Heller's Revenge (17 page)

The waiter cleared away my plate
and I smiled and thanked him again. I noticed that I was the only
one to do so. Clarrie didn’t even move out of the way, and the poor
man had to reach awkwardly over his shoulder to retrieve his plate.
That made me dislike Clarrie even more. I was always polite to
waiters, as I had worked as one myself for a while and I knew that
it is always nice for your work to be acknowledged, no matter what
you did.

The speeches commenced and
coffee was served. And I’m sure that was no coincidence. There were
at least ten people lined up to speak, each as ponderously dull as
the previous. It was one of the longest hours of my life and I
spent the time lewdly fantasising alternately about Will and
Heller, stifling huge yawns and imbibing weak, bitter caffeine by
the cupful. Perhaps M was the organiser of the ceremony and his
evil plan was to bore Clarrie to death slowly, along with all the
other unfortunates in the room with him?

After the last speaker, I gave a
silent rousing cheer, clapped politely and took the opportunity for
a quick visit to the ladies. Five cups of coffee in a row can have
that effect on a woman. I rushed back, afraid that something had
happened to Clarrie while I was gone, imagining that the assassin
had taken their chance to strike at him while my imposing
protection was absent. But of course everything was the same on my
return. I laughed to myself at my vain delusion.

The annual awards section of the
program commenced and to my incredibly uninterested eyes, it
appeared as though every geek in the room received an award for
something. I heaved an enormous sigh and shifted in my seat
uncomfortably, convinced that even my butt had fallen asleep with
boredom. I started wishing that M would suddenly appear with a
machete and start hacking his way through the guests, just for the
excitement factor.

There was a gap between those
awards and Clarrie’s presentation while everyone waited for the
Prime Minister to arrive. I exchanged wry glances with the nearest
of the
Heller’s
men. He was a man I’d never worked with
before, rugged-looking with amazing light eyes with a dark ring
around the iris that I’m sure I would have remembered had we met
previously. He unsuccessfully stifled a yawn, which set me off
again as well. There was such an incredible amount of boredom
involved in being a security officer. You really had to be a calm,
patient type of person to survive. And that reduced my chances of
longevity in the job, because I was neither calm nor patient.

A flurry at the entrance of the
ballroom announced the Prime Minister’s arrival. There was a stir
of anticipation amongst the guests and Clarrie fidgeted nervously.
The Prime Minister was rushed immediately to the stage where he
gave a witty, erudite, and blessedly brief speech lauding Clarrie,
his career and his accomplishments. He invited Clarrie to the
stage, presented him with his award – an abstract statuette not
representational of anything I could fathom – and led a genuine and
enthusiastic round of applause from the audience.

Clarrie was suitably abashed and
gave a rather touching little speech about how much it meant to him
to be recognised in his home country. He explained how the concept
for
Synonymy
had been hatched during his long nights of
study at the city’s premier university where he’d earned his IT
degree. He was humble, grateful, charming and a huge success. For a
brief moment I almost, and I stress the
almost
part, felt
proud to be his companion for the evening. He received a standing
ovation that lasted for two full minutes. I was forced to join in,
rising to my feet reluctantly, feeling it would be wrong to be his
date and also to be the only one not applauding his achievements.
I’m obliged to do a lot for my job.

In the flurry of congratulations
afterwards, Clarrie introduced me to the Prime Minister who grasped
my hand firmly, looked up at me keenly in the eye and said
something extremely clever (which I can’t remember for the life of
me). And I swear I’m not making this up, he also had a quick perv
at my boobs before leaving. And then it was all over. No M, no
drama, no tragedy. I shrugged at the
Heller’s
men and they
shrugged back. That’s the way it goes sometimes. False alarm all
around.

Rumbles escorted Clarrie and me
back to the hotel suite, scanning all the rooms before giving us
the all clear. I told him that I could handle it from here,
solemnly shaking his hand for his help, making him chuckle as I
always did. When he left, I poured myself a very large glass of
wine before flopping down on the lounge, carelessly kicking off my
expensive shoes. Clarrie poured himself a stiff whiskey and flopped
down next to me.

“That went really well, Clarrie.
You must be pleased. Your speech was great. Congratulations,” I
said sincerely, offering an olive branch.

His responding smile was slimy
and I didn’t care for the lecherous look on his face that
accompanied it.

“Tilly,” he said, his pupils
dilated with desire, leaning towards me. “Can’t we be friends?
You’re so hot tonight in that dress. Can’t we just –”

“Stop!” I insisted, my hands up
to repel him. “Remember what I said on our first night. I meant it.
Do
not
try to touch me.”

“Well, you shouldn’t dress like
that then,” he sulked. “It makes men go crazy. Every man was
looking at you tonight. Every one of them jealous of me, imagining
I’d be fucking your brains out right now. If only they knew what a
frigid bitch you really are.”

“Tough shit, Clarrie. I’m not
here to help you overcome your small-dick personality
problems.”

“You are
such
a
bitch.”

“Please remind me when you’re
flying out?”

“Tomorrow evening. Very
late.”

“Thank God for that! I’m sick of
the sight of you.”

“I’m going to bed.”

“Sweet dreams, princess.”

“Fuck off, cow.”

Chapter 12

In my room, I removed my dress
and makeup, brushed my teeth, slipped on the singlet top and boxers
that I always wore to bed and flicked on the bedroom TV to catch
the late news. I sprang up in bed with horror when I saw my boobs
on TV, larger than life.
What the hell?
There must have been
a TV camera at the ceremony amongst all the photographers that I
hadn’t noticed, because there I was on TV with Clarrie, his arm
clamped possessively around my waist, shaking hands with the Prime
Minister and laughing sycophantically at whatever he was saying to
me. I was practically bursting out of the dress. It was only sheer
luck that I didn’t have a wardrobe malfunction during the
night.

God, how embarrassing!
I
hoped nobody I knew was watching.

I turned off the TV and switched
on my mobile. There were a few text messages and voicemails.

yr tits look great on tv! the
pm even had a perv! whos the little creep with u?
texted
Dixie.

Niq texted
, tilly’s on
telly!

porn star boobs! (*)(*),
texted Daniel.

Then to the voicemail
messages.

Tilly, it’s Mum. I just saw you
on the news meeting the Prime Minister. I didn’t like that dress at
all. Where on earth did you buy it from? Your poor Dad nearly had a
heart attack when he saw you. And what were you doing with that
little man? I thought your boyfriend’s name was Will. Call me
please.

Hi Tilly, it’s Will. Umm, this
might sound weird, but I think I just saw you on TV with the PM.
But you were with some IT guy. It probably wasn’t you, but if it
was, then WOW! But what were you doing with that man? He looked
very friendly with you. I thought you were working. Call me when
you get a chance. Love you.

There were a couple of other
messages too from assorted family members, all effectively with the
same message: Tilly’s tits were on TV.

My phone rang. I knew it would
be Heller even before I looked. He’s the only person I knew who
would ring me so late.

“Hello,” I answered, my voice
even.

“Everything went well tonight I
hear, my sweet. No trouble?”

“No trouble at all.”

“My men tell me that you looked
very beautiful.”

I laughed with self-deprecation.
“You can see for yourself. You can see a lot of me, actually. I was
on the news.”

“I know, I saw it. I even
recorded it to have another look later.” Silence from me. “The
dress you wore was very . . . striking. I liked it.”

“It certainly garnered me some
attention.”

“Mr Cockburn looked very
appreciative.”

“Hmm. I had to put him back in
his box afterwards. Then he called me a frigid bitch.”

“Well, we all know that’s not
true.”

“Do we?”

He laughed, a very sexy low
growl. I had that funny feeling in my stomach every time he did
that. I really couldn’t wait to see him again. But right now I
yawned.

“I’ve gotta get some sleep.
Clarrie’s flying out late tomorrow evening, so I’ll just catch a
cab home after I’ve made absolutely sure that he’s left the
country.”

“Okay. Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Heller.”

I flopped back onto my pillow,
turned out the light and fell asleep immediately, despite the
caffeine. I slept soundly until I was woken up by a noise at my
doorway, which I realised I’d stupidly forgotten to lock. Lying
motionless so as to appear as though I was still sleeping, I
watched the door slowly open and the silhouette of a figure appear
in the doorway. I recognised the shape and sat up in
exasperation.

“Clarrie, get the hell out of my
room now, or I
will
break your knob into two separate
pieces. And I am
not
joking!”

He continued to advance
tentatively.

“Tilly,” he said nervously.

“Did you hear me? I told you to
get out!”

“Tilly, please,” he trembled and
then I noticed that he wasn’t alone. There was another silhouette
behind him, a taller, bulkier shadow, following closely. I tensed
in alarm.

“Clarrie?”

“He has a gun, Tilly. He said
he’s going to kill me.”

I addressed the shadow. “M?”

There was a low chuckle from the
shadow. “Yes.”

“Do you have a name, M?
Something else I can call you?”

Shadow prodded Clarrie viciously
in the back with the gun. He yelped in fear or pain. “Why don’t you
ask this little cocksucker? He knows who I am.”

“Clarrie?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I
swear!”

Shadow hit him cruelly in the
head, knocking him to the ground. “Fucking liar! I should just
shoot you right now.” He pointed the gun at Clarrie cowering on the
floor. “But I won’t. That would spoil my fun. Get up! And you.”
Pointing the gun at me. “Get out of bed. I want you both in the
living room.”

We did as we were told and
walked to the living room. Once there, he pointed the gun at me and
made me tie Clarrie up to one of the dining chairs with some strong
rope that he’d brought with him. When I’d finished, he checked the
knots to make sure I’d tied them properly. Clarrie was very scared,
his eyes huge with fright, sweat dotting his brow.

“You can sit on the lounge. And
behave yourself, or else Clarrie dies.”

I sat down obediently. I took in
as many details about him as possible, but he was wearing a black
balaclava and had on bulky black clothes that made it difficult to
judge his features and body type.

“What’s your name?”

“Tilly.”

“Tilly. That’s pretty. I like
that. What are you doing here with him? You’re in different
bedrooms, so I guess you’re not his girlfriend. But you were with
him at the ceremony. What’s the relationship?”

“He’s paying me to escort him,
and to do . . . other things. I insisted on my own room. He snores
and farts all night.”

Shadow laughed and looked over
at Clarrie scornfully. “God, what a complete loser! You have to pay
women to fuck you, don’t you? You always were a tosser, Clarrie.”
Clarrie reddened. Shadow looked back at me. “I bet he’s a dud
root.”

I nodded and smiled a little. I
was starting to like Shadow. “I call him the one minute man.”

Shadow chuckled. “I think we’re
going to get along just fine, Tilly. I’ve no beef with you, so
won’t hurt you as long as you do what you’re told. Understand?”

I nodded compliantly, and tried
to make my eyes look innocent and even bigger. “Yes, Mr M.”

“So why weren’t you welcoming to
him when I forced him into your room?”

“He said something unflattering
to me after we had sex tonight.” I almost gagged saying that. “He
wasn’t gentlemanly. I was angry with him and told him to stay away
from me for the rest of the night. I was ropable when I saw him in
my room. I thought he was coming back for seconds.”

“How long have you been his
escort?”

“Two weeks. Since he came to
town. And I can tell you that it’s been about one week and six days
too long.”

Shadow chuckled again. “Working
your charm again, Clarrie, I see. You really are a loser, aren’t
you?”

Clarrie glared at him
spitefully. “Tell me which one of us is the billionaire, Milt, and
which one isn’t? And then tell me who’s the loser.”

“
Milt?
So you do know
him! I knew you were lying to me, you little turd!” I rounded on
Clarrie.

“Lying is what he does best
though, isn’t it, Clarrie?” Milt taunted and took off his
balaclava. I gasped with surprise in a
Scooby-Doo
moment.

“Hey! You were the waiter who
served us at the ceremony. I remember your face.”

“Thank you for noticing, Tilly.
Not many people bother to notice their waiters at an event like
that. Cockhead over there certainly didn’t. He’s too up himself to
notice a mere waiter. Didn’t even notice his oldest friend although
I was right under his nose.”