Seven Point Eight (23 page)

“You relinquished your choices when you came here. Now, you’re going to ring this photographer and tell him that you won’t attend any more shoots.”

“I will not.”

Max bit his lip, acknowledging the impasse. He required a new strategy.

“Okay, if that’s how you want to play it. I’ll simply lock you in this room until you accept the inevitable.”

Max released his grip on her and walked out of the room, closing the door and turning the key. She couldn’t believe it, how dare he lock her in like a naughty child! In frustration, she kicked the door and pounded on it with her fists but at that moment, he’d already gone downstairs.

Realising he wasn’t going to change his mind and open the door, she walked over to the window with defiance and opened it. However, she saw with horror that her room sat on the top floor. It was a long way to the ground, with nothing to hang onto and the fire escape was located on the other side of the house. Tahra sighed and started to feel less empowered, anger and bitterness taking hold of her heart instead. She sensed her resolve would inevitably crumble.

Meanwhile, Max sat in the office and realised his hands were shaking. He began to feel a sense of guilt as he’d come so close to hitting her, something he’d never done, which was strike a woman. He’d never needed to in the past, as all his protégés and women had done as they were told. Tahra was different though. She wasn’t afraid of him, she wasn’t besotted by him. Maybe that excited him, and maybe that scared him too. With trepidation, he began to wonder what the hell he’d got himself into. It was beginning to look as if he’d opened Pandora’s Box.

***

The next day, Tahra heard a knock at her door, the key turned in the lock and Max entered. He looked a lot calmer and found her feeling rather depressed.

“Have you made your decision?” he asked, with a cool and rather arrogant demeanour.

She gave him a stare of resentment.

“Yes.”

“Have you realised the futility of your interest in modelling?”

“I’ve realised the futility in thinking you care about what I want,” she answered.

Max sighed.

“Have I got to lock the door again?”

“No,” she said, face deadpan, “I’ll ring him.”

He looked unsure if he could trust her but nevertheless, she followed him downstairs to the office, where he showed her to the phone. Max sat in the chair while Tahra dialled Malcolm’s number. She felt sick with remorse as she told him the bad news.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t model for you anymore.”

After a long silence, Malcolm responded.

“What do you mean by ‘can’t’?”

“I…have other commitments and responsibilities.”

At that point she started to cry, despite her urge to suppress the tears and she sobbed into the phone. Max looked on nonchalantly.

“What’s wrong?” Malcolm enquired. “You’ve got me really worried now.”

“I just don’t have any choice at the moment, it’s not my decision to make.”

“Of course it’s your decision, you’re a grown woman.” The concern in his voice sounded genuine. “Tell me what’s wrong, please.”

“I can’t tell you,” she sobbed.

“Tahra, hold on, I’m coming over.”

“No, no, please….”

He’d already hung up. Tahra didn’t say anything to Max. They just stared at each other; she through her tears and he with a sternness that disturbed her.

“Are you happy now that you’ve ruined my life?” she said, with scorn.

“I think the term is ‘saved it’. As I said, you relinquished your choices when you came here.”

Miss Tynedale entered the office at that point, and offered a total lack of sympathy. In fact, she’d alerted Max the day Tahra stumbled in drunk. It turned out that the night she tripped up the stairs, Miss Tynedale awoke, fearing a burglar and just caught sight of Tahra in her dress as she staggered into her room. She knew of Tahra’s hangover and had phoned Max in the States. He’d responded by flying back to
London
the following day.

“Tahra,” Max said, “you’re going to have to accept a few home truths. What you’re doing here is vitally important, too significant to throw away on a modelling contract.”

“Did it occur to you that I wanted to see the world?”

She’d stopped sobbing but still wiped the tears away from her eyes.

Max sighed.

“A strange thing to escape the lips of a very talented remote viewer.”

She sniffled, crestfallen then told Max exactly what she felt about him.

“I hate you.”

The words were toxic to him. She saw him swallow hard and a look of panic briefly flickered across his face, but then he brushed it aside, leaving the office in silence. Tahra wandered into the communal living area, slumped in a chair and stared out of the window, wondering what could have been. Max returned to his office for a short while, shuffling papers and preparing to get back to business as usual.

Half an hour later, she heard a knock at the door and because Max lingered in the hallway at that moment, he answered it. Tahra watched from the doorway of the living area.

“Hello, Tahra lives here, doesn’t she?”

Malcolm had remained true to his word and come to her aid. Tahra was touched by this and stepped into the hallway.

“I’m here,” she said.

He saw her, face still tearful and stepped inside, much to the chagrin of Max. Looking around the hallway of The Institute, he wondered what on Earth this place was.

“You all right?” he asked, moving towards her.

She couldn’t answer and he put his arms around her. Max stepped forward, anger rising again.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What have you done to her?” Malcolm demanded of Max, who tried to contain his indignation.

“Merely told her the truth.”

Malcolm looked exasperated.

“What is this place?”

“I can’t tell you,” she replied.

“Why? I don’t understand.”

Malcolm looked at her, finding a tearful silence then he looked at Max, accusingly.

“What are you running here, a brothel?”

Max narrowed his eyes.

“The operations that run here are strictly confidential. You’re intruding in an area where you are not welcome so I suggest you get the hell out, now. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself involved in.”

Malcolm looked at Tahra with a genuine sympathy in his eyes.
 

“I can’t leave you in this awful place.”

Tahra just wanted to hug him and Max eyed the way he gazed at her.

“Did you fuck her?”
 
he asked, with an icy conceit.

Malcolm looked confused.

“What do you mean, ‘did I fuck her’?”

Tahra felt embarrassed and gazed down at the floor.

“It’s a simple enough question,” Max stated, and repeated the question with vehemence. “Did you fuck her?”

Malcolm looked as if something had clicked within. He and Max stared at each other for a short while, Max trying to control his temper and Malcolm resisting the urge to punch Max. He turned to Tahra.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t win with this asshole in charge of your life.”

In response, Max seized him by the collar of his jacket and shoved him hard up against the wall. They locked eyes, hateful of each other for different reasons, and Max vented his frustration by repeatedly slamming him against the wall. Tahra tried to intervene and break up the altercation.

“Leave him alone, he doesn’t deserve this. Let him go.”

Keeping Malcolm tight up against the wall, he ceased his actions and fixed him with a stare. The conflict appeared to hold in a stalemate until Max finally released him. He concluded the matter by virtually hurling him into the street.

“And stay out!” he barked.

Malcolm straightened his jacket and gave Tahra an exasperated look, as she viewed the scene with consternation and embarrassment. Fixing his eyes on Max with an expression of disdain, he delivered his parting words.

 
“You know, your jealously will destroy her eventually.”

Malcolm walked out of Tahra’s life, giving her one last glance of apology. Max closed the door, victory written all over his face. With a vehement and icy stare, Tahra stormed up the stairs and returned to her room. Flinging herself on the bed, she sat there dejectedly for a minute, frustration boiling up.

Unable to contain herself any longer, she picked up shoes, a brush, books, the radio…anything, and one by one, she hurled them at the door with a scream.

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

***

Max and Tahra ignored each other for a few days but when he re-appeared at her door, he looked troubled. Turning him away wasn’t an option, so she let him in and he sat on her bed. Despising his proximity, she sat in the chair in the corner of the room. Silence made the air thick, and Max broke the tension.

“Do you really hate me?” he said.

She didn’t answer immediately but eventually conceded, “Yes, I do.”

He accepted the answer but then proceeded to defend his actions.

“I only want what’s best for you, Tahra. As I said, you’re too important to be wasted.”

It did little to reverse her acrimonious feelings.

“What can I do to change your mind?” he asked.

“Let me go,” she answered promptly.

“You know I can’t do that, I have an agreement with your father.”

She sighed.

“Okay then,” she figured she’d test him out, “show me the world, show me the life you denied me.”

He fell silent for a moment, a long moment and she didn’t expect a reply but he gave her the one she least anticipated.

“Okay.”

Tahra almost performed a double take.

“What?”

“Okay,” he repeated. “I have contacts in the States and I can find work for both of us. Visas can be obtained quickly. You want to see the world, I’ll show it to you.”

“Really?”

The atmosphere in the room began to thaw.

“Absolutely. We can leave in a few weeks.”

How could she refuse? He must have felt some remorse and she realised that, in his own way, he must care enough to make this concession for her. She began to feel both a sense of nervousness and excitement.

“Thank you,” she said, and meant it.

Max looked relieved and stood up, Tahra copied. She couldn’t read his expression, but did he regret making the offer or was he getting something he wanted too? It looked like he had nothing more to say and he moved to open the door, as obviously now there were plans to make but he paused before leaving.