I grew up here.  I know those guys.  They’re Tom’s mates.  If you want to score some coke, they’re the ones to go to.’

‘You don’t take drugs, do you?’

She laughs again.  ‘No,’ she says, and he thinks how very fetching she looks.

He sits beside her, and takes a curly lock of hair in his hand.  ‘What’s this?’

‘Billie did it.  It’s not permanent.’

His hands move to the white shorts.  ‘And this?’

‘I can hardly wear the fancy dresses you bought me here.  I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.’  She looks at him.  He looks good enough to eat.  A soft breeze teases his hair.  She has a desire to flirt with him.  ‘Don’t you like it, then?’

He looks at her expressionlessly.  A master of disguise.  ‘What do you think?’

‘I think yes.’

‘Go to the top of the class, Miss Bloom.’

She laughs.

He watches her.  ‘I don’t think I have ever seen you laugh.’

‘And?’

‘I like it.’

She laughs.  ‘Good.  Let’s go find you a drink.’

‘Is my car safe there?’

‘It’s not Detroit, you know.’

He jerks his head at the group of youths with the beer cans.  ‘Are you sure?’

She looks around and further away notices Kensington standing with a group of boys watching them.  She points her thumb over her shoulder.  ‘See that boy in the green baseball cap?  If you give him a ride he’ll watch your car for you.’

Blake looks over at the boy.

‘That black boy?’

‘Be careful, you might reveal your hand as not being an equal opportunities employer.’

Blake crooks a finger at the boy.  Kensington doesn’t need any further encouragement.  He jumps on his bike and tucking his head into his shoulders races towards Blake.  He screeches to a stop dangerously close to Blake’s feet.

‘Oi!  Watch it,’ Lana warns.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Kensington Parish.’

‘Want to watch my car for me, Kensington?’

‘Yeah,’ Kensington agrees enthusiastically.  He looks at the car admiringly.  ‘This car was made by God, man.’

‘Here’s fifty.’

Kensington’s eyes sparkle.  ‘Fifty quid?’

His thin hand reaches out for it, but Blake pulls his hand back slightly.  ‘If I come back and find the car exactly as I left it then there’s another fifty for you.’

Kensington’s face splits into a huge grin.  ‘Thanks, Mister,’ he says and snatches the note.  Unceremoniously, he drops his bicycle on the ground and hops lightly onto the bonnet of the car.

‘You’re generous,’ Lana says.

‘Not at all.  A single scratch can cost thousands to repair.’

They go up the stairs and find Billie.  Billie makes a licking gesture behind his back, but she is very polite.  ‘Forget about good Scotch here,’ she says, and goes to get Blake a beer.  As they are talking, Jack walks in.  He has a pretty girl on his arm.  He introduces her as Alison.

‘Hello, Alison.  Great to meet you,’ Lana says warmly.  She winks at Jack as if to say well done.  He pretends he has not seen her wink and, cautiously, briefly shakes hands with Blake.

‘Right, I want you lot on your feet and dancing,’ Billie orders bossily, as she thrusts a bottle of beer into Blake’s palm.

‘I don’t dance,’ Blake says, and Jack and Alison quickly move off in the opposite direction.

A couple vacate one of the battered sofas.  ‘Perhaps you would like to join me on one of these lovely sofas,’ Blake says, and collapses into its creaky springs.  Lana laughs and collapses next to him.  A young man who looks the worse for wear comes and sits next to her on the sofa.  He has a tattoo of men in a tug-of-war on his shaven head.  Blake mutters something indecipherable and scoops her up and deposits her on his lap.

‘What are you doing?’ she squeals.

‘Don’t want you catching anything off him,’ he whispers in her ear.  She feels the hard muscles of his thighs.  Flirtatiously, she looks at him from beneath her lashes.  He puts his big hands on her bare knees and pulls her until her rear is in close contact with his groin.  She can feel how hard he has become.

Blake pulls her closer and captures her mouth.  He smells of caramel and tastes divine. She slips her hand into his unbuttoned shirt.  And finds a man’s skin, hot, taut, muscles rippling underneath.  It makes her lips part.

‘I want to take you home now,’ he growls in her ear.

‘OK,’ Lana agrees instantly, and they stand to go.

‘Leaving so soon,’ Bill moans moodily.

‘It’s not really my scene,’ Blake says.

‘Call me tomorrow,’ Jack says, as she kisses his cheek.

‘I will.’

She turns to Alison, who is holding onto Jack possessively, as if she fears something is going on between Lana and Jack.  ‘Take care of my brother,’ Lana whispers in the girl’s ear and sees her relax and smile warmly for the first time.

Then Blake and her are leaving, holding hands, as if they are real lovers.  As if he has not paid her to have sex with him.  As if she is not the living, breathing doll that he expects to get bored with in a few weeks.

Kensington hops off the car bonnet when he spots them.

‘Good job,’ Blake says and slips him the other fifty.

‘Cool.  What about a ride, then?’

‘Another time,’ replies Blake, opening the passenger door for Lana.

Blake is very quiet in the car.  Suddenly he reaches past her to the glove box and takes out a velvet box.  He tosses it into her lap.  ‘I got you a present.’

‘On your birthday?’

‘I thought it would look great on you.  Besides, what’s the point of having a rich lover if you can’t get expensive baubles out of him.’

She releases the catch on the box.  It opens and she gasps.  On a bed of satin is the most beautiful seven strand pearl necklace with a large oval sapphire centre.

‘Oh my!’ she says, staring at it.

He reaches a red light, takes the necklace from her, and puts it around her throat while she holds her hair up.  She feels his warm fingers on the back of her neck.  Then the light changes and his fingers are gone.  She looks at herself in the visor mirror.  Even in the dim light, the diamonds set around the large sapphire sparkle like stars.  She didn’t get him anything.

‘I didn’t get you anything.’

He lets his eyes leave the road and rest on her briefly.  ‘I didn’t expect anything from you.’

‘Did you get lots of presents from your family?’

‘We don’t do presents.  We already have everything we could want.  When we were younger we did give each other joke gifts.  But how many times can you give someone a blow-up doll or a penis enlargement gadget?  It was relief when that stopped.’

When they get to the apartment he picks her up in his arms, throws her on the bed and falls in after her.

‘This is a dangerously sexy pair of white shorts, Miss Bloom,’ he teases.  ‘Do you have the necessary license to operate such a weapon?’

‘It’s not mine.  It belongs to Billie,’ she answers primly.

‘Ah, Billie of the ear biting fame.  Do you think she might let me buy it from her?’

‘Oooo I don’t know.  It did come from a very exclusive market stall in Kilburn.  There are only five hundred thousand others like it.’

His eyebrows rise, his lips curve.  ‘That rare?’

‘That rare.’

‘I better make my bid good then.’

‘Good idea, Mr. Barrington.  Kill the competition in one fell swoop.’

‘As her agent, what do you suggest I offer?’

‘I believe she is hankering after a pink car.’

His eyes gleam.  ‘Are you sure, Miss Bloom, that I am not better off approaching the market dealer directly.’

‘Of course you can… But it will not have the Lana Bloom scent,’ she says daringly.

His eyes widen and fill with delicious longing.  ‘You never said a truer word, Miss Bloom.’

His long fingers very deliberately pop the button and pull down the zip.  The sound is exciting in the silence.  She can hear her own breathing.  He slides the shorts off.  ‘Ah, these legs… So long… So silky…  I swear I never met a girl with skin such as yours.’  The shorts slip over her ankles and end up clutched in his big hands.  He crushes them, brings them to his nose and inhales deeply.

‘The Lana Bloom scent.  I’ll miss it,’ he whispers, almost to himself.

And suddenly she tenses.  All this will end soon.  This apartment, this bed, these clothes, this delicious banter, this man…will disappear into nothing.  She will be left only with memories.  She clutches his forearms and pulls his mouth down to hers and kisses him desperately, opening her mouth, begging him to be inside her.  He has already left his mark on her.  She must leave her mark on him.  She lies naked but for her necklace, and realizes she doesn’t know how to.

When the desert wind blew it covered everything in sand.