King of Hearts
Page 19
“Of course,” I answered, and then began to detail the encounter from beginning to end.
When I was finished, King said, “She must have seen something trustworthy in you. I’m not surprised. I felt the same way the first day you came to be interviewed.”
What he said made me catch my breath. I just hoped he didn’t hear it. “You did?”
“Yes, you have a warmth about you, Alexis. I sensed it even after you got prickly when I told you I liked your picture. Do you find that a lot of people you don’t know very well open up to you?” he asked, and the accuracy of his question blew me away.
I did find that happening a lot. Whether I was sitting on the tube or having a quick coffee in a café, I’d find myself being drawn into conversations with strangers, where they’d tell me things about themselves you wouldn’t normally say to someone you don’t know. It had happened just this morning, when I’d gotten caught up chatting with the man at the newsagents, thus making me late with King’s papers.
“Yes, actually, I do.”
“You see. People must feel like they can tell you things without being judged.”
Ha! That was a laugh. I was a judgey little bitch sometimes. Just ask Karla.
“Huh,” was my only response.
“Well,” said King, clearing his throat. “I’d better let you go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah, see you,” I said, and then we hung up.
Dropping my phone on my nightstand and making sure to set my alarm, I thought that today had been one for the books. I was exhausted, and as soon as I shut my eyes, I was out. However, in my dreams, King’s words seemed to echo: You have a warmth about you, Alexis.
I found I kind of liked the sound of that.
Six
The following morning, I got another call from Eleanor informing me she wouldn’t be in until after lunch, so I was responsible for the morning routine again. This time I felt more prepared. I had King’s breakfast and his newspapers on his desk when he arrived. Once Gillian had talked him through the upcoming meetings for the day, he very subtly signalled for me to come into the office. It piqued my curiosity.
Closing the door behind me, I walked over to the window as King perused a paper. I had no idea what he wanted to talk about, and he didn’t start speaking right away.
Perhaps he felt weird about the thing last night with his mum.
Glancing out and down onto the large open square beyond the office building, I spotted a new guy working the newsstand I’d been watching on the morning of my interview. A couple of customers came and went, but it was obvious that there was no longer any dealing going on.
King was still reading when I said, “Do you know there’s a new guy working the newsstand outside?”
The corner of his mouth shaped into a grin before he swung around in his chair, holding a pen to his mouth as he considered me. “Does anything get past you?”
I gave him a toothy smile. “Very little.”
He half-sighed, half-chuckled as he turned back to his desk. “I looked into the other guy after you mentioned him. Turns out you were right — he was dealing, so I got rid of him.” He paused, letting out a derisive chuckle. “Apparently, he was well known by traders around here, went by the name of Bernie Black.”
I was impressed that King had the kind of pull that he could get the guy removed just like that. I mean, he was obviously dealing for someone higher up, and this area would have been a highly profitable patch. Finally, I replied, “He actually told people his name? That’s kind of dumb.”
He stared at me sharply. “Think about it, Alexis.”
I did. Then it hit me, and I laughed. “Ah, so Bernie as in coke, and Black as in hash.”
“Now she gets it,” said King with the tone of a patient schoolteacher.
I narrowed my gaze at him. “Do you know anybody in the office who bought from him? Because they’re gonna be pissed when they find out he’s gone.”
Glacial eyes flicked up. “There’s a few I suspect, but they’ll just have to deal with it. It’s a lifestyle a lot of people who come to work here fall into. If you’re good at what you do, you can make an enormous amount of money in the blink of an eye. These people make that money, and all of a sudden they’re buying expensive cars, luxury homes, and going out every night for extortionately priced meals. However, like you said yesterday, keeping up with the lifestyle and competing for all this money is also a big part of it. Competition equals stress, and when stressed, human beings seek a way to alleviate it. One of the main outlets for stress relief is drugs. Therefore, the City is a big market for dealers, especially since the people here have more than enough money to pay for what they want. It’s a hard job keeping tabs on who’s dealing and where, especially since I’m always so busy, so I have to thank you for the heads-up.”
The warmth in his gaze made me flush. “It’s no problem.” What he’d said made me curious, so I went on, “What do you do to deal with the stress?”
He gave me a wan smile, and there was something in his expression that struck me as sad somehow. Rubbing at his chin, he answered, “Hmmm, when I’m stressed out…a nice glass of top-shelf whiskey usually does the trick.”
“That makes sense,” I said, and walked around his desk before taking a seat in front of him. “You know, I always thought it was poor people who did drugs, to escape the bleakness of their realities. Now I’m thinking maybe the practice is most common at the top and the bottom of the ladder. Perhaps the best place to be is somewhere in the middle.”
When I was finished, King said, “She must have seen something trustworthy in you. I’m not surprised. I felt the same way the first day you came to be interviewed.”
What he said made me catch my breath. I just hoped he didn’t hear it. “You did?”
“Yes, you have a warmth about you, Alexis. I sensed it even after you got prickly when I told you I liked your picture. Do you find that a lot of people you don’t know very well open up to you?” he asked, and the accuracy of his question blew me away.
I did find that happening a lot. Whether I was sitting on the tube or having a quick coffee in a café, I’d find myself being drawn into conversations with strangers, where they’d tell me things about themselves you wouldn’t normally say to someone you don’t know. It had happened just this morning, when I’d gotten caught up chatting with the man at the newsagents, thus making me late with King’s papers.
“Yes, actually, I do.”
“You see. People must feel like they can tell you things without being judged.”
Ha! That was a laugh. I was a judgey little bitch sometimes. Just ask Karla.
“Huh,” was my only response.
“Well,” said King, clearing his throat. “I’d better let you go. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah, see you,” I said, and then we hung up.
Dropping my phone on my nightstand and making sure to set my alarm, I thought that today had been one for the books. I was exhausted, and as soon as I shut my eyes, I was out. However, in my dreams, King’s words seemed to echo: You have a warmth about you, Alexis.
I found I kind of liked the sound of that.
Six
The following morning, I got another call from Eleanor informing me she wouldn’t be in until after lunch, so I was responsible for the morning routine again. This time I felt more prepared. I had King’s breakfast and his newspapers on his desk when he arrived. Once Gillian had talked him through the upcoming meetings for the day, he very subtly signalled for me to come into the office. It piqued my curiosity.
Closing the door behind me, I walked over to the window as King perused a paper. I had no idea what he wanted to talk about, and he didn’t start speaking right away.
Perhaps he felt weird about the thing last night with his mum.
Glancing out and down onto the large open square beyond the office building, I spotted a new guy working the newsstand I’d been watching on the morning of my interview. A couple of customers came and went, but it was obvious that there was no longer any dealing going on.
King was still reading when I said, “Do you know there’s a new guy working the newsstand outside?”
The corner of his mouth shaped into a grin before he swung around in his chair, holding a pen to his mouth as he considered me. “Does anything get past you?”
I gave him a toothy smile. “Very little.”
He half-sighed, half-chuckled as he turned back to his desk. “I looked into the other guy after you mentioned him. Turns out you were right — he was dealing, so I got rid of him.” He paused, letting out a derisive chuckle. “Apparently, he was well known by traders around here, went by the name of Bernie Black.”
I was impressed that King had the kind of pull that he could get the guy removed just like that. I mean, he was obviously dealing for someone higher up, and this area would have been a highly profitable patch. Finally, I replied, “He actually told people his name? That’s kind of dumb.”
He stared at me sharply. “Think about it, Alexis.”
I did. Then it hit me, and I laughed. “Ah, so Bernie as in coke, and Black as in hash.”
“Now she gets it,” said King with the tone of a patient schoolteacher.
I narrowed my gaze at him. “Do you know anybody in the office who bought from him? Because they’re gonna be pissed when they find out he’s gone.”
Glacial eyes flicked up. “There’s a few I suspect, but they’ll just have to deal with it. It’s a lifestyle a lot of people who come to work here fall into. If you’re good at what you do, you can make an enormous amount of money in the blink of an eye. These people make that money, and all of a sudden they’re buying expensive cars, luxury homes, and going out every night for extortionately priced meals. However, like you said yesterday, keeping up with the lifestyle and competing for all this money is also a big part of it. Competition equals stress, and when stressed, human beings seek a way to alleviate it. One of the main outlets for stress relief is drugs. Therefore, the City is a big market for dealers, especially since the people here have more than enough money to pay for what they want. It’s a hard job keeping tabs on who’s dealing and where, especially since I’m always so busy, so I have to thank you for the heads-up.”
The warmth in his gaze made me flush. “It’s no problem.” What he’d said made me curious, so I went on, “What do you do to deal with the stress?”
He gave me a wan smile, and there was something in his expression that struck me as sad somehow. Rubbing at his chin, he answered, “Hmmm, when I’m stressed out…a nice glass of top-shelf whiskey usually does the trick.”
“That makes sense,” I said, and walked around his desk before taking a seat in front of him. “You know, I always thought it was poor people who did drugs, to escape the bleakness of their realities. Now I’m thinking maybe the practice is most common at the top and the bottom of the ladder. Perhaps the best place to be is somewhere in the middle.”
