Bret Vincent is Dead

by Tanith Morse

  I blushed, giggled appreciatively. I found the intensity of his stare a little hard to bear. It was like I wanted him all over again.

  The waiter returned and set our drinks down on the table. Bret took a couple of sips of his Martini. Then he smiled broadly, as if remembering a private joke. ‘So Madeline, were you really serious when you said that Jane Bloggs hasn’t progressed beyond synopsis stage?’

  I nodded eagerly. ‘It’s been dreadful. I’ve had such terrible writer’s block.’

  ‘I reckon it’d make a pretty good film. It’s got potential. It’s different.’ His eyes suddenly lit up. ‘Okay, let’s say you had a budget of, say, fifty million. Who would you cast in the leads?’

  I thought about this for a minute. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Imagine you’ve got access to any actress in Hollywood. Who would you cast as Jane?’

  ‘That’s a really tricky one. I don’t think there’s any actress fat enough to play her. It would probably have to be an unknown actress. Someone new. I mean, Jane doesn’t exactly fit the stereotype, does she?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘My favourite actress is Meryl Streep. I think she’s amazing. She has such range, such diversity. But of course, she couldn’t play Jane.’

  ‘Unless she puts on a fat suit.’

  We both laughed.

  Bret sipped his drink thoughtfully. ‘Okay, so what about the male lead - the boyfriend who dumps her. Which actor would you choose?’

  I didn’t miss a beat. ‘You, of course.’

  Bret’s smile broadened. ‘That’s very flattering Madeline, but I don’t think I’d be right for the role. I’m too old. No, I’d probably be happier directing and producing it.’ His tone became more serious, more business-like. ‘The reason I ask is because I am seriously considering making Jane Bloggs into a movie.’

  ‘What? Oh my God, do you really mean it?’

  ‘Sure. Like I said, I think it’s got great potential. I mean obviously, I’d have to see an actual draft of the script, but I would be willing to give it my financial backing.’

  I was struck dumb. Shook my head incredulously. ‘This feels so unreal, so amazing. You don’t know how much it means to me.’

  Bret nodded. ‘Hopefully, this will give you some incentive to start writing again. Get you through that writer’s block of yours.’

  ‘Oh yes, yes! I won’t let you down Bre- I mean David. Just say the word and I’ll start working on the first draft immediately.’

  ‘I’m just glad I’ve inspired you. I really believe in you Madeline. I want you to know that.’

  There was a loud cough.

  We glanced up and saw the waiter standing beside the table. ‘Have you decided what you’re having?’ he asked.

  Bret shook his head. ‘Oh sorry, can you give us a couple more minutes please?’

  The man nodded and walked away.

  Bret and I studied the menu and eventually ordered BBQ steak with fries. The food was slightly undercooked – I always liked my steak well done but had forgotten to mention it to the waiter. Oh well, at least the music was good. The jazz band had now moved on from Take Five to old Cole Porter standards like Night and Day and Just One of Those Things.

  During a break between songs, Bret got up and went to the toilet. I sat alone at the table, absorbing the chilled out vibes. It was such a magical evening. I never wanted it to end.

  I glanced at my watch. It was nine o’clock. Bret had been gone for quite a while, so I hoped nothing had gone wrong with his disguise.

  Then, just as I was considering going to look for him, I heard a round of applause from the other diners and saw Bret appear on stage. I covered my mouth with shock. What on earth was he doing up there?

  The piano player stood up and offered Bret his seat. Moving his mouth near the microphone, Bret then addressed the room. ‘I want to dedicate this song to a very special lady.’ His eyes fell on me. ‘Someone who means the world to me. Madeline, this one’s for you.’

  I caught my breath, overwhelmed.

  The other diners clapped and whistled. Turned round in their seats and looked at me. I went the colour of crimson. It was all so lovely, so moving, so perfect.

  After playing a beautiful piano intro, he burst into a sultry rendition of Billy Joel’s Just The Way You Are. His voice was deeply soulful, like a quirky mixture of Bruce Springsteen and Cat Stevens. The words of the song were so poignant that they brought tears to my eyes. That he was singing this to me, and declaring his love in front of all these people was the best feeling ever.

  Then, as the saxophonist went into an extended solo, Bret stood up from the piano and began serenading me from the edge of the stage.

  ‘I want you just the way you are,’ he sang.

  The woman sitting behind me leaned across and whispered conspiratorially, ‘You’re one very lucky lady. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed. He’s like a sexy Boris Johnson.’

  I smiled through my tears. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  Twenty

  ‘Is that a love bite on your neck?’ Margery asked, leaning over her desk to get a better look.

  ‘What?’ I put my customer on hold so that I could hear her above the roar of the call centre.

  ‘That’s a love bite isn’t?’

  ‘Is it? I hadn’t noticed.’ I rummaged through my bag and pulled out a make-up mirror. She was right. Peeking through the top of my polo shirt was a dirty big love bite. I was so cross with Bret for not pointing it out to me before I left for work.

  ‘Someone’s been a very naughty girl,’ Margery teased. ‘No wonder you’ve been off all week. What was it again? Said you had a cold, didn’t you? Hmm . . . well something’s been eating you, and it ain’t a cold, that’s for sure.’

  Colouring up, I turned back to my computer screen and tried hard to concentrate on the task at hand – locating this customer’s missing traffic appeal.

  ‘Hello Mrs Wilson,’ I said, switching on my headset, ‘sorry about the wait. Yes, sadly I haven’t been able to trace the appeal you sent in so your parking ticket has now increased to a £120. Yes, I know that’s not fair . . . I’m sorry to hear that, I know how expensive taking your dog to the vet can be . . .Yes, by all means you can make a complaint. I’ll give you the Chief Executive’s email address. Okay fine. Great. Thank you for calling Parking Services. Have a good day.’

  It was Thursday morning – my first day back in the real world. If I’d had my way, I wouldn’t have come back at all, but Bret had insisted on it; he said it was important for me to maintain the façade of normality, to stick to my ordinary routine and not arouse suspicion.

  At first, I couldn’t comprehend how I would be able to go back to my old life, be the old me, but now that I was back at the office, looking at my colleagues’ care-worn faces, I knew that Bret had been right. It was possible to juggle both worlds.

  I leaned back in my chair. Turned and surveyed the room. My body still felt very sore from all our lovemaking. My back ached and certain parts of me were very tender indeed. Coming back to work after such a magical couple of days had made me see everything through a new prism. Everything mundane had taken on new meaning now that I had Bret in my life. The fact that I had this big secret hidden from the world added an element of excitement to proceedings. Life was now an adventure, a foray into the unknown.

  Another call came through to my extension.

  ‘Good morning Parking Services, how can I help?’

  ‘Hello there. Can I start by taking your name please?’

  ‘Maddy.’

  ‘Let me just write that down. Okay Maddy, this is not aimed at you, but I’m absolutely livid about the way I’ve been treated and I will not tolerate it, do you hear? I will not tolerate it! Do you know what just happened to me?’

  I rolled my eyes theatrically. ‘No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.’

  ‘Don’t get smart with me, young lady. Now listen, I’m a solicitor – I know my
rights and what the council is doing is illegal. One of your hairy baboons has just given me a ticket for parking outside my house. Outside my house! What next - a fine for breathing?’

  ‘All right sir, if you’ll just give me the ticket number, I’ll look into this for you . . .’

  As the man rattled off a string of digits, I watched the comings and goings of the room. Watched Alice trying to get tough with a latecomer and fail miserably. Watched Sabina complain that Occupational Health hadn’t yet delivered her specially adapted chair. Watched Caroline sneaking a KFC bargain bucket to her desk so that she could continue clocking up the calories away from the watchful eye of the managers.

  ‘Okay sir, I’ve got your details up on my screen. Now, I’m just going to put you on hold. Won’t be a minute . . .’

  I reached into my bag and pulled out my mobile phone. There were two text messages from an unknown number that I suspected was Bret’s (he only used pay-as-you-go sim cards and was constantly changing his number so that he couldn’t be traced).

  Excitedly, I opened the first message: How is your day going? I am so horny 4 u. I want 2 play with your body. xx

  I smiled warmly. I had never been so happy in my life. The idea that Bret Vincent was waiting at home for me to tear my clothes off was almost too exciting for words. I felt like James Bond on a top secret mission. Just as I was about to open the second text, a deep voice shattered my daydream.

  ‘What are you doing, Maddy? I thought we said no mobile phones at your desk?’

  I looked up into Jaiman’s stony face. Hastily, I put my Nokia away. ‘Er, sorry, I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘How long have you had that customer on hold?’ he continued in the same toneless voice. ‘You need to fix up your behaviour, Maddy. I’ve had a number of complaints about you lately, and this isn’t like you. You used to be one of the best, now your standards are slipping. Is there something going on that you’re not telling me? Something in your personal life?’

  I licked my lips. Did Jaiman know something about Bret? No, how could he? It was impossible. ‘I’m fine, really. Everything’s fine. I just haven’t been well, that all. Still got a bit of a cold.’

  Jaiman looked at me shrewdly. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing else?’

  ‘Look, I’d better get back to this customer, he’s been on hold for a while.’

  ‘Okay, good. Think about what I’ve said, yeah? And take some honey and lemon for that cold.’ He gave me a friendly wink, then shuffled back to his desk.

  I breathed an enormous sigh. I was off the hook – for now. As the customer continued yapping, I started to put things in perspective. Of course Jaiman didn’t know anything. How could he? I was just being paranoid. With a remote smile, I took out my mobile again and looked at Bret’s racy text. I racked my brain to think of something suitably sexy to write back. As I fiddled with the handset, I pressed ‘send’ by mistake and forwarded Bret’s message to all the contacts in my phone. I covered my mouth, felt my chest tighten. ‘Oh shit!’

  I looked across the room and saw William at his desk engrossed in a pile of paperwork. Dear God, please don’t let him see it . . . His mobile phone lay next to his computer. Then I saw him glance at it, pick it up like he’d just seen a message come through. My heart was thudding in my ears. With a puzzled expression, he locked eyes with me.

  I wanted the ground to swallow me up. How was I ever going to live this down? William continued to stare, a lascivious smile on his lips. I gave a goofy grin, shrugged my shoulders and turned red-faced back to my computer screen. In these circumstances, I decided, silence was golden.

  * * *

  As soon as I got back to my flat I knew immediately that something wasn’t right. My front door had been left ajar and I knew Bret didn’t have my house keys, so how could he have got back in without them? Hurriedly, I put down my shopping bags and walked eagerly towards the living room.

  I froze.

  Reclining on my sofa and coolly sipping a cup of black coffee, was a small, olive-coloured man. He wore an immaculately tailored suit and had on those smart black and white shoes they used to wear in old gangster flicks. His hair was tastefully grey, his skin lined and leathery from sun damage. There was an air of a little Napoleon about him.

  I recognised the man instantly – Panikkos Pantelli.

  ‘You were expecting someone else?’ he purred, setting the cup down on the table. He laughed jovially, as if there was some private joke I wasn’t in on. Then, he fixed his beady little eyes on me. ‘So, Madeline Smith, we finally meet. I’ve heard so much about you.’ He hesitated. ‘You do know who I am, don’t you?’

  I nodded dumbly. He gestured for me to be seated. I obliged him. For a second or two, he stared at me, his eyes narrow and unreadable. Then he broke into a viper-like smile. ‘I take it Bret has told you everything?’

  ‘Everything? Um, I’m not sure what you mean.’

  ‘Don’t play dumb with me. I’m here to straighten things out. I’m on your side Madeline, so let’s be completely frank with each other, okay? There are no secrets between Bret and I. I know all about the two of you, so let’s not play games. You don’t want to piss me off.’

  ‘Okay,’ I croaked. Something about him made me very uneasy. I wished Bret were here.

  Pantelli took another sip of his coffee and watched me intently over the rim of the cup. ‘So how was work today? Is it very stressful working in a call centre?’

  ‘How did you know I - ’

  ‘I told you, I know everything about you. I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know every job you’ve ever had; I know where your sister lives, what grades you got at school and even the status of your sex life. Trust me, Madeline; money can buy you an awful lot of favours from people. It’s a language everyone understands. Speaking of which . . .’ He put down the cup, reached inside his jacket and took out a chequebook. ‘I’m aware of you and Bret’s “liaisons.” Now, how much will it cost me for your silence? Let me see . . .’

  He proceeded to fill out a cheque with my name on it. When he’d finished writing, he tore it off and handed it to me.

  I gawped at the seven-figure sum. It was a life-changing amount of money. If I took it, my world would never be the same again. My fingers started trembling. Surely Pantelli couldn’t be serious?

  ‘So what do you say, Madeline? Do with have a deal?’

  I didn’t answer.

  He got up, started pacing around the room, sniffed at my withered geraniums on the mantelpiece. ‘You seem like a smart girl. I think you’ll make the right decision.’

  I rubbed my temples. I just couldn’t get my head around this. Pantelli was offering me three million pounds to keep my mouth shut! Only a fool would say no and yet, and yet . . . my heart just wasn’t in it. I kept thinking about Bret.

  ‘Mr Pantelli . . .’

  ‘Please, call me Pani.’

  ‘Pani, I want to thank you for this generous offer. But you need to understand that you don’t need to buy my silence. I would never ever think of betraying you or Bret to the press. I’m not that sort of person.’

  ‘You say that now, but believe me - poverty has a way of forcing your hand. No one likes to be broke, Madeline, and it’s so easy for you to think you’d never sell out, never consider betraying someone you love, but believe me it can happen. Let me tell you a story . . .’

  He sat back on the sofa, lit an expensive-looking cigar. ‘Do you know what my business associates call me? They call me Mr Impossible, because I make the impossible possible. When I first moved to the States with my family, we only had fifty bucks between us. We were so broke, we could barely afford the clothes on our back. But through hard work and determination, we got through it. We made good. I remember how kids in my street used to laugh at me, because I couldn’t speak English. They’d say, “look at that dirty kid working in the ice cream parlour, he’ll never amount to anything.” But you see, that only made me work harder, made me want to prove them
wrong. Years later, when I’d made something of myself, I went back to my old street and demolished all those bastard’s houses – every last one of those sons-of-bitches that thought I couldn’t do it. I showed them. And it was the best feeling in the world. Nobody fucks with me anymore.’

  I smiled tightly. I had no idea where this conversation was heading. As engrossing as Pantelli’s story was, I hadn’t bargained on getting his life history.

  He puffed a cloud of foul smelling smoke into the atmosphere. ‘So you see Madeline, I’ve learned how to read people, learned what’s makes them tick. You don’t get to where I am by being a nice guy. Sometimes you’ve got to make tough decisions and be ruthless. It’s the only way to succeed.’

  I felt like asking him what the hell this had to do with me, but I was too out of my depth. So I sat there mute, listening to him ramble on like a kid stuck in detention with his most hated teacher.

  ‘This brings me back to what I was saying earlier, Madeline. I know how to read people, and when I look at you, I see a woman with a lot of bottle. Behind all your niceties is a very ambitious person trying to make it in the world, looking for the chance to better your circumstances. My advice to you is to take the money. Forget about Bret, forget any of this ever happened and go buy yourself a new house, a nice car. Retire early, live the life you’ve always dreamed of. I’m offering you a way out.’ He paused for breath. ‘Oh, I almost forgot . . .’

  He brought out a suitcase from under the table, flipped it open and started rifling through some paperwork. After a few minutes, he found what he was looking for – a lengthy legal document that looked like some sort of contract.

  ‘Before I go, I need you to sign this confidentiality agreement.’

  I took it from him, read the first couple of lines, then handed it back to him with disgust. Basically it was saying that in return for the money, I would agree to have no further contact with Bret. Impossible!