“Dear, you must try the Cherry Bomb. It’s got tequila, cherry marmalade, black pepper, agave, and lime. You’ll like it,” Roy said, not giving her much of a choice.
I had already tasted the famous cocktail a couple of times, and though it wasn’t my favorite, it was stimulating.
Roy also insisted on choosing the food.
He told us endless anecdotes and gossip about government ministers. He seemed to be enjoying his position as MP and, from what he was saying, he was starting to spend more time in London than in Derbyshire.
“Evelyn doesn’t like it. She says I shouldn’t leave the voters unattended and I don’t want to either, but I also want to enjoy life a little,” he explained to us as he ordered another round of Cherry Bombs.
“You should listen to Evelyn. You’re enjoying your new life thanks to your voters. Neglect them and you’ll stay in the county forever,” I said without holding back.
“Don’t be a party pooper, Thomas. I’m making a name for myself here,” he responded.
“Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, Roy, but here you’re nobody. You represent the small Rural Party, that’s all. Perhaps some minister may condescend to you so you can vote in some law, but in truth you don’t matter to them. You should strengthen your party; you and I both know that it’s a sham. You’ve been lucky, but that’s it. At the next election, Labour and the Conservatives will do whatever it takes to keep you out of the game. They’ll dig up your past to expose you, just as we’ve done before with their candidates. And you are vulnerable, Roy, very vulnerable. If somebody hired me to crush you I can assure you that it would be done easily.”
There was an awkward silence at the table. Roy cleared his throat, and Evelyn lowered her gaze. I was being a killjoy. It was Esther who restored calm.
“One thing at a time, don’t you think? Tomorrow we can talk about work and the future but today we are here to celebrate something. You said you were getting married and I’m hoping you will tell us to whom and, especially, that we’ll get to meet her. I hope you’ll be very happy.”
“Thank you, Esther. Your husband is a brute but you are an angel,” Roy joked.
“I think you should tell him now,” Cooper interrupted.
“Yes, I think I should. Everyone, stand up, please, I’d like to propose a toast to my wedding, and to you, Thomas: you will be my best man. I hope you bring us the same luck that you’ve enjoyed.
“Thomas…Esther…Please meet my future wife.”
I felt like an idiot. How had I not realized? Roy wrapped his right arm around Evelyn’s shoulders and kissed her on the lips.
So Roy Parker was marrying Evelyn Robinson, the ambitious Radio East reporter whom I had converted into a publicist. The ugly duckling with bulging eyes who now put on the airs and graces of an executive in the City.
Esther congratulated them. First Evelyn and then Roy. She didn’t seem surprised, at least not as much as I was.
“Well, I must say I suspected it. I don’t know why, but…” said Esther.
“But we never gave you a single clue!” Evelyn responded, laughing.
“Up until today you hadn’t, but when I saw you at the office this morning…You looked different: the way you dress, the way you move. And when we arrived at the restaurant I was absolutely sure,” Esther declared.
“You are the one to blame for this, Esther. You asked Evelyn to find me a wife.” Roy laughed in delight.
“Yes, and you have chosen well,” said Esther. “Evelyn, you’re going to be a wonderful wife and a wonderful adviser. Roy, I hope you will make Evelyn happy.”
We chatted lightheartedly the rest of the evening. It wasn’t the time to talk about work, much less to ask whether Roy would end his contract with us now that he had Evelyn. We needed to wait until the next day to find out.
They gave us the details of the wedding, which would be celebrated in three days. I would be the witness for Roy, and Esther for Evelyn. After the ceremony, they’d celebrate with a cocktail reception at the Dorchester with a few guests, their colleagues from the Rural Party, five or six members of Parliament, a couple of high government ministers, and a dozen friends. The celebration would be elegant but sober, Evelyn explained.
Roy insisted on taking us in his car to our apartment, hoping we would invite them up for one last drink, but Esther declined. We were both not only tired; we were also anxious to talk about the wedding. Roy was disappointed, but agreed to leave the drinks for another day.
Esther slumped onto the sofa and asked me to pour her a glass of whiskey. I poured another for myself.
“We’ve lost Roy,” I said.
“You’re wrong. Let him marry Evelyn, it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to us,” she declared.
“You’re the one who’s wrong. In Evelyn he’ll have both a wife and a press adviser. He no longer needs us. I had a good eye when I hired her. She’s intelligent and ambitious. From writing features for a local gazette, she’s going on to become the wife of a member of Parliament, and she will do whatever it takes to ensure that Roy doesn’t stick his foot in it.”
“Precisely the reason he’ll want to continue working with us. Of course you’ll have to find someone to replace her in managing Roy. And it has to be someone she trusts because it’ll actually be she who decides what Roy has to do.”
“But don’t you understand that it makes no sense for him to pay us for what his wife will do for free from now on?”
“Evelyn is going to become Mrs. Parker. She won’t leave his side for a minute, but she’ll still want to have a job, even if it’s nominal, and be able to look after Roy’s affairs at the same time. I bet you she’ll ask for a change in terms, but she won’t leave.”
She was right. The next morning Evelyn arrived early at the office; even Maggie was surprised.
“You’re getting married in a couple of days, you should be working on the wedding preparations,” she scolded her.
“The only thing left to do is to collect my dress, everything else is ready. And I need to speak to Esther and Thomas.”
The conversation went exactly as Esther had predicted. Evelyn told us she wanted to continue working for us, but it couldn’t be on anything remotely to do with politics. Of course, she would continue to personally oversee Roy’s image, although not officially, and for that purpose, she suggested that Cooper take her place.
“He’s qualified, he’s personable, and he gets on well with Roy. Perhaps you could hire another publicist to manage the commercial campaigns that Cooper looks after. I can give you a few names; there are lots of talented young people willing to work for almost nothing.”
“And what would you do?” I wanted to know, because I couldn’t quite visualize what she was going to do once she was married.
“I don’t know…Maybe I can take care of directing institutional campaigns for NGOs and things like that.”
“All right, but how many NGOs have hired us for a campaign?” I asked hesitantly.
“Until now, none,” she admitted, reluctantly.
“We have a problem. We don’t want to lose you or Roy, but it might be difficult for us to give you a job appropriate for your new situation. I don’t know what your position would be,” I said.
“She can look after the office administration,” Esther suggested.
“Maggie does that already,” I pointed out, shutting down the idea.
“So what could I do?” Evelyn asked, anxiety creeping into her voice.
“If you focus on PR for the agency, you’ll be accused of influence peddling. Some clever journalist will reach the conclusion that if a company signs a contract with you, it’ll be to get closer to Roy. No, it’s not a good idea for you to have a job that’s so exposed to criticism,” Esther said, speaking more to herself than to us.
“Actually, she can’t do anything except devote herself to being Roy’s wife, which is already a job in itself,” I insisted again.
“You mean I’m out. You
’re going to fire me.” Evelyn’s tense tone put me on edge.
“No, we’re not going to fire you. Let me think, perhaps…Yes…That might be…” Esther continued speaking to herself.
“What might be?”
“We’ll give the company a philanthropic angle,” Esther proposed. “Each year we’ll mentor young people with the best academic qualifications. They’ll do internships at Global Communication and Evelyn will be their mentor, in charge of teaching them, guiding them, helping them take their first steps in the professional world. We can decide the requirements that the applicants need to meet, and we’ll choose the best among them. For a couple of years they’ll work here, under your management, for minimal pay. At the beginning we’ll only be able to offer four or five internships; if things go well, we’ll increase the number. What do you think about that?” she asked me, taking Evelyn’s enthusiasm for granted.
“I don’t know. You come up with some wild ideas. Do you really think we need interns?” I replied.
“If we were willing to hire a couple of young publicists, better to get four or five interns for the same price. They’ll work nearly for free, and in addition, our company can check the social responsibility box. Of course, Evelyn will continue to work on the campaigns, but officially, it’ll be those young interns who do it, and she’ll be behind them as their teacher. Honestly, I think it’s a great idea,” Esther concluded.
I couldn’t refuse. I would have liked to fire Evelyn but, if we did, we would lose Roy, who was still our main and safest client. I accepted. Evelyn hugged me and gave me a loud kiss on the cheek.
“You’re both great! Thank you! Roy will be very happy. We were worried,” Evelyn admitted.
If Maggie thought this was a good or bad idea, she didn’t tell us. When we mentioned the arrangement to her, she raised an eyebrow and looked at me as she repressed a smile, which could equally mean that she considered me an idiot or that she agreed with us.
Cooper was also about to kiss me when we told him that he would now be in charge of Roy. He was eager to take the leap into political publicity because he was tired of having to come up with campaigns to sell marmalade or cologne. He thought it was more glamorous to rub shoulders with MPs. In addition, he got along well with Evelyn.
Roy called to invite me to supper, just him and me. I didn’t refuse. I knew the meeting place would be Madame Agnès’s house, and I was looking forward to finding out what had happened there since my last visit.
Esther didn’t bat an eye when I said I was having dinner with Roy. She preferred to stay at the apartment working instead of wasting time, which is what she thought dinner with Roy would be.
“I don’t like to leave you alone,” I said, going through the motions.
“Don’t worry, you’ll have a nice time. I’d rather stay here and call Paul to see how things are going in New York.”
“I’ll do my best not to come home late,” I said, so she understood what would happen.
“That’ll be hard with Roy; after dinner he will, of course, insist on having another drink. If you get home late I won’t even notice—you know I sleep like a log.”
—
Roy picked me up at seven. He wanted to surprise me. He said we would have dinner at a restaurant that didn’t look like one.
I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I’d already been to the Gourmet Burger Kitchen, a quirky place that served some exceptional hamburgers.
We’d already had a couple of cocktails when I asked him about Suzi. I was curious to know how she had reacted to the news of Roy and Evelyn’s wedding.
“When I told her she started to laugh like mad. She says Evelyn is a penniless journalist willing to do anything so she doesn’t have to be an errand runner again for the local newspaper, and doing anything includes marrying me. She demanded an increase in her alimony, and she’s turned my children against Evelyn. It could have been worse.”
“And what does she do?”
“She doesn’t live in Derbyshire anymore. She moved to Oxford in the hope that when the time comes our oldest son will go to university there. That’s her excuse. The truth is she’s having an affair with the director of a bank branch office in Oxford. My children say that this guy Harry is a good person, that he treats them well and loves their mother. Perhaps. Even so, she hates me. But all the better for her if she has someone to warm her bed at night.”
“Don’t you love her anymore?”
Roy was silent. He took a few seconds to reply. Whatever he said, I knew he still loved her.
“One doesn’t forget a woman like Suzi…I was very happy with her. I never would have exchanged her for anyone else.”
“And Evelyn?”
“She’s a good girl. She takes care of me, she advises me well. She has become indispensable. Better to marry her, otherwise somebody might take her away.”
“Good foresight.”
“Come on, Thomas, you know Evelyn. Suzi is right when she says she’s ambitious. She’s good at her job. Things are the way they are. I’d rather have her continue working by my side, rather than leave me any old day for another job or for some guy with money who proposes. And I like her. It’ll do us both good to get married. There’s no deceit on either side.”
Roy was practical. And just as I’d expected, he invited me to accompany him to Madame Agnès’s.
“There are some new girls there, you’ll like them.”
“You’re getting married the day after tomorrow,” I reminded him, laughing.
“There is no reason why marriage should put an end to wholesome traditions.”
Madame Agnès feigned joy when she saw me.
“My dear Thomas, I’m so happy to see you again. I thought you had forgotten all about us.”
“Never, Madame, but business forces me to spend a lot of time in New York these days.”
“Our dear Thomas is happily married, Madame. That’s the main reason why he stays at arm’s length,” Roy added.
“Ah, marriage! It’s the best thing that could happen to a man. It gives him stability and a raison d’être,” Madame Agnès declared. “Single men are always getting into trouble. They don’t know what they want, they think they’re going to be young forever. There is nothing better for a man than marriage.”
“And for a woman?” I asked, curious what answer this woman would give.
“We don’t need to be married to have stability or to know who we are. We can get by alone a lot better than men can. For women, marriage is a cage, while for men, it’s a liberation. They no longer have to worry about themselves; their wife will do that for them.”
“And if he’s the only breadwinner?” I pushed.
“Then that’s what he must be, otherwise he’ll feel bad about himself. No, that’s not a burden shouldered for the sake of a woman, I can assure you, gentlemen. And now allow me to offer you a glass of champagne.”
I followed Roy to the library, where a group of men was talking about Wimbledon. Some of them I already knew; Roy introduced me to the rest. We joined the conversation, without much enthusiasm on my part, despite the fact that tennis is the only sport that I’ve enjoyed playing and that has interested me all my life. I didn’t stay in the library very long. Since I was there, I wanted to enjoy the rest of the night with a girl. Roy followed me; he wasn’t very enthused by the conversation either.
I saw Nataly talking to an elderly man. She looked more beautiful than the last time we saw each other. Of course, that night the only thing on my mind was finding out what had happened with Yoko.
Roy chose a young woman with dark skin.
“She’s Indian, and for the last few months she’s been my favorite,” he said, lowering his voice.
I walked up to Nataly, who was surprised to see me, although she tried to hide the grimace that appeared on her face.
I greeted her, kissing her hand, and asked the elderly gentleman to allow me to speak to “this old friend whom I haven’t seen for too long.” Th
e man hesitated but in the end resigned himself to it. There were too many other pretty young ladies to talk to for it to be worth arguing over one of them, especially if she was just another girl and not his favorite.
“So, you’re back. I thought we would never see you again.”
“Well, here you have me, and I intend to have a nice, leisurely time with you.”
“After what happened…I don’t feel comfortable around you, Thomas. Why don’t you look for another girl? Some of them are new and don’t know you.”
“We used to have fun together.”
“I’ve never had fun in this house. I come here to work.”
“Well, you’re good at pretending.”
“It comes with the money that the clients pay,” she pointed out, nonchalantly.
“You’re still rude.”
“Just to you, Thomas.”
“That means I’m different from all those other men you sleep with.”
“You’re the worst, Thomas.”
“I don’t aspire to the contrary. Let’s go somewhere more private.”
“I’d rather not.”
“All right, but the customer is always right, and I’ve chosen you.”
“Madame Agnès allows us to choose. None of the girls who work here do anything we don’t want to do. And I don’t want to be with you, Thomas.”
Her gaze reflected weariness. Weariness because of me. Not even hate; just the boredom that arises with someone you don’t want in your life.
“Why?”
“You’re a bad person, but you knew that already. Yoko died because of you and perhaps also because of me. You bought me. And you know what? When I go up to a private room with another guy I never feel like I’m being bought. The only time I’ve ever sold myself was when I accepted your money in exchange for giving you information about Yoko.
“Maybe the car ran her over by accident, maybe you pushed her and nobody saw you, or maybe she decided to take her own life. In any case, I feel responsible. I’ll never forgive you for corrupting me—and I don’t mean in bed. You were feeding my ambition. You got me to help you make Yoko your victim.”
I laughed. Suddenly I felt contempt for her. Nataly had a very guilty conscience, and it tormented her. Most of the time she was probably able to forget about Yoko and what had happened. But when she saw me it was like looking in the mirror and seeing her own sin reflected.
Story of a Sociopath Page 70
