“Absolutely.”
We said goodbye and I climbed into my car confident I was clear to drive after the copious amounts of coffee and pastries, and headed home. I lived in an original art deco apartment block in Kensington, not far from the restaurant Mackenzie had taken me to, one of the reasons I was so surprised not to know of its existence. I enjoyed my own space and although I missed company, the apartment suited my needs.
I walked into the kitchen and switched on the coffee machine. I probably drank way too much, but I certainly felt the need for another cup. I chuckled as I recalled the conversation I’d had with Veronica and Stanton. And I wondered who Jeremy really was. Sitting on my table was the envelope from Mackenzie and although the scent of perfume had diminished, I could imagine it. Not knowing anything about American life in the South, I could picture Gabriella spraying a little of her perfume over an envelope as if it were completely normal.
I visualised her. Her walk, so slow and seductive when she showed me to Mackenzie’s office even though she could have simply pointed. She knew what she was doing, she was playing a game, and I liked it.
The first smell of a chase, the first whiff of sexual desire is what stirred me. The thought of a challenge enticed me, what excited me more was that she might be forbidden. Mackenzie had referred to her as a childhood friend and not his partner; although I was sure he wouldn’t divulge such private detail. I wasn’t the kind to steal a woman from another man, but that gut instinct was playing havoc with me and I smiled, looking forward to discovering who she really was.
I once again tipped out the contents of the envelope. As I read, thoughts of Gabriella were pushed to one side. The contract was very tempting indeed. I knew of the company, Trymast, which Mackenzie was buying. As he’d said, one of the largest communication’s companies in Europe. It might just be a change in career I could get my teeth into.
Chapter Three
I played a round of golf the following morning with two old work colleagues. The only two left that were still able to talk to me without fear of being persecuted. I had been classed as a whistle-blower but if I saved just a few lives or the devastation of bankruptcy, they could call me whatever they wanted. Grudges were held for many years in the city, unfortunately. I was simply buying time at the recently formednewLloyds. It wouldn’t have looked good on them if they had kicked me out straight after I’d brought world attention to their shady cover-up.
“I hear you lost the Stanton account?” Len said as he teed up his ball.
“I hope so,” I replied, pulling my cap down to shield my eyes from the sunlight.
“Horrible slimy fuck, he is,” Pete added.
Len and Pete played golf every day, mostly in Portugal where they owned villas. Although retired, the two still dabbled in investments and the golf course, once a week, was where they shared their wins and losses. It’s also where they swapped tips.
“He hasn’t actually told me, but I’ll be glad to see the back of him,” I said.
Len grunted as he swung his club in a semi-circle and clouted the ball straight down the fairway. “You’ll have to tell me how you did it.”
“About the best shot you’ve played in a long time,” Pete said, shielding his eyes to watch where the ball was heading. The two were like a couple of old women, always arguing.
We continued our round, chatting and teasing each other. Applauding a good shot, and ribbing poor ones mercilessly.
“What do you know about Mackenzie Miller?” I asked, as we’d done our nine holes and headed into the clubhouse for a coffee.
“Venture capitalist, wealthy, got an eye for a deal. Not afraid to get his hands dirty if he has to, though,” Pete said, while also asking for three coffees by sign language.
Len and I had taken seats at a table.
“Why?” Pete asked.
“I wanted to pitch to him, he ended up offering me a job.”
“Blimey, what did you say?” Len asked.
“Nothing, yet. I’m tempted, for sure. I just don’t know a lot about him.”
Len said, “I don’t know that anyone knows a lot about him. I’ve heard he’s a good chap to have on your side, but not necessarily one to cross.” Pete nodded as if in confirmation.
“How did he get started?” I asked.
“Rumour has it that he bought a business, built it up, lost it, I think, then started again. Found out his father-in-law had shafted his father, so he spend the next few years buying up the father-in-law’s businesses and ousting him. Something like that, anyway.” It confirmed what I had read about him in my research.
“Someone who has worked from the ground up then?” I asked, impressed. I admired men, and women, who did that. I disliked those that fell into the family business and then acted as if it had taken blood and spit to get to the top.
I’d used my name and family connections when I’d had to, but I hadn’t been handed the proverbial silver spoon.
We drank and we ate a hideous bacon sandwich, complained, as we did every single Saturday, and vowed to cancel our membership, not that we ever did that, either. We laughed as we headed to the car park and then on with our days.
* * *
