Model Guy (21 page)

 
"Oh, hi hon, you
still up?" she says, kicking off her shoes.

 
"Yeah," I groan,
"must have fallen asleep."

 
"Come on let's get
you to bed."

 
"Sure." I yawn
and stretch. "What time is it?"

 
"Erm, just after
three."

 
"What?"

 
"Just after three,
you fell asleep in front of the telly."

 
"Never mind about
me, where have you been all this time?"

 
In the cold, blue, flickering
light of the telly Lauren looks surprised and irritated.

 
"What do you mean
'Where have I been?'"

 
"It's bloody three
o'clock in the morning; I thought you were just going for a drink or something."

 
"Then we had something
to eat and then we went to a club Peter's a member of."

 
"Till this time?"

 
"Yes, dad."

 
"Sorry, it's just
a bit late, that's all." I pull myself up to standing, feeling groggy and dizzy.

 
"I'm getting a bit
fed up with this, Charlie. I told you I was seeing Peter tonight and I don't expect
you to be holding a stop watch against me."

 
She walks out and I sit
back down again with my head in my hands.

Next day there is still no sign of Piers and Guy.

 
"I'm going to their
homes," I tell Scarlett.

 
"Good idea. I can't
think of anything else to do," she says seriously. Scarlett serious. Now I'm
really worried.

 
"What about your
friend Nora?" says Zac.

 
"What about her?"

 
"She knows Piers
doesn't she?"

 
"Actually she does,
doesn't she? She might have some idea where he is or at least who might know."

 
I ring her.

 
"Hey Charlie, how's
it going?" she says.

 
"Not bad, you?"

 
"Okay. Thanks for
the other night. It was nice."

 
"Yeah, it was, wasn't
it? Nora, I was just wondering if you'd heard anything from Piers."

 
"Piers? No why?"

 
"Well, he seems to
have disappeared. And Guy. We haven't heard from either of them for days."

 
"Really? What? Nothing?"

 
"No, they haven't
been into the office. We've tried to track them down on their mobiles but there's
no answer."

 
"How bizarre."

 
"It is a bit, isn't
it? Never mind, just wondered if you'd heard anything. You do know Piers anyway,
don't you?"

 
"Yes, I do. Look
I'll try and get hold of some of his other friends."

 
"Thanks Nora, could
you let me know if you hear anything."

 
She sounds distracted
for a moment.

 
"Yes, of course.
Sorry, when did you last see them again?"

 
"Well, Piers came
in on Thursday but we haven't seen Guy at all since Wednesday."

 
"Mmm. Almost all
week. And no one's heard anything from them?

 
"No. Nothing."

 
"So you've rung their
mobile numbers?"

 
"Yep, nothing."

 
"Bit worrying isn't
it?"

 
"Well it is a bit.
Anyway, as I say, if you hear anything just give me a ring."

 
"Erm, yep will do.
Do you think the site will suffer without them, they are the leading lights aren't
they?"

 
"Well, they developed
the concept, that's true."

 
"And raised the finance."

 
"Yes. Anyway, as
I say, it was just in case you hear something."

 
"Sure, sure. So it's
just the three of you left."

 
"Yeah, well, no.
Not left as such, I'm sure Guy and Piers will be back soon I just wished they'd
told us where they were going, that's all."

 
"Are you going to
their homes?"

 
"Might as well, have
a quick look around, see if there's any sign of life."

 
"Where do they live?"

 
"Guy lives in Chelsea
and -"

 
"Piers lives in Fulham,
doesn't he?"

 
"Er, yeah that's
right. Anyway -"

 
"What about the police?"

 
"I'm not sure. It's
difficult. I don't want to alarm people unnecessarily. I think we'll give it a few
more days, presumably if they are missing their family or friends would do that."

 
"That's true."

 
"Anyway, I'll keep
you informed."

 
"What's Zac's surname
again?"

 
"Zac's surname? What's
that got to do with anything? Nora you're not going write about this are you?"

 
"Erm, write about
it?"

 
"Yes, put it in the
bloody paper."

 
"Erm, well, I don't
know. I mean it might help, mightn't it?"

 
"Help bugger the
whole thing up completely you mean. Look you'd better not."

 
"Okay," she
says half heartedly.

 
"Nora, please don't."

 
"Oh, honestly Charlie."

 
"I said 'don't'!"

 
"And I heard you.
Look I'd better make some calls. I'll let you know what I find out."

I set off to Chelsea first of all, having made the others promise
to call me the minute they hear something. I'm sure everything's fine but it's beginning
to dawn on me that of the three of us 'left' as Nora's puts it, I'm the only one
with any sort of responsibility or common sense. I realise that the suit I'm in
today is Armando Basi, bought by 2cool and that most of what I wear these days comes
from the company, either our stylists or via my smart new totally transparent 2cool
branded credit card. Like I say, I'm sure it's all kosher and above board, but if
there were something, well, dodgy, I'd have to admit that I've had my fair share
of goodies from this little operation. Even my skin is glowing from a free facial
courtesy of a new men's grooming studio that we've hooked up with.

Guy lives in a basement flat not far from South Kensington tube
station. I walk down a tiny staircase and peer into the window. The living room
itself is traditionally furnished with an old chesterfield couch, patterned rug
and some repro landscape paintings. There is a fire place with some china ornaments
on it and some invitations. Next to it is a large telly.

 
On the floor, on the settee,
on the shelves either side of the chimney breast and on almost every available space
are piles of paper and magazines. Hundreds of them. Thousands probably. Some neatly
stacked up, some slipping over. A sock hangs limply out of one pile. There are precariously
balanced towers of thick glossy magazines all around the floor and on the coffee
table so which must make watching telly almost impossible.

 
There is not much else
I can do other than to knock on the window hard and shout through the letter box.
As I do, a gentle gust of cold, stale air greets me. If anything this visit has
made me feel more anxious.

 
There is no answer from
Piers' small terraced house in Fulham either. He has the same kind of Country-House-in-a-London-box
furniture but the place is sort of casually messy, not maniacally so. Again I bang
on the window and do some pointless shouting before setting off back along the street.
I ring Scarlett and tell her that I've drawn a blank and I'm coming back to the
office. After I finish the call, something makes me turn back just before I've got
to the main road and I see a bloke taking photographs. He looks pretty professional
- angler's jacket full of gear, automatic rewind on his camera, another camera around
his neck.

 
He is definitely shooting
Piers house.

I'm up before Lauren is awake for once the next day - Saturday
- and I dash out to buy The Post. Walking back to the flat I begin to flick through
it. There is nothing on the first few pages. I smile at a picture of someone I know
from my old agency, advertising a laptop by looking harassed as he walks across
an airport concourse. What a crap shot. That guy just cannot act. But when I turn
the next page there is a massive picture of me. Plus one of Piers next to a smaller
one of his house.

 
I feel like I've been
kicked in the stomach. I have to stop and take a deep breath before I can read it.

EXCLUSIVE

2COOL TWO GO MISSING

 
Hyper cool website 2cool2btrue.com
was in chaos last night following the disappearance of its two leading lights, Guy
Watkins and Piers Gough-Pugh. Questions were being asked about the whereabouts of
the two marketing whiz kids whose website has grabbed the attention of the nation's
smartest young things and boasts a host of celebrity fans. Some commentators have
been arguing that 2cool has even signalled a return of business confidence in the
internet.

 
Watkins and Gough-Pugh
have been missing most of the week although the police have yet to be informed.

 
With only three members
of staff left to run the website which has signed deals with a host of designer
labels and luxury goods manufacturers, experts were yesterday predicting that it
would difficult for the company to build on its remarkably successful launch, which
followed a party at Frederica's night club in London's Belgravia, attended by rock
star Sir Josh Langdon and aristo model Henrietta Banbury amongst others The site
recently revealed that it has already received half a million 'hits' after just
three weeks trading.

 
Speaking exclusively to
The Post, the face of the new site, former male model Charlie Barrett said: "We're
all very worried indeed. We haven't seen Guy since Monday and Piers since Tuesday.
It's difficult because they're the ones who developed the concept and raised the
finance."

 
Gough-Pugh, a former city
trader and financier was not at his half a million pound Fulham home yesterday.
One neighbour said: "He's a nice young man, always very polite and charming.
He's been working long hours so he doesn't seem to have much time for friends."

 
Barrett has not yet reported
the disappearance of the two to the police because of concerns that the news might
affect the image and financial position of the site. However, a spokeswoman for
The Metropolitan Police Missing Persons Unit confirmed: "If we are contacted
we will take the case seriously as we do with any report of a missing person."

By the time I get back to the flat Lauren is wandering around
the kitchen.

 
"You're up early,"
she says in a sleep-croaky voice.

 
"Yeah, there was
something in the paper today about Piers and Guy."

 
"You're kidding."

 
I open it again and I
present it to her. Seeing my stupid face grinning up at us makes me feel sick again.
I turn away to carry on making the coffee. By the time it is dripping through the
filter Lauren has finished with reading the piece.

 
"Well?" I ask.

 
"Doesn't look good,
does it? Why haven't you contacted the police?"

 
"Well, why should
I? Haven't they got friends or family or something?"

 
"How would I know?"
She opens the fridge and takes out the orange juice.

 
"Yeah, okay. I'll
ring the police on Monday. Can't do any harm. Sod's law they'll come back if I do."

 
"Why did you say
all this to the paper?"

 
"I didn't. I, oh,
for God's sake, I rang Nora because she knows Piers anyway and I just wondered -"

 
"Did she write it?"
asks Lauren, snatching back the paper. "Oh, well, what did you expect? You
ring a journalist and tell her all this and expect her not to write about it?"

 
"All right, I know,
I'm completely stupid. I thought she might be able to separate her professional
life from her private life."

 
"You thought you
could trust a journalist?"

 
"I was ringing her
as a friend."

 
Oh, shit that doesn't
sound right. Lauren laughs irritably and rolls her eyes.

 
"I'm going to have
a shower."

I decide to ring my Dad and try and get some advice from him.
A girl answers the phone with a sleepy voice: "Hallo, is John there?"

 
"Qui? Who?"

 
I've definitely got the
right number - it's on speed dial - so I persist.

 
"Sorry, is Jared
there?"

 
"No, er, no, he run."

 
"What? He's gone
for a run? Okay ask him to call his son when he gets back, will you?"

 
"Er, call?"

 
"Oh, fuck."
I'm actually quite used to this now so I run through the usual list of possibilities.
"Parlez-voulez Francais?"

 
"Er, sorry?"

 
"Habla usted español?"

 
"Er?"

 
"Parla Italiano?"