2cool2btrue (35 page)

She moves off.

“You’ll enjoy that, all right. She gives the best blow jobs ever. Makes you feel you’re sort of melting. Her husband’s very senior in—”

“Piers, I’m not going to join her bloody party. I’m pretty sure my dad’s not here so I’m going in a minute and I’m taking Nora with me but look, just to get this straight. You went to one of these things with Guy and then blackmailed half the people you saw there to get them to invest in 2cool, is that right?”

Piers looks surprised.

“Oh, no,” he says. “We didn’t have to blackmail anyone to start with. Everyone wanted to put their money into 2cool. They were falling over themselves to invest once we’d described it to them and given them the presentation. But, I have to say, when a mate brought me along to one of these and I saw half our investors here it was quite useful for later. See what I mean? Reminding them of this when they started nagging us about dividends and returns on investments and things and crapping
on
and
on
about where their money was going.” He tuts and shakes his head as he remembers. “God, it was
so
boring, but one little mention of the badger meetings and we never heard another peep out of them.”

I nod, taking it in.

“Oh, right, I see.” How sensible. Is it? I’m not sure anymore.

“I don’t know, perhaps it would have been better if we had listened to them nagging at us. Who can say? 2cool2btrue dot com might still be up and running.” He looks around the room.

“But why does the Badger Preservation Society, or whatever it’s called, meet? I mean why do these people, all these rich, famous, influential people do it all together like this?”

“Well,” says Piers rocking on the balls of his feet and finishing his drink. “In a way you’ve answered your own question: they like to do it with people of equal social standing, movers and shakers, I suppose. People they can do business with, quite literally—so many deals are struck at these things, you wouldn’t believe it—plus there’s safety in numbers, you see. No one’s going to blow the gaff, if everyone’s got the same amount to lose.”

“Unless someone
does
give the game away.”

“Ah, but they wouldn’t, would they? Besides the best lawyers in the land, some of whom are here, along with a couple of judges too, I see,” he says; he smiles a “hallo” at someone who I see is taking part in a manic groping session in a corner. “Yep, the legal establishment would be down on any squealers like an avalanche on a school skiing trip. They wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“What about the other people? The young girls and boys?”

“Oh, half of them have just arrived from Eastern Europe or Brazil or somewhere yesterday; they don’t even speak English, let alone know who these people are that they’re having sex with.”

I’m just about to ask who organises these events when Nora comes back.

“Charlie,” she says in a quiet voice. “I think I’ve just seen your dad.”

“Where?”

“You sure you want to confront him?” she says, touching my arm.

“Yeah, I wanna get him out of here.”

“Okay, he’s through here.”

We leave Piers and move into another room. I glance round quickly and at first I can’t see him. I feel a wave of relief. Of course, he’s not here. Nora can’t have much of an idea what he looks like anyway. I look around again to see who she might have mistaken for him but as I do my eyes meet his. He is sitting in an arm chair, looking up, having just done a line of charlie from a coffee table with a young blonde girl who is naked. Another girl has crashed out next to her.

The rush of the coke and the shock of seeing me seem to hit him at the same time. Still looking across at me he shakes his head and wipes at his nose. I wonder for a moment whether he is thinking of brazening it out: after all, if I didn’t want to see him like this, why the hell did I ignore his advice about taking a vacation and, worse still, coming here? I’ve only got myself to blame. The young girl finishes her line, wipes her nose, giggles and then looks up to him, pulling his face down towards hers to kiss him. Irritably, he pushes her away. But then his expression changes, he looks more sad and ashamed than angry and dismissive.

I walk over to him quickly and bend down to talk in his ear. It seems safer, and besides, I don’t have to look him in the eye while I’m doing it.

“Dad, let’s get out of here. Come on.”

“Charlie, I told you just to stay away from this whole thing, now just go.”

“Not without you. Look, Nora, that journalist, is writing a piece about this thing. It could be all over the papers tomorrow. It’ll be massive.” My turn to use that awful phrase. I wait for it to sink in.

“You’re fucking joking. Stop her,” he says, turning to look at me. I crouch down beside him.

“I can’t.”

“Charlie, for Christ’s sake, this is going to land us all in it, don’t you understand? Some really nasty people are going to come after you.” And that’s when it hits me. He’s right. Piers’s talk of the establishment coming down on any squealers just sounded ludicrous but suddenly, coming from my dad, my scared, fucked-up dad, it suddenly sounds very real and very frightening. I turn to look at Nora. She is standing against the wall, watching me intently.

“Oh, fuck. Look, let’s get out of here. We’ll decide what to do later.” By this I mean, I’ll stop Nora writing anything if I possibly can. My dad puts his head in his hands. “Come
on.”
I grab his arm and pull him to his feet. I look across at Nora and nod sharply towards the door. Anxiously she moves towards it. “Let’s go.” I tell my dad.

“Hey, Jared, where are you going?” says the girl who has been doing coke with him, standing up, swaying slightly and frowning as she tries to work out what is going on. “Come back. Hey! Oh, fuck off then but leave me some of that stash.” We both ignore her. “You promised, you bastard.” She manages to get in front of us. “Who’s this?” she asks looking at me. Perhaps even in her state she can see a family resemblance. “Come on, let’s all stay here and do another line.” She throws her arms round my dad’s neck. Overcome with drink, drugs and the shock of seeing me and what I’ve told him about Nora, he is in no condition to fight her off. He begins to crumple so I try to extricate him. I’m as gentle as I can be with the girl but somehow as I disengage her arms from him she stumbles backwards.

Suddenly she yells and goes crashing over the coffee table they’ve just been doing coke on. It splinters under her and as her arms flail wildly they hit an enormous Chinese vase. It comes away from its pedastal and hits the floor with a deep, window rattling thump. Everyone in the room looks on in shocked silence for a moment and I wonder whether I should leave my dad to Nora and make sure that the girl is okay. Shattered glass and splinters of wood from the coffee table are mixed with large pieces of blue and white pottery from the vase. The girl is miraculously unharmed apart from a small cut on her leg.

“You bastard” she squawks. “He fucking hit me, that guy fucking hit me,” she yells to the rest of the room. “You saw him.” She checks her body and finds the wound, now smeared with red but she seems more angry than hurt, or at least too off her head to be bothered about her injury. “I’m bleeding. Look, I’m fucking bleeding.” That’s it. I push my dad towards the door and hiss at Nora:

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

In silence she makes her way quickly across the landing to the staircase. My heart is thumping now and I’m hoping that my dad will be able to get down the stairs okay. He is just taking hold of the banister and beginning to negotiate the first steps when a large man with grey hair and a deeply tanned face appears from the lower landing in a white bathrobe.

“What on earth is going on up here?” he booms, walking up towards us. I’m hoping we can get past him without having to answer his question. Nora has already gone ahead and is standing on a step below him but there is no way that my dad and I can squeeze round him unless he lets us.

“Er, this guy’s had a bit too much to drink, I’m going to take him home,” I mutter, looking down and trying to make my way past him. But the man grabs my dad’s lolling head roughly and peers at his face.

“Is that you Jared? Jared Barrett?” By this stage my dad has gone very limp which I’m just hoping is a ploy to help us all get out of here. “What’s the matter with you, matey?” demands the man in his deep, fruity voice. Then he looks at me and asks: “What’s he taken?”

“I don’t know,” I say, trying again to maneuver my way past my interrogator. But now the guy puts his hand on my shoulder and tries to catch my eye. I turn away from him but it is no good. “Wait a moment. I know you. You’re his son, aren’t you? What’s your name? Eh? You’re the one from that website, one of the 2cool crowd.”

I mutter a denial and then try to push past in earnest.

“Gotta get this guy out of here,” I say again, but the man is having none of this. He reaches up, takes my chin in his hand and jerks my face up towards his. “Get off,” I manage to say, my mouth puckered and distorted by his strong, stubby fingers.

“Please, just let them go,” says Nora from behind him. “That man’s really ill, I think.” The older guy turns to her. She drops her voice and adds in an urgent whisper: “Look, you don’t really want any one
dying
here tonight, do you?” He looks back at me and then at my dad.

“He’s all right,” he snarls after a moment. “He’s just drunk.” Then he says to me with a menacing sneer. “Of course. Charlie Barrett. The face of 2cool. A lot of people here would like a word with you. Some of us have lost quite a bit of money on that stupid bloody thing.” I simply stare at him, trying to work out what he’s going to do next.

Then my dad speaks, trying to look up at him, trying to force out every syllable:

“Just let them go, Barry. I’ll make sure they don’t tell anyone anything, really, it’ll be fine.”

But Barry simply ignores him. Instead he glances round at Nora again. “And you’re the journalist, aren’t you?” he says, quietly. “Well, well, what a story you’ve got here, hey?” His face is set, expressionless.

“Barry, just forget it, please,” says my dad again, more compos mentis now, either giving up on his act or shocked into consciousness again. Barry opens his mouth to say something but suddenly he disappears from view.

“Run!”

It’s Nora shouting.

“Come on!”

Barry is lying dazed on the staircase. Nora must have pulled his legs from under him. I leap down a couple of steps and turn to check on my dad. He’s following me, thank God. Barry is trying to get up, so I take the opportunity to stamp on him. He gasps and swears. I stagger back but my dad catches me and helps me regain my balance. Nora is already on the next landing down, looking back up towards us, imploring us to hurry.

As we get down towards her, Dad and I crash into a mountain of a woman who has stepped out of a side room to see what all the commotion is about. There is a slap as I hit her naked body and then hurtle off down the next set of stairs, half sliding down the wall as I go. She screams and throws herself to one side. I carry on running but my dad falls down the last few steps. I leap over him, trying not to land on him. I can hear Barry shouting something to someone above us. I look up and see his face, puce and bug-eyed with rage staring down between the banisters. I grab my dad and we both fall down this time.

“Are you okay?” I gasp at him.

“Yeah, yeah,”

“Come on,” screams Nora again from further below us.

We get up and, with my dad hobbling slightly, we follow. Finally we arrive at what I recognise is the hallway. Nora is already at the front door. Now it’s my time to say “Come on.” I can’t understand why she won’t open it.

“Fuck, fuck! It’s locked or something,” she says, pulling wildly at it.

“Out of the way,” I tell her, pushing her aside. We can hear Barry again. He seems to be alternately telling people to relax and not to worry and shouting to someone for help.

I pull back the huge polished brass catch and turn the handle.

“I’ve tried that,” says Nora. “It doesn’t work.” The massive paneled door doesn’t budge, apparently unaware of my efforts.

“Quick, there must be a back way, through the kitchen,” says my dad. We follow him to the back of the hall and down some more stairs. The door to the kitchen is already open. Every inch of space along the work surfaces either side of us is covered with bottles, boxes and trays of untouched canapés. We send the empty bottles, which are lying on the floor, flying around us as we career through.

A half naked man and woman break off from their embrace in one corner.

“Oi, steady on,” says the man as the woman tries to cover her breasts with her hands. We ignore them—all we want is a door which is unlocked and Nora seems to have found one. She is half way out already but then she turns to check on me and my dad. He pushes her out first and turns to me. I notice the look of fear on his face intensify suddenly.

“Charlie,” he yells, coming back towards me. At that moment, I feel my jacket and shirt yanked backwards and a split second later the rest of my body follows them. Choking, I’m spun round and I see a huge guy with a shaven head. He’s holding me by the scruff of the neck. Dangling absurdly like a puppet, I try and get free. At least some of my desperate kicks and badly aimed punches seem to hit home because the guy shouts something in a foreign language and lets go for a moment. In shock and hyperventilating, I collapse on the ground, tripping up over my feet. I feel my dad grab at my arm and pull me towards him and I’m about to use the impetus to get up and make for the door with him when I feel another, stronger hand closing like a vise on my shoulder and hauling me back again.