by Natasha West
Gina was astounded. ‘Holy shit. You got poisoned?’
‘Stop it, would you!’ Ashley said hotly.
Gina would not stop it. ‘This explains so much,’ she muttered to herself.
Ashley gave Gina a look that sent a slight chill down her spine. ‘What does that mean?’
Gina tried to backtrack. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘Yes, you did. I’d like to know what?’ Ashley asked.
‘I just meant, you seem, like you said… self-sufficient.’
‘I think you meant something like that. But not quite that. So what did you mean?’
Gina could see there was no way out. Ashley’s teeth had latched on to the jugular. ‘Fine. You’re quite closed off. And if your dad broke your trust early on…’
‘He didn’t break anything. I’m glad he did it. I learnt to be tenacious, to keep going no matter what. Push on until you get-’
‘Into a hostage situation?’ Gina asked savagely. Ashley’s face dropped. Gina regretted her words immediately. ‘I… I didn’t really mean…’
‘This. This is exactly why I didn’t want to get to know you.’
Gina wasn’t sure how to come back from this. She was fairly sure she couldn’t. But then she had a thought. It seemed like a good idea at first. ‘Tell you what, I’m just gonna make this even, OK?’
‘Make it even?’ Ashley repeated, baffled.
‘Yep. Embarrassing personal story from the vault.’ She cleared her throat. ‘When I was fourteen, my stepmum caught me masturbating over a picture of Cheryl Cole.’
Ashley’s lips parted in surprise. ‘What?’
As awkward as the story was, Gina was in for a penny. ‘I think she was more embarrassed than I was. We never, ever spoke of it. Right, we good?’
Ashley blinked. And then a disturbing purpose settled over her face. ‘Not quite. I’ve got some questions first.’
Gina braced herself. It was going to be an Ashley Quick interview.
Thirteen
Ashley was fuming. She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid as to share personal details with Gina. However, she did have to admit that Cheryl Cole thing was quite good. But to truly even the score, she was going to squeeze a few more details out of the situation, put some pressure on. ‘So this picture of Cheryl Cole? Was it on your phone?’
‘Laptop,’ Gina said.
‘Just a normal picture? I mean, was she dressed? Or in her underwear?’
‘Just normal,’ Gina told her.
‘Group shot with Girls Aloud or…’
‘She’d gone solo by this point. It was just her.’
‘Was she actually Cheryl Cole by then, or was she still Tweedy?’
‘I think maybe Cole.’
‘And how old were you again?’
‘Fourteen.’
Ashley nodded to herself. ‘I see.’
‘Can we stop talking about this now?’ Gina asked, looking a bit like she wished she’d never brought this up. Which was exactly how Ashley wanted her to feel.
‘Couple more questions,’ Ashley said. ‘I think I’d just like to know a bit more about your stepmother.’
Gina sighed. ‘Fine.’
‘Did you get on with her?’
‘How do you mean?’ Gina frowned.
‘I mean, did you like her?’
‘In what sense?’ Gina asked quickly.
Ashley allowed herself the smallest of smiles. ‘I just meant, was she nice? But now I’m starting to wonder…’
‘What?’
‘Was she maybe a little younger than your dad?’
Gina looked rather unhappy about this line of question. ‘A bit, yeah.’
‘And when did she marry your dad? How old were you?’
‘Twelve.’
‘Cusp of puberty,’ Ashley noted. ‘Did she by any chance…’ Ashley took a little pause, getting ready to drop the bomb. ‘Did she look a bit like Cheryl Cole?’ Ashley asked.
Gina’s mouth swung open. ‘What?! No! Not really.’
Ashley chuckled to herself. ‘She did, didn’t she? And then she caught you fiddling with yourself to a picture of, well, basically her. No wonder you never talked about it.’ Gina started sputtering a denial, but Ashley paid it no mind. ‘Last question. Do you think maybe part of you wanted to get caught by her?’
‘Right, that’s enough,’ Gina said, annoyed. It was a new shade on her. The woman she’d met slouching in Bernie’s office was gone. She was straight-backed with anger. Ashley adored it.
‘Well, I think we could say we’re even now,’ Ashley said, satisfied.
‘You’re an arsehole,’ Gina said. She was shovelling olives into her mouth and chewing them angrily.
As Ashley watched her, her pleasure started to fade. She began to feel slightly remorseful. She’d crossed the line, like she always did. She got up and casually grabbed the bag of chocolate chips. She put as many as she could get into her mouth comfortably, and once her mouth was full, she mumbled, ‘Shorry.’
Gina looked up. ‘What?’
Ashley kept chewing; the chocolate still thick in her mouth. ‘I shed I’m shorry. I might have gone a bit far,’ she said, eyes fixed firmly on her snack.
Gina stood. ‘You did, yeah.’
Ashley looked away from the chocolate, chancing direct eye contact with Gina. ‘But this is what you wanted. To get to know me. This is what it is. I piss people off.’
Gina shrugged. ‘I can’t say I wasn’t warned.’
‘By Bernie.’
‘Yes.’
Ashley kept chewing miserably. ‘I knew it. I don’t know what’s stopping him from sacking me.’
Gina sighed through her nose. ‘I do. He said you had potential, you just needed someone to balance you out.’
Ashley was stunned, more pleased than she wanted to be. She’d always thought Bernie didn’t like her. ‘He said that?’
Gina nodded, admitting, ‘He thought I might be the answer.’
‘Because you don’t care?’ Ashley said without thinking.
‘What do you mean I don’t care?’ Gina asked.
Ashley felt like she’d said yet another wrong thing. ‘I just mean, you’re pretty… detached.’
Gina shrugged. ‘I just don’t sweat most stuff. Especially if it doesn’t concern me.’
‘What does concern you?’ Ashley asked, interested.
Gina thought. ‘My work, I guess. I like to do a good job.’
‘Well, we’ve got that in common,’ Ashley noted.
‘Common ground, eh? Who’d have thought,’ Gina said, eating another olive.
There was a silence then. But it wasn’t that awkward; it was actually quite comfortable.
It was broken a few minutes later by Gina. ‘You know, you might have a point about my stepmum. She is a bit of a MILF, if I’m honest.’
Ashley was shocked into a big laugh.
The door of the cupboard suddenly swung open. ‘What’s so fucking funny?’ Rick demanded, gun in his hand as if he was going to try and shoot the laughter.
‘Nothing,’ Ashley and Gina said together.
‘Right, good. There’s nothing to be laughing about. Now come out, I’ve got the telly set up for the news.’
Fourteen
Gina and Ashley were watching an advert for carpet cleaner, along with the rest of the hostages in the main part of the restaurant, on a TV bolted to the wall. Gina really hoped that Bernie had the good sense to cut it with a favourable view of Rick. Because if he hadn’t, Gina didn’t know how he’d react, what he’d do.
But then the news started up, and straight away, it was the Jimmy’s Pizza story. It became clear that nothing else was going to be covered. The man in the studio, Graham Naismith, led the story by saying two of their staff members had become involved in a siege, led by a lone gunman. They cut to the footage, starting with the exterior shot taken from the van of DI Conway trying to talk to Rick, getting quickly shut down. Then it cut to the second negoti
ation, with Rick hiding behind the woman, who was sensitive about her age, Sandra. Because Gina hadn’t stopped shooting until they were in the restaurant, the whole thing became her point of view as they traipsed across the car park and up to Rick at the top of the steps. The whole hostage swap had been caught. Gina had to admit, it was bloody good footage. Ashley had that right. It was the most exciting thing she’d ever captured.
Next came the interview with Rick. They showed it start to finish with no cuts. Gina found herself watching Rick’s reaction from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t quite read him.
Then it cut to Ashley’s sign off. Gina thought she looked astonishingly brave. Head held high, back straight, the professional to the end. She didn’t look quite as put-together as she had at the start of the day, her clothes untidy, her hair a bit tousled, but that only added to her intrepid vibe. If Gina was being strictly honest with herself, Ashley was rather tasty on-screen.
But there was no time to linger on that, because then Graham in the studio said, ‘We go now to the scene, live.’
‘What?’ Ashley muttered.
Another journalist sprang up on the screen, mic in hand, talking to DI Conway behind the barrier at the end of the road. ‘This is James Harding reporting live from the hostage situation at Jimmy’s Pizza, where our own reporter is currently trapped with the gunman.’
‘I told them I was covering it!’ Ashley complained loudly. ‘James is crap!’
‘Did he forget I’m in here too?!’ Gina added.
‘Shhh!’ Rick commanded. ‘I wanna hear this.’
‘DI Conway is in charge of negotiations,’ James said, turning to the officer. ‘What’s the current status of the situation?’
‘Well, we’ve been in talks with the gunman, and we’re hoping that he’ll keep talking to us until we can find a non-violent resolution to the situation.’
‘Non-violent my arse,’ Rick said. ‘That woman would like nothing better than to personally put a bullet in my head.’
‘Have you secured the release of any hostages yet?’ James asked.
‘Yes, we’ve managed to get one person out,’ DI Conway declared proudly.
James Harding signed off, and it cut back to the studio where the anchor then tossed, with grave solemnity, to an advert for cat food that was supposed to cure your feline of the shits.
‘Did you hear her? She didn’t secure shit,’ Rick complained. ‘I decided to let that old bird go. Me. She’s not in charge of anything. I am.’ He turned to Ashley. ‘Aren’t I?’
Ashley nodded. ‘Sure, yeah.’
‘How did you think it went?’ he asked the room. ‘The interview, I mean?’
No one said anything. ‘Answer the question!’ he barked, placing his hand on the gun on the table.
‘Good!’ squeaked the office worker with the birthday badge.
‘Yeah?’ Rick asked.
‘Yeah, man. You looked tough,’ one of the bros said shakily.
‘Who said I wanna look tough?’ Rick asked.
The bro couldn’t seem to find an answer. But then his friend said, ‘Don’t listen to him. His dad gave him a serious case of toxic masculinity.’
Bro One’s head whipped around. ‘What?’
‘You know it’s true,’ Bro Two said. ‘You’re way too macho.’
‘Greg, you’re just saying that because I beat you in that arm wrestle.’
‘You’re just proving my point, Sam,’ Greg sighed.
‘Can we get back to my interview?’ Rick demanded irritably.
‘I thought you seemed really sympathetic,’ said a young woman in chef whites. Anyone could have seen she was lying through her teeth—anyone except Rick. ‘You think so?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. That story about your son was… really, err… sad.’
‘Which bit?’ Rick pressed with slight desperation.
‘Err, the bit where…’ the chef started. Gina could see she was struggling and jumped in. ‘That you lost access through no fault of your own,’ she lied.
Rick nodded. ‘Yeah. It was sad. His mum’s a right bitch.’
Gina nodded with all the sympathy she could fake. ‘She sounds it.’
Rick looked down for a moment, seeming gloomy. Until he heard a sound outside that interested him. You couldn’t miss it. It was the sound of cars, a lot of them. ‘Go and have a look out of the window,’ Rick said to no one in particular.
‘Who?’ Ashley asked him.
‘I think you’ve just volunteered yourself,’ he said.
Ashley got up slowly and walked across the room, throwing a slightly worried glance at Gina. Gina knew what was concerning her. Rick had been prophesying that the second his head hovered into the crosshairs of a sniper’s gun… Bang. No more head. If that was true, what if another head appeared and the sniper acted without thinking? Gina found her own worry growing. ‘Hey, Rick, maybe we should stay away from the windows for now? Like you said?’
Rick snorted. ‘You worried about your girlfriend?’
‘She’s not my girlfriend,’ Ashley and Gina protested in perfect synchronicity.
‘It was just a joke, fucking hell,’ Rick retorted. ‘And no, she’s going. They won’t touch her, I’d bet big money.’
Gina gave an apologetic shrug to Ashley, now standing tensely at the blind. Ashley shook her head forgivingly as she took a ragged breath before twitching up a blind.
Gina squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing happened. She opened her eyes to see Ashley bracing herself as she looked out of the window. After a moment, whatever fear Ashley had been feeling had obviously evaporated. ‘Oh,’ she said.
‘What?’ Rick asked, on tenterhooks.
Ashley sighed. ‘The nationals. They’re here.’
Rick began to beam. ‘What? All the big stations? They’ve come to put me on?’
‘Yep,’ Ashley noted. ‘I can make them out at the end of the road, behind the barrier. A fleet of vans. I can just about see a couple of logos. One of them is definitely Channel Seven. Bastards.’
‘Why are they bastards?’ Rick asked.
‘They turned me down for an interview,’ Ashley told him.
Rick shook his head and grinned. ‘I don’t give a shit. They’re here, they’ve come. That copper’s got the eyes of the nation on ‘er now. She won’t dare make a move on me.’
Ashley dropped the blind and turned to Rick. ‘OK, well, might this be a good time to maybe…’
‘What?’ Rick asked.
‘Let some people go?’ Ashley asked.
The room turned as one to Rick. The hope in their eyes was shining. Rick saw it too. He heaved a large sigh. ‘I guess I could let two or three go,’ he said generously.
All the hostages began to smile at Rick, trying to make themselves look extra releasable. Rick cast his eye across them, biting the inside of his cheek. ‘Mmm. Let’s see.’
The middle-aged dad cleared his throat. ‘Can… can you let my daughter go?’
The girl was mortified. ‘Dad, don’t be so embarrassing.’
The guy looked at his daughter. ‘How am I being embarrassing?’
‘You’re just… God, it’s just so entitled. Why am I more worthy than anyone else?’
‘Lily, you’re the youngest person in the room. You’ve got your whole life in front of you.’
‘I’m about the same age as that waiter,’ she said, jabbing a thumb at a guy in a waistcoat with bum fluff on his chin.
‘You’re sixteen!’ her dad said.
‘Oi, how old are you?’ Lily asked the waiter.
‘Seventeen,’ the kid said.
‘See, he’s got his life in front of him too. Why aren’t you begging for him to get out?’ Lily asked insolently.
‘Jesus fucking Christ, does everything have to be an argument?’ her dad said with deep exasperation.
‘I just think it’s classic Boomer bullshit,’ Lily said.
‘If you’re gonna criticise me, at least be correct. I’m Gen X.’
‘Well, you think like a Boomer.’
‘This is about the divorce, isn’t it?’ her dad said angrily.
