Agent Provocateur (14 page)

Whatever Betty had done it wasn’t enough. Blonde Grace looked like something off the cover of
Vogue
. Again, Betty felt anger ripping through her. How would any man (apart from Johnny) resist her? It just wasn’t right. The whole premise of testing men like that – being paid to test men – was wrong, and it was certainly wrong for Grace to ensure she looked as stunning as she could. She obviously had an ego to support and that ego meant that she had to prove that no man could resist her. Betty felt her anger well up once again.

‘Hello,’ Grace said, as if butter wouldn’t melt. She had decided, once again, to ignore Betty’s earlier outbreak, putting it down to the fact that Betty was not only a bitch, but that she felt threatened by Grace’s job. She wondered if her husband had cheated on her, or if she was scared that he would. Perhaps she was not the self-assured person that Grace saw. However, she still found it hard to have any sympathy for her.

‘Do you want a drink or shall we get going?’ Betty replied, in a friendly manner.

‘We can go. He should be there by now.’ They smiled weakly at each other as they got up to leave.

They walked in silence. It was only five minutes away, but the silence seemed to increase the distance. As Grace opened the door, Betty noted that the place seemed to be full of the same type of people as the bar had the previous night.

‘Are they all like this?’ she asked, as if she were looking at an army rather than a random collection of people.

‘This bar serves a number of city businesses, that’s all. This is the after work trade. Most leave by about ten.’

‘Have you seen him yet?’ Betty couldn’t help but feel caught up by what they were there to do. Even though she disapproved, she still felt a tiny bit excited. It was the same feeling that she’d had the previous evening, when she had been so absorbed by what was happening. However, because it was against her principles to find honey trapping anything but dreadful, she ignored her interest.

‘Not yet. Why don’t you sit down first, and I’ll go to the bar?’

‘I thought I was going to observe you and pretend I didn’t know you.’

‘No, new plan. You’re here with me, my friend, and you will be a part of it.’ Betty was surprised but she didn’t get a chance to argue, and Grace went to the bar and ordered two glasses of champagne. Betty found a table quite easily; the people in the bar seemed to prefer to stand.

‘OK, he’s leaning at the bar with another man. He’s wearing a grey suit; the friend is in beige chinos and a white shirt.’

Betty looked over at the bar and spotted the man in grey. ‘So what now?’ She was nervous and worried.

‘First, we drink these. There’s no rush.’

Betty eyed the ‘victim’ again, and noticed that he was already glancing in their direction. But then so were most of the men in the bar.

‘He’s looking over.’

‘They often do.’

‘What, because of you?’ Again Betty’s voice was too harsh.

‘No, because we are the only two women in this bar without male companions, and that makes us a spectacle. That was all I meant.’ The frosty atmosphere between them resumed. ‘And normally I am on my own, which draws more attention,’ Grace continued.

Betty sipped her champagne. She felt uncomfortable; she should walk out. But for some reason she stayed.

When their glasses were emptied, Grace went to the bar and arranged for drinks to be sent over to the ‘grey man’, as she had christened him. She told the barman to give him another drink of whatever he was drinking, and the same for his companion.

‘You did what?’ Betty screamed when Grace told her. Although Grace had outlined her plan, Betty didn’t believe she was serious, especially as now she was embroiled in the situation.

‘Well, obviously I would have done the same if I was on my own, and if they had come over then I would have made it clear who I was interested in. It’s just that now you are here and I thought that maybe you could help. It will make it far more interesting for the article.’ Grace couldn’t help the slight smirk on her face. That would teach Betty for condemning her.

Betty realised at that point that she truly hated Grace.

‘Honey, it’s just work. Next week you’ll be chasing another story and you’ll have forgotten her.’ Johnny strokes Betty’s hair, and holds her. He is bemused because she is normally known for her tolerance.

‘I have three more days of this, three whole days. Shit, I’ll end up killing her, I just know I will.’

‘Eddie, she’s a bitch.’

Grace called Eddie and persuaded him to come over; she wanted to vent her anger. Eddie didn’t take much persuading.

‘What did she do?’ He pours two whiskies.

‘Oh, she’s just so high and mighty. You know, at first I thought we might be friends. Friends, some hope. It wasn’t long before the superior comments were spewing forth.’

‘Grace, calm down.’ He is pleased that she called him, but he knows that, yet again, she isn’t after his body.

Grace continues to seethe. The day was a disaster. Betty was so judgemental, and instead of asking questions she seemed keen to offer opinions. Every time Grace decided to ignore this and carry on, there would be another dig, or another thought, or a question that overstepped the mark. What hurt more than anything was that at times Betty seemed to be genuinely interested. She changed more often than the British weather, and that was something that Grace couldn’t understand. It hurt; it was bewildering.

That night, when Grace walked into the bar she couldn’t believe what Betty was wearing. On the first night she was surprised by the trendiness of the outfit. It seemed a little over the top for observing, but Grace deduced that Betty was trendy: that was just her. But that night she was all done up like a dog’s dinner and Grace couldn’t understand why. Trendy was one thing, but this was something else. She was sexy; or she looked sexy; or her clothes were sexy; or all three, and there was no call for that. Grace knew that had she not been working, but observing like Betty, she would have worn something comfortable, something that would enable her to slip into the background. But the way Betty looked – well, she was dressed as if she was going to be doing Grace’s job. This is why, in a fit of anger, Grace decided to make Betty her partner in crime. Teach her to have her own private agenda.

She knew there was a risk involved, a huge risk. Grace had no excuse if she lost her cool and put a job in jeopardy Betty could blow the job and then Nicole would kill her. But she went ahead anyway. Grace hated to think of herself as vindictive, but she had to accept that that was exactly how she was behaving. She was ashamed, but she was also determined.

It was worth it to see the look on her face. After Grace had sent the drinks over, they waited ten minutes before the men came to their table. Grace was pleased that the man she was hired to trap sat down next to her; she tried not to be too amused at the way his friend was drooling over Betty. He was truly a slimy human being, even more hideous than ‘grey man’. They all made small talk – apart from Betty, who sat rigid with shock. Anyone would have thought she had never seen a man before, and despite the fact that she was working and this was probably the most unprofessional job of her life, Grace was enjoying every moment. As she was taping the event, she was actually quite grateful for Betty’s silence, although she had already decided to tell Nicole that Betty had wanted to help. Serve her right for her comments. How dare she imply that Grace was a tart and a marriage wrecker? How dare she imply that she enjoyed foisting misery on her clients? How dare she look down her snooty nose at her? Well, now she was being taught a lesson and Grace felt empowered. She was not being bullied.

Grace knew she was probably being oversensitive, but she disliked Betty’s type: the smug woman who has a fabulous job, wardrobe and man. Everything Betty said to her felt like a criticism and Grace didn’t know how to deal with that.

Finally, after lots of flirting on everyone’s part except Betty’s, the men suggested dinner. Betty looked as if she was going to cry. Grace had been steering the conversation with the client’s partner, while trying not to laugh at Betty. The man drooling over Betty had been talking to her whilst undressing her with his eyes, and seemed delighted with her monosyllabic answers. But Grace knew she had a job to do, and fun as it was tormenting superior Betty, she couldn’t do it any longer.

‘Sorry, but we really must go. Maybe some other time?’ Grace said. To say Betty looked relieved is a huge understatement.

‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you?’ ‘Grey man’ had his hand on Grace’s leg and was stroking her thigh. Grace leant in close. She had his proposition on tape, but clients usually preferred to have a bit more than a dinner invite.

‘Personally I would love nothing better, but unfortunately we really must go.’ Despite the fact that grey suit was a major sleaze who was trying to cheat (Grace believed that thigh stroking constituted cheating), she was a tiny bit turned on. Whether that was a combination of what she had done to Betty and the feeling standing up to bullies gave her, she did not know.

‘Can’t you take her home and then come and play?’ He whispered this in her ear, but luckily her wire would pick it up.

‘Well, maybe I could.’ Grace winked at Betty, who couldn’t hear their conversation. ‘How about I drop you home?’ Grace was looking at ‘grey man’ seductively as she said this. She needed him to proposition her properly. ‘So, where do I go after I’ve dropped her off?’

‘How about home?’

‘Sure, I could go home.’

‘And I could meet you there after dinner.’

‘Sounds perfect.’ He was still running his hand up and down her thigh.

‘Give me your address.’ Grace gave him a fictional address in a different part of London. She didn’t want to risk bumping into him again. Then she left, blowing him a kiss goodbye. Yet another cheater caught.

They left and hailed a cab.

‘I didn’t like that,’ Betty said. Grace deduced this was an understatement.

‘What?’ Grace felt as if she’d had some revenge. She smiled generously.

‘Being made to feel like a piece of meat.’ Betty was a petulant child.

‘Betty, it’s my job. You’re shadowing me. You need never get involved again. Next time just watch me from a distance.’ Grace felt a tiny bit guilty. ‘I thought you might enjoy it, or not enjoy it, but I thought it would give you more of an idea of what I do. A proper insight.’

‘Oh, it gave me that all right.’

‘Anyway, at least you didn’t have his hand on your leg.’

‘No.’ Betty lost her fight.

‘No, you didn’t, and I was being paid to catch him out which, Betty, is what I did.’

Betty nodded, as the taxi pulled up outside Grace’s block.

‘See you tomorrow then,’ Grace said as she got out, giving Betty money. Her mind was already on Eddie, whom she intended to see, to get Betty out of her head.

"I’ll be looking forward to it,’ Betty lied.

Later, as Betty tries to sleep, tossing and turning while Johnny gently snores next to her, she cannot get the honey trap woman out of her head. And over in her flat, Grace is watching Eddie, who didn’t try to have sex with her and is now asleep, and she is wondering if she really is the bad person that Betty thinks she is. Does she deliberately drape herself over the men? Is she nothing more than a tart? Looking at Eddie, and thinking of Oliver, Grace, in the midst of sleeplessness, can only conclude the answer is yes.

Chapter Eleven

Day Three.

Betty gets out of bed with far less enthusiasm than on the previous days, which means none. She looks out of the window and sees it is raining. Johnny has already left for work, and she knows she should be going too, but she feels lethargic so she goes to make herself a coffee and she drinks it in bed. She is later than she should be, but she doesn’t care. She is sure that Grace won’t be eagerly waiting for her. And if she is, after last night’s stunt, then she can wait.

Grace nudges Eddie awake. She forgot to set her alarm and she notices that it is already nine o’clock. Although Betty isn’t due until ten, she still feels late and disorientated.

‘Eddie, wake up.’

‘Why?’ He looks adorable as he snuggles into Grace.

‘Because she’ll be here soon.’

‘How soon?’ He yawns and then he reaches over and kisses Grace.

‘An hour.’

‘Now, I don’t know about you but I don’t call that soon.’ Grace’s protests are drowned out by his kisses.

Betty stands at the door, pressing the buzzer with one hand while negotiating her bag and umbrella with the other. She feels damp and cold, even though the rain is quite warm. Her mac makes her feel dowdy, and her hair is wilting. She knows that once it has dried again, it will frizz up and she’ll look pale (her make-up has evaporated in the rain), with a bad Afro hairstyle. She feels depressed. Even more so than earlier.

‘Shit, she’ll see you here.’ Grace wakes to the sound of her buzzer. She had fallen asleep again. She jumps out of bed and shouts at Eddie, ‘And you’re naked.’

He is amused.

‘Shit.’ Grace grabs her bathrobe and runs to the door. She is angry with herself. Not only is she behaving in a totally unprofessional manner, but she is also giving Betty more fuel for disapproval. Worst of all is the fact that she cares about what she thinks. She didn’t want to.

Betty is pressing the buzzer again, getting angrier, but praying that she never answers the door, when Grace answers the intercom.

‘Sorry,’ she says, breathlessly, letting her in. She opens the door and prays for a miracle.

‘Hello.’ Betty looks at Grace in surprise, which Grace assumes is mocking.

‘I’m sorry. I overslept.’ Grace is at a loss as to what to say, and she has no idea why she feels as
if
she
has been caught doing something she shouldn’t. This is her flat, it is her profile, she is doing Betty a favour – her new mantra, developed last night when trying to sleep. But she still feels as if she is in the wrong.