The One Who Got Away (15 page)

He paused.

‘Yes?' I prompted. ‘Go on.'

‘Out came a pair of panties.'

‘Not yours, I take it?'

David gave a short, sharp laugh. ‘No, not mine,' he said, collecting himself, ‘definitely not. And I was mortified. I could see Sunny and some of the other girls outside my office, trying a little too hard to appear busy, so, no question, they'd all seen the package, and no question, they had all been gossiping about it and were dying to see what I might do.'

‘And what did you do?'

‘I stuffed the panties back into the envelope,' he said, making a stuffing motion with his hands. ‘I was embarrassed. But look … I was also intrigued. I mean, who had sent them? Was it a joke, or was somebody interested in me? That was a thrilling idea. It shouldn't have been, but it was. It had been so long since anyone – Loren – had shown any interest in me, and I guess I was …'

He was searching for the right word, so I suggested one. ‘Flattered?'

‘Yes, I was flattered. I didn't want to respond to the package straightaway because of the girls outside, but later that day, I sort of put the envelope under my jacket and went out to my car, and I took the panties out, and the note that came with them, and that's when I knew that the parcel was from Lyric.'

‘I see,' I said, ‘and how would you describe your relationship with Miss Morales up until that point? Was it friendly or …?'

‘Friendly,' said David. ‘From memory, I'd only hired Lyric something like two months earlier. She came from Puerto Rico five or six years earlier, when she was maybe nineteen. Possibly twenty. I think nineteen. She had started out in LA, doing nanny work and household cleaning, the normal starter jobs. Then
she did a secretarial course. How she ended up in Bienveneda I can't say for certain, but she was living in one of the new, rent-controlled apartments that had been built near Bienveneda's Lemon Grove – that's a large orchard behind the houses on Mountain View, where I live – and she came into the office, looking for work. And she was striking. Absolutely striking. Very tall – almost as tall as me – with dark hair, like a Sofia Vergara type. Look, that doesn't matter. The point is, Lyric had started working for me, we had a friendly relationship, and now it seemed that she wanted more, because she had included a note. It was a riddle, with a play on her name. Something about songs. Love songs. Lyric. It wasn't hugely sophisticated. The words, I forget, but clearly, the note was from her.'

‘Alright,' I said. ‘And what happened next?'

‘Well, I went back to my office,' said David, ‘because I was confused about what to do—'

‘I'm sorry,' I interrupted, ‘you were confused?'

‘Yes, because of the way I felt. I mean, I was aroused. Can I even say that?' He glanced at the cameraman and his own support staff, as if seeking permission. ‘I mean, it's humiliating, but that's the truth. I was aroused. Excited by the idea that somebody was interested in me. I knew what I had to do, which was fire Lyric. But she had made sure to send the parcel on a day she wasn't in so I would have to call her to fire her, which I kept putting off until I went back out to my car later that night when, yes, I did call her.'

‘From the car?'

‘Right. On the speaker phone, from the underground car park, I called her, and she spoke before I had the chance. She said: “Hello, boss.” I was going to say something like, “Well, this is inappropriate,” but instead I said: “Thank you for the
gift,” and it seemed like Lyric was feeling pretty confident about how I would react, because she said something like: “Oh, I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten. What did I send you again?” And I could see what she was doing. If I took the bait – if I answered her question – then I would essentially be entering into a relationship with her. And obviously, the decisions I made in the moments that followed were extremely bad ones. What I should have said was something like: “Lyric, I'm flattered, but I'm a married man.” But I was starved for affection, and so I found myself saying … ah … do I have to say this?'

‘I'm sorry,' I said, as if I didn't already know. ‘Say what?'

‘Well, everyone knows,' said David wearily. ‘It's in the statement I gave to the police. I said, “Thank you for your panties.” And then Lyric said … she said: “And did you taste them?”'

He gave a small shrug.

I let him sit in hideously embarrassing silence for a minute before saying: ‘Alright. Go on.'

‘Well, the effect that a conversation like that … I was blown away. Again, aroused. And next thing I knew I was arranging to go back to my office – I hadn't even pulled out of the car park – but I was arranging to go back inside because Lyric was on her way. She let herself in through the doors on Main Street. She pressed the button on the wall outside my office and the glass door slid open and she dropped her skirt at the door. And I'm not proud of what happened next …'

‘You mean the sex?'

‘Yes. We had sex. And from that day on, I guess we were having an affair.'

‘You guess?' I said.

‘Yes,' said David. ‘I mean, yes, from that day on, we were having an affair. And that word – affair – it's important because to me, it was always an affair. I never wanted more than that and maybe this is naïve, but Lyric didn't seem to want more than that, at least, not at first. Some of your viewers may find this difficult to understand, but Lyric was the kind of woman who seemed to enjoy the trappings of an affair. I'm not a psychologist, but the secrecy – the thrill of maybe getting caught – seemed to appeal to Lyric. I did not want to get caught. I had so much to lose. I was in love with my wife. With Loren and our girls. My loyalty … and that's clearly the wrong word in this context, but my loyalty was absolutely to them. I loved my family. But I also needed sex. And Lyric understood that. Or she seemed to understand that. My relationship with her was fun. I treated her well. But at the end of the day, it was an affair, and she understood that I, one hundred per cent, would not be leaving my wife for her.'

* * *

‘You had a secret email account, didn't you?'

‘Excuse me?'

‘You had a secret email account. One that you used exclusively to communicate with Miss Morales.'

David seemed surprised that I would bring that up. He shouldn't have been. Viewers love secret email accounts. We had gained access to David's from a source within the Bienveneda Sheriff's Office, and we had paid her back with a couple of front-row tickets to a Katy Perry concert.

David shot a look at his minder.

She nodded, as if to say, ‘It's okay. Let's see where this goes. If things get hairy, I can always step in.'

David looked back at me. ‘Yes, I had a secret email account.'

‘And do you remember your address?'

‘My address?'

‘Your email address.'

David shifted in his seat. He didn't want to answer but that was fine. I could answer for him.

‘I have some of the messages here and they have your address on them,' I said, producing a piece of A4 paper from under the cover of my clipboard. ‘And if I've got this right, you're Big Dave? [email protected]? And Lyric would be …?'

‘[email protected],' he said, nodding grimly. ‘I mean, stupid. They're stupid names. A stupid, private joke between us. Big Dave and Forbidden Fruit, that's how we signed off to each other.'

‘And this Forbidden Fruit, I suppose we can guess what that means?'

‘I suppose it's obvious,' said David, ‘because, look, the banter between Lyric and me had a strong, sexual flavour to it. That's the nature of those relationships. They're charged.'

‘So I see,' I said, leafing primly through the pages of printouts. ‘And I guess at this point, we should perhaps explain how charged this particular relationship became?'

David sighed. ‘Well, this is humiliating but yes, I can explain what happened. I get that it's important. I want to be open about it. Several months into the affair, Lyric and I developed what I considered a game, whereby I would call her into my office for what she called “the inspection”. The idea was to ensure that she was wearing panties because of course, she had initiated the affair by sending her panties to me. The inspection could happen at any time. I might call Lyric into my office first thing on a Monday morning or at two pm on a
Wednesday afternoon. She would get no warning. If she wasn't wearing panties, I'd be allowed to, to, to … to discipline her.'

‘Meaning?'

‘Normally, playful spanking,' said David, abashed. ‘So, that was the game. The inspections would take place on my desk. Lyric would come into my office, she would sit opposite me – usually on the desk, facing me – and I would look up her skirt, and Lyric would get pleasure either from the spanking or from the inspection itself. Either way, she seemed to enjoy it …'

‘If we could just pause there,' I said, slightly raising my hand, ‘I think you mentioned earlier that you had a glass-walled office?'

‘Yes,' said David, shifting uncomfortably, ‘and that, too, was part of the thrill for Lyric. The possibility of getting caught, or of somebody walking by and looking in.'

‘That seems like an awfully dangerous game, David, if you didn't want your wife to find out.'

‘Right. It was a dangerous game.' He leaned down to pick up the water glass by his chair. ‘Because yes, the office walls were glass. And over time, Lyric grew bolder. She would come into my office for the inspection and rather than things happening quite quickly, she would stay sitting on my desk with her back to reception and insist that I pleasure her. On one occasion, I said: “Do you think we should draw the blinds?” She said: “Forget the blinds.” Again, I'm not a psychologist, but Lyric was an exhibitionist. She knew that any of the girls walking past would see her sitting on my desk and that they would know from her position what was going on. I would be a fool to imagine that she didn't enjoy that segment of the game. Clearly, it was part of the thrill.

‘Lyric soon became … I guess the word is emboldened. And I probably threw a little too much caution to the wind, as well.
We became more reckless. The chances of us getting caught increased. I hadn't wanted anyone to find out about us, but over time, I guess people did start to find out about us. The girls in the office knew, and they must have talked, or else Lyric must have said something, because six months into the affair, a blind item appeared in the
Bienveneda Bugle
, saying: “Which Wolf of Wall Street type enjoys private music lessons?” Music. Lyric. It could only have been about me. So people knew, but Loren still had no idea. I waited for her to say something after that blind item came out but she didn't and I guess I grew cocky. Nobody was going to say anything. Nobody was going to tell Loren, and Loren was never going to find out. I could have the best of both worlds.'

‘Meaning,' I said thoughtfully, ‘you could have your cake and eat it, too?'

‘Oh, I don't know about that,' said David, ‘because you always have to pay the piper, don't you? But yes, in terms of keeping it quiet, I became reckless. Or stupid. That's probably the word. I began taking Lyric to work functions, which sounds extremely reckless, but Lyric was a colleague. It's not uncommon for a boss to take a colleague to a work function, and Loren didn't want to go anyway. She had her migraines and said everything was boring. Lyric loved a glass of champagne. She was extremely attractive and some of the outfits she had, you could see people's jaws drop. So I had this ideal situation, where I wasn't begging Loren to go out with me, and I wasn't pestering Loren for sex. And look, I don't expect any sympathy …'

I cocked my head as if to say: ‘Well, thank goodness for that.'

‘And fair enough, but it was exhausting trying to keep all those balls in the air: having Lyric at work and Loren at home, managing the business through difficult times, being a husband and family man at home with the girls. There were days when I
felt I was being pulled in every direction. And there were some hairy moments. Loren writes in her journal about an event she attended where she met Lyric. That was one of the most frantic nights of my life. I was trying to keep the two of them apart. Lyric was doing her absolute best to insinuate herself into every conversation that I was having with Loren by my side, and honestly, I could have throttled her … well, not literally,' he said hurriedly. ‘No, no, no, I mean, I wasn't angry. Because by this stage, things were getting completely out of hand with Lyric because … and I'm sure you already know this …'

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 …'