Thin Air (22 page)

Without any preamble, Jay leaned
on his desk and poked her face out at him. He thought her neck
looked scrawny. She shouted at him. Clearly, Lorrance’s quiet words
in the right ears had effectively rendered her unemployed. Michaels
didn’t know about the boyfriend part, but that was a nasty touch.
It occurred to him there was something personal about the way
Lorrance was slicing the woman up.

She thrust a folded piece of
paper at him, crying, ‘You caused this. You pay it!’

It was a letter from a
solicitor’s office, who were representing Gus Metcalfe, Jay
Samuels’ ex-boyfriend. Apparently, he was asking her for half the
equity in the flat and his share of the furniture. Michaels read it
through a few times in order to compose a suitable response.
Eventually, he looked up. ‘At least he’s not asking for maintenance
from you.’

Jay’s face was set in a feline
snarl. ‘He could hardly get it, could he? I have no income now,
remember! And why? Because you and your bunch of crook colleagues
have taken it all away from me.’

‘Now, Jay, I don’t think...’

‘Shut up! You’re responsible for
this delightful little bill I’m landed with.’

She wasn’t entirely wrong,
Michaels thought. He twitched his shoulders. ‘You must know that
there’s no way Sakrilege will help you with this, even if
I
wanted to.’

Jay growled and turned in a
circle. ‘But you don’t want to, do you? For some reason, you’ve
decided I have to be destroyed.’

Michaels raised his hands. ‘Jay,
this is outrageous. Calm down a little, will you?’

‘Calm down?’ She laughed
harshly. ‘You fucker! You’ve made such a mistake about me. I don’t
know anything and I don’t have anything you want, and for that
you’ve tried to ruin my life. Well, I won’t let you win.’

‘Give them what they want and
they’ll leave you alone.’ Perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. He
saw the cunning sneak across her anger with tiny, precise paws.

‘They? Who are
they
? And
what can I give them if I don’t have anything?’

‘Make something up!’ he snapped.
He was going too far. He should just laugh like some kitsch villain
from a James Bond film and mutter some bad-man clichés. He
couldn’t. Unfortunately, Zeke Michaels was not all bad.

‘Who are
they
?’ Jay
repeated.

Michaels stared at her wild
eyes. He couldn’t say, because he had more to fear from Lorrance
than he did from Jay Samuels. ‘The entertainment industry is one
big network,’ he said carefully. ‘Think about it.’

‘Oh, I get it.’ She punctuated
her next angry words with hand gestures. ‘
You’ll never work in
this town again
!’

He shrugged uncomfortably, aware
that Jay’s fate could easily happen to him. She didn’t deserve
this.

Jay planted her fists on his
desk again, leaned towards him. ‘I don’t know how many times I have
to tell you, but there’s nothing I can give you.’

He thought he could see fear
behind her anger, the fear that had driven her to come here. She’d
shouted herself out, but couldn’t see a way to escape with any
spoils in her hands, or even any dignity. Her fury had run out of
steam. ‘In business, bad things sometimes happen,’ he said. ‘You
know that. It’s a fucking mine-field.’

Jay backed away from the desk.
‘I haven’t trodden on any mines. This has all come out of the blue.
You make ridiculous accusations and pathetic attempts to threaten
me. Then, by miraculous coincidence, those threats come true. I
don’t know how you can live with yourself.’

‘It’s called survival. We all do
what we can to survive.’

She became still. Perhaps he’d
revealed too much by implying he lived under threat too. ‘You know,
I think you’re as aware as I am that I’m being punished for
something I haven’t done. This will all come back on you one day,
Zeke. It’s the way of the world.’

She’d found her exit line. He
watched her pick up her letter and walk towards the door. Not
dangerous. Too wounded to be dangerous. She was a casualty of
something that not even Michaels himself fully understood. Lorrance
wouldn’t tell him. He knew he was just a cat’s paw. ‘Jay, wait,’ he
said, as she walked out of the door. She didn’t pause. Perhaps it
was for the best. What comfort could he offer her anyway?

Jay drove home, her skin still
afire. She felt slightly better now she’d bawled Michaels out, even
though she knew it had probably been a waste of time. She was
pleased with the last thing she’d said to him. That was Julie
Banner’s influence; the suggestion there was more to life than she
knew, cracks in the world.

Gus had wasted no time. The
letter from his solicitors had infuriated Jay. It was doubtful
she’d be able to keep her home unless she managed to find work
soon. Her credit card bills were through the roof. She’d relied so
much on having two incomes to play with, and had taken Gus’ share
for granted. They hadn’t lived beyond their means, but certainly to
their limit. Now, if she sold the flat to buy somewhere cheaper,
Gus would snatch half the profit.

Back home, she drew the curtains
against the grey of the day, and turned on a small lamp. Curled up
on the sofa, she sipped rum, its flavour reminding her strongly and
achingly of the days following Dex’s disappearance from her life.
Looking around herself, she wondered how many of the furnishings
would be in her possession after Gus had taken his share. She had
to admit that some of it she quite liked. How would she be able to
afford to replace it now? Jay had never been without money. Income
had always come easily to her. It was as if her life had been
enchanted, or she’d been born lucky. In brief times of trouble,
something had always come up, and she’d never doubted that
inevitability. Now, she felt insecure and afraid. Something, some
indefinable talent perhaps, had abandoned her. She’d hadn’t felt
this tired since Dex had left. There were no reporters outside the
door now, no photographers, only hungry wolves. Had Dex felt
anything like this when he chose to walk away from his life? If so,
she could empathise. She had no energy to deal with the mechanics
of daily existence. She wanted time to assimilate all the things
that had happened to her over the last few weeks, and she needed
peace, quiet and security for that. Instead, she was faced with
just about every major life crisis, apart from bereavement.

And you can’t get me there,
world, she thought. There’s no-one to lose.

That in itself was a horrifying
thought. Her life had been so busy, so wound up with talking faces
and hurrying to meet deadlines, she’d never stopped to think that
essentially, she was alone. If anybody else was in her position
now, they’d have a family to go back to, somewhere to hole up for a
while. The money from her parents’ estate had been used to put a
deposit on this flat. What a white elephant it was now. Too
expensive for what it was; money attached to a post code. She did
have distant relatives somewhere, but didn’t know them. They were
just dim recollections from her childhood. Dex had had a family of
sorts, yet it hadn’t stopped him slipping away from reality. For a
moment, Jay considered going back to Julie. She felt sure that
Dex’s sister would let her stay there for a while, and eventually
perhaps encourage her to find work on a local paper. Jay shuddered.
She saw her life withering away in that vision.

She took a mouthful of rum. How
was it possible to feel so tired, yet still be awake? Was there
anything to carry on for? For a fleeting second, she saw an image
of herself, dead on the sofa, the phone ringing and ringing, bills
piling up beneath the letter box.
No,
she thought firmly,
that’s not your path. Fight!
She remembered her conversation
with Jez in the restaurant. It seemed so long ago. Impulsively she
reached for the phone and her address book. She would tell him what
had happened. She imagined the invitation out to L.A., Jez and his
wife waiting to welcome her. No visions of empty futures there.
She’d make a new start. The phone rang and rang, and eventually
their answer-phone clicked in. What time was it there? Oh, who
cares!

Jay hurled her empty glass
across the room, satisfied when it shattered against the wall. The
sound of it was muffled. Her flat seemed full of presences, unseen
and hungry, feeding on the energy that bled from her like
tears.

‘Dex, where are you?’ she said
aloud. Could he hear her? She needed him now. He was alive in the
world somewhere, hiding. ‘I’ll find you,’ she muttered, scrambling
to her feet. ‘Damn you, I’m going to find you.’

All she had to go on was the
photograph. It lay beside her on the passenger seat, its edges
curled over as if protecting the image on it from her view. She’d
really had too much to drink to be driving, but she didn’t care.
Like Julie said, she drank too much. She had a tolerance for
it.

Driving out of the city, she
felt as if she was escaping a dark, sticky mass that had prevented
her from breathing properly. Her anxiety sharpened because of it,
but it was a pure and cleansing pain.

Sometimes, as she drove through
the night, she felt as if Dex was sitting beside her, quietly
urging her on to find him. His appearance the other evening might
have been a cry for help rather than a warning for her. Perhaps
this was what life wanted from her, and had forced her to act.
Everything was in the process of being taken from her, except for
her past, and Dex was so much a part of that.

She knew that Lorrance’s country
estate was near a village called Emmertame, because that was the
name of the recording studios Lorrance had owned there a few years
before. She would go to this place, ask questions, try to confront
him. Dex had had a grudging respect for Rhys Lorrance. Jay realised
he might be involved in Sakrilege’s dealings with her, but then
again, he might not. He managed the company, but he managed many.
It seemed unlikely he’d keep a track of all that went on. Perhaps
she could appeal to him for help. In her heart, she harboured the
hope that she’d find Dex there. Why else would he have left the
photograph in the box for her to find? It was her only clue, and
she had to act on it. She had nothing to lose.

Once she was off the motorway
and the A-roads, the lanes were a winding labyrinth of lightless
complexity. She followed the old-fashioned road-signs that poked
towards narrow thoroughfares, where the hedges leaned inwards and
dead grasses were held in stasis by the incisive frost. Even though
she saw one or two signs that pointed towards Emmertame, she
couldn’t find the place. How long must she keep looking? What was
keeping her out? As she drove, incidents over the past few days
replayed themselves in her mind. Images revolved in her head of
Zeke Michaels’ face, and Gus’ and Gina’s. She could see their
mouths moving, but they weren’t speaking. They were barking and
yapping at her. She lit a cigarette, tried to push the images from
her mind. Where the hell am I going? She laughed coldly to herself.
Dex had told her to leave the city. She was doing it now. But what
would happen next? What
could
happen? Her whole reality had
become the warm interior of the car, its smells and familiarity.
She would drive like this until the morning came, or she ran out of
petrol.

The lights came round the corner
towards her like the flaring eyes of maddened supernatural steeds.
Her reactions were deadened, yet her instincts took over. She
turned the steering-wheel frantically, sending the car bouncing up
onto the high verge to the left. There was a paralysing moment of
hideous scraping sounds and then the impact as her car hit the
hedge. Her neck jerked back. For some minutes she just hung there
in her seat, shocked and dazed. Then sounds began to filter back
into her consciousness. Amazingly, the car engine was still
running. She hadn’t stalled. Painfully, she looked behind her. The
lane was in darkness, but for the wan light of the moon. What had
happened? It had looked like another car, but Jay couldn’t be sure.
The accident had occurred so quickly. Who would be driving through
these lanes so recklessly at this time of night? Local kids?

Jay was shaken up, but not
injured, apart from the wrench in her neck and a soreness across
her chest where the seat belt had cut into her. She managed to
reverse the car back down onto the road. There was a disturbing
rattle coming from beneath it. The exhaust system must have been
damaged.
Keep going
, she told herself,
just keep
going
. But eventually, exhaustion and shock became too much.
She had to stop.

It was around four a.m. when she
pulled into a lay-by at the edge of the road. It was thick with
mud, scored by tractor tracks. Here, she lay back in her seat and
undid the safety belt. She turned on the radio and, rubbing her
neck lethargically, listened to a ghostly voice that murmured a
chocolate-scented smoke through the darkness. These were the dark
hours of the soul, when loners waited for the dawn, kept company by
the hypnotic voice of the DJ and the old, nostalgic sounds. ‘For
all those lonely people out there.’ A blues song throbbed smoothly
from the speakers, an echo from a lost age, when fields had been
more golden and skies more clear.

Jay rested her head against the
back of her seat and smoked cigarettes. She’d brought a bottle of
syrupy dark rum with her, from which she swigged without even
noticing the burn as it slid down her throat. She still felt
disorientated from the near miss in the road further back. The
whole world was muzzy now. There was no moon, but the land was
radiant with a subtle blue-white light. Owls ghosted across the
stars and there was movement in the hedgerows, strange gleams like
the brilliance of eyes.

Jay only realised she’d been
dozing when she found herself waking suddenly, her body paralysed
by cramps in her neck and shoulders. One arm felt completely dead
and she shook it, banging it against the steering wheel and feeling
nothing. Her throat felt thick and dry, her eyes swollen. There was
a glow on the horizon; dawn. The radio was silent now; whatever
station she’d tuned into had faded away. She stretched as best she
was able in the confines of the car, then opened the door. Cool
clean air swept in to claim its muggy interior.