Warhol's Prophecy

‘Hello,’ said the voice.

‘Caroline, it’s Hailey. Sorry to interrupt you if you were working.’

There was a moment’s awkward silence.

‘I wasn’t sure if you and I were still talking,’ Caroline Hacket said.

‘I need to ask you something.’

‘Go on.’

‘Did you see Adam Walker last night?’

Hailey heard the weary intake of breath. ‘Just tell me, please,’ she persisted.

‘I could tell you to mind your own business.’

There was an edge to Caroline’s voice that Hailey hadn’t expected.

‘Please yourself,’ Hailey said defensively.

‘I could, but I won’t,’ Caroline insisted. ‘I saw him for lunch, OK? Why? What’s the problem now?’

‘I think he tried to kill Rob last night.’ She explained briefly.

‘Don’t be so bloody ridiculous,’ Caroline said finally. ‘It seems as if you’re trying to blame Adam for everything lately. You wanted him out of your life – and he’s gone. Why don’t you drop it?’

‘I told Rob what happened between Adam and me. Rob walked out and I don’t know where he’s gone.’

There was another silence.

‘Caroline . . .?’

‘I heard you. You can’t blame Adam for that.’

Hailey swallowed hard. ‘Are you seeing him tonight?’ she wanted to know.

‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ Caroline told her sharply. ‘I’ll speak to you later.’

She hung up.

Hailey slammed the receiver down and sat forward in her chair.

Her office door opened and she looked up.

Jim Marsh walked in, smiling.

The smile faded as he saw the expression on Hailey’s face.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine,’ she lied. ‘I just didn’t get much sleep last night. I’ve got those details on the gig and the party afterwards that you wanted.’

Marsh sat down opposite her. ‘Are you sure everything’s all right?’ he asked.

My husband was nearly killed last night, then he walked out on me. My closest friend is seeing the man who tried to kill him. My daughter is almost suicidal, and I’m close to a nervous breakdown. Everything is fan-fucking-tastic!

‘I told you, Jim, I’m just tired.’ She handed him a couple of pieces of paper. ‘The guest list for the gig, the travel arrangements, and the details of the party afterwards. I think everything’s covered.’

Marsh scanned the documents, nodding approvingly every now and then.

‘It looks fine,’ he said, smiling. ‘Are Rob and Becky looking forward to it?’

She felt the tears building.

‘Can’t wait,’ she said, her voice cracking slightly. She coughed. ‘Jim, would you mind if I left a bit earlier today? There’s a few things I’ve got to do.’

He nodded. ‘I thought you trusted me,’ he said quietly.

She looked puzzled.

‘How long have we known each other?’ Marsh continued. ‘Eight years?’

‘Jim, what are you getting at?’

‘I just thought that you’d let me help if I could. I know there’s something wrong. If there’s anything I can do . . .?’

She managed a smile.

‘I wish there was,’ Hailey told him. ‘But I’m the only one who can sort this out. Don’t worry, it won’t affect my work.’

‘For Christ’s sake,’ he said irritably. ‘Sod the work. You’d never let me down. I’d like to do something to help you for a change.’

Marsh got to his feet. ‘If you change your mind, you know where I am.’

‘Thanks, Jim, but, like I said, this is my problem. I’ve got to deal with it.’

‘Good luck.’

‘I think I’m going to need it.’

80

ROB GIBSON RAISED a hand to attract the barman’s attention. He picked at the bowl of peanuts before him while he waited for his glass to be refilled with Johnnie Walker. Once it had been, he sipped at the fiery liquid, feeling it burn its way to his stomach.

The pub was fairly quiet. Other than two or three youths gathered around a fruit machine in one corner, and another group of men about his own age playing pool just behind him, there wasn’t much activity inside the building.

Rob had been there for about an hour. He’d driven there straight from work.

Frank Burnside had tried to persuade him to leave the office earlier, but Rob had insisted he had work to complete, and allowed his partner to leave him alone in the solitude of BG Trucks.

There was work to do: there always was. And he was certainly in no rush to get back to the Travelodge. Hence the stop-off at the pub.

It was like many such places in and around the city centre, new, characterless and totally lacking in charm, but Rob hadn’t come in to enjoy the ambience. He sipped more of his whisky and looked around the bar disinterestedly.

There was a couple in their early twenties huddled in one corner over their drinks. Laughing and smiling, occasionally kissing. Rob watched them for a moment, until he became aware that the young man had noticed his intrusive stare and was meeting it almost challengingly.

Rob smiled, raised his glass in salute, and turned on his stool.

More peanuts. Another drink.

He was sure that he’d had too much already. He wasn’t drunk – nowhere near it – but it didn’t take too much to tip a breathalyser, did it? Just as well he wasn’t too far from the Travelodge. The last thing he needed at the moment was some over-zealous copper pulling him over for drink-driving.

What he’d needed last night was a fucking copper. One of the good old boys in blue to arrest the arsehole who’d been trying to kill him.

The arsehole who was shagging his wife.

Rob lowered his head, unwelcome thoughts spinning around in his mind.

Thoughts of infidelity.

Visions of Hailey on her back with her legs wrapped around some other bastard’s back.

Visions of her mouth on some other guy’s cock.

Doesn’t feel too good, does it? Boot on the other foot and all that shit. How do you like it? Can you imagine what Hailey felt like whenever she thought about you and Sandy?

Sandy?

For insane seconds after he’d first left his own house the night before, he’d contemplated driving over to her flat.

Revenge?

Revenge for revenge? Remember who started this little merry-go-round of infidelity going. Take a bow, Rob Gibson.

He downed what was left in his glass and looked at the empty tumbler.

One more?