Shafted (9 page)

‘Jeezus! Talk about a rip-off,’ Larry sniped, taking his debit card out of his wallet and thrusting it at the bailiff.

Face impassive, Flood slotted it into the machine. He couldn’t count how many times he’d heard those exact same words from disgruntled debtors, and it never ceased to amaze him that people couldn’t seem to grasp that they wouldn’t be in this position if they’d just pay their bills on time. And this guy had less excuse than most, because he was a TV star and must be worth a fortune.

But then again . . .

Taking the card out of the reader, he handed it back to Larry.

‘Sorry, sir, can’t take this. It’s coming up as insufficient funds.’

‘
What?
’Larry yelped, frowning deeply.‘No way! Your thing must be faulty.’

Assuring him that the machine was in perfect working order, Flood asked if he wanted to try a different card.

Thrusting a credit card at him now, Larry said, ‘Try that. And if it doesn’t work, it’s definitely your machine.’

Slotting it in, Flood extracted it after a moment and shook his head.

‘You’re kidding me!’ Larry murmured, the blood draining from his face. ‘Look, do me a favour and wait while I ring the bank, will you?’

‘As long as it doesn’t take too long,’ Baron piped up, glancing pointedly at his watch. ‘We haven’t got all day, you know.’

Giving him a dirty look, Larry went into the bedroom and closed the door to make his call in private.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Logan, but the figures are perfectly correct,’ the bank’s branch manager told him patiently, after ten minutes of Larry arguing that they had made a mistake at their end, or that somebody must have been illegally accessing his account. ‘I have the full read-out of this year’s movements on the screen, and there is nothing out of the ordinary about it. Apart from your mortgage repayments – which, incidentally, I was about to write to you about, because I’m concerned that you won’t be able to meet them after this next one, given that you’ve had no money paid into your account for so long – you seem to have spent the bulk of the rest in . . . let me see now . . . ah, yes, here we are . . . Bargain Booze; Oddbins;The Balti Palace; and Asda 24.

‘Now, about the mortgage repayments,’ he went on, as Larry sat on the bed in stunned silence. ‘Shall I pencil you in for a meeting on the third of next month . . . ?’

Coming back into the lounge at last, Larry’s face told a clear enough story for the bailiffs to know that he’d been unsuccessful.

‘Is there someone who could pay it for you while you get it sorted?’ Flood suggested as Baron immediately resumed his efforts to remove the TV’s holding panel. ‘A friend, or a family member?’

Larry shook his head. He had no friends, and he’d disowned his family years ago when his rise to fame had turned them into a pack of vultures, forever trying to get their dirty, lazy hands on his money. So they wouldn’t help him out even if they’d been able to – which they wouldn’t be, because they were such a bunch of losers.

There was absolutely nobody he could turn to, and the realisation of just how alone he was hit him harder than he would have imagined it could. Overcome by a sudden urge to cry, he went back into the bedroom, calling over his shoulder for Flood and Baron to take whatever they wanted.

Staying there until he heard the front door closing, Larry waited a few minutes to make sure that they had really gone. Then, wandering back into the lounge, he slumped down on his chair and gazed around to see what damage they’d done. They had taken everything of value, from the TV to the studio-quality stereo system, right down to the paintings off the walls. It was a wonder they hadn’t taken the cushion from under his arse as well, he thought miserably. But that would have been too much of a piss-take, considering that they’d get far more than the three and a half thousand he supposedly owed for what they
had
taken.

Searching without success for alcohol to numb the pain, Larry held his head in his hands, wondering how the hell he’d managed to piss five years’ worth of earnings up the wall in one short year. He’d always been extravagant, splashing it about in the clubs and casinos, often picking up the tab for his fellow drinkers and whichever bird he was wooing at the time, and taking taxis and even chauffeured cars here, there and everywhere. But he’d never thought it was a problem, because he’d been paid enough to sustain the lifestyle and hadn’t concerned himself with trivialities like checking his account to see what a dent it was really making. Obviously, he’d been riding close to the line all along, though, so when the pay stopped coming in to top it up, it hadn’t taken long to erode the rest.

Larry was broke now, and with no job to replenish his funds he had no means of getting out of the pit he’d fallen into – or, rather,
jumped
into, because he’d done this with his eyes wide open. He couldn’t even sign on to get him through, because they’d laugh him out of the benefits office. And he had nothing of any real value left to sell. He was already in danger of losing the apartment if he couldn’t meet the next mortgage payment – which, obviously, he couldn’t. But even if he’d wanted to sell it, he doubted that the bank would allow him the time it might take to offload it without heaping penalty payments and interest on his head, leaving him with nothing but more debt for his troubles.

It infuriated him that he even had to
think
about selling his home. He’d worked bloody hard for it, and resented that he might be forced to move into some small tatty place – like the hovels his scummy family called home. And how could he live among the public again, anyway, now they’d made it so clear what they thought of him? He’d be dead within a week – if he hadn’t killed himself first!

Left with no other option, Larry reached for the phone.

‘Well, well,’ Georgie said coolly. ‘This is unexpected, I must say. Was there something you forgot to say last time we spoke? Because I’m pretty sure you covered everything when you told me to go and fuck myself.’

Like a spoiled child being taken to task by a disapproving parent, Larry wanted to scream at her to get off his back. But she had the upper hand right now, and if he was to have any hope of crawling out of the hole that life and ill fortune had landed him in, he knew he’d have to swallow his pride and throw himself on her mercy.

Muttering ‘Sorry,’ he gritted his teeth when Georgie asked him to speak up because she
didn’t quite catch that
.‘I said I’m
sorry
,’ he repeated tersely. ‘I know I was out of order the other day, but you caught me at a bad time. Anyway, I really am sorry if I offended you, but I’ve had a good think about what you were saying, and I reckon you could be right about giving that job a go. But I’m only doing it for you,’ he added quickly, as if she ought to be grateful. ‘And it’s got to be on my terms.’

‘Too late,’ Georgie said when he’d finished. ‘I’ve already told them you don’t want it.’

‘Well, tell them I’ve changed my mind,’ he blustered, a note of desperation sparking in his voice. ‘Christ, Georgie, I thought you knew me better than that? A job’s a job, so why the hell would I turn it down?’

Because you’re an arrogant little bugger who still thinks he’s calling all the shots
, Georgie thought.

Sighing, she said, ‘Okay, I’ll see what I can do. But don’t hold your breath, because they’ve probably found somebody else by now.’

‘Just try,’ Larry said, his tone defeated now as he added, ‘
Please.
’

Sensing that it had taken a lot for him to climb down like this, Georgie said, ‘Okay, leave it with me, I’ll see what I can do.’ Then, seizing the rare opportunity that his humility had presented her, she said, ‘Just one thing, Larry . . . if you get lucky and they haven’t already filled the slot, don’t be turning up drunk and looking ghastly, or that really will be the end of you and me. You know I love you dearly, but it’s time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself and quit the drinking before you lose everything. And I’m not just talking material possessions, I’m talking looks and personality. Alcohol destroys them both, and before you know it you’ll have nothing left to offer.’

‘I’ll sort it,’ Larry said, having no intention of doing any such thing but wanting to shut her up because she was depressing him.

5

Terri Lawson was the producer of
Cops ’n’ Bobbies
, Shock-Wave’s first foray into the transatlantic market. Sitting in the plush office they were using while they were in England, she and her assistant Jon Street were checking over some stills from a shoot when Julie, the Mancunian temp receptionist-cum-secretary, burst in.

‘He’s here!’ she announced, her eyes alight with an excitement that Terri wouldn’t have imagined she was capable of feeling, given that she usually sighed her way through the day as if life was a burden. ‘D’y’ want me to send him in?’

‘In a minute,’ Terri told her firmly. ‘And please knock next time. We could have been doing anything.’

Giving a disparaging
I doubt that very much
snort, Julie closed the door and sashayed back into the reception office to tell Larry and his agent that the boss would see them in a minute.

Thanking her, Georgie wandered over to the window to take a look at the view.

Taking her mobile phone out of her bag, Julie whispered, ‘Could you do me a massive favour and say hello to my friend, Larry? Only she’ll never believe I really met you otherwise.’

Telling her that he’d be delighted, Larry trailed a fingertip over her thumb when she handed her phone to him and smiled when he felt the tremor pass through her.

‘Her name’s Emma,’ she gasped, her pretty face flushed. ‘And I’m Julie.’

‘Nice name,’ Larry drawled silkily. ‘Had a girlfriend called Julie once. Lovely-looking girl – bit like yourself.’

Almost wetting herself, Julie gazed up at him with adoration in her eyes, murmuring, ‘I can’t believe you’re actually here. I used to watch
Star Struck
all the time, but it’s not the same without you. And me and my friends thought it was disgusting when they sacked you like that.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Larry said. Then, holding up a finger when the phone was answered, he said, ‘Is that Emma? Hi, this is Larry Logan. Julie asked me to say hello.’

‘Don’t lie!’ the girl at the other end of the phone squealed. ‘No
way
is that you! Say that thing you always said at the end of your show.’

Chuckling, Larry said, ‘Join me next week for another round of
Star Struck
– the only game where
you
, the public, can win big money for knowing the secrets of the stars!’

Jerking the phone away from his ear when the girl literally screamed, he winced and handed it back to Julie.

‘God, thanks!’ She grinned. ‘She’ll be made up. Well, you can
hear
how chuffed she is, can’t you? But she’ll be so jealous that I got to actually
meet
you.’

Turning round when she heard a buzzing sound, Georgie saw that it was coming from the desk phone. Clearing her throat to snap the girl out of her trance, she nodded towards it.

Sighing, Julie said, ‘Looks like she’s ready for you.’

Winking at her, Larry put his hand in his pocket and followed Georgie into the producers’ office, filled with renewed hope for the future. He’d been wallowing in self-pity and injured pride for so long now, thinking that the public had turned their backs on him. But judging by Julie’s reaction to seeing him just now – and her friend’s at having simply heard his voice – it was clear that he still had that certain
something
. And, better yet, they weren’t blaming him for the disastrous telethon or the shit that followed. Fingers crossed, his luck might actually be about to turn around.

Terri and Jon exchanged a surreptitious glance when Larry walked in. As Terri had confessed to Georgie when she’d made the initial call, she’d never actually heard of him before. But she had made it her business to view old tapes of his show since, in order to judge his hosting abilities. But, good-looking as he undoubtedly was on screen, she was unprepared for the presence he exuded in the flesh. Even with the extra weight, and the small number of stress lines around his eyes, he was extraordinarily handsome.

Sober and showered, and having made a real effort to clean up his act in the week since telling Georgie that he wanted this job, Larry knew that he looked great. He still resented being forced to take a one-off show, but beggars couldn’t be choosers so he’d had his best suit dry-cleaned and had booked himself in for a haircut with his favourite stylist – which had cost him far more than he could really afford. But, catching the look that passed between the producer and her assistant, he figured it had been worth it.

Extending his hand now when Terri stood up to greet him, he gave her the same kind of once-over she’d just given him. She had too much black eyeliner framing her wide-spaced eyes, and her lipstick was too garish a red for her pale complexion, but she had the dark glossy hair that he liked, and her figure was pretty good for her age, which he estimated to be somewhere around the mid-thirties. Bit old for his taste, but she might be worth a second glance – if it helped get his career back on track.

Turning to the man now, Larry smiled as he shook his hand. Jon was obviously younger than Terri, but his receding hairline and misguided attempt at dressing trendily made him look older. And Larry recognised the glint of envy in his eyes all too well, because it was the same expression that less handsome men always got on their faces when he walked into a room. Oh, he was back on form, all right.

‘Great to meet you both at last,’ Terri said, waving them to take a seat. ‘We were so pleased when Georgie told us that you’d reconsidered, Larry.’

‘Me, too,’ Georgie murmured, settling in her seat and gazing around the office.

‘Can we get you guys anything before we start?’ Terri asked now, perching prettily on the chair opposite Larry’s and indicating the table between them, which was stacked with nibbles and a variety of alcoholic and soft drinks.