Obsession, p.10
Obsession, page 10
‘The most expensive?’
The barman smiled. ‘We have a bottle of Hennessey Timeless. You know it?’
Jake hadn’t a clue. ‘Unopened?’
‘Yes.’
‘Send it over.’
‘You didn’t ask how much.’
He hadn’t. He didn’t care. He was pretty sure he could afford it. Not that he liked to show off like that. Not much, anyway. His parents had taught him the value of money. In fact, they still had a big say in how he spent what he got. He was twenty-four but sometimes he may as well have been fourteen still. But he appreciated their input most of the time. He got paid £200,000 a week, basic salary, but what the hell could he really do with all that? And it had been hammered into him for years that a footballer’s career was short. Potentially very short at the very top. Save for the future, his parents and advisers loved to tell him. So overall he got to see very little of that 200,000. But his bank balance would still make most people’s eyes water.
‘Doesn’t matter how much,’ Jake said. ‘Send it over. Some bottles of mixers too. Coke, lemonade. Whatever.’
The barman frowned a moment but quickly wiped it away. ‘Certainly, Mr Grayson.’
So the guy had recognised him at least. None of the staff had let on until then.
Jake turned and headed back to the sofas. Except for Hayley, the girls were all dancing once more while the lads chatted boisterously. Together. No hint of tension now. Even Vinnie looked relaxed with Ziyad and Gus and Kyle. The change in mood only made Jake feel all the more alienated. He sighed and sat down next to Hayley. He hoped, expected for her to nuzzle up to him but she kept her distance. He caught her eye.
‘You should have told me,’ she said.
Chantelle?
‘I thought you’d know.’
‘Why would I know? I’ve never met you before. I didn’t know about your career; why would I know about your love life?’
‘Yeah, but…’ He stopped himself there. He realised anything else he said would have been too lame.
But Hayley wasn’t finished. ‘Yeah, but what? You’re the Ace, so I should know everything about you, and if I don’t that’s my problem? You’re the Ace, who can do what he wants? Who gives a crap about the fact you have a girlfriend of four years back home? A fucking beautiful girlfriend too.’ She shook her head as though she couldn’t believe she hadn’t known. To be honest, Jake couldn’t believe it either. ‘No, she doesn’t matter at all? You’re famous so you can come out to Spain and shag anyone you like.’
Seriously? She wasn’t just giving him the cold shoulder, she was mega pissed.
‘That’s not what this is,’ he said.
‘No? Then what?’
‘Me and Chantelle…’
Hayley waited for the explanation, but Jake still couldn’t find the words.
‘If you want a quick fuck, find someone else.’ She turned away from him.
He was about to try to get her attention when he noticed a short man, waistcoat, thick-rimmed glasses, making a beeline for him. The guy leaned his head down toward Jake.
‘Sir, my name is Pedro, I’m the manager here.’
‘Okay?’
‘My colleague… you asked for our bottle of Hennessy Timeless.’
‘I did.’
‘Sir, it’s…’
‘I can afford it. It’s not a problem.’
‘Sir, it’s not the price. This is a very exclusive cognac. Very special indeed. It’s not for… drinking with Coke? I can’t…’
‘Can’t what?’
‘Are you sure there’s not a different choice you and your friends would enjoy just as much?’
‘Can you just get me the damn drink I asked for?’
Pedro looked taken aback. He opened and closed his mouth.
‘Is there a problem?’ Ziyad called over.
Pedro straightened up and looked that way.
‘No, it’s not a problem,’ Jake said to Ziyad, then turned back to Pedro. ‘Go and get me that bottle. Please.’
Pedro shook his head.
‘Pedro, come here,’ Ziyad said and the little man gave Jake an apologetic look before scuttling that way.
He and Ziyad had a hushed conversation. Midway through Ziyad clasped Pedro’s hand in his, as though the poor man was suffering and needed comfort. When Ziyad released his grip, Pedro turned back to Jake.
‘I’ll get you that bottle, right away, sir.’ He scurried off.
‘Money can’t buy class, eh?’ Ziyad shouted over to Jake. ‘Don’t worry. I know him very well. I straightened it out for you.’
Jake said nothing, but he was seething.
Vinnie looked over. ‘All good?’
Jake nodded and his mate went back to his conversation with Leo. Jake didn’t speak to anyone for while. The cognac did come. Ziyad beckoned Pedro over when he brought it and had another quiet word in his ear. The manager also brought a selection of crystal glasses, as well as the mixers. Jake noticed that Ziyad and Gus took their cognac neat, sipped away like they were connoisseurs. Leo and Macca did the same, as though they were now trying to impress the rich boys. Jake didn’t give a toss. He and Vinnie mixed theirs with Coke. It tasted like any other cognac. Harsh. The girls stayed on the Cristal. After a while, they were up dancing once more leaving the boys to get more and more drunk.
Jake kept an eye on Hayley as she danced, slowly swinging her hips to a soulful song. She turned her head slightly, caught his eye then quickly looked away again.
Macca broke away from the others. ‘You okay?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Don’t worry. She’ll be back. She’s into you. Just be honest with her about Chantelle.’
Except Jake didn’t even know what that meant anymore. What was the truth with Chantelle? He’d not loved her for… he didn’t even know how long. Had he ever? But the pressure to stay with her, to portray an image of himself as a calm and caring, loyal and professional person, all for the sake of his public persona, his career prospects, both now and in the future…
‘So what do you reckon, Ace?’ Ziyad shouted over.
Jake downed his drink and looked up. ‘To what?’
‘Who’s winning the league next year? Think you’ve got a shot?’
At West Ham? No chance. Would he still be playing there next season anyway? ‘It’ll be pretty much the same as this year probably.’
‘Yeah? Still, the benefits of being injured all the time means you get to come on holidays like this more often, right?’
He didn’t seem to be trying to wind Jake up this time, but…
‘Yeah,’ Gus joined in. ‘You get to go to all sorts of exotic places.’
‘You looking to go and bang any more cock?’ Ziyad asked.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Bangkok? You got any plans for Bangkok again?’
‘I’ve never been to Bangkok.’
‘Not what I heard,’ Gus said.
‘Ignore them,’ Macca said to Jake.
He looked across at Vinnie and Leo but they weren’t even hearing the conversation. Too drunk now, too into whatever they were cackling about between themselves.
‘Yeah, well you’re obviously a fucking idiot then, aren’t you?’ Jake said to Gus. ‘We were in Bali. Indonesia, not Thailand. Apparently money can’t buy you brains.’ He tapped his temple for effect but the insult did nothing to dent the confidence of either of them.
‘No, but it can buy you the best ladyboys around,’ Ziyad said.
He and Gus burst out laughing. Jake clenched his fists. Macca gave him an imploring look. Or was it apologetic? After all, the incident had been partly – mostly? – his fault.
The holiday to Bali had been an end-of-season break, a few days away to refresh before Jake set off for the England training camp. They’d met the group of women – or not – at a club not dissimilar to this one in Bali, and, after Macca had first started chatting to the group, Jake had quickly taken an interest in one of them, called Ting. Thankfully, in a way, he’d discovered the truth – his penis – while still in the club, but the news had still got out. How? Probably a set-up by someone, for some reason. There was even a grainy picture of Jake kissing Ting as they danced. The internet memes had been as cruel as they were prolific. The moniker Grace had taken on a whole new life since then. Not the best build up to the World Cup.
Jake bounced up from his seat. The sudden move got everyone’s attention. Ziyad and Gus and Kyle looked a little worried. Jake reached for the already half-finished bottle of cognac. He was tempted to launch it at Ziyad’s face. Or walk over and pour the contents all over him at least.
Would it be worth it?
‘Thanks for the present,’ he said to Ziyad, holding the bottle up. ‘I got your mate Pedro to put it on your tab.’ He winked, then walked away.
Made it all of five yards before Macca was there.
‘Jake, where you going?’
‘I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.’ He glanced across to the dance floor where the five girls were dancing away. Well, four of them were. Hayley was distracted as she looked over. Not a very friendly look. More disappointed than anything. ‘Just enjoy your night.’
Jake slapped Macca’s shoulder then turned for the exit.
The remainder of the bottle of Hennessy didn’t last long. Jake drank most of it in the taxi back to the hotel then finished off the dregs as he lay back on the lounger on the penthouse balcony. His brain swirled. Alcohol, but a whole host of emotions and feelings too. Anger, embarrassment, the two biggest.
Only hours ago he’d been lying in the exact same spot with Hayley. He really liked her. Sure, he hardly knew her, but that didn’t dull the natural attraction at all. And he needed – deserved – something positive in his life for once. Yet whatever might have been with her was dead before it’d even started.
He had two more missed calls from Chantelle. He finally decided to call back. 11.40 in Spain, 10.40 back home. She’d probably still be up.
She answered on the second ring. ‘Babe, what the hell?’ She sounded more upset than angry. A surprise really.
‘You sound like you’ve been crying,’ he said.
‘I’ve been crying for hours, you piece of shit! Why are you ignoring me?’
Jake didn’t say anything.
‘Jake, please. Let me in.’
‘I don’t think I can.’
She sniffed. She was sobbing. ‘When are you coming back?’ she asked.
He didn’t answer.
‘Jake. I just need you back here. With me. I love you, Jake. Please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. You have to believe me.’
But he didn’t believe a word she said anymore.
He ended the call and turned his phone off then sighed as he laid his head onto the cushion. He closed his eyes for a moment. No. That was no good. Head spinning. Stomach churning. He sat up straight and it took a few seconds to get his sight back in focus as the marina and the buildings clustered around it swirled.
His eyes settled on some lights directly across the water. A little lower than his lofty position. Apartment lights. At this time of night, not many were on. A quarter, third perhaps. He’d noted already on the first couple of nights sitting out here that few people bothered with curtains. At least not at this time of year with the long summer days and hot nights. Even though the expensive apartments likely had air conditioning, many of the occupants had their patio doors open to let in the cooler night-time air. Which was exactly the case for the apartment his eyes had rested on.
But why this one?
Because of the woman inside. The distance across the marina? Fifty, sixty metres perhaps. Quite far, but not so far that he couldn’t make her out, in her kitchen, standing by the sink. She was… not naked, but he was certain she wore nothing but a pair of skimpy black briefs. Long, dark hair flowed down her bare back. He kept his eyes on her, mesmerised.
After a few moments he scanned over the other apartments. As he’d noted before, a few lights on here and there. A few shadowy figures visible, sitting on sofas, or out on their balconies, but her…
Did she want people watching? Not that her lights were that much brighter than anyone else’s, yet…
She turned from the sink and reached up on tiptoes to open a tall cupboard. At distance he could make out so little of her features, yet it all seemed so clear and… seductive.
No idea what she pulled from the cupboard. Something small. She strode from the kitchen, into the next room, the next set of windows. Softer lighting in there. Bedroom. She moved around the bed. Put down the object. Bent over to open the bedside drawer. Closed it. Walked back to the kitchen, kept going… out of sight.
Jake sat up even further in the lounger. Then he moved forward, right up to the balcony railing, squinting. The room to the left of the kitchen… another bedroom? No lights on in there.
He looked down below and heard voices drifting up but could see no one else on the balconies down there. He looked at the boats on the water, then across the buildings once more. Was anyone watching him in that moment, he wondered? He glanced across the balcony. Only two discreet lights were on. Surely no one could see him.
Movement caught his eye. She was back. Back in the kitchen. Doing what? Just… pottering. Busy, but not busy at all. He watched her with interest, his mind whirring all the time as she moved, so gracefully, so elegantly, back and forth.
He lay back on the lounger, his brain active with thoughts of the mysterious woman who’d captivated his alcohol-addled mind.
But inevitably the effects of the drink became too much. His eyelids slowly slid closed, but even as he drifted, his thoughts of, and the images of her, burned bright in his mind.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NATASHA
Autumn
I didn’t sleep well; I hadn’t for weeks. Tossing and turning through the night in the horribly lumpy single bed, I’d got up several times to check outside the window. Nothing to see, every single time, which only added to my frustration and my insomnia, as though I’d simply mistimed the look out. Perhaps the watcher had broken cover ten seconds after I’d turned back from the window. And so my mind tormented me as I lay there, telling me to look again, and again, while I squeezed my eyes tightly shut hoping I’d drift off.
At some point I did, obviously, because my vibrating phone finally roused me at a little after 9am.
Dad.
‘Natasha, what are you doing?’
‘Morning, Dad.’
‘I asked you a question.’
‘I was sleeping. Until you woke me.’ I yawned, not at all perturbed by my dad’s agitation. In fact, in a strange way, I kind of enjoyed it, as though annoying him was a little power trip; my chance to get my own back on him.
‘You shouldn’t be doing this.’
‘Why not?’ I said. ‘Someone has to do something.’
He sighed and I heard her voice in the background. ‘I’m going to come out and meet you,’ Dad said. A stronger statement than the previous day, though I heard Linda protesting in the background so clearly he hadn’t agreed that move with her.
‘Please, don’t,’ I said.
‘Natasha, I’m not having you getting yourself mixed up in… in…’
‘In what?’
‘In investigating a murder. This is the real world, with real consequences. This isn’t one of those stupid teen detective stories.’
‘And I’m not a teenager anymore, Dad.’
He went silent again. Or at least, he’d muffled the phone.
‘What’s she saying?’ I asked.
‘Linda is… it doesn’t matter, Natasha. I’ll come out to you. I can be there today.’
I’m sure I heard Linda swear at him in the background.
‘Dad, please. This isn’t about you.’
‘Not about me? Are you out of your mind? My eldest daughter was killed out there. My youngest daughter, who hasn’t exactly shown the most stable mental–’
‘Dad, that’s not fair.’
‘What isn’t?’
Of course he was referring to my previous ‘episode’. Again. The one where, as a teenager, I’d become besotted by a boy. A boy who had, for a while, liked me too. Then he hadn’t, but I couldn’t move on. Like, really not at all. Fast forward to a restraining order and a trip to A&E to have my stomach pumped of the alcohol and pills I hoped would ease my pain.
Of course, I wasn’t that deluded suicidal teenager anymore. I cringed just thinking about it, and I felt that I may never have been that person at all if it hadn’t been for the problems at home. But that part of me, that… tunnel vision still existed.
Which probably explained why I was in Spain in the first place.
‘Sorry, Nat. I’m only worried about you. You’ve gone off on a reckless mission–’
‘Reckless how?’
‘Because you’ve no idea what you’re getting yourself involved in!’
‘Do you?’ And I genuinely meant that question, because it certainly seemed like a strong reaction from my dad. He could have been encouraging me, but he sounded terrified by the prospect of me being here.
‘Do you know something?’ I asked. ‘About Anya? About her being out here? What happened to her?’
‘Natasha, you’re sounding crazy.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘I know as much as you,’ he said. ‘But you have to remember what the police said. About drugs and gangs and–’
‘That wasn’t Anya.’
Although after less than twenty-four hours in Sotogrande, I really didn’t believe my own words. Anya had got herself mixed up with bad people. Why, I didn’t know. And why that had led to her death, I didn’t know.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t the Anya we knew. But…’
He didn’t finish the sentence and I could feel his confusion. It wasn’t the Anya we knew. What had happened to her?
‘Honey…’ I cringed at his use of that term. It reminded me of days gone by when I was his little girl and he and Mum were my world. Before he’d shattered that reality. I’d do anything to go back to that. ‘…please come home.’
