‘You know, I’d love to meet someone from Atypical. Julian Cox seems pretty free-spirited.’
‘No, he’s not the type to show up here – he’s far too concerned about his personal brand. But we have had a few of their team here, on occasion.’
Rae slides past Isla, passes her a drink and slips away with a wink. Isla hasn’t had a sip of alcohol since the incident, but this situation calls for some fortification.
‘Like Nicole? I’ve been following the Twitter storm, and it sounds like she came here often.’
A shadow passes over Andy’s face, and he leans in closer. His breath is sour, and hot. ‘Actually, she was pretty tame. She only visited my place once or twice, and only with her boyfriend at the time.’
Isla’s heart beats faster. She glugs more of the drink than intended. It goes straight to her head. ‘Was he one of the Google guys?’
‘No, he was from Atypical as well, and very high up too. You may have heard of him – Jay Singh.’
Jay Singh. Isla recalls the photograph of his hand clasped around Freya’s waist. Of course! The link she was looking for was right in front of her this whole time!
‘But anyway,’ Andy continues, ‘they didn’t fit in here. Nicole was sexy enough for me to want her to keep coming back, but I had to have Jay physically removed from the premises. I’ve made it clear several times that he is no longer welcome here.’
The patio fills up. The conversation grows louder as guests drink their wine in the sun. But all Isla can focus on is Andy’s voice. She tries to keep her expression blank, and hide her anticipation.
‘Did he hurt one of the women here?’ she asks.
He shakes his head. ‘Nothing like that. He got into a fight with one of the CEOs from LinkedIn, which happens, especially at parties like these. Some men think they are into free love, but in practice they get jealous. But I had to draw a line after that.’
‘Why?’
‘Because Jay broke the cardinal rule. No weapons on my premises. He was carrying a gun, and in the scuffle, it went off.’
This changes everything. Nicole had a love interest, and a violent one at that. A person that was photographed close to Freya on the night of the murder. A person who – while high-achieving and saccharine in his interview with Isla, and evidently the police as well – was prone to jealousy and carried a weapon.
Andy squeezes her arm. ‘Lovely talking to you, but I think I better go mingle with my guests. You should do the same.’ He winks at her. ‘Good luck.’
Isla scans the crowd, suddenly feeling unmoored. What if one of these men hits on her, or invites her to their ‘cuddle puddle’? Are people formally invited, or do these situations just manifest after everyone’s had enough to drink?
Then, she sees someone familiar. He’s wearing a sleeveless vest printed with hibiscus flowers, and long, skater-style shorts. The relaxed outfit is undermined by his muscular, crossed arms and downward gaze. Poor Simon – this looks like the last place in the world he wants to be. When he sees Isla, his mouth makes a perfect ‘o’.
‘What are you doing here?’ he says.
‘Just letting off steam, the way I do every weekend.’
He frowns in concern, and Isla remembers that she hasn’t shared much about her current personal life – or lack thereof – with him. She knows that he has a big, dramatic, hilarious muddle of a family that take up whole chunks of his weekend with barbeques and Bar Mitzvahs and that his mother keeps on unsuccessfully setting him up with a series of unsuitable Jewish women. She adores the stories of his nephews begging him to hand over his detective’s badge so they can play cops and robbers. However, when it comes to her own life, she has mentioned very little, probably because there is not much to say.
‘Relax, I’m only kidding. That shirt, on the other hand, is no joke.’
Simon’s cheeks flush. The ridiculous shirt shows a great deal of his skin. Isla tries not to let her gaze fall over the swell of his biceps, and the outline of his chest. All that weight training and healthy living has been paying off.
‘I’m playing the part,’ he says. Isla notices that he reserves comment on her own skimpy outfit, which makes her feel a complicated kind of warmth towards him.
‘Great minds think alike,’ she says. ‘I spoke to Andy, the guy that organizes these parties, and he said Nicole came here a few times.’
‘I suspected that. What I’m trying to find out is who she got mixed up with.’
‘That’s the thing, she didn’t really mix with anyone. She came with her boyfriend at the time, who happened to work with her at Atypical. Do you know who I’m talking about?’
He smiles, and seems to finally relax into himself. ‘I don’t, but you’re going to tell me.’
‘Jay Singh. And what’s more, he was aggressive, and brought a gun.’ She scrolls through her emails on her phone, quickly pulling up the case file. ‘And look, this picture shows him with his arm around Freya the night of the murder. My hunch wasn’t too far off, now was it?’
Suddenly, music starts blaring. Simon and Isla turn to look at the crowd. Two waitresses-slash-models in Daisy Dukes hand out shooters. One of the older execs leans forward and cops a feel of one of them. The alcohol races through Isla’s system, fierce and urgent.
Simon notices her discomfort. ‘Come on, Isla, let’s get out of here. I think this is a dead end.’
‘But what about Jay? If that’s not a motive then I don’t know what is. The majority of violence against women is inflicted by someone they know, and mostly their partners.’
‘I agree, and I wish it was as simple as that, but Jay has an airtight alibi.’
Isla tries to hide her frustration. ‘And who exactly has vouched for him?’
As his lips move, Isla’s mind whirs into gear. The pieces she was searching for fall into place. She can see in his eyes that he gets the connection too.
‘Freya Matthews.’
Chapter 35
Freya
One month before the murder
A little bit of heaven is always laced with a little bit of hell.
Freya sits at her desk, lips bitten red, hair mussed up, skin flushed pink. Now that they’ve slept together, Jay’s mark is all over her body. There is a confidence that comes from knowing that, as night falls, she will be in bed with him again, being worshipped. It makes her move differently. Freya feels languid and wanted. It almost masks her nausea as she walks into the office and sees Nicole’s face. Almost.
Her inbox is filled with a barrage of Nicole’s blunt emails. Every report Freya writes screams red with corrections. In the right-hand column, there is comment after sarcastic comment.
This is messy! Fix it!!!
A child could code better than this.
How many times do I have to repeat this?
She clutches her coffee mug to steady her shaking hands. Fires an email to Julian.
Hi, Julian,
Sorry to bother you but I just wanted to follow up on that meeting with HR? I would love to resolve this as soon as possible!
She won’t let this get to her. She will try harder, shine brighter, and let her work speak for her.
Freya also hopes that by doing well, she may finally fit in and no longer be a target. There are ways in which she is still precarious, marginal. Her shoes are cheap Chanel knock-offs. Her iPhone is three releases behind. She wishes she could be like Nicole, with her unchipped nail polish and smooth hair that smells like vanilla. Will there ever be anyone as perfect as the ex of a woman’s new partner? The weakest part of her imagines Jay holding Nicole’s hand in some secret high-concept gin bar, laughing amid fairy lights, succulents and ferns. Jay and Nicole’s past intimacy is revealed in the absence of words between them and it sets her mind ablaze. What did she and Jay share that makes Nicole hate her so intently? Their love must have been something special to make her clutch on to it.
Jay doesn’t notice Nicole’s hatred the way Freya does. In fact, she observes with a stab of
bitterness, they still seem to be friends. He plays it down, but she sees the way Nicole finishes his sentences, the way his eyes flick up when she walks into a room. She digs her nails into her arm. Every offence has added up. This has become more than a feud. It feels as if the world she worked towards entering for so long is rejecting her.
Her mind whirs around each slight, fresh humiliation stinging her every time. When Freya says something in a meeting, Nicole and her friends whisper loudly to one another. She feels their eyes on her, watching, assessing, waiting for her to mess up. They talk about her in the bathroom when they know she is in one of the stalls.
Freya keeps refreshing her email. Why hasn’t Julian responded about the meeting yet? She is ready to list these actions individually, no matter how petty they may sound. There is a poison that hangs in the air, violent in its potency, as visceral as Nicole’s perfume. Some days, it feels like she cannot breathe. Freya shuts down her computer for the day and gathers her things, hyper-aware of the hiss of insults that follow her out the door and all the way home. One day there will be justice.
*
For the first time in weeks, Freya is home in time for dinner. Hattie is frying up tuna fishcakes, while Jasmin is throwing together a green salad with homegrown spinach and bean sprouts. Kate is in charge of the wine, but hasn’t got past filling anyone’s glass but her own.
She runs her hand over Freya’s jutting shoulder blades. ‘Hell, but you’re looking skinny.’ The statement hangs in the air awkwardly. Freya is exhausted. She just wants one evening free of anybody’s criticism, is that too much to ask?
‘I’m not trying to lose weight or anything. You should see the spread the office lays out for us every day!’ she deflects. The truth is that she is hardly ever hungry anymore. She’s either hyped up on desire and conversation with Jay, or she’s avoiding the kitchen for fear of bumping into Nicole or one of her friends. When she tries to swallow her food, it sticks in her throat.
Jasmin takes her aside as the others continue to potter in the kitchen. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘Yes, why wouldn’t I be?’ She who has everything, she who is so young and full of promise. She who has met the man of her dreams.
‘I don’t know but there’s an aura about you that feels –’ she waves her hands vaguely – ‘dark.’ Jasmin is prone to oversensitivity and quick to spiritualize the everyday, but she has a point. Freya doesn’t feel herself. In fact, she feels angry. She has done everything right, from getting good enough grades to stand out among her peers, to working several jobs to put herself through college in the first place. She is at work early every day, committed to her job and a loyal partner to her new boyfriend. She doesn’t deserve this steady vitriol, nobody does.
After they’ve finish two bottles of wine, she finally finds the courage to say it.
‘I’m being bullied at work.’ The words feel alien on her tongue and are instantly followed by shame. Even though these women are her closest friends, she wonders if they will secretly think she has done something to provoke the bullying, or that she is imagining things. It’s common to hear about bullying at school, but she is an adult! Surely she should know how to defend herself by now? Freya has always prided herself on being strong, tough, able to face anything. She’s not the kind of person that gets bullied. She reminds herself that Julian believes her – that must count for something, right?
‘What?’ says Hattie. ‘That’s horrible! Tell us everything!’
As she lists every slight, and every insult, she sees the shock in her friends’ faces and feels vindicated. This is real and it’s goddamn awful. The hurt that has been building up for months is thick in her throat.
‘Why didn’t you tell us sooner?’ says Jasmin.
‘I felt ashamed and a bit guilty too. I am so lucky to work at Atypical straight out of college. You have all supported me so much and lived my dream as much as I have. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t grateful.’
Hattie’s face crumbles. ‘Oh no, we would never think that.’
‘I’m so fucking angry,’ adds Kate, fists clenched.
Freya tells them about Nicole, about her perfect makeup, her apartment on the gentrified side of town, the French classes she attends at Alliance Française that seem to give her license to smatter her insults with pretentious, chic-sounding French phrases. It feels good to dissect Nicole with her friends, as they fill and refill their wine glasses. Their living room takes on a blurry quality, as Freya grows steadily more drunk.
‘And the worst part is, Julian isn’t doing anything about it!’ she adds. ‘It makes me wonder if he believes me in the first place.’
‘I’m sure he does,’ says Jasmin. ‘HR processes sometimes take time, that’s all! He needs to find a space in his diary to attend the meeting himself. She’s being really terrible to you – it deserves their attention!’
‘You know what the problem with Nicole is?’ Freya slurs. ‘She’s a jealous bitch! She had her chance with Jay and I’ll be the first to admit they would have made a hot couple but obviously it didn’t work for some reason. And what’s more, you can see that she totally made him change for her. He dressed like a different person when they were together.’
‘She can’t bear to see you happy and she can’t take him being himself with you.’ Hattie nods.
Kate adds, ‘And the worst part is that you’re so good at your job, you know? Look at you – you’re so young, and smart, you can be anything you want to be, and you can take everything she has in a second.’
Freya feels a rush of love for her friends and a sudden welling of tears.
‘It hurts, though, you know? I can’t go one day without her looking at me and targeting me. I’m trying to be the bigger person but this feels like torture!’ The last word comes out choked.
‘It’s so unfair,’ says Kate. ‘Without her, you have it all! The job, the boyfriend . . . you deserve it all but she’s just trying to destroy it, all because she didn’t get the guy!’
‘Imagine if she got a job at one of the other tech companies, then all your problems would be solved,’ says Jasmin.
‘Or ran off with some Australian stud and went to live in the Outback,’ laughs Hattie.
‘Imagine her in the Outback!’ says Freya. ‘Her perfect hair all frizzed up in the heat and her Louboutin pumps covered in dirt!’
They’re laughing hysterically for no reason. It feels good, to just get it all out, this ill-feeling shape-shifting into something light and pliable. Tears prick the corners of her eyes. Her stomach cramps. It’s not even funny, but she laughs anyway.
‘Or imagine,’ shrieks Kate, eyes ablaze, hand resting companionably on Freya’s shoulder, ‘if somebody just killed her.’
Chapter 36
Freya
The morning after the murder
Freya pulls her wet hair into a bun. Her run took longer than she expected and now she’s late. She paces past the newsstand, the donut truck and the vegan smoothie bar with its clinging scent of ginger. The elevator takes too long, so she takes the stairs up to the office, two at a time. Sits at her desk, legs aching. It’s OK. She’s here now.
She feels safe within these four walls, as if the stranger that sent her a message when she was on her run can’t get to her. She looks over her shoulder. She shouldn’t have worried about being late. There is nobody around yet except the office cleaners, who are still clearing away the debris from last night’s celebration – beer bottles, an abandoned pack of cigarettes, the end of a joint. The faint smell of stale wine makes her even queasier than usual.
She taps her cell.
Opens the message again. Scans it again and again. Either it is a horrible coincidence, or somebody knows about the prank. It was just a joke, a little slice of revenge, but the single line of text stokes fear in her. She should have known this would get out of hand.
People start trickling into the office, sheepishly trading stories from the night before. Freya smiles at deve
lopers she has hardly worked with, and laughs at an anecdote with one of the women from the marketing team. The buzz of the client win, and the abundance of alcohol has brought everyone closer.
Everyone except Nicole. Freya recalls how rude she was last night, the toxic words she spat in her face with a tongue loosened by champagne.
When her desk remains empty, all she feels is relief.
Jay appears in front of her, two coffees in hand.
‘You left early this morning,’ he says.
‘I gave you a kiss goodbye, but you were lights out. I needed a run before work, just to clear my head. Last night was—’
‘A triumph. You really knocked it out of the park. I was such a proud boyfriend.’
She smiles. It still feels good to hear him say that – boyfriend. He is hers, and hers alone. Nicole can’t reach him anymore.
‘Thank you, it means so much that you believe in me.’
Freya’s phone flashes. She covers the screen with her hand.
‘Everything OK?’ Jay asks.
‘Yeah, just got a weird message this morning. It’s set me on edge.’ Freya searches his face for a reaction, but it remains blank.
‘What kind of message?’
‘Someone responding to a dating advert that I never posted,’ she says, pointedly. Jay frowns.
‘What did it say?’
‘I don’t know yet, that’s the problem!’
He shakes his head. ‘This is not good, Freya. This is not good at all. I don’t like the thought of a bunch of men out there, looking at pictures of you.’
‘I don’t either.’
‘Keep an eye on it, OK? I’ll help you sort it out if these guys keep bothering you.’ He lowers his voice. ‘By the way, have you seen Nicole today?’
‘No,’ Freya says. ‘I’ve been enjoying the calm before the storm.’ More than that, she has been savoring the simple pleasure of easing into the day without her whole body clenched in fearful anticipation.
But worry cuts through his voice. ‘Funny, she hasn’t called in sick, and we have a meeting scheduled for now. She’s not the type to go AWOL with no explanation.’
The Pact Page 12