“Are you telling me,” the police voice boomed, “that there is absolutely no one in your company who has a special talent for causing carnage and ruin? No one who resides in your basement and is particularly well known for his voracious appetites and his tendency to get himself into trouble?”
At that moment, I felt a hand touch my arm. I turned to see the doc smiling at me. Strange, since I hadn’t even realised she was nearby.
“They’re talking about you, Dave!” she said, looking all excited about it.
“Course they are!” I was so fed up that for some reason I couldn’t help raising my voice. “It’s nothing to get excited about.”
She shrank away from me. Several people in the immediate vicinity, including Daryl’s dad, frowned at me.
I shook my head and moved away from them.
Daryl continued with the show on stage. “You don’t mean…?”
“Yes…?”
“You can’t mean…”
“Yes…?”
“Dave Smith?”
“Bingo!”
Suddenly, the disco lights were flashing with all the colours of the rainbow, rotating and jazzing around all at once. “My Name Is” by Eminem was blasting through the speakers. I put a hand to my face, covering my eyes, groaning deeply. Everyone cheered, having a great time, dancing, laughing, shaking their booties. Several people smiled at me as they went, the whole thing just a great big laugh to them.
After several long minutes of this torture, the song finally died down.
“Good show, everyone,” said Daryl. “Of course”—he smiled impishly at me—“I couldn’t forget good old Dave, could I? There is one member of the team who has done perhaps more than anyone to help this company forge its place in the world—as well as get us into more trouble than we could have possibly imagined… Dave!”
I was stood at the back of the crowd, and various people turned to see where I was. At this point though, I couldn’t even manage a cursory smile, nor even a grin. I simply wore a massive grimace, and what’s more, people even seemed to find that funny, giggling and quickly turning back to Daryl, continuing to laugh as he went on with his presentation.
Strange pictures of me were showing on the screen behind him. It was just like they had done for other employees, with my own little comic book and everything, yet I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. The sorts of pictures they were showing of me were… different somehow.
“It should be said that this man has put up with a lot,” continued Daryl, “and deserves recognition. Living down in our chilly old basement. Eating and drinking, well… a lot.”
Boy, was he going to get words from me when this was over. It wasn’t just the awful police routine and the continuing piss-takes. With horror, I now understood what was strange about the pictures. They were all at odd angles, as if taken from the corner of ceilings, a sort of a rough and ready “exposé” style, if you will. They looked a lot like stills from CCTV cameras, and that’s because they were.
“Even being hunted by his very own super-sexy Russian spy,” continued Daryl. “Oh, forget I said that, everyone. Never happened, officer. Scout’s honour…”
There was a great deal of laughter from the entire company at that, as indeed there was throughout this little humiliation. Pictures on the big screen matched each statement Daryl made. One of me playing PS4 in the basement, one of me stuffing my face with pizza, my belly half-hanging out from a grubby T-shirt. Most sickening of all though, there was one of me sitting on the bed and kissing face with that bloody Russian cheat-minx.
I was enraged, to say the least. There were CCTV cameras in my room and I hadn’t known. Daryl had not thought to tell me, and now he was displaying pictures for all the company to see! How could he stoop to such lows? I felt like jumping up and laying into him right there and then—or pissing on the stage and watching him fall through, but of course I didn’t. Say what you want about me, but I am not mental. I just kept quiet, utterly paralysed, really. Somehow the sheer fact that every single member of the company was there forced me into silence. I simply glared and growled at Daryl, gnashing my teeth so hard I’m sure veins were bursting on my temples.
“Well, Dave,” he said, looking down at me from the stage with that schoolboy grin of his, “I just wanted to say… thank you.”
“You absolute bastard,” I said under my breath.
“Dave…” I felt the doc’s hand on my arm. She had followed me again. “Are you alright?”
I shook her off and gritted my teeth, frowning up at Daryl, who continued to direct his gormless smile down at me.
“It’s just his style, you know,” she said. “He’s always done stuff like this.”
“What and that makes it alright, does it?”
It really mustn’t be overstated how pissed off I now was at the whole company, Solar Ray, and Daryl in particular. I was livid. Filming me without my knowledge, pilfering footage for embarrassing pictures, pictures of me getting personal with that… strumpet. I mean, what the hell? If someone is always an arsehole, does that give him permission to always be an arsehole? It just didn’t seem right. To top it off, everyone just seemed to find the whole thing hilarious, laughing their heads off, and it was all perfectly okay because “Daryl always does that.” They were all just bastards in my eyes now. All of them. And that was that.
The doc was looking at me sadly. I could tell she didn’t think it was alright either. Perhaps the bad genes were all on the father’s side.
I downed the rest of my vodka, deep in thought.
Daryl was going to get it from me now. Big time. The gloves were coming off.
Chapter 22
The doc disappeared off somewhere and I went back to the drinks table. I mixed myself a drink, downed it, and then mixed another. I felt the staff swirling around me, enjoying the party, keeping their distance from me, not one offering a word of sympathy or any word at all. For my part, I was a seething hot spring of anger. I couldn’t give a toss if they ignored me now.
In fact, the more I thought about the whole thing, the less I could stomach it anymore. Being at Solar Ray. Was it really worth it? Was it preferable to the alternatives? I mean, what had they done for me, really? Were they any closer to discovering what was wrong with me? Perhaps it was diet-related, but they’d never truly know. That was about it. Even old Meg down in the police cells could put those two and twos together. What about my health? Granted, I never let a silly thing like that bother me, but even for these guys, supposed scientists and professionals, nope, that was only secondary to the business picture. Stick me in the basement and feed me. That was it, really. All they cared about was that I kept on with my weeing. Of course, the problem was that there was nowhere else for me. Possibly prison, probably worse. Great choice.
It was all just so bloody frustrating!
I was just about to go back down to my room, but I spotted dinner being brought out and so moved over to the buffet tables where it was being placed. At least there was a properly decent range of seasonal nosh to tuck into. Lush, actually, I had to admit. Terrines, a huge cheese board, duck, pork, turkey canapes, puddings and mince pies and everything. So I set about to the happy task of stuffing my face, tuning out everything else, and the laughing and dancing and partygoing receded to some distant echo all around me.
After several minutes of shoving literally as much down my gullet as I possibly could and downing a good few heavily stacked glasses of vodka and Coke to boot, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and was jolted with a little shock, for who should be standing there but DCI bloody Butter! He looked exactly as he always did: floppy hair, messy stubble, and wearing his usual faded brown suit, though to give him some credit, he had tried to spice it up a bit with what looked suspiciously like a frilly purple shirt underneath.
“Butter?” I said through a mouthful of pate. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Didn’t recognise my voice then? The policeman?”
“I wasn’t sure if it was you. I hoped not, you git.”
He laughed. “Good performance, wasn’t it? I rather enjoyed that, actually.”
I stared at him.
“Oh come on, Davey. It was only a bit of fun.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that.”
I shook my head, reaching for another mince pie.
“So,” he said after helping himself to canapes. “How are you doing? I’ve tried to call several times but you don’t appear to be using your mobile.”
He flipped the hair from over his eyes. Exactly the same as always. But he was missing the toothpick. I would have been pleased to see him if I wasn’t so bloody worked up already.
“I’m doing crap,” I said. “But you would’ve known that from the bloody presentation.”
He shrugged, looking at me blankly. “Can’t be all crap. Living round here. Kept your salary too, so I hear. Not bad for a convicted arsonist.”
“Hear from who? Daryl?” I laughed, placing yet another wodge of Stilton on a cracker and shoving it into my gob. “Don’t listen to a word he says. He’s just about the biggest bullshitter I’ve ever met.”
“He doesn’t seem that bad,” said Butter, munching on a canape. “Thinks highly of himself, I’ll give you that. Got a sense of humour though at least.”
I gave that the dismissive snort it deserved.
“So why the hell are you here anyway, Butter?”
“I was wondering when you’d get round to asking that,” he said with a smile. “I’m here for you, Dave. I’m going to be your personal bodyguard.”
“Please tell me that’s a joke.”
“I’m serious!”
I inhaled deeply, attempting to give him my best deadly sober stare. Admittedly quite tricky since I was already on the way to being pretty drunk.
“Christ, you’re not joking.”
“Nope,” he said. “It’s a part of this deal they’ve made. As far as I can make out, you’ve suddenly gone from being a terrible nuisance to possibly the most fussed-over person in the country. I’m to represent Her Majesty’s police force, tasked with keeping your chubby chops out of trouble. Course, from what I gather, most of the trouble you’re likely to get into is of your own making, so I guess you can think of me as a kind of beefed-up nanny. Or a babysitter with brawn maybe.”
He laughed at his little joke.
“Haven’t you got better things to be doing?” I said rather harshly, even for me. “Doesn’t seem like proper police work to me.”
He flashed me a look. “Yeah well, sometimes in this game they don’t give you much choice.”
“I certainly haven’t got one.”
Drinking down some Champagne, he looked at me evenly. “Look, best bet for you is just to chill out. Count yourself lucky they’re not locking you up in prison. Make the best of a bad situation. We’re both in it together.”
I sighed. He didn’t understand. But he soon would.
Butter and I continued eating and drinking for a little while, not saying much but not parting ways either. Surely he didn’t have to start guarding me straight away. Or perhaps he felt just as out of place as I did. It was a stroke of genius from whoever decided to assign him to me. A friendly face. They knew we’d gotten on alright back in Crawley. After the initial hostility anyway.
Unfortunately, then Daryl showed up, his mum hanging back in the wings.
“Hello, you two!” he cried, glass of Champagne in hand, putting an arm round each of our shoulders. “What’s the fizz, eh, Dave? Or should I say ‘fuzz’?”
He let off a horrible little giggle.
“Eh?” I said, pulling his hand roughly from my shoulder. I had no idea what “the fizz” even meant, and I didn’t care for his crap joke either.
“You don’t want to talk to me, alright?”
“Oh come on, Dave. Look, I came to apologize, actually. I know I can go a bit overboard sometimes. I didn’t think how it might come across, you know. My intention was only to include you.”
“Better you hadn’t.”
“Look.” He leaned over, still with that grin, drunk I guess and somehow expecting me to just forgive and forget. “The truth is, well… Christine was in charge of the party. Of everything. I only discovered at the last minute that she’d left you out of the presentation. So we didn’t have much time to add you in and had to come up with something appropriate. You are one of the team, after all. And it’s funny to think, but not everyone remembers you’re down in that basement all the time. Sometimes I think they’d rather forget. And I just wanted to—”
“For Christ’s sake, Daryl. Leave it out. That was just piss-taking, pure and simple.”
He looked at me for a moment, sort of smiling, sort of like he’d never properly seen me before.
“But that’s how it goes, you know?” he said. “Everyone takes a bit of flack in the beginning. Think of yourself as a fresher. Your first year at—”
“I didn’t go to university,” I said. “Now can you please just piss off.”
I noticed the doc looking at me funny, sort of sadly. Butter seemed to have his eyes glued to the floor, sensibly staying right out of it. Daryl was biting a lip. I couldn’t be sure if he was smiling or frowning. I guess he was thinking up what to say next.
“Dave, please,” he said. “It was only a bit of fun. Don’t be such a serious Simon.”
“Serious Simon?” Seriously wrong thing to say, more like. “That was way below the belt. You’ve been planning that for a long time, haven’t you? Ever since I lamped you one.”
“Now, now—” He looked around anxiously to see if anyone was listening.
“What really pisses me off is you must have had cameras in my room all the time. Since I arrived. How does that work, eh? Spying on me?”
I was giving him the stare, watching him shrink in my gaze. Honestly, I don’t think I’d ever felt readier to lamp someone.
He did a little sigh. “I’m sorry, Dave. I forgot to tell you they were installed. But it’s a necessary precaution. They’re not monitored heavily or anything, and everything gets deleted at the end of the week. It’s just, you know… We have to protect our investment.”
“Sure, sure.” I laughed. “Funny how there were no embarrassing pics of you up there. Not a word said about you, eh? Everyone else gets sprayed with insults, and Mr CEO stays crispy clean.”
“Dave…” The doc stepped forwards. “Please, he’s just trying to—”
“Don’t try to defend him, Doc. You don’t know the half of it. He hasn’t told you, has he? About what’s been going on here. About our fight, for instance. Or how he’s been ripping me off. He’s nothing but a fraud and just about the biggest twat I’ve ever had the misfortune to know. Honestly, I don’t understand how he can be your son. Perhaps you found him behind a bin or something.”
Butter somehow managed to laugh and to shut himself up in the same moment.
“Dave,” said Daryl, frowning. “Please don’t be so rude to my mum, okay? This is a party after all.”
“I’ll say whatever I bloody want.” I was totally losing my rag now, obviously. Mustn’t forget that I, too, was fairly drunk. “You’ve had everything in life since day one, haven’t you? Nice family, more or less. Well, your mum’s nice. She tries, you know. And plenty of money, expensive cars, holidays, big house. I bet you had everything you ever wanted. Bet you’ve had a fair few no-strings-attached loans from the good old bank of dad too, eh? Just how did you afford to start this company? How come you’re the bloody CEO when you haven’t got a clue about anything?”
The words just flowed out of me. I hardly noticed that Daryl’s dad, uncle and sister had appeared.
“Dave, maybe you should calm down now…” said Butter, putting a hand on my shoulder.
I took it off and stepped forwards, closer to Daryl. He just stood and took it, swaying slightly, as if in a trance or something.
“Then there was Molly,” I said. “One of the n
icest people I’ve ever met. God knows what bloody tale you told to get into her pants. You’re just a liar! A tosser! An arsehole!”
My words ended in total vitriol and bile, probably the nastiest rant I’d ever engaged in in my life.
“Well done, Dave,” said Daryl, nodding sarcastically. “Are you finished?”
“He better be,” said Daryl’s chubby uncle, looking extremely put out. “This is outrageous.”
“It’s okay, Mike,” said Daryl, trying hard to look like he didn’t give a shit, like he was better than me, above my words. “I’ve got this.”
“Actually, there’s one more thing you should know, Daryl,” I said spitefully, unable to let that stand. “Molly, she’s in been touch, yeah. She’s really worried about me, wants to help. She’s going to help get me out of here. Away from you. She agrees with me, see. About you. She’s”—I searched for as big a sounding word as I could manage—“disgusted with you. She knows full well what kind of a twat you are.”
That did the trick.
“You snivelling bastard!” Daryl lunged for me, red-hot anger in his eyes. I took a step back and he missed me completely.
“No, Daryl,” said Uncle Mike, grabbing Daryl by the shoulders, pushing him into the arms of his mum and dad behind. “Come on. Don’t let him get to you. He’s not worth it.”
I could see Daryl staring at me darkly from the shadows.
“You.” Uncle Mike came closer, pointing a finger at me. “You just keep your mouth shut and show some bloody respect!” He shook his head at me. “All you have to do is piss in a basement and you get paid. That is literally all you have to do. Face it, son, if it wasn’t for him, you’d have ended up in prison long ago—or worse. You’d be nowhere without Daryl.”
“I agree entirely,” said Daryl’s dad, stepping forwards. “Beggars can’t be choosers. And Daryl deserves a lot of credit. Personally, I can’t believe what he’s had to put up with here. I’d never tolerate a prat like you in my company. I’d have fired you months ago. I guess he has no choice though.”
“What really gets me is this is a Christmas party!” the increasingly red-faced Uncle Mike barked on. “You do know that, right? He’s only doing what you’re supposed to do at these things: let off a bit of steam, have a bit of a laugh. You need to grow up.”
Curse of the Potency Page 20