Enter the Dead: A Supernatural Thriller (4 page)

‘Tom
Jackson speaking. Can I help you?’

‘You twat!’

‘Sarah?’

‘You fucking arsehole!’

‘Sarah…what in God’s
name are you doing calling me at work like this?’

‘I wanted to hear it
from the horse’s mouth.’

‘Hear what. Christ’s
sake, Sarah, what
is
the matter with you?’

‘Have you been sleeping
with the new intern? The one you’ve got working with Sam.’

‘Hang on a minute,
where-’

‘Just answer the
question, will you? Yes or no.’

‘Look, it’s not what
you think. What does it matter, anyway? It’s not exactly like you and I are
married, or even boyfriend-girlfriend for that matter.’

‘Unbelievable.
Un-fucking-believable.’

‘How did you find out?’

‘What difference does
it make
how
I found out?’

‘Sam told you, didn’t
he?’

‘Of course it was Sam.
Who else could it’ve been?’

‘The bastard. He
promised to keep it to himself.’

‘Come on, Tom. You know
as well as I do that Sam shares everything with me, including the slut his best
friend happens to be screwing on the side.’

‘Hang on a minute.
You’re hardly in a position to be taking the moral high-ground here. In case
you’d forgotten, Sam’s best friend also happens to be shagging his wife. You’re
not exactly innocent in all this.’

There was a prolonged
pause from the other end of the line. ‘I know I’m not innocent, but that’s not
the point, is it?’

‘So what is the point?’

‘I just…I don’t know. I
just thought that there was more to me and you than sex. I thought I meant
something to you.’

‘Oh, come on Sarah, I
never led you on or promised you anything.’

‘I know,’ she replied, her
voice weakening. ‘But you know how I feel about you.’

‘I know, and I care
about you too. That’s why I didn’t want you finding out about Gabby. I knew it
would upset you. But I’m married, Sarah, and so are you. And yes, my marriage
isn’t exactly flourishing at the moment, but I’ve no intention of leaving Jane
and you know it. And you’ve no intention of leaving Sam either.’ A pause. ‘Have
you?’

‘No.’

‘Well then, let’s not
start crying and taking everything so seriously. We have a great time together
and I think the world of you, but that’s as much as I can give you, okay?
That’s as much as I’ll ever be able to give you.’

‘I don’t think I can go
on like this.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘What? Are you telling
me it’s over?’

‘According to you, Tom,
there isn’t anything to
be
over.’

‘Stop trying to twist
things, Sarah. That’s not what I meant and you know it.’

‘I’m not sure I do. Look,
Tom, I think it’s better if we don’t see each other again, at least not in
that
way.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

‘Don’t tell me I’m
being fucking ridiculous! Let’s look at the evidence: you don’t love me, you’re
screwing at least one other person who, thanks to my husband, I now know about.
And as far as you’re concerned, Jane is your wife and she always will be.
Hardly an attractive package for me, is it?’

‘I can’t believe he
told you. The insipid fucking wanker.’

‘Don’t you dare! Sam is
the only innocent party in all of this. By all means blame me if you’re too
chicken-shit to hold a mirror up to your own face, but don’t take this out on Sam.’

‘So we’re finished?
Just like that?’

‘Afraid so.’ The sound
of tears came down the line. ‘Goodbye, Tom. Have a nice life.’ She hung up,
leaving Tom standing alone in his office with the phone still pressed to his
ear.

The bitch
,
he thought, replacing the receiver into its cradle and slumping into his chair.
How dare that fucking bitch dump me? Nobody EVER dumps Tom Jackson,
especially not some mediocre hag like Sarah-fucking-Railton.
For the
following five minutes he remained motionless, dumbfounded as to the
conversation he’d just had. He wasn’t particularly upset to have lost Sarah –
there were plenty of other younger, more attractive women available to him at
the click of his fingers – it was the humiliation that upset him more than
anything else. His pride had taken such an unexpected battering, and by who? By
somebody who obviously cared more about her pathetic excuse for a husband than
she did for her amazingly talented and handsome lover, that’s who. Not once did
it occur to Tom to turn the finger of blame towards himself, and not once did
he consider the hurt he had evidently caused his best friend’s wife.

Eventually he looked up
from his desk and stared out of the glass-wall of his office into the main
open-plan working area. His eyes immediately found Sam, who was busy talking to
one of the web-designers by the coffee machine.

Best friend
?
he thought.
What kind of best friend can’t keep his damn mouth shut when
asked?
Tom’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened as a thought occurred to
him; a dark thought that would go at least some way to repairing his bruised
ego.

‘I’ll teach them,’ he
whispered, his eyes remaining fixed on Sam as he spoke. ‘I’ll teach them what
happens when you fuck with Tom Jackson.’

Sam
sat at the long, mahogany table in the Boardroom and listened intently to Tom
as he delivered his presentation to the three grey-suited executives from Pilko.
It was hard not to admire his boss’s style: the man was a born salesman; as
gifted with the spoken word as Sam was with his pen. The executives appeared to
hang on his every word, nodding their approval at his ideas and laughing at the
occasional well-timed joke. The presentation, along with the work behind it,
was almost entirely down to Sam, but the glory and respect would be Tom’s
alone. That’s why it was Tom who reaped the rewards - the money, the seniority,
the respect of his peers – while Sam had to be content with standing humbly on
the side-line, knowing that
he
was the man responsible for the hard
graft behind the success. In the early days this had bugged the hell out of
him, but as time went by he had come to accept that life’s rewards don’t
necessarily always go to those who most deserve them, but to those who shout
the loudest. At least he could sleep easily at night, safe in the knowledge
that his conscience was clear and his soul unsold.

‘So you see,
gentlemen,’ Tom said, his presentation drawing to a close. ‘If Pilko
decides
– as I’m confident it will - to run with our bold, cutting-edge marketing
strategy, there is every reason to believe that its future will be every bit as
bright as its glorious past. Thanks for listening, and feel free to fire ahead
with any questions.’

A prolonged round of
applause from the men in suits rounded off Tom’s speech, which he accepted with
a feigned modesty that Sam had seen a thousand times before. Questions
followed, all directed at Tom, even though the man knew next to nothing about
the technical aspects of the design or the important details that Sam would
have been far better able to explain. Hands were shaken, jokes were shared,
promises were made; all the signs of a positive outcome were in place, and if
nothing else, Sam knew that he’d delivered a good job that he could be proud
of. Sure, Gabby had helped in her own way, but Sam had edited pretty much everything
she’d given him to a greater or lesser extent. Of course that was to be
expected: he’d honed his craft over many years and had the perfectionist’s eye
for detail; but even he had to admit to being somewhat impressed by the quality
of her work. He’d told her as much too. Unlike Tom, he was always happy to give
credit where credit was due.

As soon as the Pilko
men left, Tom went to the drinks cabinet and helped himself to a large whisky
and water. Sam watched him as he took a sip, longing for a taste. He knew he
couldn’t – of course he couldn’t – but that didn’t stop him from
wanting
to. Fifteen years without a drink, and still the unquenchable thirst remained.
It always would, especially when there was cause for celebration.

‘Sure I can’t tempt
you?’ Tom asked, swirling the brown liquid invitingly around his glass.

‘Fuck off, Tom,’ Sam
replied, infuriated that his so-called friend still refused to accept the fact
that he was an alcoholic. According to Tom, Sam didn’t have a genuine drink
problem. Okay, so maybe there had been occasions when he’d drank more than was
good for him, but didn’t everybody? Sam couldn’t blame his friend for thinking
that way; after all, he didn’t know the half of it. He didn’t know about the
dark times. Nobody did.

Tom set his glass down
on the table and sat down. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. That was way out of order.’

‘Yes, it bloody well
was. Bang out of order.’

‘How long has it been?’

‘Fifteen years next
month.’

‘Wow, how quickly the
years pass, eh?’

‘Yep.’

Tom leant back in his
chair, placed his hands behind his head and smiled at Sam. ‘Looks like we’ve
sealed the deal, Sammy-boy.’

‘Looks that way. That
was a great pitch you gave, Tom. Vintage Jackson magic.’

‘Like taking candy from
a kid. But I couldn’t have done it without you, Sam. Not to mention your sexy
assistant.’

‘You mean Gabby?’

‘Who else?’

‘Actually she’s very
good. Still a little rough around the edges, but there’s no doubting her
potential. Seems keen too. Very keen.’

‘The vitality of youth,
eh?’

‘Something like that.’

‘A great pair of tits
doesn’t do any harm, either.’

‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘I would,’ Tom replied
with a conceited smirk.

‘So, what next?’ asked
Sam, uncomfortable with the subject. ‘I guess a celebration is called for.’

‘Afraid not.’

‘How come? It’s
traditional for the sales director to splash the cash on his team whenever we
land a big deal.’

Tom took a long swig of
his whisky and got up to pour himself another. ‘The firm can’t afford it, Sam.
We’re as good as broke.’

‘But what about Pilko?’

‘Don’t you understand? We
can’t run a multi-service design agency in the centre of London on a single fucking
pork-pie account!’

‘Alright, Tom, calm
down. We’ve got other work on, haven’t we?’

‘Yes, but nothing
major. Just bits and pieces, that’s all. Hardly enough to keep the fucking
lights on.’

‘Well, maybe if we-’

‘Sam,’ Tom said,
interrupting him in mid-sentence. ‘I need to talk to you.’
Payback time
.

‘Talk to me? What
about?’

‘You remember me
mentioning last week about the Board wanting me to pull together an options
appraisal for how we can go about reducing our costs until things improve?’

‘Vaguely.’

‘Well,’ Tom said,
taking a deep breath before continuing, ‘I went over it with them yesterday,
and I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news.’

‘What is it?’

‘They – the Board, that
is – went over everything in detail, and they’ve decided that we need to focus
more of our resources on generating new business. I believe
budget reallocation
is the official management term.’

Sam nodded. ‘I suppose
that makes sense,’ he said, oblivious to what was coming. ‘Speculate to
accumulate, and all that.’

‘Yes, well, that’s what
they thought too.’

‘So what’s the bad
news?’

‘Can’t you work it out,
Sam? If we’re going to invest in our sales team, the money has to come from
somewhere.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Do I have to spell it
out for you?’

Sam’s face visibly
blanched as the hammer struck home. ‘You mean…?’

‘Afraid so. The cuts
are falling on the design teams. The Board believe that we should adopt a
business model where we focus more on sales and outsource some of the creative
work to other agencies. They reckon it will reduce the risk and allow us to
generate more income.’

‘When you say The Board,
do you mean you too? Have they made this decision based on
your
recommendations?’

‘Not entirely, but yes,
I had a hand in this. I think it’s for the best.’

‘Why? Because you’re
the fucking Sales Director?’

‘No need to swear,
Sam.’

‘Oh come on! We’re
supposed to be a creative design agency: how are we supposed to create anything
without any fucking designers?’

‘Like I said, there are
hundreds of freelance designers queuing up at our door who’ll be only too happy
to help out when we need them, and what’s more, we only pay them when we’ve got
the work. At the minute we’ve got a whole heap of salaries to pay to people who
have bugger-all to do with their time. It doesn’t make good business sense.’

‘Don’t take this the
wrong way, Tom, but perhaps if you were to stop screwing the interns and get
out there and try to win more business, then maybe we wouldn’t be in this
predicament in the first place.’

‘I’m going to ignore
that comment, but I suppose it does make what I have to tell you slightly more
palatable.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I never thought I
would say this to you, Sam, but you’re one of the people we’ve decided to let
go. Chapman’s Design Agency no longer requires your services.’

Sam felt the air being
sucked from his lungs. ‘Let me go?’ he whispered, struggling to take it in.
‘But…but I’ve just won you the Pilko account? You said it yourself…I’m the best
copywriter this place has ever had.’

Tom shrugged his
shoulders and held up his hands in a
sorry buddy, I’d love to help but it’s
out of my hands
kind of way. ‘I won’t deny you’re good at you’re job, but
we need to cut costs, and you’re expensive.’

‘I think you’ll find
the word is
experienced
, not
expensive
. Anyway, what a load of
bullshit. I make my salary ten times over with the quality of my work. How are
you going to replace me?’

‘Well – and please
don’t take this the wrong way – we’re going to replace you with Gabby.’

‘Gabby! You’re not
being serious, are you? She’s barely out of school.’

‘She’s talented, Sam. You
said so yourself. And more importantly, she’s cheap. It’s a simple trade.’

‘A simple trade? Do you
even have the faintest idea of how good I am?’

‘It’s not my decision.’

‘But you’re supposed to
be my friend!’

‘I
am
your
friend, Sam. That’s why this is so hard for me. I feel awful having to be the
one to tell you that you’re no longer needed here.’
Twist the knife, twist
the knife, I fucked you’re wife and now I’m gonna fuck your life!

‘There must be
something you can do to persuade them to keep me? At least
try
to tell
them, Tom. You have to try!’

‘Believe me, I have
tried. But the bottom line is they’ve made their decision and they’re refusing
to budge. They’ve already voted on it, Sam. There’s no turning back.’

‘But what am I going to
do? You know as well as I do that there’s no work out there. I need the money,
for fuck’s sake!’

‘You’ll receive a
redundancy settlement. That should see you though until something else comes
up. And it goes without saying that you’ll receive a glowing reference from
me.’

Sam clasped his hand to
his mouth and stared wide-eyed at Tom. ‘I don’t believe this. I thought I was
your friend, Tom. Why are you doing this to me?’

‘It’s not just you,
Sam. There’ll be others too. As your friend, I thought it only right that
you’re the first to find out.’

‘As my friend? What
kind of friend
are
you?’

‘Please, Sam. The
decision’s final.’

For what seemed like an
eternity, they sat facing each another without saying a word; a primal moment
between two men who’d known each other since university. It was Sam who finally
broke the silence: ‘You do know what this means for us, don’t you?’

‘Please, Sam. You don’t
have to say anything right now.’

‘We’re finished, Tom. Our
so-called friendship…it’s over. I don’t ever want to see you again. Is that clear?’

‘Give it time, Sam.
Eventually you’ll come to realise that I had no other choice.’

‘That’s bullshit and
you know it. There’s something else, isn’t there? Something you’re not telling
me.’

‘No, Sam. There isn’t.
This is business, that’s all. Plain and simple business.’
And none of this
would have happened if you’d kept your trap shut about Gabby. I’d still be
banging Sarah, you’d still be in a job, and the world would be a happier place
for everyone.

‘Like fuck it is,’ Sam said,
rising unsteadily to his feet. ‘There’s something else…something you’re not
telling me. I’ll find out, Tom. Sooner or later I’ll find out. This isn’t the
end of it, I promise you.’

Tom stood up and
extended his arm. Sam recoiled at the cynicism of the gesture, backing away in
disgust at the man whom he’d once called his best friend. ‘Please, Sam,’ Tom
said, urging him to take his hand.
Shake my hand and get the fuck out of
here, or I’ll tell you all about that ‘something else’. And then what will you
do, eh?

‘Goodbye, Tom,’ Sam
said, walking to the door. ‘I hope it works out with Gabby. I hope you get what
you deserve.’

Tom stared blankly at
Sam as he left the office, slamming the door behind him.
Revenge is a dish
best served cold
, he thought, watching him as he headed off down the
corridor and out of his life forever.