Sugar Daddies (23 page)

“It’s a subsidiary,” I said. “Surely you’d have recognised it?”

She shook her head, but I found it hard to believe. “I’m serious,” she said. “I’ve spent most of my adult life trying to
forget
about David Faverley and his stupid life and his stupid businesses. The last thing I’d have been interested in is which stupid companies he owns and which he doesn’t. I couldn’t care less.”

I leaned closer. “Why hate him so much? I don’t understand.”

“Because he’s an asshole! Because he’s a judgmental prick! Because he ruined my mum’s life! Because every time he’s ever looked at me I felt worthless, because of him, because I’ve never been good enough for an asshole like him. And I don’t want to be,” she said. “I don’t want to be good enough for him, not ever, he can go fuck himself.”

This wasn’t the Katie I knew, not that I really knew Katie at all.

“You seem surprised,” she said. “Like he’s a fucking saint or something.”

“Not a saint,” I said. “But David is a great man. A fair man. And he’s not judgmental, I’ve never found him to be judgmental once, not in twenty years.” I held up my hands. “I’m perplexed. I know the story, and I know they’re always tougher in real life, when you’re the one living them, but this, this
hate
, I struggle to match the venom to the man. Genuinely.”

“He judges alright,” she sneered. “Believe me. You’ve just never seen it.”

I sighed, and thought through my options, figured honesty was the best policy. It usually is.

“David Faverley can’t be judgmental,” I said. “It simply isn’t in his character
.”

“So you think.”

“So I
know
,” I continued. “And I know that, because if it was in David Faverley’s nature to be judgmental, if he viewed people through some bigoted, egocentric, self-righteous view of the world, he’d definitely, not in a million fucking years, never
ever
have employed a loser like me.”

“A loser?” I laughed, because it seemed so ridiculous. “You’re not a loser, Carl. You wouldn’t even know how to be a loser. Look at you.”

“Not anymore,” he said. “Your father saw something in me when nobody else would cast me a second glance. He took a risk on a kid with nothing but a big old chip on his shoulder, and he was patient, and kind, and he persisted and tried, and put the effort in until I became something more.”

“I’m sure you’re being overly harsh on yourself.” I
was
sure, too. Very sure. But he shook his head.

“A stint in juvenile detention. Petty theft. Carjacking. Vandalism.” He paused. “Fighting. Fights I knew I’d lose. Fights I fought anyway, just because I was on the edge and didn’t know how else to express myself.” He clasped his hands together on the table top. “I had nothing. A couple of ex foster parents who’d already got the next kid in line by the time I left. Some friends not worth shit.”

I swallowed, throat dry. “What did you do?”

He looked right at me. “I grew up, a little, just enough to know I had to get out. So I set myself up with a couple of tools, a bucket, anything I could get my hands on.
Legitimately
get my hands on.” He smiled at some distant memory. “I washed your dad’s car. He was at a junction in Gloucester one day, in his sparkling BMW, and I approached his window and asked him if I could clean his bumpers while he was waiting. He said no at first, but I was persistent, told him there was mud down there, that it would dry on and be a bitch to take off later. Told him I’d do a good job at a fair price, and then asked him again.”

“And he said yes?”

He smiled. “He said yes. He pulled his car in at the car park up the street and he waited while I cleaned it. He said to give him the whole works, no expense spared, but the car was clean apart from the bumpers, and I told him so, charged him less when he offered me the cash, because I hadn’t earned it. He asked me where I was from and where I was going, and I shrugged and told him I didn’t know where I was going but I was from a block of flats just round the corner.”

“And what? He gave you a job?”

“He gave me an opportunity in life where everyone else put the boot in. He gave me his business card and asked me to go to his office. He said he could do with people around him who are honest, and hardworking, and hungry for a chance to do better.” He looked at the ceiling. “That was me.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.

“Whatever issues you’ve had with your father, Katie, I’ve never seen anything to indicate he’s a prick. Not a single thing in twenty years, not in the way you’ve said he is.”

“He fucked my mum when she was his secretary,” I said. “Got her knocked up and fired her and ruined her life. And then he
didn’t want to know her, or me. Not until he rolled up when I was ten years old, wanting another little trophy to show off at corporate event day, most likely, a little blonde kid to tag along with his
proper
children. Now do you get it? He ruined my mum’s whole life. Ruined her. Used her and spat her out when she got pregnant, and me along with
her.” I stared at Carl and his eyes were shocked, and stern, and full of something. Pity, maybe. “What?” I said. “What’s that face for?”

He shrugged. “I’m just taken aback.”

“Why? Why taken aback? I told you already, the guy’s a prick.”

“I’m taken aback, because that isn’t the story I heard, not by a clear mile.”

“Well, he wouldn’t have wanted to tell you the
actual
truth, would he?” I said. “Of course he wouldn’t!” He went to speak but changed his mind, I saw him waiver, saw him close his mouth and check himself and turn the other cheek.

He looked at his watch. “I think we should wrap this up,” he said. “Before this goes any further.”

I shrugged. “But I haven’t even filled in my form yet. When am I supposed to start?”

“My position still stands,” he said. “Your application is unsuccessful. You’re free to leave.”

I couldn’t believe it. He was actually serious.

“No!” I said. “I need to do this, for Harrison Gables. I’ll do it!”

He shook his head. “You’re not in it for the right reasons.”

“So?”

“So, it matters,” he said. “It matters to me.” And I laughed, I laughed so hard he scowled at me. “What? What’s suddenly so funny?”

“You’ll pay me for sex, but you won’t let me work with you, because I’m working with you for the
wrong
reasons. Have you any idea how fucking ridiculous that sounds?”

“I don’t care how ridiculous it sounds, that’s the truth of it.”

“You’ll be my sugar daddy, but not my boss?”

He nodded. “If you want to see it that way. I prefer not to.”

I couldn’t help but pull a face. “How do
you
want to see it?”

“Not here,” he said. “This isn’t a conversation for the office. I have things to do.”

He stood to leave and plastered a smile on his face, and this was over, my Harrison Gables dream was over.

“Wait,” I said. “Just wait a minute.”

But he didn’t wait. “I have to go,” he said. “I’ve got nineteen people depending on my guidance in Cheltenham.”

“And what about me?”

He shrugged. “Find some other way to fulfil your dreams, something that your heart is in.”

“But I…” I blustered. “I’d be good. I could work hard. I could do really well.”

He raised an eyebrow. “
Bite me, baby.
That’s how you choose to attend an interview?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t come here for an interview, I came here to tell my stupid father to get stuffed.”

“By dressing like a petulant teenager?”

I tipped my head against the back of the chair. “Something like that.”

He checked his watch again. “I really should leave, Katie. I have somewhere to be.”

I looked between him, and the door, and the file he’d left on the desk, and I went for it, darted like a snake to the application form he’d put away, and fumbled around the place looking for a pen.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “It’s already been decided.”

I kept looking, but there was nothing, not even a crappy pencil. What kind of useless as shit meeting room was this supposed to be? I sighed. “Give me a pen, please.”

He stood quietly for a few seconds, staring. I held my hand out, waiting.

And then he reached in his inside pocket and pulled out a pen. “This doesn’t change anything,” he said. “This programme is for people who really want to be there.”

“Just button it a minute,” I said, and my fingers were scrawling.

“This isn’t going to affect my decision, Katie. I’m sorry.”

But he was wrong.

Wrong about my dad, and wrong about me, too.

I continued regardless, scribbling and scrawling through all the questions, and he didn’t move, didn’t leave, didn’t say another word to distract me.

I finished and closed the pen lid, handed him the form with a flourish of triumph.

I watched his face as he read it, watched his eyes. Watched the way he looked at me, and then looked at me again, over and over.

“So?” I said. “What now?”

He pulled out his car keys, held them up. “I’m going to Cheltenham, like I said. I have people waiting.” He opened the door, swung it wide. And then he held it there, open. “It’s where the internship is based,” he said. “You’d better come with me.”

“I’ll check,” he said. “I’ll check everything on that form. I always check.”

“Be my guest. I’m not a liar.”

“I’d certainly hope not.” His eyes dug into me, made my knees feel weak as we made our way through reception. Everyone looked. Everyone.

The automatic doors swooshed open and we stepped outside. He pressed his key fob and I heard the bleep of the Range. I’d walked straight past it on the way in without noticing, in prime position to the left of the main entrance. I can’t believe I hadn’t fucking noticed that. Idiot.

“I’ve got my car,” I said. “I can follow you.”

He shook his head. “Get in. I’m driving.”

I didn’t argue.

I watched his face as he reversed from the space, grateful for the opportunity to check him out when he was otherwise occupied. Scary hot. Scarier hot now I’d seen him in his natural environment.

“They are impressive stats,” he commented. “Quite impressive.”

“I needed the money for Samson’s livery. The bonuses were good.” I leaned against the window. “I give my all. Always. You haven’t seen it so far, not apart from when I was… well…” I smiled. “That doesn’t count, but even with that. I always give my all. It’s who I am.”

“If you don’t, you’ll be out on your ear. That goes for everyone on my programme.”

“Understood.”

“You lied to your father, said you knew me through Rick.”

“It’s not a lie. I
do
know you through Rick.”

“Misled him, then. Implied we’re just casual acquaintances.”

I smirked at him. “Aren’t we?”

“Is that what you think?” He pulled a pair of shades from his pocket and slipped them on against the glare, and I wished he hadn’t. He was impenetrable in shades. Unreadable.