When in Rome... (20 page)

Mike lives in a really smart apartment block with off-street parking. All the cars are BMWs and Mercedes, and there are bits of grass here and there with immaculate borders. He must be doing really well to afford a flat here. There is a For Sale sign outside, along with three Sold signs. I make a mental note to ring the estate agent to find out how much the flats are going for. Just out of interest.

“I’ve called out for take-out,” Mike tells me as he kisses me hello. “You like Indian, don’t you?”

I don’t like Indian, actually, but I’m not going to remind Mike of that. I wonder if he remembers and has ordered it to spite me.

While we’re waiting for the food, he shows me round the flat. There are spare bedrooms—in the plural. I mean who has spare bedrooms? And an office. The bathroom is even nicer than the one in the Rome hotel, complete with fluffy towels. And the kitchen, well, David would adore it. It’s all chrome and full of gadgets. Mike doesn’t cook, so I’m not sure why he’s got so many cooking instruments, but it’s incredibly pristine.

I’m impressed, in spite of myself. “Mike, this place is amazing! Is it all yours?”

“Course it is. Cool, isn’t it.”

It is cool. I mean, it’s amazing. Although I can’t help but think that he needs some more things in it. You know, pictures, books, old magazines. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe other people don’t need to clutter their flats with piles of junk that they keep because it has sentimental value (or because they never get round to throwing things out).

The flat does have amazing furniture, though. Sumptuous leather sofas and a glass coffee table that looks bigger than my sitting room. And he’s got a huge television that swivels round when you turn it on. It’s like a five-star hotel or something.

The doorbell goes and it’s the curry. Mike cracks open a couple of beers and we perch at his huge dining room table.

“So,” I say expectantly.

“So?”

“So what is it that you want from me?”

“My, you’re impatient!”

“Yes, of course I am,” I say crossly. Honestly, does he think I’ve got nothing better to do than to trek up to St. John’s Wood for food I don’t even like?

Mike pauses and then brings his hands together on the table. He looks a bit like Tony Blair when he’s doing one of his “I’m a caring sort of bloke” speeches.

“Look,” he starts, uncertainly. “There’s some stuff you need to know about David. I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but I need your help, and this is the only way.”

Something I should know about David? What’s David got to do with anything?

“I see. Go on.” I try to sound as businesslike as possible. I suddenly get a sickening feeling in my stomach. What if there is something going on between David and the brunette? What if Mike knows all about it and it’s been going on for ages?

“Okay. Not sure where to start, really. David and me . . . you know we’ve never really got on, right?”

“Right.” Please don’t let it be about her, I pray. Please let it be something completely different.

“Well, I never really thought anything of it. I mean, I rarely see the guy, you know? But I think he’s more obsessed than I thought.”

“What?” I smile with relief. It has nothing to do with that woman. Thank God. “Mike, you’re not talking about the time he hung up on you, are you? Look, I wouldn’t take that too seriously.”

Mike gives me a slightly patronizing smile.

“Georgie, I don’t give a fuck if David hangs up on me. Quite honestly I’d rather that than have to actually talk to him. It’s actually a bit more serious than that. The reason David hung up on me is that he was scared I was going to tell you what I’m telling you now.”

Mike takes a cigarette out of the packet in front of him and lights it. He doesn’t offer me one, but I take one anyway. I can feel that my palms are sweaty.

“So tell me!” I wish Mike would get to the point.

Mike lowers his eyes. “Georgie, your darling accountant is doing everything he can to destroy me and my business.”

Okay, I didn’t expect that.

“What?” What does he mean “destroy” him? Is Mike going mad? For a moment I wonder if he’s become a paranoid freak like Nigel.

“David is not as gentlemanly as he likes to make out,” continues Mike bitterly. “He is a ruthless bastard who loves making people squirm.” He pauses and stares into the distance.

“Mike, what do you mean?”

“Georgie?” Mike looks back at me with a sorrowful look.

“Yes?”

“Would you mind not dripping curry on the table? It’s brand new and I need to keep it in pristine condition.”

“What? Oh, right.” I can’t believe Mike is worried about the table at a time like this. He certainly never cared about any of my furniture when we were together. I decide I don’t want to be thinking about when we were together. “So, about David?”

“Right, of course. The thing is, Georgie, I don’t think he can bear the fact that I’m doing rather well for myself. He’s always been jealous of me, but recently he’s just flipped. He hates knowing that I’m successful. And so he’s doing what any other spoiled brat would try to do, and trying to ruin me. And because he’s a fucking accountant he can spread a few lies about me without anyone noticing. He’s doing everything he can to jeopardize my professional reputation.”

“What do you mean?” My mind boggles at the idea of Mike having a professional reputation to ruin.

“I mean that my investors have been getting anonymous letters telling them not to trust me. That he’s been contacting my bank trying to get my account information. That he’s been following me around, talking to my employees, making everyone think I’m stealing money or something. He works for some huge firm so everyone believes him, and I’m having a fucking tough time convincing people to stick with it.”

All Mike’s arguments with DJs and tense mobile phone calls in Rome start to make sense. But surely David can’t have anything to do with it? I mean, it’s ridiculous.

“Mike, that’s absurd. David wouldn’t go to all that trouble. It must be someone else.” My mind is racing. David did slam the phone down on Mike, and was determined that I shouldn’t see him. But he would hardly try and ruin Mike’s business, would he? I mean, he’s so measured and sensible. Except when he’s driving a Vespa . . . but no, the whole idea is stupid.

“Of course he would. Look, he’s a jealous man. What do you think he was doing in Rome? Did he justhappen to have some business out there the very weekend I go out to meet some potential bands? Or do you think it is a little bit coincidental that one band, who were about to sign on the dotted line, suddenly had second thoughts on Sunday evening? Oh, he would go to all that trouble all right.” Mike stubs out his cigarette viciously in a beautiful large glass ashtray.

“But what’s he got to be jealous of?” Obviously I’m hoping that it’s me, but I’m hardly going to admit that.

“You.”

I smile bashfully. But it still doesn’t add up.

“Mike, David has nothing to be jealous of. We split up years ago, end of story. And so long as he never finds out that I went to Rome to meet you, there will be no problem.”

Mike looks away quickly and then meets my eye again.

“Right. And David’s just going to swallow the fact that you also justhappened to be in Rome. Wake up, Georgie, for fuck’s sake.”

I feel myself go pale. So David knew? He knew all the time we were eating and talking and dancing and making love? He knew, and he didn’t say anything?

“That’s impossible,” I say hotly. “If David knew, and if he’s so jealous he wants to ruin your business, he would have said something to me. None of this makes any sense. David had no reason to be jealous of you before now, but you’re making out he’s been doing all this damage for ages.”

“He’s been jealous since the first night we met,” says Mike flatly. “Jealous because I got you first. Jealous because he thinks you still love me just a bit.”

I stare at him.

“Obviously it’s not true,” Mike continues quickly, “but David doesn’t know that, does he? He found out from Candy that I was doing really well. And he knew that I’d come and find you.”

“Why? Why would he know that?” Why didn’t I know that either? I feel like Alice in Wonderland, like all the things I’ve been taking for granted have suddenly shifted into something strange and new.

Mike lights another cigarette. “When we were together, Georgie, I knew I could never have stayed with you. You had your own flat, a proper job, you had everything. And I was totally skint and couldn’t offer you anything. I felt like shit. I knew you deserved better. I had to go. I just didn’t have any self-respect left. I wanted to be the sort of guy who could take you places you wanted to go. Buy you presents, y’know?”

My head is spinning. So let me get this straight: David is the exciting, dangerous guy who will do anything to prevent Mike winning me back, and Mike is the downtrodden ex-boyfriend who wanted nothing more than to prove himself worthy of me?

Something about this doesn’t add up.

“So you left me because you didn’t think you were good enough for me? Explain the girl, then.”

Mike looks up, surprised. “What girl?”

“You left me for another girl, remember? My neighbor saw you leave with her.”

“Oh, right. You knew about that?”

I nod.

Mike looks a bit nonplussed. “Look, she was nothing,” he says eventually. “Is nothing. Just a fling, you know. Georgie, it was only ever you, but I wanted to sort myself out. I confided in David, even asked him if he could help me get a job. But instead he asked you out and convinced you I was the lowest of the low. And now he thinks I’m going to get you back and he’s trying to ruin everything.”

Mike looks up briefly and I almost think I can see a tear.

“You really left me because you didn’t think you were good enough?” I still can’t quite believe this is Mike talking.

“I wanted you to be happy.”

“I was happy! Most of the time. Well, you know . . . some of the time anyway. I thought you left me because I wasn’t cool enough.” I’m almost laughing at the irony of all this. Except that I feel sick to my stomach.

“Georgie, you’re the coolest.”

“Yeah, well. Look, I’m sorry, Mike. I really am.” I’m trying hard to sound sympathetic and reassuring, and I lower my voice. Two years ago I would have been over the moon to hear this—two weeks ago, even. But now I just don’t care why Mike left me. Don’t care if he has any feelings toward me. I just want to know what David knows about Rome.

“The thing is,” I say slowly, trying not to sound as stressed out as I feel, “I love David now. So look, why don’t you tell me what it is that you want me to do and that’ll be the end of it?”

Mike looks up. “Okay, here’s the deal. David has managed to get hold of something that could get me and him into a lot of trouble.” This doesn’t sound good.

“What kind of trouble? What thing?”

He pauses. “David sent one of his people to my offices posing as a DJ, and he managed to lift a disk with some information on it that I’m not particularly proud of.”

“What sort of information? Does he know about the drugs?”

“Fuck no. And he doesn’t need to know, okay? Look, what he found isn’tthat bad, but it could cause problems. It’s just that I . . . well, I borrowed some money from my company to buy this place. I’m paying it back and everything, but I wanted to avoid some taxes and stuff, so it isn’t strictly done by the book. And if my investors found out they could close me down. I worked so hard to get this company off the ground, and if David shows anyone the disk I’m completely screwed.”

“You borrowed money from your company?” I ask skeptically. “Borrowed or took?”

Mike looks shocked. “Borrowed! God, Georgie, you’re as bad as David. Look, I haven’t been paying myself anywhere near what I should because I want the company to grow, so it’s my money that I borrowed anyway, it just makes it easier this way.”

“And you’re going to pay it back?”

“Of course! I’ve already started.”

“And David has evidence?”

“Yeah. And he’ll use it, too. But it’s not just me in trouble. David’s also trying to fabricate stuff. If it comes out, he could lose his own job over this, but I don’t think he cares.”

David could lose his job? Now Mike’s got my full attention. I mean obviously Mike’s wrong—David would never fabricate anything. But he does really hate Mike. Maybe I underestimated how much.

“Mike, can’t you just talk to him? Why don’t I talk to him?”

“It won’t do any good,” Mike says mournfully. “It’s gone too far. He’s got too many people involved. The only way is for the disk to go missing. Then he’ll just have to close the investigation.”

“Can’t you just tell them what you told me? No one would close your business down if you explained, would they?”

“I dunno. They’re all just suits. They don’t care if it’s not my fault. And they’re never going to believe me over David. Seriously, if I don’t get that disk back, I’m going to be in trouble. I need you to get hold of it, Georgie. I need you to get it back for me. Then David will just walk away from this. I’ll get my company back in order, and you and David can live happily ever after. Otherwise . . .”

So now I know what the favor is. I have got to steal a disk from David. Mind you, it doesn’t look like I’ve got much of an option—I can’t have David throwing his career away over some stupid rivalry with Mike. Mike just isn’t worth it.

“Okay,” I say crisply. “Tell me what it looks like.”

“Like this.” Mike pulls out a fat-looking disk with red markings on it. It doesn’t look like a disk I’ve ever used before.

“It’s a Zip disk,” Mike says as if that explains the odd appearance.

“And you have no idea where it is?” It occurs to me that if the disk is at David’s office I’ve got no chance of getting hold of it. I’ve never been to his office and I don’t know if they’d even let me up.

“I don’t know for sure, but I know it’s in his flat, or in his briefcase, because I’ve got a friend at his firm and she says it definitely isn’t in his office.”

“You’ve got a friend at David’s firm? Mike, since when do you have accountants for friends?”

“She isn’t an accountant, at least she wasn’t when I knew her. She used to be quite high up in the police but she had to leave and now she works with David. Anyway, it’s no worse than he’s doing to me. I just know someone, that’s all, and she did me a favor. Okay?”