by JD Nixon
“Bitch.”
“Thanks, Clarrie,” I simpered sweetly, sweeping my hair behind my shoulder, my eyes fluttering at him. “I look forward to spending your money.”
“If I have to pay for it, then I’m going to chose what you wear. And it’s going to be very revealing. Your tits will be hanging out everywhere and I’m going to look at them all night.”
“God, you’re a classy person, aren’t you,” I scorned. “I’ll choose my own dress, thanks very much.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Whatever.”
After he dressed (Starsky and Hutch t-shirt today), we left the room and caught the lift down to the hotel’s boutique shops in silence. There I spent an enjoyable two hours trying on every gown in every shop. Starting off very opinionated about each gown, by the end of the second hour Clarrie’s eyes had glazed over, he was stifling yawn after yawn, and was slumped back on a leather sofa looking as if he was seriously wishing a meteorite would crash through the ceiling and kill him instantly.
Amateur! I scoffed to myself with an evil inner smile. Thinking he could outshop a woman!
After I spent another fifteen minutes pretending to be undecided between four different dresses and trying them all on again, he couldn’t have cared less what I wore, and was starting to lean towards the Heller’s uniform. I ultimately chose my favourite gown, which I’d had my eye on all along, and he gratefully paid the exorbitant cost for the dress and matching shoes and handbag, just to escape back upstairs. I smiled cheerfully all the way up in the lift.
“You’re very pretty when you’re happy,” he commented, looking at me glumly.
“And when I’m not happy?” I prompted.
“You’re a scary bitch.”
I shrugged. “You should try to make me happier then.”
“How?”
“By being honest about those notes, to start with. I know that you know more about them than you’re letting on.”
He didn’t answer. We stepped out of the lift and went back to the suite. I was hanging up my beautiful new dress when Clarrie called me from his bedroom.
He better have his clothes on! I thought as I entered the room, fists clenched. He was in his ensuite, staring with horror at the mirror, which had been defaced with large letters written in lipstick.
CLARRIE COCKARSE!
FINAL WARNING!
I WILL SEE YOU ON CERMONY NIGHT!
THE TRUTH WILL BE TOLD!
LOVE M.
“God damn!” I exclaimed.
“I know, it’s terrifying, isn’t it?” Clarrie trembled.
“No! That bastard used my favourite lipstick.” I picked up the discarded empty tube, the lipstick wasted on the aggressive lettering. “I’m going to kill him when I find him. It’s expensive.”
“He’s been in my room! He must have come in when we were downstairs. This definitely wasn’t here this morning when we left. I brushed my teeth and there was no writing.”
I tore my mind from my significant loss and focussed on his problem. “Could it be Kitty?”
“No!”
“Do you know her from the past or something?”
“No! I told you. It wasn’t here when she left. Someone’s been in the suite since we went shopping.”
I retrieved my digital camera from my bedroom. I snapped a couple of photos of the mirror and one each of the notes, then fired up my laptop and emailed them to Heller. He rang me quickly.
“I don’t like this, Matilda. I’m going to make sure there are men there at the ceremony. I don’t care what Mr Cockburn says.”
“I’d feel better about that. I mean this person was in the suite when we weren’t here. How am I going to sleep worrying about them coming back?”
“What’s it about?”
“Clarrie reckons he doesn’t know, but I think he’s lying. It’s too random otherwise. It must have some meaning for him.”
“Try to make him to tell you. It might help us narrow down some suspects.”
“He’s like a clam.”
He sighed. “We’ve had some more trouble here.”
My heart started racing. “What? Is everyone all right? Niq? Daniel?”
“Everyone’s fine. Don’t worry. Another broken window, but fortunately no one was in the room at the time. It was the room that Niq sleeps in at Daniel’s place.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment. “Oh. How lucky that Niq wasn’t in the room. Those people are going to kill one of us one day.”
“I know. I suppose they’ve found out about my deal with Taldac and they’re not happy about losing the contract, to say the least. But I’m going to deal with it.” He sighed again. “Anyway, I’ll ring you later to let you know what I’ve decided to do about the ceremony. Ring me immediately if there are any more developments. Take care please, Matilda.”
God, another attack! It seemed almost unbelievable, but Heller’s was the subject of sporadic attacks from one of its rival firms, the main suspect being Select Security. They generally didn’t appreciate the extra competition Heller had brought to the city, nor his growing success at securing high-profile and well-paying assignments. And now that Heller had stolen a lucrative contract out from under their feet, I could only dread what that meant for us. Already, windows at the Warehouse had been smashed and bullets fired at Heller’s vehicles. I’d been caught up in a couple of the attacks a few months ago.
Just great! Now I had something else to worry about as well.
Chapter 11
Finally it was the day of the award ceremony. We hadn’t heard another peep from M, but that didn’t make me feel any easier about what could happen later that night when Clarrie received his award from the Prime Minister. The ceremony was being held downstairs in one of the hotel’s opulent ballrooms, and Heller had arranged for six men to be available to generally patrol the room. Clarrie wasn’t thrilled about it, but the alternative scenario of possibly being attacked by a mad person was a strong incentive forcing him to agree. I convinced Clarrie that everyone would automatically assume it was security for the Prime Minister and he loosened up after that. I would have relaxed more if either Heller or Clive was going to be present with us, but they were both tied up that evening at a meeting with an important client that couldn’t be moved.
The program for the ceremony was a gala dinner, followed by some speeches from various dignitaries, ending with the presentation of a number of annual technology awards, the highlight of which would be the Prime Minister presenting Clarrie with a special award for innovation in technology. Clarrie was also giving a short speech and spent the day hunched over his laptop, going over his notes.
The Heller’s security team arrived a couple of hours before the ceremony started, headed by my old friend, Rumbles, a giant, friendly man, and they proceeded to scope the ballroom. They were competing with the Prime Minister’s security team and for a while the ballroom crawled with big, beefy men dressed in black. Rumbles and another man I didn’t know came upstairs to fetch me so that I could also do a recon. We left the other man behind with Clarrie while I accompanied Rumbles, making small talk in the lift until we reached the second floor. The ballroom was fairly large and had already been set-up for the evening’s event. Rumbles gave me an overview of emergency exits, potential hiding places, security cameras and showed me where Clarrie and I would be sitting and his likely path up to the stage and back.
I returned upstairs and started to get ready for the ceremony. The Heller’s man on duty with Clarrie stayed with us, his orders to safely escort us down to the ballroom at the appropriate time. I had a lengthy, luxurious bath and spent a very long time on my makeup, which I applied generously. I decided to leave my hair loose, using my heating wand to give myself more bouncing waves than normal. I wanted to look very feminine, just to make Clarrie happy. I don’t really know why, because God only knows I couldn’t stand the little creep, but it was his big night and it seemed churlish not to look my best.
I
slipped on my dress. It was a beautiful deep ocean green colour, so low cut at the front and back that I was forced to go braless. But it was tight enough in the sparkling bodice to offer sufficient support so that my generous boobs wouldn’t be jiggling everywhere. Or so I prayed. The long skirt of the dress was floaty and charming, and swished around my legs flatteringly. I hadn’t brought much jewellery with me, but had some pretty emerald-coloured earrings and a matching necklace. I regarded myself in the mirror as I slid my feet into low-heeled shoes. I was going to tower over Clarrie in any case, but I’d decided that there was no need to make us look more ridiculous than necessary by wearing high heels. I made a few adjustments to the dress and took a final glance in the mirror, uncertain about the amount of flesh I was showing. Preparations finished, I went out to wait for Clarrie in the living area.
The Heller’s man’s eyes opened wide in appreciation at my arrival. All the men who worked there thought I was Heller’s woman, so he didn’t comment except for a bland, “you look very nice, Miss”, but I could feel his eyes lingering on me for a while.
Clarrie came out of his bedroom dressed in a tuxedo. I was surprised. For some reason, I thought he’d be wearing jeans, sneakers and a Star Wars t-shirt. He actually looked quite presentable. He goggled at the sight of me and stopped dead in his tracks, staring at my chest openly, mouth agape. The Heller’s man and I exchanged a bemused glance.
“Clarrie? Clarrie?” I asked sharply, clicking my fingers in his face, trying to snap him out of whatever mammary reverie he had fallen into.
He shook his head as if to clear it. “God, Tilly, you look stunning. I love that dress. I really, really love that dress!”
That settled it for me. I was definitely flashing too much boob. Problem was that I had nothing else to change into, so had no choice but to brazen it out. Nobody would notice me because there would be loads of other women there, I assured myself, and surely some of them would be flashing even more boob than me. In the lift, Clarrie shamelessly stared at my boobs all the way down to the second floor. It wasn’t even done in the spirit of revenge, but just his sexually stunted nature coming to the fore again. I honestly believed that he literally couldn’t stop himself from perving. But when I briefly cast my eye on him, the Heller’s man was doing the same, only more discreetly. I glanced away from both of them, wishing I was somewhere else.
Looking back, I frankly don’t know what I was thinking, because on entering the ballroom it became immediately and painfully obvious that there weren’t going to be a lot of women present. It was not an awards ceremony for top sportsmen and their beautiful and competitive WAGs; it was an IT awards ceremony. Full of IT people. I stood out like, well, I guess like a pair of perky breasts at an IT awards ceremony.
Every eye in the room swivelled towards me, or parts of me anyway. Clarrie proudly led me through the throng, stopping every few metres to greet someone, have his back slapped, or pose for a photograph, his arm firmly clamped around my waist. I kept my hands to myself. He was grinning widely, enjoying every moment. I didn’t smile in any of the photos. I didn’t want anyone to think that I harboured any kind of positive feelings for him.
With a nod, I acknowledged Rumbles and the other four Heller’s men who were strategically placed around the room. They were all also bugged-eyed at my appearance, which I wasn’t pleased about. They were my colleagues, for heaven’s sake! The sixth man, the one who had brought us down, escorted us to the top table before taking up his allocated position. I was on high alert, senses buzzing, eyes darting around everywhere. I wondered if M was in the crowd somewhere, mingling with the others, just waiting for a chance to take revenge on Clarrie. But for what? That was the key question.
There was only one other woman at our table, the wife of the director of one of the country’s leading software development companies, and she had very sensibly come dressed in a stylish but comfortable pants suit. She sat next to me during the dinner and I was grateful for her kindness in doing that. It was much easier to speak to her than to the men, and she was also sparing me the revolting sight of watching Clarrie eat. I smiled at the waiter who placed my dinner in front of me and thanked him nicely, before returning my attention to her.
“Have you and Clarence been going out for long?” she asked curiously.
“It feels as though I’ve been with him forever,” I said honestly.
“Oh, how sweet.”
“What can I say? I’ve never before been in a relationship where two people are so honest about their feelings for each other.”
“Lovely!”
“He lets me know every day how he feels about me.”
“That’s very romantic.”
“Isn’t it just? I’d have to say that there were definitely sparks between us right from the beginning. You know how you can tell immediately if someone is right for you. He even looks at me in his own special way.”
“Stop, you’re starting to make me jealous!”
I smiled to myself and scanned the room quickly. I was so glad that the Heller’s men were there. I wasn’t going to be much use dressed as I was. Everything seemed normal to me. There weren’t any suspicious characters lurking in the shadows. I could see the Heller’s men keeping a close watch on Clarrie and me, and that helped me relax. I made sure that I didn’t drink very much. I wanted to keep alert.
Clarrie tried to get my attention. I looked away deliberately. He put his arm around my shoulders. I shook it off. He tried to grab my hand. I scratched him with my nails. He put his hand on my thigh. I shot him a look promising a long and excruciating death in his immediate future if he persisted. He snatched his hand away quickly and kept both hands chastely to himself for the rest of the evening. I couldn’t make my feelings for him any more transparent.
The waiter cleared away my plate and I smiled and thanked him again. I noticed that I was the only one to do so. Clarrie didn’t even move out of the way, and the poor man had to reach awkwardly over his shoulder to retrieve his plate. That made me dislike Clarrie even more. I was always polite to waiters, as I had worked as one myself for a while and I knew that it is always nice for your work to be acknowledged, no matter what you did.
The speeches commenced and coffee was served. And I’m sure that was no coincidence. There were at least ten people lined up to speak, each as ponderously dull as the previous. It was one of the longest hours of my life and I spent the time lewdly fantasising alternately about Will and Heller, stifling huge yawns and imbibing weak, bitter caffeine by the cupful. Perhaps M was the organiser of the ceremony and his evil plan was to bore Clarrie to death slowly, along with all the other unfortunates in the room with him?
After the last speaker, I gave a silent rousing cheer, clapped politely and took the opportunity for a quick visit to the ladies. Five cups of coffee in a row can have that effect on a woman. I rushed back, afraid that something had happened to Clarrie while I was gone, imagining that the assassin had taken their chance to strike at him while my imposing protection was absent. But of course everything was the same on my return. I laughed to myself at my vain delusion.
The annual awards section of the program commenced and to my incredibly uninterested eyes, it appeared as though every geek in the room received an award for something. I heaved an enormous sigh and shifted in my seat uncomfortably, convinced that even my butt had fallen asleep with boredom. I started wishing that M would suddenly appear with a machete and start hacking his way through the guests, just for the excitement factor.
There was a gap between those awards and Clarrie’s presentation while everyone waited for the Prime Minister to arrive. I exchanged wry glances with the nearest of the Heller’s men. He was a man I’d never worked with before, rugged-looking with amazing light eyes with a dark ring around the iris that I’m sure I would have remembered had we met previously. He unsuccessfully stifled a yawn, which set me off again as well. There was such an incredible amount of boredom involved in being a security officer. You really had
to be a calm, patient type of person to survive. And that reduced my chances of longevity in the job, because I was neither calm nor patient.
A flurry at the entrance of the ballroom announced the Prime Minister’s arrival. There was a stir of anticipation amongst the guests and Clarrie fidgeted nervously. The Prime Minister was rushed immediately to the stage where he gave a witty, erudite, and blessedly brief speech lauding Clarrie, his career and his accomplishments. He invited Clarrie to the stage, presented him with his award – an abstract statuette not representational of anything I could fathom – and led a genuine and enthusiastic round of applause from the audience.
Clarrie was suitably abashed and gave a rather touching little speech about how much it meant to him to be recognised in his home country. He explained how the concept for Synonymy had been hatched during his long nights of study at the city’s premier university where he’d earned his IT degree. He was humble, grateful, charming and a huge success. For a brief moment I almost, and I stress the almost part, felt proud to be his companion for the evening. He received a standing ovation that lasted for two full minutes. I was forced to join in, rising to my feet reluctantly, feeling it would be wrong to be his date and also to be the only one not applauding his achievements. I’m obliged to do a lot for my job.
In the flurry of congratulations afterwards, Clarrie introduced me to the Prime Minister who grasped my hand firmly, looked up at me keenly in the eye and said something extremely clever (which I can’t remember for the life of me). And I swear I’m not making this up, he also had a quick perv at my boobs before leaving. And then it was all over. No M, no drama, no tragedy. I shrugged at the Heller’s men and they shrugged back. That’s the way it goes sometimes. False alarm all around.
Rumbles escorted Clarrie and me back to the hotel suite, scanning all the rooms before giving us the all clear. I told him that I could handle it from here, solemnly shaking his hand for his help, making him chuckle as I always did. When he left, I poured myself a very large glass of wine before flopping down on the lounge, carelessly kicking off my expensive shoes. Clarrie poured himself a stiff whiskey and flopped down next to me.