Dirty Bad Strangers(50)
She shrugged. “She won’t be the first, and she won’t be the last. Her five minutes of fame, hey? She’s always wanted it.”
“That’s someone’s life. He’s married, and he really wasn’t interested.”
“He’s probably got a few million in the bank and more shit to worry about than Chelsea’s little tall tale. He’ll be used to it.”
I read some more. An absolute load of horseshit. “This isn’t such a little tall tale, Tess. It’s pure fantasy.”
“You know what she’s like. She probably thinks this is her best shot. Pull her up on it, then, if it means that much to you.”
“Oh, I will,” I said. “Don’t you worry about that.”
Chelsea tried her best to avoid me. It took me all afternoon to track her down, finally running into her outside her flat while she pretended to dodge reporters. Reporters outside Chelsea’s flat — just what she’d always wanted. She looked thoroughly bemused as I turned up, and shoved me inside faster than a lickety-split, before I could open my mouth to the papers, no doubt.
“Hi,” she said. “How’s it going?”
“Cut the crap.” I shoved the paper at her.
“Yeah, I have read it,” she grinned. “Did you see my picture? I look good in the Singers’ colours, don’t I?”
“I wouldn’t say you are exactly in the Singers’ colours.” I stared at her for long awkward seconds. “Why did you lie?”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not lying, it’s just a bit of exaggeration. I did kiss him. He did pull me out of the crowd. We did have our photo taken together.”
“The article is bullshit and you know it.”
“Yeah, so?” She folded her arms. “He’s Jason Redfern. Like he’s going to give a shit about my little kiss and tell.”
“And his wife?!”
“Is a bitch. Everyone says so. Everyone who knows her.”
“Your friends, you mean? I’m sure their word is gospel.”
“She doesn’t even love him, that’s the rumour. It’s all for the papers, sad cow.”
“Jesus, Chelsea, pot kettle.”
She led me through to her tiny box of a living room, shoving a contract in my face. “Fifteen grand they paid me for that. Another five if I’ll get my tits out next week.”
I scanned the contract. “Fucking hell, Chelsea, what have you done?”
“Made it,” she beamed. “I’ve made it. Arrived. I’m a model now, for real.”
“At someone else’s expense,” I snapped. “I can’t believe you think this is ok.”
Her eyes turned cold. “Why do you give a shit so much? Like you care about Jason fucking Redfern, you don’t even know who he is.”
“I don’t need to,” I said. “I’m sure he eats and sleeps and bleeds. Same as the rest of us.”
“Yeah, eats caviar and sleeps in his mansion. I don’t think he’ll be losing any shuteye over my little story.”
“You’d better hope not,” I said. “Because if anyone asks me about it, I’m going to tell them the truth.”
Her mouth slammed shut, eyes like coals. “You wouldn’t!”
Maybe she didn’t know me so well, after all.
Jason
“Well, you know that’s bollocks. Did I look like I’d just got in from a night making sweet love to that little bitch?”
“I know it’s bollocks, Jason,” April seethed. “Because the real story would be so much fucking seedier.” She dumped the paper in the bin. “She’s got no idea. It sounds like fucking Disney.”
“Always has to be a dig in there, even when I’m innocent.”
“I wouldn’t call it innocence,” she said. “This story just happens to be bullshit. I’ll get onto PR.”
I groaned. “Fucking PR. Can’t we just ignore it?”
“Oh yeah, and let her bathe in the spotlight? Next she’ll be eating fucking bugs in the jungle, maybe wanking off a pig or two for daytime TV. A little slut like that’s going to milk it for everything she’s worth.”
April had a fucking point for once.
“Her friend will know,” I said. “If someone could find her and just ask her.”
She laughed in my face. “Who’s going to do that? You?! Like you’ll ever find her stupid friend.”
No. Not me. How could I?
Shit. I fisted my hands in my hair.
I met Richard Cowley after training, at the back of an old industrial unit ten miles out from the ground. He pulled up in a brand new saloon, and jumped in the passenger seat of the Range without a word.