Trouble had been rumbling around for months but he had been confident he would be one of the lucky ones. After all, he had bought in a major client that other comparable firms would have given their pensions to own, but when his company had succumbed to a hostile takeover, some jobs within were duplicated. It was a head-rolling exercise, and his was one of the first to hit the block.
So it was a case of "thanks very much. Now piss off." He had taken the generous pay-off and spent the next six months trawling the Capital, looking for work along with many other displaced professionals caught out by the banking crisis and recession.
As the months passed, he was aware of Sandy looking at him with disappointment, then annoyance. He wasn't trying hard enough, she said. He was doing something wrong.
Paul Radley ran a showroom and workshop, looking after high-end sports cars. He had known Rob's father, and always looked after his succession of Jaguars with loving care. As a child, Rob would spend time poking around the workshop as the men talked, or sitting in the expensive motors, playing with the controls and choosing which one he would buy when he was older.
One day, to get out of the house and for want of something positive to do, he had walked into town and stopped off at Radleys. Paul was white-haired and still spritely. When he said he was looking someone to keep the company accounts in order, Rob leapt at the chance.
'Great. So now you're a book-keeper,' Sandy had sniffed when he told her.
He didn't let her get to him. For the first time in a very long while, he felt wanted.
Despite Geri and anyone else who had told him to fight Sandy through the courts, he preferred to walk away from their marriage and not look back. And on the whole, he had not. Their large house had gone, and Sandy was in the arms of the barrister who had obligingly severed her marital connection with Rob, whilst he was left with her bitter accusations that he had been "emotionally retarded." She had been on sticky ground, throwing him out as she had, but because she had taken care to give him all his belongings and documents and her lawyer was familiar with the Ivana Trump motto "don't get even, get everything," Rob judged that it would be easier and less expensive for both of them if he did not demand more money or contest her reasons. In the end, he considered himself lucky that he had escaped with his bank balance and balls intact.
Christmas had been surprisingly tolerable, under the circumstances. He had gone to the Welsh coast with Geri and Simon, and they had spent a lot of blustery hours at the beach, flying his power kite, walking and eating huge pub meals. It was depressing to hear his sister and her mate rutting enthusiastically in the middle of the night, but it was a small price to pay for their kindness and hospitality.
One Thursday morning, late in April, the showroom was dead quiet. Paul and the Sales Manager had gone out to lunch, leaving Rob in charge.
After half an hour of paperwork he left his desk, thinking that the Audi R8 nearest the window could do with some loving care. As he polished the car, traffic and pedestrians constantly streamed past the tall, wide windows. Some people looked in, noses pressed against the glass as they gawped at the gleaming cars therein. It drove Paul crazy. He was always outside, wiping off greasy marks as soon as the window-shoppers and school-kids moved away. He had even put a large sign up asking people not to lean on the glass but they still did it. Something about the elegant vehicles inside drew people to stop and stare.
Opposite the showroom was a coffee shop. In the summer there was bright red awning and black cast iron tables outside, surrounded by pots of vivid red geraniums to give an Italian air to the place, but in the winter, one could see the occupants inside the shop, steaming up the windows. Rob watched them for a moment, wondering what their lives were like. How many people were going through divorces, separations, job losses? He felt a vague sense of unreality, as if he would wake up any moment and be back at his large house, waiting for Sandy to come home. The thought of it actually happening filled him with alarm. He had long since lost any affection for his wife, and was actually looking forward to the imminent arrival of the decree absolute, severing his ties with Sandy for good.
With a resigned sigh, he continued his task. The Audi was his dream car, curvaceous bodywork and come-hither headlights, metallic white paint finish that sparkled like diamonds. He lovingly stroked the last few smudges away from the door handle, caused by the child of a wealthy client who obviously had not learned to wash her hands. He breathed on the metal and rubbed off the mark, running his hand along the car's flank to feel the silken metal underneath his fingers tips.
As he stood up, he was aware of another reflection besides his own, in the side window of the car. A man was standing outside, staring in. Although the image was somewhat warped, he was close enough that Rob could see he was well-dressed in a dark tailored suit. And he hadn't been looking at the car. His whole attention was on Rob.
Rob turned rapidly and looked him in the eye. The man stepped back. A fleeting look of shock passed over his face and then was gone, replaced by an insolent gaze which made Rob feel as if all his clothes had just fallen to the floor. The stranger smiled slightly and turned away.
Rob found his heartbeat had elevated slightly. The guy had definitely been checking him out, but what was more disconcerting was Rob's reaction to it. He shivered slightly, trying to shake off the feeling. He was flustered, that was all. No-one had done that before and made him feel so alive.
The door to the showroom opened as he was sitting down at his desk again. He discreetly watched the man walk around the Audi. His footsteps were loud and measured in the quiet. Late thirties, possibly early forties and wealthy, definitely a potential client, not just a dreamer. Rob realised he was aware of the scrutiny, in the mirrored wall than ran along the side of the showroom. He quickly looked down at the empty pad of paper in front of him and picked up his pen, but he hadn't a clue what to write.
'Beautiful,' the man said, loud enough so that Rob could not ignore him. As he looked up, the man's hand was on the Audi's flank and he stroked it as if it were that of a racehorse. 'Such fine lines. Such engineering. A work of art. I expect I would have to part with a lot of money to own a beauty like this.' His gaze fell on Rob, whose mouth was still half open. He had been transfixed by the hypnotic deepness of his voice, the accent redolent of moneyed New York.
'She is lovely, isn't she,' Rob responded finally.
'I wasn't talking about the car.' The man fixed Rob with eyes the colour of silver bullets. His lips twitched in a smile. 'I'd like to take her out.'
Rob was still trying to work out what he had meant from the last sentence. He rapidly gathered himself together. 'Yes, of course. When were you thinking?'
'Tomorrow afternoon. Three o'clock.'
'That's fine. I'll need some details. Your name is...?'
'Lexington Black.'
Rob wrote it down, thinking what kind of parents would have saddled their son with a name like that. He went through the information he needed for insurance purposes. Finally, with the arrangements made, they stood up at the same time.
'We'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Black. It may well be my colleague, Greg Soames, who takes you out...'
'No. I want you to do it.'
Rob opened his mouth and shut it again. 'I'm the accounts department, Mr. Black. Mr. Soames is our Sales Exec...'
'You will take me out tomorrow,' Lexington Black said calmly, and Rob could see it was ill-advised to argue with him.
'That's no problem, Mr. Black,' he said smoothly. 'I'm Robin ...'
'I know who you are.' Black held out one elegant hand with long, tapered fingers. His handshake was cool and very firm, with an intimate squeeze just before he let go.
I'll have to be careful, Rob thought. This man could be trouble. Although he had no idea why.
That evening when he arrived at the flat, the document he had been waiting for was there. Looking at the official words drawing a thick dark line through his marriage, all he could summon up was a vague sense of f
ailure. When they married, he thought it was his chance to show the world he was capable of maintaining a relationship. Now he doubted he ever could.
It hadn't been like that in the beginning. He had always known she was ambitious but that was what he had loved about her. Full of life, willing to take risks. He couldn't believe she had taken the risk of saying yes when he had asked her to marry him.
A few years back their life had been enviably carefree, no financial woes, holidays in Mauritius, ski-ing at Val d'Isere, love-making in ...
Actually, there hadn't been a lot of that, but they knew that everyone else assumed they swung from the chandeliers every night, and that was almost good enough. Rob knew that his wife would be able to say, hand on heart, that he wasn't the greatest of lovers.
He sighed as he picked up the phone. Geri answered after four rings.
'Decree absolute has just arrived,' he said.
'You want to get drunk?'
'Yeah, something like that.'
'Come on over.'
******
The next morning he woke on Geri's sofa, with his head feeling as if an anvil had dropped onto it.
'Hey.' He felt someone sit on the sofa next to him. 'You're drooling, bro. It's not a good look.'
He groped for the piece of kitchen paper shoved in his face, and wiped his mouth, then took the glass of water floating in his peripheral vision. He sat up properly, blinking, and looked around for his glasses. The tortoiseshell frames were on the coffee table. He put them on and blinked again to try and focus. His vision was bleary as he looked up at his sister.
'Aspirin,' Geri said, holding three white round tablets in her palm. 'I need to get to work but you can stay here as long as you like.'
'What time is it?' Rob lugged down the tablets with the remains of the water.
'Nearly eight.'
Rob immediately swung his long legs off the sofa. He needed a shower, a shave and a fresh shirt if he was going to look anything like respectable for the client coming to test-drive the Audi that afternoon. He also needed to get to work on time, and he wasn't going to achieve both.
In the end, he showered in Geri and Simon's ancient, damp-smelling bathroom and shaved the worst of his stubble with a nearly-new Bic razor, trying to ignore the black hairs from Geri's legs poking out between the blades. Afterwards, he looked worse than he had before. Blood-shot eyes, gaunt expression, he was some catch and no mistake.
'Gorgeous,' Geri said loyally. 'But you're too skinny. You need to put on some beef.'
Stumbling downstairs again, he was given his shirt, smelling of the tumble-dryer and freshly ironed.
'Thanks,' he muttered, avoiding Geri's critical gaze. Since he stopped working in London, he had slipped into what Geri kindly described as "Oxbridge Chic," namely old chinos and a variety of eccentric tweed jackets over checked shirts. Sandy had been less impressed with his new look and told him he dressed like an old man.
There was no time for breakfast. A beep sounded outside the front of the house.
'That's your taxi. You drive this morning and you'll lose your licence,' Geri said firmly.
Rob gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. 'Thanks, sis. I owe you both a lot.'
Geri tossed her long black hair. 'Yeah, remember that next Christmas.'
Rain soaked the window and ran down the glass in wriggling rivulets as he was driven to work. He pressed his aching head against the cool glass, grateful that the cab driver wasn't one of the chatty types. Only two days until the weekend. Not that it was anything to put out the flags for. On Sunday a family lunch had been organised to discuss arrangements for his younger sister's wedding, to be held later that year. Everyone had their part to play, and he suspected she would be angling for a cheap deal on Paul's Silver Shadow, which only came out for private family occasions. Rob would not have dreamt of offering it but no doubt their mother had suggested it as a way that Rob could contribute. Whatever, the thought of sitting with his poisonous mother, spoilt Sara and her down-trodden groom-to-be, as well as Christopher, his pompous arse of an older brother, was almost too much to contemplate. No doubt they would give him a hard time about breaking up with Sandy. His mother would tell him he was a disgrace, as usual, and it would all be punctuated by Sara's snippy little remarks and demands.
Frankly, he would rather eat his own hair than spend time with his delightful relatives, but at least Geri would be there, and Silvy, Christopher's beatific wife. And it was something to do, even if it meant consolidating his position as the dead-beat of the family.
The taxi stopping with a jerk woke him up and forced him back into reality. Before going into work he raced into the supermarket and bought some deodorant, more aspirin and a bottle of mineral water.
Paul looked up from his computer as Rob walked in to the showroom and apologised for his tardiness. He did not look surprised at Rob's disheveled appearance.
'What happened to your car?'
'I - uh, decided to walk,' Rob mumbled. He headed straight for the coffee machine and poured himself a mugful, aware that Paul was watching him.
'In the pissing rain? Seriously?'
Rob didn't reply. Three sugars went into his coffee. It was definitely a three sugars morning.
'You okay?'
'I will be.' Rob gave him a tight smile and escaped into the cloakroom.
In the mirror he looked at himself with disgust. The stress of the divorce and his changed circumstances, the way his and Sandy's former friends had all deserted him, the smelly flat he lived in; it had all taken a toll on his health and wellbeing. When he looked in the mirror now, he saw his father's face staring back at him. His eyes were dark and deep-set, and he had well-defined cheekbones, a sharp jaw and collar-length dark brown hair. He looked like a crumpled geography teacher.
He splashed cold water on his face and gave himself another mental slap. It wasn't as if he actually cared about how he looked. As long as he was tidy and didn't let Paul down, that was all that mattered. His other life had gone and there was no use in pining for it.
Paul was the closest thing to a friend now. He knew all about Rob's marital situation but Rob was determined it was not going to play havoc with his job. After all, it was the only thing he had left.
Rob's desk was at the back of the showroom, behind those of the two salesmen. At that time, the showroom was pretty crowded with, amongst other vehicles, two Aston Martins, a silver Lamborghini and a red Ferrari which had taken the place vacated by the R8.
Rob's desk was typically tidy. All his papers were filed at the end of each day and locked away, leaving only a flat-screen computer and a receptacle for stationery. That morning, he stared the computer screen as if it had started talking Chinese at him.
'Are you sure you're alright, lad?' Paul asked, for the third time.
Rob looked up at him at last, knowing he owed him the truth. Paul might have been his boss, but he had also become something of a surrogate father, who knew all about Rob's difficult family life, his religious mother and the strained relations with his siblings.
'The divorce was finalised yesterday. I went on a bit of a bender to celebrate,' Rob admitted ruefully.
'Well, perhaps it's for the best. It's time you moved on, Rob. Start living again.' He patted Rob's shoulder.
Paul wasn't one to waste much time on ruminating over difficult issues, so this was a major contribution from him and Rob was grateful for it.
'Yeah, I know. Thanks, Paul.'
Pep talk over, Paul went back to his disemboweled Aston Martin. After a while there was shouting and swearing. Rob relaxed. It was another normal day.
All morning he caught up on paperwork and made some phone calls. By quarter to three he was yawning for England, his body complaining at the lack of sleep the night before.
'What's this I hear about you taking someone out in the Audi?' A voice asked, halting him in mid-yawn. 'Paul's just told me. Apparently he insisted on you taking him out.'
Rob looked up. Greg S
oames was standing in front of him, looking annoyed.
'If he buys the car, it's your commission,' Rob said easily. He didn't want to fall out with Greg as their desks were only ten feet apart. 'I told him you would be taking him out and he insisted on me. I don't know why. The customer is always right. Right?'
After a short pause, Greg nodded and walked away, somewhat appeased. They both looked up as the door opened and the client walked in. Rob checked on his notepad. Lexington Black, that was it. Strange name. Strange man.
Rob greeted him and reached into his desk for the Audi key. Lexington Black was giving the red Ferrari a good inspection, and Rob had a chance to have a good look at him. He was tall and well-built, with black hair cut in a business-like short back and sides. In profile, he had a large, long nose, high cheekbones and a firm jaw.
'Right,' Rob said as he joined him. 'The car's outside.'
'Who does this belong to?' Black motioned to the grandfather clock, standing behind Rob's desk. It had been there since Sandy had thrown it out, and was waiting to be restored when he could afford it. He had not wanted Geri to have it as it would no doubt have been covered with coathanger scratches by the time he was ready to retrieve it again. She had no appreciation of antiques.
'Me, actually. I don't have anywhere to put it at home. It was my father's,' he added.
'I don't suppose you're interested in selling it?'
'No,' Rob said, then realised it came out too abruptly. 'I'm sorry. It's a family heirloom.'
'Which is why it's here, of course,' Black said archly.
'It's a long story.'
'I like long stories.'
Rob pressed the key pad and the Audi chirped in response. 'I'll drive us out to the service station and you can take it from there?'
'That's fine.'
A Matt Munroe CD was playing softly in the background. He kept it on as Munroe's honeyed voice created just the right kind of mood for cruising elegantly down the motorway. He eased the Audi out onto the road and headed for the large service station near the M40 turn-off.
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