Winner Takes All

by Katie Price

  Jas told her that she had as good a chance as anyone of winning but that didn’t mean anything to Charlotte. It was the experience she wanted, the chance to do something crazy, impulsive and exciting. She imagined there would be a lot of contestants just looking to get famous but that wasn’t Charlotte’s game at all. She wanted to live a little. And, yes, hopefully not be evicted from the island of Ibiza too early on by the bachelor in the dramatic rose ceremonies, where he’d hand out flowers to all the women he wanted to keep in the competition, saying goodbye one by one to those he wasn’t interested in. To be sent home first would be mortifying. But there was no need to think about that now. Charlotte hopped on the Northern line back to her parents’ house, feeling a flutter in her stomach. Jas was right: this was an amazing opportunity. Charlotte was so glad she’d talked herself into applying. Only good things could come of it.

  Chapter 7

  Jas paced outside the Channel 6 building, willing Richard to answer his phone. He really was making this divorce as difficult for her as possible, denying any wrongdoing and pointedly ignoring her. She felt a headache start as his phone rang out. Since January, she had sent Richard divorce papers three times, all of which he’d claimed not to have received. It had got to the point that, on the advice of her solicitor, she’d hired a process server to turn up at Richard’s office earlier that day and hand him the papers in person, proving once and for all that he had them in his hands and legally obliging him to act.

  On her eighth callback, Richard answered. ‘What the fuck are you playing at, Jasmine?’

  ‘Me? What are you playing at, Richard?’ Jas tried to avoid eye contact with anyone rushing through the revolving doors and into work.

  ‘Sending someone to my office … my place of work?’

  Jas sighed. She knew that being served divorce papers in front of his own colleagues would be humiliating for Richard. ‘You didn’t leave me any choice,’ she replied. ‘Why are you making this so hard for me?’ There was only silence from the other end of the line. ‘Richard, this doesn’t have to be messy. We both just want to get on with our lives. You know we’re never getting back together, so why drag it out?’

  He snorted. ‘Do you have any idea how embarrassing this will make it for me with my family? To be the first Butler ever to get divorced?

  ‘Look, you’re angry. I can tell that. But I’m sure if you just give it some time you’ll feel better about everything.’

  God, he was patronising! ‘What, forget all the times you cheated on me? Came home at five in the morning reeking of whisky? Or didn’t come home at all?’ Her voice was raised now, and passers-by were glancing her way.

  Richard paused and Jas heard muffled voices in the background as he put his hand over the phone speaker. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ he replied calmly. ‘I have never been anything but a doting and respectful husband to you.’

  He was good. Richard knew that in order to divorce him, Jas needed to prove adultery or unreasonable behaviour on his part. He wasn’t letting her have it that easily. That muffled voice was probably some advisor in his office telling him to deny everything. Jas realised that no matter how much Richard was to blame, he’d have the best lawyers in the business on his side. He was from a very wealthy family and would pay through the nose if it meant keeping himself free from scandal. Jas, on the other hand, was burning through funds she didn’t have.

  ‘So, you’re still not going to concede?’

  ‘I don’t want a divorce, Jasmine, and I don’t think I deserve to be cast aside. If anyone is being unreasonable, I’m afraid it is you. I am choosing to defend this unreasonable petition.’

  ‘I bet you are,’ she muttered before hanging up.

  Richard threw his mobile across the room with such force it smashed open against the wall, dropping in two pieces on the cream-coloured office carpeting. The two men sitting with him chuckled.

  ‘She’s got you by the balls, son, that’s for sure,’ laughed one, a stout man with a gold wedding band on his stubby ring finger. ‘I’ve worked with you since you started here and, believe me, it won’t be hard for her to dig up dirt on you.’

  Richard crossed his arms angrily.

  ‘He’s not wrong, you know,’ put in Richard’s boss, an older, red-faced colleague wearing braces and thick-rimmed glasses.

  ‘Samuel, you just told me to defend the divorce!’ argued Richard. ‘You heard me say that to her, I can’t back out now.’

  Samuel Jones pulled a bottle of vodka out of his desk drawer and handed it to Richard with a nod. ‘I said you had every right to defend it. But speaking not only as your boss but as a man twice divorced, the longer you drag this out the more it’s going to cost.’

  ‘How much are we talking?’ asked Richard.

  ‘Thousands, even tens of thousands,’ Samuel replied.

  Richard earnt a six-figure salary, and came from a wealthy family, but didn’t particularly want to part with that much money. However, on the trading floor weakness was not permitted – and neither was losing. He didn’t want to lose face in front of the two men who’d mentored him so he kept quiet, pondering his next move. He didn’t relish the thought of breaking the news to his parents, but maybe they’d understand? Or he could give in, get it all done with as little fuss as possible.

  At that moment, two younger colleagues poked their head around the door of Samuel’s office, sniggering.

  ‘We heard you got served, mate,’ jibed one of them. ‘After dumping you in front of all of us at the party you threw for her. Ouch!’

  ‘Might as well just hand her your balls while you’re at it, as well as all your money!’ laughed the other one as they walked off.

  Richard took another gulp of vodka.

  ‘Steady on, Rich, they’re just teasing,’ said Samuel.

  The thought of giving in to Jas suddenly seemed far less appealing. ‘I’m a bloody laughing stock! Everyone on the floor will know about this now. The whole building will know by lunchtime!’

  The fatter man stood up, took the bottle from Richard, returned it to Samuel and held Richard’s shoulders, looking at him closely. ‘Pull yourself together,’ he ordered. ‘She’s upset. You know what women are like. God, if I had a quid for every time Nancy threatened divorce I’d be a lot richer!’

  ‘She’s not threatening divorce, she’s bloody well doing it! And what if she speaks to that blonde from accounts I shagged at the Christmas party? Or Beth who puts our expenses through? She sees everything – the strip clubs, the 4 a.m. bottles of brandy at Scott’s restaurant. The bloody underwear I bought for a woman who was most certainly not my wife. Jas really could take me to the cleaners.’

  ‘Give her time. Be nice, polite, let her have her moment and it will all blow over. Women rush these sorts of decisions without thinking. Don’t worry about anyone here. They won’t talk. We’ll very quietly and gently explain that if they disclose anything confidential about any employee of the business, they will have to look for work elsewhere. Okay? Now, pull yourself together and get back to work. Game face and all that.’

  But Richard couldn’t work. His concentration was all over the place. For the rest of the day people walked past glancing awkwardly at him.

  By 6 p.m. he was agitated. He still had another three hours in the office and was in serious need of stress relief. He scrolled through the contacts on his gold iPhone X, wondering which of the many women listed there he could hook up with that night.

  Arrangements made, Richard washed his hands in the men’s room and looked at himself in the mirror. His ash-blond hair was still in good condition, with no signs of balding thankfully. His piercing blue eyes weren’t quite as sparkly as they used to be. There were bags underneath them that weren’t there before, and pinkness around his nostrils where they were sore.

  But with his strong jaw and tall, slim frame, Richard was still eyed up by women everywhere. He was devilishly handsome, rich and utterly charming when he wanted to be. He’d b
een playing out without wearing his wedding ring for years and now didn’t even know where it was. Somewhere in the new bachelor pad, probably.

  He weighed up his options. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel anything for Jasmine. He was certainly crazy about her when they first met. We’ve just grown apart, he thought. As with every other marriage, that was bound to happen one day. No one stays happy and in love for ever, it’s just naïve to think people do. Still, he didn’t actually want their marriage to end. Who wants the shame or hassle of a divorce? Those other women didn’t mean anything to him, they were just playthings. He’d loved having power over them but none of them was as smart and sexy as Jas. He’d thought that if he just played nice, gave her the flat, then she’d come round. And how did she repay his generosity? Sending a process server to his office … what sort of stunt was that? Richard clenched and unclenched his fists. If it was a battle Jas wanted then she could have one.

  Chapter 8

  It was late afternoon before Jas had a moment to herself again. As filming for Mr Right drew closer, things were getting busier and busier at work. Despite Monica’s brilliant budgeting skills, the sheer scale of a production of this level on location was nerve-wracking, and the two of them had to make a detailed pitch to Harry justifying their request for more money. Jas was nervous about putting down the deposit for the contestants’ villa, and the crew’s less glamorous but still expensive accommodation, without seeing them in person, and she and Monica agreed she needed to fly out there to inspect the properties and general surroundings first. They called it a ‘recce’ and argued it was essential. Fortunately, Harry was supportive and signed off a budget extension quickly, but with it came a reminder of just how high people’s expectations of them were. Jas ignored the pressure and simply got on with the job, booking the cheapest easyJet flight she could find for later that week: a 7.30 a.m. departure, returning at 11 that night. It would be a busy day!

  With her trip to Ibiza taken care of, Jas scrolled through her phone until she found the number for Mackover & Staunton.

  ‘Ralph Mackover, please.’

  She was on hold for just a few seconds of tinkling classical music before her solicitor answered.

  ‘Ah, Jasmine, what’s the latest?’

  ‘Not good news, I’m afraid, Ralph. He’s contesting the divorce. Denying any wrongdoing. What on earth happens now?’

  ‘One of two things. It will go to a court hearing, with a jury, or else straight to a judge to decide. Jasmine, I need you to collect all the evidence you can to prove unreasonable behaviour on Richard’s part during your marriage. Statements from friends, text messages, voice messages, receipts and bank statements from your joint account if they show anything unusual. Everything you have. It will take some time. Start now. Call me when you have something and we’ll take action to put it in front of a judge.’

  ‘Okay, thanks, Ralph. I’ll be in touch soon.’

  Jas slid her phone across her desk and rubbed her temples. Her headache was vicious. She was worried. Maybe it would be easier just to stay married to Richard after all, and live separate lives? He would make things a whole lot easier for her if she did.

  ‘Jas?’ The deep voice made her jump and she looked up to see Luke standing by her desk, smiling. His broad shoulders rippled under a blue checked shirt, unbuttoned at the top to show the merest hint of chest hair. Jas glanced around. Luke was completely unaware of the stares he was getting from every woman – hell, even some of the men – around the office. The Luke Effect, as it was now called, was in full swing. Jas found it silly. He might be handsome, but everyone on the sixth floor seemed to be on constant heat since Luke had started working for the entertainment department. Was she the only one capable of thinking about anything other than the new lawyer on the scene?

  His smiled faded to a look of concern. ‘You look stressed. Everything okay?’

  ‘Yep, yep, all fine. How are the contracts coming along?’

  ‘Great. There’s one girl, Gabriella Bellamy-Hughes, who has asked about money. She wants to know if the contestants who stay the longest get any sort of financial bonus and if so how much.’

  Jas snorted. ‘None of them will be paid, no matter when they leave! It’s not Who Wants to be a Millionaire? She’s also the richest and most spoilt of the lot. She’ll give great TV though. Don’t worry, I’ll call her and explain that this is non-negotiable. Legitimate expenses and loss of earnings only. She’s just trying her luck. Anything else?’

  ‘Just a few things for you to sign off on.’ He placed a folder of papers on her desk. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? Tell me it’s none of my business if you want, but I saw you shouting down the phone to someone this morning outside the building and it looked pretty heated. I wanted to check you were all right.’

  Heated was an understatement, but she had no intention of sharing her personal problems with Luke. Instead, she smiled and shook her head.

  ‘I’m just a bit tired.’

  ‘Okay. How about a drink tonight? You look like you could use cheering up.’

  ‘Thanks, Luke, but I’m having dinner with my little sister tonight.’

  ‘Tomorrow, then?’

  ‘Can I let you know? Things are a bit mental and—’

  ‘Sure. Anything for our star producer.’ With that, he gave her another winning smile and walked back to the lifts. Jas was aware of the gawping women who’d overheard him asking her out. She turned back to work. Her life was complicated enough.

  ‘Are you mad? He is utterly gorgeous!’ Lila almost spat out her wine, peering in for a closer look at Luke’s Facebook profile picture. The minute Jas had told her about him Lila had insisted on a visual aid.

  Jas sipped her Dry Martini. They were at a trendy pizza restaurant in Shoreditch: exposed brick walls, low-level lighting, naked bulbs hanging from the ceiling, dark wooden benches and steel stools propping up patrons. ‘He’s not that gorgeous. And, besides, I can’t go on a date right now. Not with everything that’s going on with Richard.’

  ‘He is! And what’s the harm in one drink? Go on, Jas, have some fun. Nothing serious need come of it. Let him take you out and show you his muscles. My God! Does he live in the gym?’

  ‘He goes a fair bit, actually. And plays rugby some weekends with his mates. I kind of get the sense he doesn’t go out that much. His job is incredibly demanding and he’s at work later than me most nights. He told me once that he goes to the gym after work then home for dinner.’

  ‘Ah, so he’s boring.’

  ‘Not boring. Nice. Genuine. A salt-of-the-earth type of guy.’

  ‘I think you like him.’

  Jas shook her head but smiled. It was so nice to see her little sister again, though Lila looked even skinnier than usual. She was wearing leather trousers, biker boots and a black vest-top, rings on every finger and the top of one ear pierced. Her perfect cheekbones were lightly bronzed. She was the definition of cool, in Jas’s eyes, though Lila idolised her older sister. They’d always been close. Too close, Jas sometimes thought. They squabbled frequently but, like most sisters, they made up just as quickly.

  Jas wanted her sister to make something of herself. She had such potential and was so bright, but seemed to be happy partying her way through life.

  Their pizzas arrived and Jas ordered more drinks. ‘Enough about me. What’s going on with you? Are you still living in that warehouse on Seven Sisters Road?’

  Lila nodded, wolfing down a sloppy slice of Fiorentina. ‘Six flatmates, tiny box room, one bathroom.’ It was Jas’s idea of hell. Lila read her mind. ‘I know it’s not to your taste. We can’t all afford a flat of our own.’ Jas didn’t remind Lila that what little money she had was being blown on solicitor’s fees and a huge mortgage.

  ‘Anyway, I’m working full-time in that pub in Finsbury Park and it’s paying the bills, so you all can get off my back.’

  ‘I’m not on your back. We worry about you, that’s all. You were always so clever in school. You got t
hat graphic design degree in college and did really well. Don’t you want to do something with it? Apply for some proper jobs?’

  ‘It’s so much work! All my life has been up to now is work, from school to A-levels to college. I just want to have a laugh! I work in a fun pub with fun people. I get to drink for free and it’s fine. Okay?’

  Jas was unsure how to respond. She couldn’t help but feel that Lila needed to grow up a bit. By the time Jas was Lila’s current age, twenty-five, she was married with a mortgage and steady job. Then again, that marriage didn’t exactly turn out perfectly. And Lila was old enough to make her own choices.

  ‘You’ve got to enjoy life,’ she finally said, ‘but I don’t want to see you waste your talents.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Anyway, speaking of enjoying life, are you going to take that man up on his offer of a friendly drink or not?’ Lila raised an eyebrow but Jas simply rolled her eyes and started on her second Dry Martini.

  Jas, Monica and Harry looked down at the big oak table in Harry’s office where fifteen pieces of white cardboard lay, each depicting a different beautiful woman. Dylan’s beaming face lay on a card in the middle.

  ‘Yes.’ Harry nodded. ‘I love them. All gorgeous, all great characters, terrific stories. When do they fly out?’

  ‘Friday the twenty-seventh of July,’ Jas replied. She was giving her best poker face, showing Harry that she was the epitome of cool, calm and collected, but her head was reeling with questions. She’d seen the villa herself, but was it really good enough? Would the crew have enough room? Had she forgotten a permit along the way?

  ‘We’ll fly out the week before to start setting up,’ she continued. ‘Some of the crew are already out there installing cameras in the villa. And we’ll start filming the girls’ at-homes on Monday for some background stories to edit in later. It’ll be good to show them in the first episode when we’re introducing everyone. Let the viewers really get to know them.’