Turning Up the Heat

by Ashley Lister

  Her aging laptop finally booted. While she was waiting for it to find a wireless connection Trudy placed a cup beneath the espresso machine. She opted for an Americano this morning. She was already alert and wired and beyond the need for the caffeine rush of a regular espresso. The diluted buzz of an Americano struck her as being what her body needed. With a drink in hand, and listening to the comforting groans, wheezes and protests of the laptop’s internal components, she opened a news page.

  Bill’s image was all over the news feed.

  He did look handsome in his tuxedo and she could understand why Charlotte had used the word ‘dapper’. Perhaps it wasn’t a particularly modern word but it summed up his gruff masculinity contained within the formal elegance of evening wear. Looking at him she would not have been surprised to see him burst into a tap-dancing routine.

  She smiled at his picture, stroked fond fingers against the image on the screen, and then shook her head. Charlotte had said there was bad news to go along with the good news. She checked out the rest of the news feed and was shocked to discover her own image, and Charlotte’s, featuring heavily in the news.

  ‘What the …?’

  The first image she found was the picture that Harvey had asked her to get to accompany her newspaper column. It was an image of Trudy smiling winsomely into the camera and trying to look appealing, inviting, knowledgeable but approachable. The picture had been taken by Daryl on a Sunday afternoon at Boui-Boui and, Trudy thought, it was one of those rare images of herself that made her look attractive. However, she didn’t like seeing it on the front page of a newspaper beneath a damning banner headline.

  Next to Trudy’s picture there was a graduation shot of Charlotte.

  Even though it had been less than twelve months since they graduated, Charlotte looked impossibly young in the image. Her smile seemed innocent and bright and her eyes shone with the prospect of worlds yet to be conquered. Her dark hair was hidden beneath her mortarboard and she brandished the scroll of her degree with obvious triumph. There was a fading V above the bridge of her nose, as though the photographer had snapped the image just after Charlotte had finished scowling.

  Trudy would have grinned at Charlotte’s picture if not for the gratuitous banner headline and strapline.

  LIVING WITH THE SWEET TEMPTATION BITCHES

  The food was good but the sex was great

  ‘Donny,’ Trudy hissed. It couldn’t have been written by anyone else.

  She pressed a link and opened one of the stories. Her eyes grew wide as she read the content. If the story had landed on a Sunday, she suspected the material would have earned a double-page spread. Fortunately, with this being a midweek issue, she and Charlotte were a front-page exclamation and little else. She scanned the article, which was nothing short of a kiss-and-tell piece with lots of innuendo and very little fact.

  It was true that the three of them had shared a house called Eldorado when they were studying. But they had had separate rooms and they had lived relatively separate lives. Admittedly, they were studying similar subjects and occasionally helped each other during private study sessions. But the article made it sound as though they had all slept in the same bed and constantly engaged in a series of torrid sexual shenanigans.

  Of course, it was true that Donny had entertained a small handful of female friends. He was handsome and popular at university and seldom short of admirers. It was also true that six months earlier Donny and Charlotte had been involved in a brief, messy and rather tawdry fling.

  But their lives at Eldorado had never been the constant orgy that the article was suggesting. From what she remembered of that time, their lives had been dominated by relentless hours of study and the occasional plan to take over the world of catering. Tears of fury glazed her vision. For a moment she was only able to read the subheadings that littered the article.

  A different partner every night

  Three-in-a-bed romps

  Three star food: Five star sex

  She scowled angrily at the untruths in the piece. It hurt to think that Donny could make up such stories and pass them off as his version of the truth. It hurt to think that people would now believe she was some sort of sexual deviant. Tears brimmed on her eyelids, and she squeezed her eyes closed in an effort to blink them away. She refused to give Donny the satisfaction of making her shed a single tear.

  Her telephone rang.

  She answered without looking at the screen and made a determined effort not to let any trace of upset show in her voice. ‘Charlotte?’

  ‘No. It’s Harvey.’

  She didn’t ask him how he had known that she’d be awake. She didn’t ask him how he had known that she needed to talk to him about this story. It was enough that he was there on the other end of the line.

  ‘There’s a story in the news this morning,’ she began.

  ‘I know. That’s why I’m calling.’

  ‘What can I do about it?’

  ‘Not a lot.’

  ‘But it’s not true. None of it.’

  ‘It doesn’t need to be true to be in a newspaper.’

  ‘Thank you for that piece of cynical wisdom. What can I do about it?’

  She paused, suddenly worried for Bill. Had he seen the article? Did he think that she had done all of those things with Donny that the article claimed? That she’d been involved in some way in the creation of the article? And that perhaps she was trying to upstage his accomplishment at the previous night’s awards ceremony? Her heartbeat raced and nervousness made her tighten her grip on the phone.

  ‘What does Bill think about this?’ she demanded.

  ‘It’s five-thirty in the morning,’ Harvey said. ‘I doubt Billy’s awake yet.’

  ‘I thought you two were in the same hotel?’

  ‘Yes. But we’re not in the same room.’ Harvey sighed and added, ‘When Billy does see this, I suspect he’ll want to punch Donny’s lights out.’ He lowered his voice and added, ‘And, if Billy does get close to Donny, unless that lad is a specialist in some form of martial arts, I certainly don’t fancy his chances. Billy will tear his head off.’

  Trudy didn’t think Harvey was exaggerating.

  ‘Do you think Bill will be angry with me?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. Why would he be angry with you?’

  ‘Doesn’t this story make it look as though I’m one of Donny’s “Sweet Temptation Bitches”?’

  Harvey chuckled. It was not an unpleasant sound but still, Trudy didn’t like the idea that Harvey might be laughing at her expense.

  ‘Stop laughing,’ she told him. ‘This isn’t nice.’

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘It’s not nice. But there’s no reason why you should think that Billy would be angry with you. He may come from Yorkshire but he’s not as thick as he sounds. You’re the victim in this situation. Donny has made up these lies and he’s clearly trying to cause you distress. I was laughing at the idea of Billy being angry with you because of this nonsense. Don’t you know how much he cares for you?’

  She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Despite her best efforts she had been on the brink of bursting into tears. It helped that even Harvey was aware how much Bill cared for her. She closed her eyes for a moment and, when she opened them, felt a little more confident.

  ‘What can I do about this, Harvey? How can I stop Donny from telling lies like this?’

  ‘Don’t do anything today. If we respond today it will give the story another day’s life. Right now, we don’t want to let it live any longer than necessary.’

  ‘OK,’ Trudy agreed. ‘But then what?’

  She could hear the sound of him scratching something on a notepad in the background. ‘I need to talk to you about your public image but I assume you’ll be happy to promote yourself as a wholesome young woman, a career chef and an entrepreneur.’

  She wondered why he made no mention of the fact that she was in a relationship with a celebrity chef, and then figured it was because Harvey t
hought she should be building a career based on her own accomplishments.

  ‘What you said sounds a lot better than me being described as one of Donny’s “Sweet Temptation bitches”.’

  He chuckled. ‘I’ll get a couple of features lined up with my contacts so we can promote your wholesome identity. In the meantime, you’ve still got that radio show today. Don’t let them draw you on the subject of this morning’s article. Tell them that’s not what you’re there to discuss.’

  ‘I’ll tell them that,’ she sighed. ‘Will they listen?’

  ‘I’ll call Kevin personally and remind him why you’re going there.’

  Trudy could feel her hand gripping the phone too tightly. This was something else to worry about before she appeared on the radio show. Nervousness began to make her morning’s Americano churn uneasily in her stomach. She could already feel the caffeine making her system jittery. She wiped her eyes and resisted the urge to cry.

  ‘This morning,’ Harvey went on, ‘you need to get in touch with Charlotte and tell her to prepare for another busy day. She won’t have you working with her this afternoon, you’re on the radio. But Donny’s article is going to generate another load of publicity for Sweet Temptation. If she thought yesterday was busy, she’s going to be amazed by the way today’s orders will go through the roof.’

  Trudy was sceptical. ‘Do you really think that’s going to happen?’

  ‘I know that’s going to happen. There’s no such thing as bad publicity. Sweet Temptation are going to reap the rewards of Donny’s kiss-and-tell.’

  If he was right, she supposed it would be a small benefit. But, if she’d been given a choice, Trudy would have preferred that the embarrassing untruths of Donny’s story had never made it to the newspaper.

  ‘It might also be an idea to tell Aliceon to expect an influx of calls,’ he went on. ‘Billy won last night and it seemed like a popular victory. Boui-Boui will be all over the news and the advance orders are likely to go into the next decade.’

  ‘Aliceon,’ Trudy agreed.

  At the back of her mind she thought she would contact Aliceon first and, if the maître d’ still seemed distracted by her personal problems, Trudy figured she would bring in Nikki for an early start.

  ‘Is that everything?’ she asked.

  ‘That’s it for now. Leave me to try and instigate some damage control. Just don’t talk to any newspapers or reporters unless I’m nearby to help. I’m your agent and that’s what I’m there for, understood?’

  She told him she understood. Then the line was severed without any further pleasantries. Trudy sipped the remnants of her coffee slowly, reading the article for a third time and wondering how Donny thought he could get away with publishing such obvious lies. She wondered if it would be easier to give in to his demands and let him have the third of the company that he so clearly craved.

  Chapter 16

  Daryl was driving again. She had collected Trudy from Boui-Boui and now, as they drove towards the radio station, she negotiated the lunchtime roads and Charlotte’s Audi with masterful confidence. The radio was tuned to the station she would be broadcasting from. Occasionally, between commercials and following some songs, there were announcements about what would be happening later in the afternoon. Trudy’s stomach muscles tightened when she heard her name mentioned. The announcements reinforced a message that she had been trying not to acknowledge: she was going to be on the radio.

  The thought was unnerving and threatened to turn her bowels to water.

  She wanted to turn the radio off but she knew that Daryl would think she was being rude. Daryl was humming a tuneless accompaniment to a successful boy-band tune and Trudy didn’t want to spoil her entertainment.

  She drummed her fingers impatiently on the box of muffins she’d brought with her. On top of the box was a small manila folder that contained the recipe she planned to read on the show. Her stomach folded again as she realised what she was going to do: read a recipe on the radio. Who the hell would listen to something so banal? She cleared her throat, desperately needing to talk rather than sit in silence.

  ‘Is Charlotte OK this morning?’ she asked Daryl.

  ‘She seemed quite chipper, considering the article.’

  Chipper? Earlier this morning Trudy had heard Charlotte use the word ‘dapper’. Now Daryl was describing Charlotte as ‘chipper’. Had everyone moved their vocabulary back to the nineteenth century? When did people of today start using ‘dapper’ and ‘chipper’?

  ‘Chipper? What do you mean?’

  ‘I think it’s the new boyfriend.’

  ‘Have you met him?’

  ‘She’s keeping him a big secret. Whoever he is, he’s certainly making Charlotte happy.’

  ‘It’s what she needs,’ Trudy agreed.

  She wondered again if the new boyfriend could possibly be Donny. She thought of asking Daryl and then realised it would sound ridiculous.

  Admittedly, Charlotte had not yet said anything about her new boyfriend but that meant nothing. Trudy tried to remember if she had ever heard Charlotte say anything detrimental about Donny. Considering all the upset he had caused, and the unhappiness he had brought to all of them, Trudy thought she would have remembered at least one angry outburst from Charlotte, cursing their former friend for his behaviour. But, curiously, she couldn’t recall her saying anything against him.

  Not that Charlotte’s absence of vitriol meant anything, Trudy thought. If anything it just proved that Charlotte was a decent person who didn’t harbour grudges or vent her spleen in pointless outbursts.

  Trudy told herself that her mind was panicked by the upcoming broadcast, and her chaotic thoughts were trying to make a connection between two unrelated facts. And, while she dearly wished she could push the notion aside and not believe there might be some truth in the ridiculous idea that Charlotte and Donny were an item again, she knew the thought was going to linger at the back of her mind.

  Her fingers drummed more impatiently on the lid of the muffin box. She tried to recall what level of insanity had made her think it would be a good idea to participate in a radio show where she was reading recipes and talking about baking.

  ‘Here we are,’ Daryl said, bringing the car to a halt. She leant across the gearstick and placed a gentle kiss on Trudy’s cheek. ‘Good luck with the show. I’m sure you won’t need it. But rest assured that I’ll be listening in. In fact, I’ll make sure everyone at Sweet Temptation is listening in.’

  ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘I want to do that.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Trudy said weakly.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted everyone from Sweet Temptation listening as she made a fool of herself on the radio. But she couldn’t think of a way to ask Daryl not to make them listen without sounding silly or churlish.

  She unfastened her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. She glanced uncertainly at her surroundings and decided not to comment on the fact that, instead of parking outside the radio station, Daryl had parked outside Melville’s, the restaurant next door.

  Melville’s was a prestigious town-centre restaurant. If it had been awarded another Michelin star, Trudy figured it might have proved a threat to Boui-Boui’s customer base. As it was, she simply knew the restaurant as a pleasant place to dine and somewhere she had occasionally waited tables while she was studying. She wondered idly if George Melville was still working as the head chef. He had been the one who interviewed her for the job. He’d been good enough to let her work at his front of house even though her CV had shown that her real interests lay in cooking rather than serving.

  A man stepped towards her.

  He took her elbow in one masterful hand. She tried to pull away and then glanced at him. Her smiled blossomed with relief when she saw who it was.

  ‘Bill!’

  ‘Ms McLaughlin.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ She goggled, unable to disguise her surprise at seeing him. ‘I thought you were i
n the city?’

  ‘Harvey dropped me off,’ he explained. ‘Although he expects me to make my own way back to the hotel. He had business to attend to here this morning. I cadged a lift off him because I wanted to see you before you did your radio broadcast. I thought you might be nervous. I wanted to help put your mind at ease.’

  She hugged him tight and hard. On the cold street, with her nose pressed against his chest, she could smell the sandalwood of his cologne. She could feel the firm, reliable hardness of his body. ‘That is so sweet,’ she whispered.

  ‘Aye,’ he agreed. ‘I’m a right good sort.’

  The words came out as Ahm a rate gud so-art.

  Trudy didn’t ask him to explain the phrase. She understood what he meant.

  He eased her from his arms and said, ‘I figured we could grab a bite to eat.’

  She checked her watch and realised Daryl had brought her to the radio station an hour early. She guessed that Bill had been in touch with Daryl or Charlotte and suggested getting her to Melville’s early for a surprise meeting. Privately, Trudy vowed to find out which of them was responsible for communicating with him so she could thank her. This was a lovely surprise.

  Bill escorted Trudy into the restaurant, where he was greeted with warmth and enthusiasm by George Melville. So was Trudy, the restaurateur remembered from the days when she had waited tables there. Melville even recalled a couple of anecdotes about Trudy’s poor skills as a waitress and he and Bill laughed together when he told of the time she’d blushed crimson because a customer had complained about his spotted dick.

  Trudy still felt a niggle of discomfort remembering that occasion. She smiled politely at Melville and tried not to look too relieved when they were shown to the privacy of a discreet corner booth.

  Melville’s was a sophisticated establishment. The surfaces were polished to a lacquered lustre. The silverware gleamed and every windowpane and mirror sparkled as though it had just been polished. The décor was predominantly black and silver and the waiting staff wore regal purple.