They had a third drink each, although Mason nursed his, disappearing from the table a couple of times to take calls on his phone. He claimed to have no wife or girlfriend, but he sure spent a lot of time communicating with someone.
‘Who’s chasing you this time?’ Angel said when he returned to the table on the latest occasion. The phone was still in his hand and he initially glanced at the screen as though the answer was there.
‘H,’ he said and then hovered at the table looking uneasy. ‘His train didn’t make it to Birmingham. A track problem or something. He’s stuck in Stoke, no more trains tonight.’
Just like earlier, his tone was off, meaning at least part of the story was fabricated. But which part and why?
‘So we’ll go pick him up, right? It’s not that far.’
He contemplated that.
‘Why don’t you hang around here?’ he said. ‘I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Then we’ll head out together.’
So he didn’t want her going out to meet H. Fine. Fine. She could entertain herself here. ‘Sounds good to me.’
‘Just don’t go doing anything stupid,’ he said, then looked uncomfortable. As he should, because he had no right to say something like that to her.
‘You got it, boss,’ she said with a salute.
He didn’t bother to finish his beer before he left.
She only took a couple more minutes to finish her drink before she got up from her stool to head to the restroom.
Except she didn’t make it past the bar before the guy who’d given her the eye earlier spun around.
‘You two have a fight or something?’
‘Something,’ she said and went to move past until he took hold of her arm. Not hard, but with purpose still.
‘Is he your boyfriend?’
‘Brother, actually.’
The guy’s confidence, his stature, rose a little. But as she looked at him more closely now, he wasn’t half as cute as she’d earlier thought. His eyes were dull, his hair thin and wispy, and his accent… Grating. Somewhere from the northwest, she thought.
‘We’re staying for a conference,’ he said. ‘Up from London, so we’re only in town a couple of days. You live here?’
‘Just visiting too.’
‘Shame. You could have showed us some places.’
‘Shame.’
‘Still, you can join us if you like?’
‘Join you for what?’
One of his two friends – who had been pretending not to be taking notice until now – guffawed at that.
‘A drink. I’m buying.’ He flashed his gold corporate card and Angel feigned that she was impressed. ‘Actually, my company’s paying.’ He winked at her.
‘I like champagne,’ she suggested.
He chewed on that a moment, obviously debating if she was really worth it. ‘Whatever you want.’
‘Good answer. Because I’m picking. And it won’t be the cheapest.’
He grabbed the menu from the bar and flicked to the extensive champagne list before pushing it out to her.
‘That one,’ she said, pointing to the second-most expensive: £500 rather than £800. No point in pushing things.
‘Whatever the lady wants,’ he said.
‘I’ll be right back.’
She brushed his shoulder with her fingers before sauntering off, hips swaying.
Mason had abandoned her, so why not at least try and have a little fun?
* * *
Evan. Thirty-three years old, although he looked younger than that if she ignored his crappy, straggly hair. He was from Cheshire, had gone to some private school there before studying at the London School of Economics. Now he – and his two buddies – worked in investment banking. He drove a Porsche. One of his friends had just used his bonus to buy a Ferrari, but Evan was saving his because he wanted to buy his own place next year. An apartment in the city. Budget of two million. Only him. No girlfriend because he’d tried going steady with someone a couple of years ago but she couldn’t handle the high pressure and long hours of his job. But he’d devote himself to the right woman. But he absolutely wasn’t looking for a stay-at-home partner. Someone who wanted him for his money. He wanted a career-driven woman who could challenge him professionally, intellectually.
He told her all this without her barely asking a question. In fact, she probably could have guessed most of it without him even opening his mouth.
His friends left him for another bar when Evan and Angel were each on their second glass of champagne. The expensive drink wasn’t for those two, it was for Evan to continue to try to win over Angel. And as far as he was concerned, he was doing a great job even if in all honesty he’d bored her within the first five minutes of the one-sided conversation.
‘What about you?’ he asked, and it seemed like a real discomfort for him to have to switch the conversation around.
‘Me?’
‘What do you do?’
‘I used to be in the army.’
She let that hang there although he showed no particular reaction.
‘Now I’m a security consultant.’
‘Security?’
She nodded. He really didn’t know where to go next, judging by his lack of follow-up. Or maybe he just really didn’t care what she did. She pushed her cleavage up a little and he practically drooled. He only wanted one thing from her.
Well, same.
‘I really need to pee,’ she said, fixing him with a smile as she patted his leg.
She got up, her legs a little wobbly and he laughed at her as she regained her balance before she teetered toward the restrooms. He hadn’t moved when she arrived back, though he had once again refilled her glass.
He took a sip from his own and then just kind of stared at her as though waiting for her to say or do something, but she left the drink there and within a few minutes he’d had most of his.
‘You’re not having any more of your champagne?’ he asked.
‘I’m just taking my time. Didn’t you see my Bambi on ice impression before?’
He laughed. ‘But if you don’t drink that glass, you don’t get another bottle.’
She picked up her glass and took a big swig and he looked really pleased with himself.
‘I told you I was in the army,’ she said. ‘You think you can out-drink me?’
He laughed. ‘Actually, probably not.’
He downed most of his drink and then did that gasp thing that people do when they’ve had too much too quickly.
He checked his watch. She did the same.
‘Actually, Evan, honestly, I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’ She finished off her drink.
‘Where are you staying?’ he asked.
‘Nearby.’
‘I can walk you.’
She thought about that. ‘But no funny business.’
He put his hand to his heart. ‘I’m a gentleman.’
She smiled but then the smile slipped away, and she put a hand to her head and groaned.
‘You OK?’
‘Actually, I think that last glass really went to my head.’
‘Come on, I’ll get you back to your hotel.’
She stood up from her chair but initially struggled to take her weight before Evan took hold of her arm and pulled her toward him and then toward the exit.
‘Which hotel is it?’ he asked once they were out in the cold of the night.
‘It’s…’ she said and then pulled out of his grip. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘Yeah, I’m… fine. Are we…’
‘Shit, Evan, you look really out of it.’
‘Your hotel. Which… way?’
He went to take her arm again but she shuffled away and he went staggering past and it took everything not to laugh out loud at him.
‘Evan, oh my God. Let me help you.’
She pulled his arm around her shoulders, put hers underneath, holding his side to guide him.
‘That champagne must have been stronger than we thought.’
They made it around the next corner but Evan was becoming more and more out of it by the second, Angel taking more and more of his weight.
‘Let’s go down here,’ she said, glancing along the street to make sure it was clear before she took him down into the darkened alley.
She moved on past where the arc of light from the streetlights reached, beyond some industrial dumpsters. She let go and gave Evan a gentle prod to send him stumbling to the floor where he rolled into a heap.
She kneeled down to him.
‘I saw what you did, you dumbass,’ she said with little feeling.
He said nothing. No real words anyway. Just a mumbling slur.
‘How many women have you done this too?’
Nothing.
‘I really hope, for the sake of other women, I’m the first.’
She felt in his pockets and found the little plastic bag with a few tablets in it.
‘Unfortunately, I’m thinking this is just… you.’
She crushed the tablets up and tossed them into one of the dumpsters.
‘But I’m also thinking this will probably be the last time for you.’
She paused a moment as she looked down at him, a little unsure if he was even still conscious or not. Yeah, he was. He just couldn’t move.
She had a choice. She could just leave him, or she could call the police. But would they even do anything?
In her experience, swift justice was better than no justice.
‘You wanna know the truth?’ she asked.
No answer.
‘I really don’t like to drink anymore. I’ve got a bit of a problem.’ She took off his shoes and took out her pocketknife and with a bit of effort cut the shoes in half before tossing the pieces into the nearest dumpster.
‘Those cocktails I had with my brother? Friend, actually. But they were mocktails. You probably thought I was getting drunk already but when I sat down with you I was stone-cold sober.’
She pulled off his jacket, slashed it into pieces then cut through his shirt to remove that. He wasn’t even that hot underneath. Scrawny and pudgy at the same time. Too much time drinking and drugging girls in bars.
‘And the champagne? I was swapping our glasses over and over every time yours was looking a little too empty. You just didn’t notice ’cause you were too busy staring at my tits.’
She emptied his pockets onto the ground next to him then took hold of his belt buckle and he squirmed, almost as though he still thought this was going well for him given where her hands now were. She unclasped his belt, pulled down his trousers.
‘And it was only when I noticed the taste change that I realized what you’d done. I mean, after that I only swapped one more time, obviously.’
She cut his trousers up, tossed those too. She picked up his wallet. His lighter. Took his cash and set the rest on fire, dropping the burning pieces of leather and plastic by his face. He barely moved away, just kind of turned and shuffled his face to save it from the heat.
Next, she took his phone, removed the SIM, and snapped it in two. She stomped on the handset until the glass was obliterated.
She kneeled back down to him and used the tip of the knife to lift up the elastic of his boxers a little.
‘To leave, or not to leave,’ she said.
No response. So she slapped him on the cheek and his body twitched and he mumbled and grumbled something but he was so far out of it now.
‘You actually wanted to have sex with me like this? That’s just… fucked up, Evan. And just to be clear? I might actually have screwed you otherwise.’
She shivered. Not because of the nasty thoughts but because it really was damn cold out.
Should she leave him with at least a little dignity?
No. Screw it. He didn’t deserve any better.
She cut off his boxers and held her nose, scrunched up her face as she pincered them, as little skin as possible touching the fabric as she tossed them into the dumpster.
‘Good luck,’ she said, putting the knife away.
She walked to the edge of the alley, feeling no real satisfaction for what she’d just done even though she really wanted to. Actually, if anything, she worried she’d gone too far and she hated that. The guy was a sicko. He needed to be punished. But… How long could he stay out there before he died from the cold?
‘Shit,’ she said under her breath as she emerged from the alley, in two minds. She stared up to the dark sky, busy thinking, then spun around when she spotted movement. A couple walking down the street toward her.
OK. Leave him. He didn’t deserve any better.
Without hesitation, she walked quickly the other way. She called Mason as she went.
‘All good?’ he asked when he answered.
‘Yeah. How far away are you?’
‘I’ll be back in ten minutes. Meet you by the station.’
Eleven minutes later she stepped into the back seat of his car. She got a quick intro to the burly, bearded man in front – H – before Mason got them moving.
‘You sure you’re OK?’ Mason asked.
‘Yeah, one hundred percent, but… Do you think we could make one stop before we head on?’
Mason sighed. ‘For what?’
‘For me.’
He caught her eye in the mirror and something about the dismay in her voice or on her face must have swayed him.
‘Sure. Where to?’
* * *
‘Sweet dreams, Princess,’ Angel said.
She kissed Sasha lightly on the forehead, but her daughter didn’t move under the covers, didn’t stir at all. In the darkened room Angel could barely make out her daughter’s features but knew her eyelids remained closed.
A good thing, really, but a small part of her wanted her daughter to see her. She wanted the acknowledgment, wanted to have a real embrace.
Still, just seeing her was the tonic she needed after tonight. All thoughts of Evan and whether he’d been rescued or was now a frozen corpse were erased.
Angel straightened up, wondering what Sasha was dreaming of.
Did she ever dream of her?
‘I’ll see you soon,’ Angel said, even though it felt like a lie.
She reluctantly pulled herself away and moved for the door, creeping out onto the landing. An orange glow swept up from down below, casting thick shadows across the wall. She could hear the TV down there but saw and heard no signs of anyone moving about.
Satisfied – as far as she could be, at least – she edged silently toward the master bedroom at the back of the modest two up, two down. The window in the bedroom remained partially open. She paused for a beat as she stared into the darkness outside. All clear. She grabbed the windowsill and pushed her body through the gap.
As before, the street outside the house was quiet. On the opposite side of the road, the endless row of parked cars abruptly stopped where the double-yellow lines outside the school began. Angel moved to the last of the parked cars whose front end fell across the yellow markings. Not a problem at this time of night. She eased into the seat and sighed. The engine was off, had been since she’d left – no rumbling engine, no lights to not draw attention – but because of it the inside of the car was cold, though the air was thick and stale.
Mason didn’t start the engine. He was too busy staring at her. In the darkness, she couldn’t be sure what the look on his face meant.
‘You’re done now?’ he asked.
‘Done,’ she said.
He said nothing more as he continued to stare and then H turned around too, a much less friendly look from him.
‘What’s your fucking problem?’ Angel growled.
He shook his head – disgust, or just disgruntlement, she wasn’t sure – before both men looked forward again. Mason turned the key and the aging engine rumbled to life, the noise cutting uneasily through the otherwise quiet street.
‘Then let’s get this show on the road,’ Mason said before putting his foot down.