“Yeah I heard. My day was nothing but Malachi and his groin”
Rayne saunters across a junction, it’s a miraculously clear road for this time on a Saturday. For me, it’s more than a junction, it’s where my cab usually turns right before heading into Guys gates. I should text him. No. I should call him.
I should call him and apologise. Really apologise. In person apologise. Our lives cross so much. It’s weird. In all the years we’ve known each other I used to see him once or twice a year. Suddenly everywhere I turn he’s there. He was always one of those men who were attractive in a pretty boy kind of way, but nothing more. Having spent time alone with him, Guy is funny, like his sense of humor is brilliant, he’s so intelligent it’s scary, he knows something about everything. Thanks to years of swimming his body is insane. That’s what did it for me. Made me go back for more. After the long car ride to Liverpool, we hit the gym. I thought he was going to ‘pump iron’ so I headed to the sauna, only to almost swallow my tongue when he appeared in navy blue swimming shorts and skimmed through the pool like a knife through butter. Yes very cliché but very true. When he climbed out after tearing up the pool in mere minutes I think my tongue disconnected from my mouth. When we accidentally had sex after Trent’s retirement party, it was so freaking hot, maybe a little sloppy as I was drunk, and he was drunker, but damn hot. He said the right things and made me feel amazing. I had played it out so many times on my own, but my hands no match for his. Driving in the car up to Liverpool we talked like friends, it was easy and adult. We never mentioned us sleeping together again and that was fine. I flirted, he flirted. There was great banter. He matched me step for step. Then we go back to the pool, to him pulling himself over the side nearest the sauna, stepping under the shower and me watching the silhouette of him. The squelching between my thighs could have been down to sweat or Guy. I wasn’t sure. He walked into the sauna and everyone watched. He flipped his floppy quiff back, covering me in drops of water. I turned into a girl for our audience. I squealed, theatrically bounced so my tit’s thrust a bit and my bikini bottoms rode slightly up my butt. He sits down lengthways taking up the other side of my bench. I swung my legs around and put my feet in between his thighs. We sit like this for a minute until some jumped up little shit plonks himself next to me, I remember making the split-second decision to scoot into Guy and not put my feet back on the floor into my sliders.
That decision lead to a night of sensational sex, one that we continued over and over again.
“We’re here.” Rayne pulls the beast mobile up onto a driveway. We get out and I am stood in front of two double fronted townhouses. Completely out of place on a little street packed with Victorian and 1930’s semis. These two houses are attached by a carport. I think for a second, she’s gone made until we walk through the front door and at the end of a large hallway is a huge kitchen with a wall of windows at the rear, framing a large but overgrown garden. It reminds me of her family house, Trent and Rose’s house, the garden room to be exact.
“Connor!” Rayne shouts letting him know she’s here
“In our bedroom” we vaguely make out.
She grabs my hand and takes me on a tour of this hideous building, she describes what she wants to do, and I believe in her vision.
We get to the second floor which looks like a building site, as we push open the door I realise exactly why they want this house. The master bedroom also has floor to ceiling windows and set of patio doors opening onto a roof terrace. Connor is standing on the terrace with Trent and my younger brother Alex.
Connor stops mid-sentence and reaches for Rayne. He pulls her into his side, kissing her twice on the side of her head. She puts her arms around him and joins the conversation. It’s the most effortless display and makes my icy heart warm.
“You good sis?” Alex slaps my shoulder.
“Peachy Alexa. What’s got you sniffing around here”
Alex has my laugh, the baritone Barros howl. He lets rip with a gutsy rendition, loud enough to shake the foundations of this monstrosity.
“Connor may have been discussing what he and Rayne were after and I remembered I had just put this in the auction. This was one of the first houses I brought, the old lady who rented it died a year ago and I never got around to doing anything with it.”
Alex is a property developer. He started out working with our other brother Elliot. Ethan’s twin. Elliot has an investment company and used to deal in property. Alex had a natural talent and brought the property branch from Elliot. He stockpiled houses in 2008. Buying things that couldn’t be flipped but had potential. He lost a lot on the way, houses, investors and his best friend Martin Van Kempen. My heart sinks thinking about Martin. Martin got cold feet when the bottom completely fell out of the London market. They were in the middle of negotiating the purchase of a huge site in Belgravia. Martin conspired with 4 of the investors and jumped ship. He left overnight and took half of my brother’s investment funds and my heart with him.
My dad had to step in and raise the finance Alex needed. He was adamant the investment would be worth it. Three years ago he finished the development. 6 luxury apartments. Each sold for over £3,000,000. He brought it for £3.5m and spent £3m on works. My parents, who sold their house and some of their business to fund the project, designed and moved into the three-bedroom duplex on the top floor. My brother Christopher rents the two-bed next door to them.
Two of the investors that fled openly expressed remorse at their decision and jumped back into bed with Alex. The other two and Martin he never talks about.
When I say Martin walked away with my heart, he didn’t walk away with it, he stomped it into the ground and destroyed it. Leaving me with the crumbs I hold onto now. My family have no idea we were in a relationship. They also don’t know that he helped me fund my business. I used to ignore the comments and digs at him. My parents lived in the flat above their Harley Street Offices after selling their house. Mum wasn’t depressed, but she wasn’t happy. It put a huge strain on our family, but we are always all in. We stick together. If we need help we go to each other. Except me. I broke ranks and I am about to pay for it. Although Martin has been paid back more than his initial investment and continues to take a percentage, he reared his ugly head yesterday morning. Alex has been in the news a lot recently. His company is part of a consortium about to build a new town just outside London. Those investors that came back on board? They’ve made over £10m each and that’s about to rocket even further. Martin wants what he feels he is owed. From me. He’s blackmailing me – he has pictures and videos of when we were together. Pictures of me doing things I am ashamed of now. Videos of me and him. I believed in him. I loved him. But I know now I was just his insurance. Those pictures would destroy my reputation and my company. They could harm Alex, my parent’s clinic, which would also harm Christopher. Ethan would probably kill him, and Elliot would help bury the body. It would destroy us.
“Are you listening sis?”
“Hmm?” I am brought thundering back to reality. “Sorry just taking this all in.”
I shield my eyes from the now blazing sunshine. Rayne is animated as ever, hands everywhere as she points out what she wants. Connor still clutching onto her. He does this a lot. Although he’s a hulk of a man, who in his own right, is well respected, he still feels out of place sometimes. He holds onto Rayne not only physically but emotionally too. She’s not just his crutch, she is his other half, Rayne makes him whole.
Connor catches me mid squint and signals for me to join them.
I get a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“What do you think Leilani? Are we mad?”
“Of course you’re mad! But I know it’s going to be perfect”
I don’t know this for sure, but I have hope.
We walk back around the house for a while. Connor and Rayne invite me to dinner, but I just want to go home. Alex offers to take me, but I just want to walk. Reluctantly they let me go.
“Call me when you get in bitch face! Love you millions”
“Love you the most Sugar tit’s”
Connor is now driving the beast, they toot as they disappear down the road.
I meander along the roads, stopping to look in the shops. I buy a dress as you do, some lamb for dinner, some flowers and some wine. I get to the Bridge and look back up towards Guys apartment. I can just make out the outline of his balcony. I will call him when I get in. I have to apologise. I might need all the friends I can get if Martin doesn’t get what he wants. Where does he think I can find £2m in 5 days? If I give in to him, he will only come back for more. I need to tell my family. I have to.
Guy
On Friday I wasn’t ready for Monday. Now I cannot wait for it to come.
After the disaster that was Friday night, I woke up on Saturday, achy, tired and sore. It was 6am and there was no way I could go back to sleep. I threw on some running gear, chucked my swim shorts into a bag and ran to the gym.
From my house it’s a 20-minute drive. I ran it in 30. Now the only reason I still come to this gym is because I used to rent a place just next to it and I am not a gym rat. The only reason I used to come here was to check out the lonely housewives and get myself laid. Regularly. With a different chick every time. I never bothered to change health clubs as I rarely use the place. Today I need it.
I swipe my card and head to the pool. There are certain rules, that swimmers follow. The rules of a public pool. Fuck the rules.
There are a few people in the general area and a couple of dudes clogging the lanes.
I get in and the urge to release pressure is high. The cold of the water hit’s for no more than a second, I launch into the butterfly, a complete No. No. for public pools.
It’s obnoxious, and reckless. Everything I am feeling today. As I chop through the water I start to feel free. Every ride of my head to take a breath is cleansing. I fill my lungs on every second stroke, steady and repetitive, my head dips under, back up, eyes straight. I feel my body, every piece like a jigsaw reminding me I control it. Sweep arms up and over. Deltoids. Push back legs. Gluteus Maximus. Rise out for another breath. Abdominal. Arms below the water, back straight gliding against the water. Latissimus Dorsi. Brain kicking in, flashing me images of Leilani, in that black bikini, legs starting on a Sunday ending on a Friday. Eyes as blue as the water I dominate. Skin warm and subtly tanned. There’s no muscle that kicks in. Nothing but a rush of blood through my body reminding me I am man. I don’t know how many laps I have done, I have no concept of time, but it’s has been a while as each movement against the water feels like a knife striking me, the pain and the burn is almost too much. Continuing my obnoxious stance. I lift out of the pool in the middle of the lane. I need to get out of here. There are eyes on me, men thinking I am a dickhead. I tend to agree with them this morning. A catch a few glances as I walk round the pool back to the showers. My muscles are still talking to me, some hi fiving me for waking them up, others not as impressed. It’s only when I get to my locker I realise I am still sporting a definite hard on. The showers are in cubicles. Thank God. I don’t want to get arrested for indecent exposure. The temptation to knock one out is high as I immerse myself under the stream of almost scalding water, but my body aches and I just want to get home.
I pull my baseball cap down low as I head out to reception, it’s now almost 9am and the Chelsea set will be on bursting through the turnstiles in their droves. I don’t need to be spotted, I don’t want small talk.
I decide against walking home and cut across the parking lot to hail a cab. I don’t know what I did to deserve this strain of luck, but I wish it would fuck off.
“Guy?”
The nasal annunciation of my name has my balls shriveling back up inside me, they must have fled to my tonsils because my throat is suddenly thick, and I can’t speak.
“GUY!”
Damn it.
“Millicent.”
She is kitted out in what I can only assume is the most expensive gym wear, but it does nothing for her.
Her shorts are lime green, with sheer panels down each side, the top, which given her unfortunate shape, is slightly too long to be a crop top and too short to be a t shirt, is riding above the hem of the shorts. It’s in the same lime green with a panel that should be across the top but is perilously close to her exposing her tit’s to Townmead Road. Maybe that was the idea. Her trotters are hoofed into bright pink/orange/lime green trainers and she’s carrying a water bottle with her name emblazoned in gold across it. She pops her sunglasses on her head, removing the illusion that her nose has shrunk. She’s beaming her brought smile at me.
“What are you doing here Guy? Wrong side of the tracks for you isn’t it?”
The pathetic jokes about me living across the river, wear thin every time I see any of Willies friends.
I ignore most of the statement and politely say
“I came for a swim. Wanted to get out of here before the posers showed up, obviously I misjudged the timing”
Millicent, being Millicent misses the direct jibe and laughs
She punches my shoulder – which under normal circumstances wouldn’t be an issue but I am wound so tight it makes me flinch.
“Oh Guy, you are soooooooo funny. We can’t all rock out of bed doing that broody look, some of us need our beauty sleep”
She flicks her hair and bats her lashes at me.
I really don’t want to go down this route, she’s fishing for a compliment that I just cannot find.
“Well, enjoy your workout” I make to leave, and she holds her arm out to stop me
“Can I not entice you to join me for a coffee?”
She runs her fingers up my arm as she says it, coping a feel as she goes.
“I’ve got a ton of work to do, maybe another time?”
What?! Guy! What is wrong with you? Another time? Why don’t you just tell her no.
She leans in closer, her snout almost touching my cheek
“We can skip coffee if you want and just. You know...”
She winks as she says it.
Enough. Guy man up and put a fork in this already.
I take her hand from my arm and hold her at a distance
“Millicent. As flattering as it is, I am not looking to start anything with anyone. I think we are better as friends. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes flick behind me, and then she blinks rapidly. Her eyes begin to well.
“I understand Guy, we have our families to think of. Imagine if it doesn’t work out. My father would stop bank rolling your fathers company. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be fun to try”
A lone, pathetic tear falls down her cheek. Slowly. It’s the driest tear I have ever seen.
I ignore the dig at my father. What Willie does in business is his choice. None of my business.
“Guess we will never find out.” It’s all I can think to say.
She nods. And I head towards the road. I don’t turn back, I walk as fast as I can, keeping my head down as I really don’t want any more encounters. Thankfully there is cab just dropping off, I give him my address and jump in. Throwing my head back I push my cap off my forehead and rub away the pain.
This day is just a continuation of yesterday – great.
Back in the sanctuary of my office at home, I go back to the file that Trent handed me.
I know a few of the names listed, but one sticks out, Alexander Barros.
Alexander moved a substantial amount of money out of a personal account into another company. The director of that company. Miss Leilani Barros. The company was a small property management company. At the time the turnover was a little shy of £7,000, he invested £7,000,000. 1000 times the turnover.
I go into the HMRC and check the returns from the date of investment to the last set of accounts. They file every year on time. The £7,000,000 over 9 years has grown. They spent little and often. They had no real client base but there was a regular income from properties in
the form of management fees for buildings, lots of buildings. Buildings all over the world by the looks of it. I wondered how Leilani had kept her role in this so quiet. It should give her a good additional income, except as I trawled the accounts one thing became clear; She’s never even been paid a pound, not directly. The payments go to a trust.
I try and find out the details of the trust but hit a dead end.
Everything we did was to the book, we hadn’t breached any rules. It was an instruction only case no advice given. However something just isn’t sitting right, this is more than just the lawyer in me. This is personal. She’s a friend, a good friend. I go back to the incorporation of the company and I notice it straight away... It’s not Leilani’s signature. She never signed these papers. Her signature is as ostentatious as she is. A huge L curved around the B like a snake. It’s a work of art. This signature is sloppy. When we signed into the hotel in Liverpool, I ridiculed her for it. She confessed she had it since she was 16 and opened her first bank account, spent days perfecting it, apparently, she calmed it down when she started the company, dropped the heart on the end of the B. She showed me her driving licence which had the flamboyant scrawl and there it was a little heart, tying the end of the swoop of the B. Considering when these papers were signed the heart would have still been in play. It’s not. This signature has been forged.
My stomach lets me know that it must be lunch time, except it’s not. It’s 9pm and I haven’t stopped since I started. I go to see what’s in the fridge that could pass for food. I find some sausages, half an onion, tomatoes, a few mushrooms and some bread. I decide to make some pasta, a sandwich would be faster, but I am in need of solid fuel. Shredding the sausages and dicing the onion, I try to figure out what Alex would have to gain from using Leilani? Especially if she didn’t know. That’s fraud. Everything else about the company is above board. Taxes paid, returns made. I don’t understand why he didn’t just tell her about it? Leilani would do anything for her brothers, even if she knows she shouldn’t. The more I think about it, the more questions I raise.
Vantage Point (The Point Series Book 2) Page 8