The One Who Got Away

by Caroline Overington

  David paused.

  ‘Oh, we know,’ I said. ‘You mean, by this stage, Miss Morales had almost complete control of your life, didn’t she?’

  He looked weary, but having come this far, there was no backing out. ‘I guess that’s right.’

  ‘Because she was no longer having sex only with you, was she? She was also having sex with your clients? And you knew about that, and encouraged her, didn’t you?’

  ‘No, I don’t think that’s fair. I didn’t ask her to do it, and I’m not sure you could even say I encouraged her, but yes, she was having sex with my clients and, yes, it was with my consent.’

  * * *

  How was it exactly that David knew that Lyric was having sex with his clients? He knew because he was there. He knew because he was the hidden, silent, slightly delirious witness to her dangerous games.

  ‘How many of your clients did Lyric have sex with?’ I asked, knuckling down for what I knew would be one of the toughest parts of the interview.

  ‘I’m not entirely sure,’ said David, who seemed far less rattled than you might expect. ‘But a key fact is, this wasn’t something I asked her to do. I’m not sure I can explain it, other than to tell the blunt truth. I was working late one night. Lyric had stayed behind to keep me company, which was something she often did. One of the Big Fish called the office …’

  ‘Big Fish being big investors?’

  ‘Big clients, yes. And I had been avoiding this particular Big Fish because he had been demanding a meeting with me, which could only mean he wanted his funds out of Capital Shrine, which was unfortunate because I had no funds to give him.’

  ‘And why was that?’ I asked.

  ‘Well, I guess it no longer matters,’ said David. ‘But back in those days, I was terribly worried about going broke. The problem with investors is, they put their money in when times are good, but then, when times go bad, instead of riding it out, they come looking for their money, which has usually been lost. It’s not a big problem. If you can afford to ride it out, most investments will come good again. But because so much of my success at Capital Shrine depended on the idea that I was somehow immune to the bad times, I didn’t like to tell people that their money had been lost. So I had fallen into a bad habit, where I would borrow a bit of money from this client to pay that client, and so on.’

  ‘And that works only to a point?’

  ‘Right. It works only until you run out of money and, for some reason, a rumour had taken hold in Bienveneda that my business was going under. This was before it was actually going under. People hear rumours and they get nervous, and this Big Fish was one of the nervous ones. He’d invested a lot – probably more than he could afford – and now he wanted his money back with interest.’

  ‘Now, I’m not an economist,’ I said, ‘but it seems to me the correct thing to do in a situation like that is to say: “I don’t have your money. Your investment has taken a loss, and my suggestion to you would be for you to stay in until your position recovers.”’

  ‘But there’s a risk in doing that, because statements like that can cause a run on your business,’ said David. ‘So when people came looking for their money, I tried to give it to them. But too many people had come at once, and I was angry about it. Because a lot of those people – people who, by the way, had described me as a buddy; people who would pat me on the back at the Nineteenth Hole – didn’t really need to withdraw their funds. I knew these men personally. I had been to their homes. One of them was in the process of buying an apartment in New York. They did not need the funds that were tied up in Capital Shrine, yet they came demanding it and …’

  ‘And that annoyed you?’

  ‘Yes, it annoyed me because it was so unnecessary. So I had been avoiding this Big Fish but now he was calling again. I had my head in my hands and Lyric said: “What’s going on?” I didn’t want to tell her, mainly because I had been too terrified to confide in anyone about the problems I was having at work. But Lyric wouldn’t let up. She said: “Have we got money problems?” And I don’t know, it was such a relief to finally tell somebody. I explained everything. Lyric listened. Loren would have been hysterical, but Lyric seemed completely calm. Finally she said: “What can I do to help?” I said: “I don’t know, we just need to keep putting him off until I can think of something” and Lyric was great, she said: “You’ll think of something. All you need is some sexual healing,” and then she tried to arouse me but it wasn’t going to work. Stress was impacting my libido. I couldn’t even fake it, and I guess that’s when she understood how bad things were. Because our relationship was normally so charged. So she pulled back from me and said something like: “Hey, this is serious! This is just not like you at all.”

  ‘I said: “I’m so sorry. I feel like I’m failing everyone. You, my wife, the business, everyone.” And that got her riled up. She did up the buttons on the front of her shirt, and said: “Tell me what I can do.” My instinct was to say, “Well, you can’t do anything,” because I had enormous problems and I couldn’t see what Lyric could do to help, but she – and I can’t stress this enough – she quite spontaneously came up with the solution. She said: “Well, why don’t I meet him?”

  ‘At first I didn’t understand what she meant. I said: “Why don’t you meet him? And say what?” Then Lyric winked, and sat back in the office chair and crossed and re-crossed her legs, and this was one of those occasions where she was not wearing underwear in the office. She said: “Perhaps he could inspect me?” And I was blown away. I said: “Would you do that?” She said: “Of course,” as though the idea was … I don’t know, like she was delighted. She said: “It might even be fun.” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to encourage Lyric, but I felt like my hands were tied. So I watched while she called the Big Fish back.’

  ‘Go on,’ I said.

  David sighed. ‘Well. Our telephones were the headset type, with the small microphone on a stick that goes over your mouth. I watched Lyric holding the microphone to her mouth. She was breathing into it, saying: “I have just received word from Mr Wynne-Estes. He won’t be returning to the office this evening, but he understands that you would like to withdraw your investment from Capital Shrine and he asked me to begin the process with you. I understand that you’re in a hurry, so if you’re available to come to the office now, I’d be happy to go over the paperwork with you.” She was winking at me as she said this. I felt distressed by what Lyric was planning, but she seemed to be enjoying herself and the Big Fish was obviously going to pull his money out and destroy us as soon as he could, because he told Lyric that he would come in straightaway.’

  ‘Alright,’ I said, ‘go on.’

  David turned slightly in his chair. He was searching for his water glass, which was again down on the carpet near his immaculate shoes.

  ‘So, the Big Fish arrived within fifteen minutes of that phone call,’ he said, sipping. ‘Lyric used that time to reapply lipstick, spray herself with perfume. I went into my office and pressed the button for the blinds. We had those motorised blinds that would automatically stop when they got an inch from the floor. I mentioned earlier that I had three screens on my desk; one of them could be tuned to show clients entering or leaving our underground car park. I watched the Big Fish drive towards our gate. He had a brand-new, top-of-the-line European sedan. I resented that he had arrived in that car. That car seemed like proof that he didn’t need to withdraw his money and maybe when I saw that car, I thought, to hell with it. Let Lyric do as she pleases.

  ‘So Lyric buzzed the Big Fish inside. I was still in my office, but besides being able to see into the garage, I could also see what was happening in Lyric’s office – she had asked me to give her an office, and I’d agreed – because she had set up a tiny camera on her desk so that I could watch her from my office. She liked to do things like pleasure herself with a tiny gold vibrator she kept in her drawer, and she had it set up so I could watch her on my Mac while I was at my desk. It was an
other silly game. A titillating game we played, to arouse each other when we were supposed to be working. Stupid, but it meant I could see what was going on at her desk.’

  ‘And to be clear, the camera at Lyric’s desk wasn’t just transmitting those images, it was recording them?’

  ‘Yes,’ said David, ‘and obviously, recording what went on was the wrong thing to do. But Lyric was years younger than me. She grew up in this age of social media, with everyone sharing nude selfies and Facebook posts and whatever else. She didn’t see privacy the same way as I did. She was more “buyer beware”. If a person had sex outside their own home, they might get filmed and that film might get shown on Facebook or Instagram. I think all young people know the risks, whereas people my age, or your age, Elizabeth? We just haven’t gotten used to everyone having a camera, a recording device, a social media account.’

  He brought up my age. I’m not sure I have forgiven him for that.

  ‘Anyway, Lyric recorded this Big Fish as she had him make his awkward way back to her office. He was very overweight, with a stomach hanging down over the front of his suit pants and a double chin. Lyric asked him to come to her desk. His opening words were, “Where is he? Hiding in the office?”

  ‘My heart missed a beat. What if he opened the door to my office? But it was hard to open my door. It was a sliding door with one of those green buttons. Even when you told people to press the button to the left on the wall, it could take forever for them to get it. And Lyric was a smooth operator. She had the Big Fish follow her back to her office, where she said she had his investment information, and the way she was walking, anyone would have followed her, and that’s when she began her seduction.

  ‘The little camera would have been blinking, but I’m not sure the Big Fish would have understood that it was on. Plus, this was after hours, the office was dark, and the camera was well hidden. Lyric handed him some paperwork, saying: “I’ve pulled your file. Please read over the information so we can be sure this is the investment we’re talking about.” She picked up a half-empty glass of red wine – we had been drinking together after hours – and began to refill it. “Can I get you one?” she asked him.

  ‘He must have been in a foul mood. He said, “Not for me. I want to get through this and get out of here. Where do I sign?” Lyric stopped pouring and sort of leaned over where he was sitting, and Lyric had … well, she was well-endowed, and her shirt buttons were popping. Plus she always smelled like a perfume counter, so he would have gotten a good look and a good sniff of her, and the way she was sitting on the edge of the desk, he would have been able to see what I’d already seen, that she was naked beneath her skirt. The Big Fish swallowed hard. Lyric was using a fingernail to point to a sentence on the papers he was holding, saying: “I think you sign here,” or some such. Her breasts were tumbling out and it was too much for him. Within three minutes of arriving, he was on his knees. I mean, literally. He got onto his knees – pretty clumsily, it wasn’t easy for him, big guy that he was. It was quite a scene. And they … well, you know what they did, everyone does, I guess. And ultimately he left, even more red-faced than when he’d arrived.’

  ‘But crucially,’ I said in a tone that suggested distaste, ‘he hadn’t taken the paperwork?’

  ‘Precisely,’ said David, seeming to forget for a moment that this was not a cause for celebration. ‘He had not signed the paperwork, and I was so relieved, I pressed the button to open my office door and went straight in to find Lyric throwing back the last of her wine. Her skirt was still up around her waist. My fear was that she’d feel disgusted with herself, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. She looked pleased. I asked her: “Did you enjoy that?” and she made it absolutely clear that she had. She’d loved it. Her power. His submission. The way he’d been thrashing at her, like it had been forever since he’d seen such a beautiful woman, let alone been allowed to touch one. Her mood was extremely elevated. Like a natural high. A super high. And obviously, I should have been more conscious of the winking camera at this point but … look, I forgot it was there and then, later, when I remembered, Lyric just laughed and said: “Oh my goodness, we filmed you, too? Don’t worry, we can erase that.”’

  I held up my hand to get David to pause for a moment. ‘Wait, you didn’t insist that she erase that?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. Because that would have appeared … I don’t know, as if I didn’t trust her,’ he said. ‘And I had a whole bigger reason to have to trust her because she was now an ally in my sinking business. She was helping me stave off the collapse. And I found myself feeling grateful to her, dependent on her …’

  ‘Which perhaps explains why she soon became your vice-president?’ I said dryly.

  ‘Right. It was that night, that I made her vice-president. I mean, it was stupid, but I said: “I think you’ve just graduated to a level beyond executive assistant!” Like a joke. But with Lyric, nothing was a joke. She said: “Yes, I certainly have and I’d like a new title, please.” I said: “Given how you’ve just saved the day, maybe I should make you president.” Obviously that was a joke. She said: “No, you’re the president. I can be vice-president,” and like an idiot, I agreed. Because I thought they’re only words. What I had forgotten was, they were recorded words.’

  * * *

  Who was the woman that approached Loren Wynne-Estes outside the gates of her children’s school? My team at Fox9 had put researchers on it and we were never able to find out. Was it another mom from Bienveneda Grammar?

  ‘No, I don’t believe it was,’ said David. ‘Believe me, I’ve been over this in my mind, and I have to wonder whether Lyric didn’t have something to do with it. Which is kind of crazy because I’d made it very clear to Lyric that, if Loren found out, it would mean an immediate end to the affair.’

  ‘Which is what happened?’

  ‘Which is what happened. I was as good as my word on that point. The very second that Loren found out, I ended the affair with Lyric. And Loren’s account of how it all unravelled is basically right. She called me during work hours, and I instantly knew why. We met up and she said: “Is it true?” I said yes and Loren started to cry. I was flooded with pain but also relief. Clearly, I had wanted the secret off my chest. Living a double life was destroying me. Loren said: “Who is it?” I said: “Lyric, from the office.” Loren said: “I knew it,” and put her forehead on the steering wheel and then banged her head on it, which scared me. I said: “I’m so sorry.” Loren wanted to know how long the affair had been going on, and she said: “Do you love her?” I was amazed at that. Obviously I didn’t love Lyric. I loved Loren. I said: “No, of course not, I love you, and I love the girls.” Loren said: “Then why?”

  ‘I told her the truth, or at least a close version of it. I said: “I don’t know. I’ve been under pressure at work. We’ve been having problems,” meaning the sex. And Loren knew that’s what I was getting at. She started to cry again. Then she said: “I’m sorry.” I said: “Don’t be crazy. What on earth do you have to be sorry about?” She said: “I’m to blame,” and I said: “No, you are not,” and we went back and forth, with Loren saying: “I’ve starved you out.” I said: “You’re being ridiculous,” but Loren couldn’t be convinced. She was crying and I was trying to comfort her. She kept saying: “How am I ever going to trust you again?” Which was ironic, because at this point, she only knew about the affair.

  ‘So it was then that I decided to tell her about the financial problems we were having. Some people have interpreted what I said to Loren in the car that day as some kind of threat, but it wasn’t a threat. It was the reality. We were broke, and if Loren walked out and forced the sale of the house, I’d have nothing to give her. If she stayed, there was at least a chance that I could trade us out of the mess we were in, provided, of course, that nobody else tried to get their funds out.’

  ‘And what happened next?’

  ‘Well, everyone knows. Loren agreed to stay. She lifted her head off the steering wheel and sai
d: “It’s her or me.” Which was an absolute no-brainer. It was always going to be Loren. She said: “You go into your office, and you tell her she has to leave,” and I agreed. Then she leaned over me, forced open the door on my side of her car, and I had barely managed to get both feet on the ground when she roared out of the car park.’

  ‘And from there, you went back to the office?’

  ‘Right, and I called Lyric into my office, and I told her that Loren knew about the affair and – as I had warned her, countless times – the affair was therefore over. And her rage … well, it was incandescent.’

  Making scratching motions with his hands, David continued: ‘She leapt across my desk and began clawing at my neck and face. I grabbed both of her hands with mine. I told her to calm down, but her eyes were wild. She went storming out of my office, onto the street, breaking a heel on her way out the door. And I instructed the girl on reception to clear her desk.’

  ‘Just like that? That seems … rather brutal?’

  ‘Maybe it was,’ said David, ‘but yes, just like that. I picked up a cardboard box and told Sunny to put Lyric’s things in there and send the box to Lyric. And of course, Sunny knew about the affair, so I guess that yes, that’s when what I suppose you would describe as the dangerous consequences of the affair began to dawn on me.’

  * * *