Shafted (3 page)

Like most of the journalists he knew, Sam despised this happy-clappy bung-us-all-your-cash type of show. And it wasn’t just the blatant attempt by the Z-list celebrities who clamoured to take part to keep themselves in the public eye that pissed him off, but that these shows were even
necessary
in this day and age. Kids still suffering poverty and neglect, while the government wasted the country’s cash on bombs and ammunition for other people’s wars. He’d have loved to sink his teeth into a down-and-dirty exposé of
that
kind of injustice, but it was a rare reporter who got away with fucking with political issues without finding every door suddenly slammed in his face. So Sam chose to aim his poisoned pen-nib into the heart of showbiz instead, taking great pleasure from biting the arses of overpaid celebrities – like Larry Logan.

He was just coming to the end of his latest piece now when his phone rang.

It was Hannah, the switchboard operator at the
Herald
.

‘Hi, Sam. Hope I’m not disturbing you, but I thought you’d want to hear this . . .’

Smiling slyly as Hannah relayed the details of the call she’d just had from a member of the public complaining that the girl who’d won the jackpot on
Star Struck
had done so under false pretences, Sam felt the tinglings of a juicy scandal coming on. Every other journo in the country would be writing about Logan being pissed on air, so the papers would be saturated with that, come the morning. But this – providing it was true – would blow the rest out of the water.

Jotting down the alleged cheat’s name and address as supplied by the caller, Sam thanked Hannah and promised to take her for a drink as soon as he got a minute. Then, disconnecting, he tapped in Angie Rayner’s number, praying that she wouldn’t have her phone on voicemail.

‘Hi there,’ Angie crooned, her smiling voice almost drowned out by the music pumping away in the background. ‘Long time no see.’

‘Sorry, babe, it’s been a crazy few weeks,’ Sam apologised, raising his voice just enough to be sure that she could hear him clearly without broadcasting his entire conversation to his rivals in their own rooms below. ‘Bit loud there, isn’t it? Take it you’re at the after-show party?’

‘How did you guess?’ Angie yelled back merrily. ‘Shame you couldn’t be here, you’d
love
it.’

‘Any chance of sneaking me in?’

‘Yeah, right. Like they’re not gonna notice the press snooping round at a time like this.’

‘I’ll keep my head down – promise.’

‘Sorry, Sam, but it’s a total no-go. We’ve got major security tonight, and no one’s getting in unless they’re on the list. We’re on complete lockdown. No last-minute friends or relatives – not even for the bigwigs.’

‘Don’t want to risk anyone getting to Larry, huh?’ Sam grunted, disappointed that he’d have to wait outside with the rest of the press wolves and try to waylay the girl when she came out while the others jumped all over Logan.

‘You know I can’t discuss Larry with you,’ Angie was telling him now, her voice suddenly guarded.

‘Chill, babe,’ Sam said quickly. ‘Obviously I’m
interested
in him – who wouldn’t be after tonight? But I’m sure there’s enough hacks already queuing up outside for a piece of him.’

‘Yes, and they’re all wasting their time, because they’ve already gone,’ Angie said, sounding more than a little disapproving.

‘They?’ Sam pounced. ‘Are you talking about him and the girl who won? Have they left together?’

‘What do
you
think?’ Angie tutted. Then, remembering who she was talking to, she said, ‘But
I
didn’t tell you that, and if you quote me, I’ll deny it, because the boss is already on the warpath.’

‘Fair enough,’ Sam said. ‘Just tell me where they’ve gone, and I’ll be out of your hair.’

‘I genuinely don’t know,’ Angie told him. ‘But I’d say it was a fair bet they’ve gone clubbing.’

‘Sure they won’t have gone straight back to his place?’ Sam asked. ‘They’d want privacy, wouldn’t they?’

‘He’s too much of a show-off,’ Angie snorted. ‘He won’t go home until he’s been seen by everyone in town.’

Telling her she was an angel, Sam disconnected and rubbed his hands together with glee. It was a godsend having an insider like Angie to keep him up to date about the goings-on at Oasis, and he’d have to remember to send her some flowers if this turned out as good as he expected. Sure as hell none of the other journos would know what he knew yet, and the shit would hit the fan big time when he put it out there. The public might adore Logan, but while the women who made up the bulk of his viewers might tolerate the kiss-and-tells from the fully grown women he’d shagged and dumped, the slightest whiff of an involvement with a child was guaranteed to turn them against him. And – legal or not – sixteen still meant a child in most people’s eyes.

If it was true.

Calling his photographer housemate Fred Greene, he told him to get his gear together and meet him at the car – but to make sure that their other housemates didn’t see him taking his stuff out.

‘What’s going on?’ Fred wanted to know, already pulling his shoes on in his room directly below.

Telling him that he’d explain on the way, Sam slotted new batteries into his Dictaphone and gave it a quick one-two test. Satisfied that it was working, he looked around for his keys and his wallet. Then, waiting a few minutes to give Fred time to get the car running, he headed out and tiptoed down the stairs.

Blowing on his hands as he waited for the car’s heater to kick in, Fred nodded at Sam when he climbed in beside him and said, ‘Where to?’

‘Dane Grove, Stretford,’ Sam told him, pulling his seat belt on. ‘We just need to do a quick verification of facts to make sure this isn’t a hoax – then it’s off to town to catch a rat.’

Peering up at the Baxter house when Fred pulled up to the kerb opposite ten minutes later, Sam was disappointed to see that it was in total darkness. But, just as they were about to set off again, another car turned the corner and drove up to the closed gates.

Switching on the Dictaphone that was nestling in his pocket as a woman climbed out of the passenger side, Sam got out of the car and approached her, calling out, ‘Mrs Baxter?’

Turning, Judith Baxter peered at him uncertainly. ‘Yes.’

‘Sam Brady from the
Herald
.’ He extended a hand. ‘Sorry for bothering you so late, but I’m covering the Kiddie Kare Telethon and wondered if you’d spare a moment to give your reaction to your daughter winning the jackpot on
Star Struck
tonight. You must be very proud.’

‘Sorry?’ Judith looked as confused as she actually was. ‘I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Your daughter, Cindy,’ Sam persisted, watching her face closely. ‘You
did
know she was taking part, didn’t you?’

‘I think you’ve got the wrong family. My daughter’s in Majorca.’

‘Are you sure?’ Sam asked, knowing full well that it
was
the right family. Right family, wrong daughter – just as the caller had claimed.

‘I think I’d know where my own daughter is,’ Judith replied, a bemused expression on her face now as she pulled both gates wide for her husband to drive through.

Scratching his head, Sam frowned. ‘Strange. It was definitely a Cindy Baxter from
this
address who won.’

Taking her house keys out of her handbag and reclosing the gates, Judith shrugged. ‘They’re either lying, or somebody’s made a mistake, but it definitely wasn’t
my
Cindy.’

‘Black hair,’ Sam blurted out when she began to walk towards the house. ‘Nineteen; very pretty – like yourself; slim; five five-ish; works at a beauty salon called Glamoreyes; wants to be a model . . .’

Turning back, Judith frowned. ‘Where did you get all that from?’

‘The description’s mine, but the info’s what
she
gave out,’ Sam told her. ‘Sorry if I seem pushy, but I can’t see there being two girls with the same name, address
and
personal details. Maybe she was planning to surprise you?’

‘She’s not due back for another week yet,’ Judith said confusedly. ‘She wouldn’t have come home without telling me. She tells me everything.’

Getting out of the car just then, Phil Baxter looked from Sam to Fred to the camera in Fred’s hands, and said, ‘What’s going on?’

‘They’re from the
Herald
,’ his wife told him, folding her arms. ‘They reckon our Cindy’s been on some game show tonight.’

‘And she won,’ Sam added, smiling at the husband now. ‘Ten thousand pounds.’

‘Nah.’ Phil shook his head.‘You’ve got the wrong house, mate.’

‘That’s what I said,’ Judith told him quietly. ‘But it does sound like her from what he’s just said.’

‘Er, she’s out of the country,’ Phil reminded her with a sarcastic edge to his voice.

Gritting her teeth, embarrassed that he seemed intent on continuing in front of strangers the argument they’d been having on the way home, Judith said, ‘I know that, thank you very much. But he’s just described her to a T, and he even knows where she works, ’cos she’s supposed to have said it on the telly.’

‘It isn’t her,’ Phil insisted. ‘I phoned her at the hotel before we went out, and there’s no way she’d have made it back here that fast.’

‘Well, how else do you explain it?’ Judith demanded.

‘How do
you
?’ her husband retorted.

Sam and Fred exchanged an amused glance when the couple glared at each other. Then, suddenly, a spark of realisation flared in the father’s eyes and, gritting his teeth, he muttered, ‘Tania!’

‘It can’t be,’ Judith said, frowning. ‘She’s only sixteen, and he said this girl was our Cindy’s age.’

‘Yeah, well she’s getting pretty bloody good at lying these days, isn’t she?’ Phil snapped. ‘If this is why she’s been copying her, so she could pretend to
be
her, I’ll take her bloody head off!’ Snatching the keys out of his wife’s hand now, he marched towards the house.

‘Don’t do anything stupid,’ Judith called after him. Then, casting a nervous glance at Sam, she said, ‘Sorry, I’ve got to go. He’s . . .’ Trailing off, she shrugged, then turned and ran after her husband.

Staying put at the gate for a few moments as lights went on inside the house, Sam heard the sound of heavy footsteps running up the stairs, then shouting when Phil Baxter discovered that his youngest daughter wasn’t in her bed. Armed with all the proof he needed to know that Hannah’s caller had obviously been telling the truth, Sam jerked his head at Fred and quick-marched back to the car.

Tania Baxter was having a whale of a time. She’d been to Bone a few times with her friends and had thought it was okay, but now that she’d discovered what it was like on
Larry
’s side of the fence, she could see why he loved it. There was no waiting in line for the stars, being looked up and down by the doormen like you were a lesser life form; or waiting an hour to get anywhere near the bar only to find yourself ignored by the bar staff. It was all first-class treatment and free champagne for the stars, and she was loving every single second of it.

And she especially loved being here with Larry, who had caused quite a stir when they’d arrived, giving Tania her first sweet taste of the life she’d always known she was born to live as people in the queue started whistling and yelling his name. Smiling her best film-star smile, she’d welded herself to his side, determined to let it be known that she was his woman now. She’d been a bit miffed that nobody had called
her
name, considering they must have all seen her on
Star Struck
. And it pissed her off
big
time when three tarts at the head of the line flashed their tits at him. But – fortunately for them – Larry didn’t notice, or they’d have still been picking their teeth up off the floor.

Clinging tightly to Larry’s arm when the doormen waved them inside, Tania had noticed the envious looks she got from a group of clubbers who she’d previously have bent over backwards to be noticed by: the cool crowd, who swanned about Bone like they owned it, acting like celebrities just because they dressed more freakily and necked more drugs than anyone else. But
thinking
you’re a celebrity and actually
being
one were very different kettles of fish, as Tania now knew, and she’d felt more than a little smug as she and Larry left them behind in the cold night air.

Still gloating when they reached the VIP lounge, her jaw had dropped to her knees when she’d seen all the famous people who were already there. She’d thought she was in heaven mixing with the celebrities who’d taken part in the telethon, but they’d been small fry compared to this collection of footballers, soap stars, top chart singers and musicians. And they all seemed to know Larry, which just blew her mind, especially when they all said hello to
her
, too, as if she was already one of them.

But if
that
had thrilled her, it was nothing to the knicker-wetting experience of finding herself face to face with the three guys from Unreal when they reached the bar.

Unreal were
the
hottest rap group on the planet, and Tania and her friends had been watching them on MTV just the night before, fantasising about which one they were going to marry. Her choice – after Larry, who was quite simply the god of all gods – was the baby-faced lead singer, Alonzo, who had the sexiest jet-black eyes and the most dazzling smile she’d ever seen. And now here he was, in the flesh, dripping gold and diamonds, and wearing the most expensive sports gear she’d ever seen – and hugging Larry like they were brothers, telling him that he’d caught the show in his hotel room earlier and thought he’d been amazing.

Tania almost fainted when the rappers invited her and Larry to join their party. But she managed to dredge up a modicum of cool from somewhere, determined not to be mistaken for one of the numerous one-night stands that Larry was forever being photographed coming out of clubs with. But calm as she appeared on the outside, she was screaming with excitement on the inside – wishing that her friends could see her now, because they were never going to believe this when she told them.