Blaze

by Di Morrissey

  Ali switched off the light in her office and looked in on Larissa and the art staff working on the layout. ‘I’m off. I have an appointment.’

  Larissa decided not to ask her if she’d seen the Reality piece on Sally earlier in the evening. Ali was unlikely to be sympathetic. And she’d probably complain about them watching TV in the office, though everyone had been glued to the set during their dinner break.

  Ali was distracted. She could put this off no longer. She had agreed to see John O’Donnell at his home later this evening.

  As Tom dropped her outside the Vaucluse mansion she told him to be on call. ‘Pick me up at 11 p.m. unless I call for you earlier.’

  ‘Yes, Ms Gruber.’ Tom made no comment. But he was surprised – she normally spent the night. It was already after 9.30 p.m. Tom had been pleased about Ali’s growing friendship with the influential CEO. It put him up there with the other limo drivers when they hung around the airport together boasting of the prestige of their passengers.

  Dinner for two was set up on the terrace by the pool. Candles burned and a single red rose lay on her napkin tied with a silver ribbon.

  John O’Donnell kissed her, and after opening and pouring the champagne, the butler quietly left them alone.

  They chatted about Blaze, but Ali kept turning the conversation back to him. ‘So what else? With you? What’s happening in your neck of the woods? You’ve been quiet lately. Brewing up a mega deal?’

  ‘Actually I was going to talk to you about that.’ Ali leaned forward expectantly – she loved to know what he was planning. Sometimes there was an opportunity for her or for Blaze, though she never told him that she had bought shares on several occasions, based on what he’d told her. He’d be accused of insider trading and everything would be blown out of the water. But he continued slowly, looking into glass. ‘I’m taking a bit of a sideways step. I’m removing myself as executive chairman and CEO and the board has agreed I take the position of non-executive chairman.’

  ‘Which means . . . ?’ Ali didn’t like the sound of this.

  He looked up and gave her a loving smile. ‘It means I’ll have a lot more time to myself. I won’t be so hands-on every day. I’ll have a life. After Carol died, I went on every board that asked and carried a far too heavy workload. It was a means of distracting myself. But now . . .’ he was still smiling at her.

  Ali thought he looked soppy and ridiculous. ‘For God’s sake why? You’re still young enough to run the company for another ten years! What are you going to do? Start another business?’ she asked hopefully.

  He laughed and shook his head. ‘Ali dearest. Surely I don’t have to spell it out. I want to spend more time with you!’

  ‘No, John. We’ve been through this. I never thought you were serious about it, or I would have put my foot down. You can’t opt out, especially because of me. Look, I’m really devoted to my career. I can’t travel with you, do things you want to do like cruise the Greek islands for three weeks . . . lovely as it sounds.’

  He stood and took the rose from the small table and handed it to her. ‘Would this make a difference?’

  Ali looked at the rose and back to him in growing frustration. ‘What’s with the roses all of a sudden? Am I supposed to clench it between my teeth and dance the flamenco for you?’

  He chuckled, not hearing the anger in her tone. ‘Hey, now that’s an idea. No, here, look at the ribbon.’ He pointed at the fine silver ribbon and she saw the end was tied in a delicate bow, threaded through a beautiful sapphire ring. He pulled the ribbon and slipped off the ring, lifting her left hand and wiggling it onto her third finger. ‘I want to marry you, Ali. You’re fun, you make me happy, let’s enjoy time together. I can give you a luxurious life.’

  Ali stared wildly at the ring. She hated blue. Where was the pink Argyle diamond set in platinum? God, what was she thinking? She didn’t want to marry this man.

  Thinking she was too overcome with surprise and joy to speak, he rushed on, saying all the words she didn’t want to hear. ‘You can quit your job, you won’t need the money, we have this house, we’ll buy a holiday home, travel, buy a dog, buy a boat, whatever you want.’

  Ali found her voice. ‘That’s not what I want, John.’ She pulled the ring from her finger and thrust it back at him. ‘I like my job. I still have mountains to climb. I want to be bigger and more powerful than Nina Jansous. I want to choose my own life. This has been fun and wonderful knowing you, but I can’t go through with this. I’m sorry if you didn’t see it coming, but . . .’

  He blinked and sat back in shock, the diamonds around the sapphire shining in the candlelight on the table between them. ‘What do you mean, Ali . . . once you slipped through my defences, you knew I was falling in love with you. I thought you loved me back . . .’ He paused as her words sunk in. ‘See what coming?’

  ‘I thought you realised . . . that our relationship was changing . . . me being away . . . seeing less of each other. My time in New York . . .’

  ‘I thought you were busy, the pressure . . .’ he began slowly, all the delight fading from his face.

  Ali continued to sit and stare at him, struggling to find the words. ‘It’s been special, really lovely. I always want you as a friend . . .’

  John O’Donnell sat back, his face hardening, feeling very, very foolish. ‘I don’t think so. Is there someone else? Some young man? You told me you didn’t want babies . . .’

  ‘And I don’t.’ She tried to lighten the atmosphere. ‘I’d never fit all my clothes in here.’ It was a joke, but she meant it. Ali’s extensive designer wardrobe would never fit into the late Mrs O’Donnell’s modest dressing room. But John O’Donnell was unamused. ‘Look, John, I’m a career girl. And no, there isn’t anyone else.’ Ali began to worry that she’d lose this valuable contact. ‘Please, try to understand. I’m not ready to settle down. I’m about to turn thirty, I have a lot to do. Please, stay friends with me. I need you. I value our friendship. I really do, John.’

  His face was set. ‘Only while I’m in the chair, right? While I’m O’Donnell with influence, you want to see me. When I’m O’Donnell, retired CEO, you don’t want to know me. You just loved my seat, the position I held, Ali. No matter who was in the seat, it would have been the same.’

  ‘That’s not true!’

  ‘I hoped by asking you to marry me, you would realise I wasn’t playing with you. I never wanted you to feel cheap. It seems I’m the one that now feels cheap. And used.’ He turned away. ‘I think you’d better go. If Tom isn’t available, I’ll have Roger drive you home.’ He hurried from the room.

  ‘John, please, let’s not leave it like this . . .’ Ali felt panicky. Had she totally burned this bridge?

  She pulled herself together. She could always win John O’Donnell around again. Maybe she had only imagined that Baron Triton had any interest in her. She was alone in the room. She fumbled for her mobile phone to summon the driver.

  As she heard her car arrive outside the mansion and the butler open the door, she stood and looked down at the twinkling ring. For a moment she wanted to grab it, but turned away. She hated blue.

  Ali didn’t feel like going home. She told Tom to take her back to work. Lights burned in several offices as people worked late to meet deadlines and prepared for tomorrow’s editorial meeting. Larissa and the art department had left.

  Belinda’s desk was neatly cleared. Ali could see past it that the lights were on in her office. She’d speak to Belinda about that. And there was a strange and ugly smell about the place.

  When she stepped inside the door she stopped, sniffed and gagged. Glancing quickly around, she couldn’t see what was causing the vile smell. The lights were also shining out on the terrace. Holding her hand to her nose she rushed outside. No one was there. But the smell was overwhelming. Then she saw it.

  There was a large red stain on the terrace, running from the sandpit. And as she edged closer, she saw the source of the smell – a bucket lay on its side
spilling blood and rotten animal excrement over the model village as if a putrid volcano had erupted, smothering them all.

  Ali wanted to vomit, but anger overcame her heaving stomach and she rushed inside, grabbed her bag and picked up the phone, yelling at the startled operator, ‘Get fucking Reg Craven on the line. I don’t care where he goddamn is!’

  TAKE TWENTY . . .

  Lucien and Nina returned to the jeweller’s shop hand in hand. The old man threw out his arms in delight, reaching across the counter top to pump their hands.

  ‘I am so happy to see you, Madame. I was worried something bad had happened.’ He reached out to touch Nina’s cheek before turning to Lucien. ‘Your little gift worked, it seems.’

  ‘Yes. That and a rather agreeable arrangement to travel around the country and write about the good things.’

  The jeweller nodded at Nina. ‘And there are good things in this country. We have a fascinating history. And so many beautiful places.’

  ‘We wanted to thank you for coming up with cash so speedily for us,’ said Nina. ‘My grandmother told my mother that the jewellery would always help her out of trouble. She gave me a dragonfly pin, which I’ve never had to sell, but knowing it was there helped me to take a risk years ago.’

  ‘Not as big as the risk you just took,’ observed Lucien and grinned as she dug him in the ribs.

  ‘Beautiful gems shine even more brightly on beautiful women,’ said the jeweller with a slight bow to Nina. ‘Now, speaking of beautiful pieces. I did as you asked and have arranged their sale.’ He looked suddenly concerned and said to Nina, ‘That is, if you still wish to sell them. Perhaps they are sentimental and now you do not wish to part with them?’

  ‘I am keeping this little ring, that’s all,’ said Nina, touching the small gold ring with her family seal on it.

  ‘You mean, you’ve sold the jewellery already?’ asked Lucien.

  The jeweller nodded. ‘I have a buyer lined up.’ Lowering his voice he added, ‘It is worth a substantial amount. Fine stones and beautiful old workmanship. An international dealer will put them to auction. I believe I have found you a worthwhile price. Unless you wish to wait for the auction in London?’

  ‘No. And you must take a commission,’ said Nina.

  ‘There is a slight problem. You might have trouble taking this money out of the country. Especially after your little, er, predicament.’

  Nina looked at Lucien. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘We can talk to the embassy. May we leave it in your safe while we’re travelling?’

  ‘Of course. Enjoy your little holiday.’ He gave a courtly bow once again.

  Larissa sat at her desk with her hands over her ears. While she couldn’t actually hear Ali’s voice, she could feel it in her marrow. All hell was breaking loose over the desecration of the sandpit village. And while Ali was not blatantly accusing Reg – or anyone else – it was the philosophical, moral and ethical outrage that Ali ranted had been violated. Her space. Whoever had done the vile deed might as well have thrown the excrement over Ali herself, she took it so personally.

  While the staff kept po-faced about the incident, outside the office there was much giggling and comments like ‘I wish I’d done it’. Eddie adored the scenario and dared April to write about it in her gossip column.

  ‘And keep my job?’ she snapped. ‘I’m keeping my mouth shut on this one.’

  But it was too good to keep under wraps. Two days later, the episode was gleefully written up in a Sunday newspaper column with a photo of Ali taken at a cocktail party. It was pulled from the files and showed her wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. The caption read, ‘Gung-ho flung dung leaves tacky taste’. And went on to describe the ‘foul deed’.

  Ali summoned Larissa. ‘Find out who leaked this story. It’s an outrage. And how dare the editor of that rag run a piece about another editor like that?’

  ‘Ali, you know how superior newspapers think they are to magazines. I mean, wouldn’t you run it if you were the newspaper’s editor? And April does take more than her share of digs at people. It’s payback time,’ said Larissa feebly. She knew every media outlet in the country would pounce on the titbit. Whoever had leaked it had chosen the column that rated next to April’s in popularity. ‘And I wouldn’t begin to know where to start to find out. You’ll never know. Let it go,’ advised Larissa.

  ‘If it wasn’t Reg who leaked it, it could have been April. These bitch columnists can’t help themselves.’ Ali slammed her fist on the table. ‘I will not be made to look a fool.’

  Larissa realised what was also bothering Ali about the leaked incident was the fact that she hadn’t been able to control it. Ali was fanatical about running her life precisely the way she wanted it. The unforeseen rarely ruffled her existence. With no children, no live-in lover, no hobbies or interests outside her work, Ali kept a tight rein on her lifestyle. And suddenly Larissa saw how shallow and self-centred that life was and how frighteningly similar it was to her own.

  Larissa stood up, surprising Ali, who hadn’t terminated the meeting yet. ‘Get a life, Ali. What’s it matter in the big scheme of things? Maybe it’s made you seem more human.’

  Ali was so shocked that Larissa was out of the office before she could think of an answer.

  Larissa stopped by April’s office. Leaning in the doorway she asked casually, ‘You don’t have to answer, but do you have any inkling about who leaked the flung-dung bit?’

  ‘It wasn’t me, goddamn it! How stupid would I be?’ April’s voice was gruff with annoyance.

  ‘I agree it would have been foolish. Tempting though.’ She gave a grin and April thawed a bit.

  ‘Yeah. But if there’s a hot piece I can’t use, I’m certainly not going to give it to a rival.’

  ‘Makes sense. What about the culprit of the deed, any thoughts there?’ asked Larissa. ‘Not that I’m doing Ali’s dirty work for her, even though she asked.’

  ‘She would. Well, she should know she has more enemies than friends around here. But, put it this way, in my book the finger points to the dreaded Reggie. He was ropeable after that last meeting, but frankly I never thought he’d have the guts. He could have hired a hit man to do the flinging.’ April paused. ‘Come to that, he could have done the telling too. It’s really made her mad.’ April looked pleased. ‘Well, I don’t envy you your job. Good luck.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Fronting the staff and reporting back to Ali.’

  Larissa frowned. ‘I’m not being her lackey. I was hoping to shake the culprit’s hand.’ She moved down the hallway deep in thought and went back to her office. Glancing at her watch, Larissa wondered if Gerard was in bed. It was late in New York. They hadn’t spoken in two weeks, other than by email. There was a distance more than physical between them since he’d gone back.

  She dialled his number, but the phone rang in their New York apartment without being answered. Depressed, she picked up her bag, left the office and went home. Once again the indecision about her life rattled her. If Gerry still wanted to marry her, why wasn’t he there? Where was he?

  There were dozens of reasons for him to not be by the phone – Gerard was working hard and organising the move to New Hampshire – but his absence reinforced Larissa’s insecurity. He was moving on with his life. She was treading water. And a nagging resentment chewed at her because of it. And there was some jealousy in there as well. She began to visualise Gerry with another woman. Sleeping with her. Murmuring into her hair in the night as they cuddled. Holding hands as they wandered through the city looking for a café for breakfast. Larissa’s blood began to boil. This was too painful to contemplate. She shook herself and admonished herself for being so stupid. Served her right for such silly fantasising. But the devil on her shoulder whispered, ‘Ask yourself why you care so much.’

  Eddie Kurtz sat in Ali’s office nodding sympathetically. ‘It’s a bitch. Who would do such a thing? I mean, we all have an idea of whoooooo might have
done the vile deed . . .’ He drew out the word and rubbed the edge of his nose and mimicked straightening a bow tie.

  ‘You think so too?’ Ali looked thoughtful.

  ‘Chuck him out. He’s so behind the times,’ said Eddie airily. ‘You can do better than him.’

  ‘It’s not that easy,’ sighed Ali. ‘Reg is part of that upstairs boys’ club.’ She didn’t elaborate on the fact that she and Reg Craven held equal positions of power or that she was in no position to push Reg out the door. He was in charge of making the magazine financially viable.

  ‘Well, darling heart, you and I can show him up. I have a hot prospect lined up to buy space – only the biggest hair product company in the universe! I told them a few ideas I had and they’re hot to trot. You don’t need to work with some redneck who throws shit then tells the world about it.’

  ‘You think he talked to that Sunday rag columnist?’ Ali began to seethe again.

  Eddie shrugged. ‘Who am I to say? Just know who your friends are, Ali heart. I’m off. Anyone divine you want in the way of ad clients lined up, just say the word.’

  ‘Tiffany, Sotheby’s, Bollinger, Chanel. We’re missing some international names. Too many local people.’

  ‘For you, anything.’ Eddie skipped from Ali’s office and gave Belinda a wave. ‘Toodle-loo, Bee.’

  Belinda gritted her teeth. This so-called promotions cum ad manager was too familiar for her taste. She didn’t like him and she didn’t trust him. He seemed an unlikely choice to be Ali’s confidant. But then he was an outsider, and he was certainly clever – and Ali had found him, so no wonder he kept on her good side.

  Twenty minutes later, Eddie was sitting in the Yellow Brick Road salon. He was regaling Dane, Miles and Rex with the story of the sandpit saga. ‘God, it was hysterical. She’s been ranting up and down the hallways. The shit smell is still there on the terrace, it soaked into the cement. But what really pissed her off was the whole shebang going public on Sunday.’