Curtis took the meat from the oven, savoring the hearty smell as he did so. He placed the huge fillet on the chopping board and covered it in foil to rest while he prepped the four plates with all the trimmings.
‘That smells divine,’ Russ said from the dining table.
Curtis didn’t bother to look over but he knew with the main course – the main event – on the way he had all eyes on him now. It was one of the disadvantages of the modern way of having the dining room directly connected to the kitchen rather than elsewhere in the house. But he hated the pressure of everyone watching him so closely during the tense closing stages of plating a fancy meal.
A few minutes and a half glass of wine later, with everything looking neat, he took the foil from the meat and carved the fillet into four even pieces, happy to see the juicy pink center.
‘Perfection,’ Russ said, right over Curtis’s shoulder. He hadn’t known he’d crept up on him. Why had he? ‘Thought you needed a refill.’
Russ filled Curtis’s glass to the brim with the Pinot Noir. Curtis wasn’t going to complain.
‘Service!’ he shouted out, drawing smiles and giggles from Rachel and Anne, and he and Russ took the four plates over.
‘Wow, honey, this looks incredible,’ Rachel said.
‘I don’t know how he does it,’ Anne said, practically sticking her nose into the food to give it a huge sniff. ‘Where did you even find the time to learn to cook like this?’
‘No kids,’ Russ said, retaking his seat. Curtis and Rachel exchanged a look. ‘Imagine how much spare time we’d have without them?’
‘True.’
Everyone started eating and for a couple of minutes, other than murmurs of satisfaction, there was no talking at all. And Curtis had to admit he thought he’d done a pretty damn good job too.
‘Curt, I’m not kidding, this really is fine dining,’ Anne said.
‘Isn’t it just?’ Rachel said.
‘All to do with the top-quality ingredients, though, right?’ Russ said, nudging Curtis.
‘Yeah, bud. This one’s all down to you.’
Curtis raised his glass to Russ. The confused look on his friend’s face suggested he hadn’t fully understood the sarcasm.
He caught Rachel’s eye. A kind of pleading look, she wanted him to take the edge off his words. He knew he’d been short with Russ a few times already over the course of the last couple of hours, but he still couldn’t escape the discomfort of seeing his friend alone with his wife the day before. Not to mention all the smiles and little looks he’d noticed them give each other tonight. Had Anne picked up on it too?
And why had Curtis never noticed it before now? He’d known Russ for years, from way before he’d met Rachel. They’d been seriously close once. Best friends. Before marriage and kids and all that.
He’d never once known Russ and Rachel to be in direct contact with one another. Had never come home to the two of them together before until the other day…
‘It’s just such a treat to be able to eat like this,’ Anne said. ‘It’s so rare for us to get out these days.’
‘That’s parenting for you,’ Russ said.
‘I can’t even remember the last time I felt like cooking a proper meal.’
‘Or that we had a good night’s sleep.’
‘Clara’s still causing problems?’ Rachel asked, and Curtis sensed something tender and motherly in the question.
Or maybe he was reading too much into it.
‘Every night. Like, every single night. For four years.’
‘Careful, you’ll put Curt off having kids for life,’ Russ said, with a grunt-come-laugh.
Curtis caught Rachel’s eye again. He recognized the look. Sorrow. For herself, but mostly directed at him as though he were the cause.
‘At least you’ve managed to get into your forties without ever having to change a shitty diaper,’ Russ added, slapping Curtis’s arm.
‘OK, let’s not put us all off our food,’ Rachel said, and Russ looked a little aggrieved that she’d spoken out against him.
Perhaps she was usually a pushover for him when it was the two of them alone.
‘Let’s change the subject,’ Anne said. ‘We’ve a night off from the kids, no point in doing nothing but talking about them.’
‘What do you think about this hero business, then?’ Russ said, before taking a large swig of wine. Curtis did the same as he waited to see who would respond. Would Rachel?
‘I think it’s terrible that these things happen on our streets,’ Anne said.
‘Yeah, but this hero,’ Russ said. ‘Who do you think he is?’
‘Just someone in the right place at the right time,’ Curtis said.
‘Or the wrong place,’ Anne said. ‘Just imagine?’
‘I read this story…’ Russ started, and then paused as though trying to recollect it. ‘It made some sense, actually. What if this hero wasn’t even the hero at all?’
Ah, yes. Curtis had seen that one too. Some daft conspiracy, as far as he was concerned. But social media had a way of pushing such conspiracies as legitimate journalism.
‘When you look at all the footage,’ Russ continued, ‘it’s not actually that clear what happened. Plenty of people caught snippets on their phones, but no one was standing there with a camera waiting for the whole thing to roll. Even the CCTV footage is pieced together from various angles.’
‘And so?’ Rachel prompted.
Russ fiddled with his phone, perhaps trying to find the article to help him explain. He gave up.
‘From what I saw, the narrative we’ve been given doesn’t fully fit all of the footage. This hero… some people are saying he might have been one of them. One of the attackers.’
‘No way,’ Curtis said. ‘That’s not—’
‘Seriously. When you watch it with a different slant… We see this guy fighting—’
‘With the gunmen—’
‘Not necessarily. That’s just how you’re reading the patched together snippets. This guy had a gun. The official line is he took it from one of the attackers, but we never see that. It’s not even that clear who he’s fighting with. Looking at it another way, you could think he was one of them from the start. He was fighting off bystanders.’
‘If so, why was the attack unsuccessful?’ Anne asked. ‘Who shot the other attackers?’
‘Wouldn’t the witnesses have spoken out about that?’ Rachel added.
Russ shrugged. ‘Not if they’ve been silenced.’
‘But why the bogus story at all?’ Anne asked, looking as dubious as everyone else.
‘Control,’ Russ said. ‘Like everything in the press. We’re spoon-fed a particular line to keep us thinking one way and one way only.’
‘You think this is some deep state conspiracy,’ Curtis said. ‘I didn’t know you were into that nonsense.’
‘You have to look at everything from different angles,’ Russ said. ‘Don’t just take the narrative at face value. The whole hero thing in the press? It’s because this guy got away. They don’t want a national panic. But the police, FBI, whatever, they want this guy found, whatever it takes.’
The conversation paused there. Curtis’s mind churned. He certainly agreed with the last part. The authorities wanted the hero found. And Curtis himself didn’t believe the whole of the story being given – not that he’d admit that to Russ.
‘That Elliott Charlton, though?’ Russ said. ‘Not surprised someone tried to kill him.’
‘Because?’ Curtis asked.
‘He’s one of them, isn’t he?’
‘One of them?’ Anne asked.
‘This new type of politician we seem to have infecting our democracy. Overly privileged, self-entitled millionaires, taking us all for a ride. Lining their pockets while everyone else suffers.’
Curtis sat back and smiled. Russ was drunk. Drunk Russ was ranting Russ. Not that he exactly disagreed with the point, but plenty of times in the past, way before Curtis had met Rachel, he’d bailed his friend out of situations where his mouth had got the better of him.
Tonight? Tonight he’d let him rant.
Curtis refilled Russ’s glass, his own too, ready to settle in and see where Russ would go.
‘Tell me I’m wrong though,’ he said. ‘How many in our government went to private schools? Ivy League colleges? How many own multiple homes? Yet they slash public services all the time, try to blame everything on immigrants and the poorest in society. But they just want to do everything to make the system better for themselves. And they expect us to believe that they’re looking out for the commoners?’
‘Wealthy people can be good people too,’ Anne said.
‘And they’re not even bothered about operating above board anymore. They’re all corrupt,’ Russ carried on, no acknowledgment that his wife had spoken at all. ‘Backhanders here, there and everywhere. All expenses trips paid for by donors, favors galore. It’s happening right under our noses, all of the time.’
‘You know it’s not just this government. I don’t trust any politician anymore, from either party,’ Anne said. ‘They’re all liars.’
Russ slammed his glass down onto the table causing Rachel and Anne to jolt.
‘That is the weakest comeback imaginable,’ he said.
‘Russ, I—’ But even Rachel’s calm voice couldn’t halt him.
‘Not all politicians are the same, and it’s fucking tedious to trot that line. But when all the lies and frauds have been exposed of this current crop, it’s the last resort of the desperate to try to smear the other side with the same brush to hide their own embarrassment at voting this shower of shit into office in the first place. Absolutely pathetic.’
‘Oh yeah, thanks,’ Anne said.
Russ shook his head, rolled his eyes. ‘Not you. The argument. The point is, this country is going down the drain. The vast majority of us are getting poorer by the day while the elite watch all smug from above, shitting down on us all while they get richer and richer from their dodgy dealings. And Elliott fucking Charlton is absolutely one of the worst examples of it, if you ask me. If I had the chance, I’d shoot him myself.’
He downed the rest of his wine. Rachel and Anne looked seriously uncomfortable.
‘So what’s your plan?’ Curtis asked, entirely calm, and the question seemed to bring Russ’s intensity down a notch or two, although Curtis received a scathing look from Rachel as though she wasn’t sure why Curtis was egging his friend on still.
‘Plan for what?’
‘Plan for change. We’re stuck with these charlatans, on the take, as you put it, so what do we do about it other than stick it out for another four years and hope next time around the wise public make a more informed choice.’
‘Revolution,’ Russ said.
Curtis noticed Rachel stifle a laugh. Anne still looked pissed off from being shot down.
‘Revolution?’ Curtis said.
‘People need to stand up and fight. Unions, whatever. It’s how society has progressed for thousands of years. When people get pushed down too far, when they get trodden on too much, eventually they come back and fight.’
‘You’re going to lead the revolution?’ Curtis asked.
‘Me? That’s not— No, that’s not what I’m saying.’
‘So what are you doing to help the cause?’ Curtis said. ‘While you’re living in your million-dollar home in affluent East Cobb and driving around in your hundred-thousand-dollar car?’
Russ glared at him. It wasn’t even that Curtis disagreed with a lot of what Russ had said, but he also knew Russ was all mouth, no action.
‘Like Anne said, you can be wealthy and still want what’s best for everyone,’ Russ said.
‘But do you, really?’
‘What are you getting at?’
‘If change meant you had to give up some of your luxuries? Downsize your home, cheaper car, less vacations overseas, would you do it? Because the way I see it, you’re competent enough to see all the bad things around you, but the simple fact is, you don’t want change for you, do you?’
‘That’s not true, I—’
‘No, it’s true. You could make a difference. But you don’t really want to, do you?’
‘That’s not even the point—’
‘Then what is the point? What are you doing to help others?’
‘Boys, I think—’ Anne started.
‘It’s time for dessert,’ Rachel said, more resolutely, putting an end to the conversation as she stood up from the table.
‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ Curtis said.
Russ said nothing, just took another glug of wine.
And, surprisingly, dessert passed by in a much more relaxed fashion, although by the time he had finished his chocolate fondant, Curtis’s stomach felt ready to pop and his head swam from the multiple glasses of wine.
Everyone helped to clear up, but Anne was the first to retreat to the lounge.
‘Why don’t you go and check on your wife,’ Rachel said to Russ, as he lazily dried an already dry-looking wine glass. Clearly housework wasn’t his thing. He was the macho corporate guy after all, Anne the homemaker. ‘She looks exhausted, poor thing.’
‘Yeah,’ Russ said, giving Rachel a smile that sent a shiver through Curtis. Did the guy think no one noticed those looks? He even gently brushed her shoulder before heading out.
‘What?’ Rachel said, when Curtis remained glaring at her.
‘Nothing.’
‘Are you sure? Because you’ve been really edgy all night. Particularly with him.’
‘He’s drunk.’
‘He is. But that’s not what’s got you twisted, is it?’
Curtis turned back to the washing up.
‘He doesn’t know, does he?’ Rachel asked.
Curtis looked back at her. ‘About Finn?’
‘Finn? What? No, not that. About you. You know.’
Yes, he did. He could hear – feel – the disappointment in her voice. She was thinking back to the conversation about kids. As though that was dominating his mind rather than everything else.
‘That I’m infertile?’ Curtis said, matter-of-factly. ‘No, Russ doesn’t know. Why would I tell him that?’
‘Because he’s a good friend. Your closest. And it’d—’
‘What? Stop him making jokes about why we don’t have kids? So it’s for your benefit really?’
She thumped his arm. Quite hard. ‘No need to be crappy with me.’
‘Isn’t there?’
She slapped the tea towel down onto the worktop. ‘Come on, then, Curt. There’s obviously something on your mind. Something you think I’ve done wrong? Spit it out.’
They both held each other’s eye for a moment. Curtis really thought about saying it. Challenging her. Accusing her. But what was the point? Even if something was going on with her and Russ, she was hardly about to spill everything.
‘It’s just what he said earlier about the hero. And Elliott Charlton. I can’t stop thinking about it.’
And that wasn’t a lie. But Curtis’s thoughts had been so focused on Finn the last few days, his brother’s life, and what had caused him to be there in Washington that day. He felt now like he’d made a mistake in his own actions, in going to the FBI. And he’d come at the whole situation from the wrong angle.
‘Hey, guys.’
Curtis and Rachel both turned to the doorway where Russ stood with his arm around Anne who was struggling to keep her eyelids open. She was wasted. Curtis hadn’t even noticed how out of it she was before, though he did know from past experience that alcohol had the exact opposite effect on her as her husband. While Russ became loud and opinionated, Anne usually shrank quietly into a corner.
‘We’re gonna hit the road,’ Russ said. ‘It’s past our usual bedtime, you know?’
He smiled but it wasn’t really a happy smile. More embarrassed. A little bit angry, too.
A few minutes later and Curtis and Rachel waved their friends off in an Uber.
‘You’re giving me that look again,’ Rachel said, after she’d shut the front door.
Curtis didn’t say anything, but yes, she was right. He was giving her that look again. Because he was damn sure that when Russ went to kiss her cheek he’d ‘accidentally’ hit the corner of her mouth, and had let his hand linger on her back that little bit too long as well.
‘If you’ve got something to say, say it,’ Rachel said, arms folded.
‘I’m having a nightcap. Want one?’
‘I think we’ve both had plenty.’
‘Another won’t hurt.’
‘It might.’
He took her hands in his.
‘Dinner was amazing,’ she said, trying to put on a relaxed and happy face, but it just looked a little forced.
‘Thank you.’
An awkward silence.
‘Right, I’m getting a whiskey. You definitely don’t want one?’
‘I’m going to go up.’
‘Suit yourself.’ He kissed her on the cheek. Trying to replicate exactly how Russ had. She didn’t react at all.
‘Night, then,’ he said to her.
She hesitated a moment before heading up the stairs. He poured himself a large whiskey. He checked his watch a few times as he sat on the leather armchair in the living room, nursing his drink.
He made his mind up and called the number.
Ten thirty. Too late on a Friday night, really. But he only had to ignore the call if that’s what he wanted.
‘Curtis, everything OK?’ Wayne said when he answered.
‘Yeah. And you?’
‘I mean, other than the late-night call.’
‘You’re driving somewhere?’ Curtis asked, noting the background noise.
‘I am, yeah, but… what can I help you with? Any more bombshells?’
‘Potentially, yes.’
A sigh. ‘I was joking.’
‘But this is no joke. I’ve a proposal for you.’
Silence for a moment. ‘Go on.’
‘A gesture of good faith. To show how important your business is for our firm.’
‘You waited until ten thirty on a Friday night, and several bottles of wine, before making this gesture?’
So he could tell Curtis was drunk. So what.
‘Earlier I told you we were over budget. Possibly by a couple of million.’
‘And you pretty much told me to deal with it, suck it up.’
‘I’ve an alternative approach.’
‘Which is?’
‘I’ll write the difference off for you.’
Silence again.
‘Did you—’
‘I heard you,’ Wayne said. ‘Explain.’
‘We’ll do all the work. Deliver exactly what was asked, but we won’t charge you a penny more than we budgeted.’
‘Gerry must have really put you through the wringer.’
Curtis laughed rather than say anything about that. He didn’t want to lie. He hadn’t yet spoken to his boss since the earlier meeting in the office, though he was sure Wayne had. To complain about him.
‘There’s just one thing I need from you,’ Curtis said.
‘And there it is,’ Wayne said with a chuckle. ‘The quid pro quo.’
‘Actually, it’s not quite like that. But there is one thing I need your help with, to get us over the hurdles in the Far East. So it’s all for the benefit of the project, really.’
‘Go on.’
‘Elliott Charlton. You know him, right?’
‘We’ve had dealings.’
‘Given his trade role, he’s the man who can help us here. You get me in front of him, I really think it can help us make things happen quickly.’
A much longer silence this time.
‘I get us a meeting with Charlton,’ Wayne said, ‘you complete the project in two weeks and charge no overruns?’
‘That’s what I’m suggesting. But the sooner we can meet with Charlton, the better.’
‘I’ll be in touch.’
The call ended. Curtis downed his whiskey, focusing on the burn in his throat to take away from the bare-faced lies he’d just told.