CHAPTER TWO
Scott
“Thank you. I think that’s all we have to discuss.”
I sighed when I heard it. Dad was at his most serious today. Sometimes I wonder if he forgets I’m his son, or if he just acts like that.
“Okay,” I said, standing and pushing in my chair. “I’ll get going on the new portfolio we discussed. Good day.”
Two could play at that game. Wincing at my own stiff formality, I turned and walked out.
“Wait.”
I stiffened in the doorway as if someone shot me in the back. Stayed where I was. “Yes?”
“You didn’t tell me about the other matter.”
I closed my eyes a moment. “What other matter?”
“The shares. It’s your portfolio, Scott. Need I remind you of your duties to West Incorporated? I suppose I do.” He sighed.
That was too much. I turned around. “Dad,” I said. “I told you. The figures are on my laptop. I can get it now if you need me to. But the ten-year history of our share values won’t change if I show you tomorrow. We can wait for the meeting to discuss it.”
“I know that,” he said icily. “I was just trying to find out if you remembered.”
“Of course I did,” I said, equally icily. I knew it was rude and probably childish to snap at him like that, but then he was treating me like a child.
I was his child—not that he ever treated me as such—but I was also close to thirty years old. I was my own man and he didn’t trust me with basic things like recalling there was a stakeholder’s meeting on Monday morning. It made me furious in a way that no other thing he did, could do. Which was saying something.
He looked levelly back. “There’s no of course about it,” he said quietly. “I don’t trust you, Scott.”
I sighed. “I guess you don’t.”
I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t want him getting into it. If I argue the point he’ll remind me that I am a wastrel and a playboy and can’t be trusted to turn up with a matching jacket and tie, never mind prepare a coherent report for our investors. And that wouldn’t be fair now that I was trying to reform.
His lack of trust in me hurt me. A lot. But if I let him know that, he’d use it mercilessly. My dad was a master of manipulation. When I was in the corridor, I closed my eyes and made myself breathe slowly. My coach was one of the best around, and he had given me some tips on relaxing. The breaths were one of those.
In. Out. In. Out.
I looked at my watch. It was five pm. I had time to start on the new portfolio, like I’d said. Then I could head off to the gym. My body needed a workout.
I started the portfolio and worked until six. Then I headed out.
“Scott!”
“Yeah?” I turned, facing Ryan, one of the lead executives and one of the few guys I liked in this part of the company.
“Heading off?”
“Yeah,” I said, shrugging into my jacket. It was the right fit for my shoulders, which was why I got it. It’s difficult to find one that combines a broad shoulder with a narrow waist. This one did.
“Want to go for a drink?”
“No,” I said mildly. “Thanks. I’m going to work out.”
“Okay,” he shrugged eloquently. No one, not even my colleagues, seemed to believe I’d reformed. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
I went down the six floors to the car park and got into my new BMW i8. Of all the things I found to complain about in my job, that car was the thing to sweeten them all. With the whisper-soft engines and massive horsepower, I at least had a drive to and from work that was a pleasure. Traffic jams and all.
“Okay, maybe not the traffic jams.”
I sighed as I sat behind the wheel. Being able to go from halted to a hundred and eighty miles per hour in seconds was all very well if you could actually find a piece of road that didn’t have uncounted cars backed up on it, all honking and losing their tempers.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” I muttered under my breath as someone honked nearby. “We’re all stuck. It’s heavy traffic. Patience!”
I switched on the radio but there wasn’t anything decent on so I switched if off again. Shortly thereafter, the traffic began creeping ahead. I followed it all the way to the gym.
I worked out with a grim focus that surprised even me. Yes, I have a side that is very single-minded. Stubborn as a donkey, my dad says. But I don’t usually follow my exercise program with such single-minded dedication. By the end of my hour’s session I was sweating. I headed off to the shower and stood under the hot tap, letting the steam soothe my aching muscles.
Not bad.
I scrubbed at myself with the flannel, noticing that my abs were harder than I recalled, my shoulders broader.
Back in my car about half an hour later, I found myself thinking about the girls in the club. I couldn’t quite believe it was a month, nearly, since I’d been there. How I’d managed to turn myself off so abruptly I had no idea.
Maybe I had so much I just don’t have an appetite for things like that anymore.
A pulling sensation in my groin reminded me that wasn’t true. I sighed.
Okay. Perhaps I still want sex. But not like that.
The sort of intimacy girls gave you because they wanted to get stuff out of you wasn’t what I had in mind. I really wanted to find someone I could talk to. Someone to love, if I was honest.
I had a few girlfriends over the years—mostly girls I met at parties and receptions. I had liked some of them a lot; trusted them. But somehow I’d come off worse for wear. They had been users. Father had been right. I was not really sure I wanted to go there again. I hadn’t had a girlfriend for a year. Which was maybe why I’d gone off the rails so badly this year, if I thought about it. I wanted someone I could feel close to, basically.
But, failing that, I thought as my body hardened and my poor system ached just thinking about the things I used to get up to on Fridays at the clubs and parties, I wouldn’t mind a bit of a nice evening.
I knew I shouldn’t, but I found myself driving to the clubs. Not the same one I was at last month with Alex—I didn’t want him to know I was getting back to my habits. The old crowd had been hard enough to leave as it was.
My feet led me to the Flamingo Club, which was almost as dodgy as it sounded. Actually, let me rephrase that. The club itself was just fine. The place it was in was…secluded. By which I meant it was on the wrong side of town, though it was essentially the right sort of club. It was there mainly for people like me: people who wanted to avoid other people knowing what they did.
Which was exactly what I wanted.
I stopped outside the place. The lights were on, the bouncer—Alfred, I think his name was—standing outside in his black suit. The music was discreet but I could almost hear it, as if it played inside me. I recalled the last time I was there. I had been with a dancer—Sammy, I think she said her name was—and she had been amazing. My groin twitched at the memories of what she could do. But at the same time, the thought made me feel a bit weird. She wasn’t there because she liked you…far from it.
I gave a sour smile. I would have to be stupid to think any of these people—from Alex and the crowd I’d hung around with before, to the girls in all their multitude—actually liked me. Dad was right. They’re all in it for what they can get. Nothing more.
I stayed where I was in my car, contemplating the scene. Saw Alfred see me and decide to look more closely. He was on the brink of recognizing me, or at least my car—I could see the hesitant smile on his dark face when he looked up—when I decided to go.
All I need is Alfred recognizing me and coming over to persuade me to go in. I don’t think I could deal with that. What could I possibly say that would make him understand I don’t want to anymore?
I put my foot on the gas and headed off faster than I had to into the night.
If it hadn’t started raining just then, I would have been speeding when the traffic light changed. As it was, I’d slowed down. I didn’t want to skid on the wet road. Which meant I was just in time to stop when the light went red and not skid. Which was just as well, since the woman who ran out in front of my car didn’t stop.
“Help!” she shouted.
I didn’t even think about it. I stalled the car, jumped out of the door. Ran to her. To help.