The Hating Game (33 page)

‘
Right, I th
ink you’ve got the ball chuckin’ down now,’ the Aussie said in a broad accent. ‘Ready for a scrum?’ He smiled and put a hand on her back. Normally she would have shrugged it off in a heartbeat but she was freezing and his hand was lovely and warm.

‘
A scrum? What’s that?’ Mattie had never watched rugby, let
alone studied the terminology. She’d always thought rugby was for Neanderthals who had nothing better to do than grunt and act out homoerotic fantasies.

‘
You know,
trying to get the ball from your opponent,’ the Aussie said, grinning again and patting her shoulder. ‘You remember the rules, right?’

‘
Sort of.’ Matti
e hadn’t bothered to listen. It wasn’t like she’d be doing this again anytime soon.

‘
Adam? Ready for a scrum
?’ the Aussie shouted.

Adam didn’t even move
. God, he looked angry, Mattie thought, taking in his laser eyes burning a hole through Aussie’s hand on her shoulder. Adam’s usual robotic facade was gone, replaced by the face of someone who looked like he was about to take up cannibalism.

The field suddenly flooded with huge, mountainous men. A whistle blew, and the men sprang into action. Unsure of exactly what to do, Mattie held her ground and watched as Adam streaked towards the far corner of the field, where she and Aussie stood.

He slammed into
Aussie, tackling him to the ground. Interesting, Mattie never would have thought that Adam, of all people, would be good at rugby. She remembered back in Year Ten when he’d fallen over a hurdle and broken his front tooth. But wait – surely pummelling someone in the face wasn’t a part of the game?

‘
Jesus!
’ Mattie breathed as Adam pounded his fists into Aussie over and over. The rugby instructor struggled and kicked then his body went limp. But Adam kept punching.

‘
Adam!
Stop!’ Mattie screamed as a swarm of swarthy players stampeded across the field, making a beeline for Adam. Where the hell were Baz and Nate? She caught sight of Ram at the side of the field, filming.

‘
For God’s
sake, Ram!’ she shouted. ‘Help!’ Ram hesitated then put down the camera and started towards Adam as well.

Finally
Ram and the players managed to pull Adam away. Adam looked like a maniac: heaving chest, red cheeks and hair plastered by sweat to his head. Nevertheless, he appeared to be unscathed. The same couldn’t be said for poor Aussie, who was just now coming around and trying to move his legs, moaning and groaning loudly. Blood gushed from his nose, one eye was starting to swell and – Mattie averted her gaze – a tooth was barely hanging onto his top gum.

‘
Let go of me,
’ Adam panted. ‘I won’t go near him.’

‘
You better not, mate,’ the beefiest of Aussie’s teammates said. ‘Or you won’t go near anyone, ever again. Because you won’t be breathing.’

Adam shook them off and stepped back.

‘
Chr
ist, what a nutter,’ another muttered, moving away. He turned towards Baz and Nate who were sauntering over. ‘What kind of television show is this? Your man nearly killed him!’ He gestured towards Aussie who was lurching to his feet, blood pouring from his mouth.

‘
Shame,’ Baz said, shaking his
head, but unable to hide his gleeful expression. ‘Good thing you all signed those forms. You know:
participation at your own risk
. . . ring any bells? Not my fault if you can’t read.’

The man narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m calling the police.’

Baz shrugged. ‘Sure, go ahead. But your team won’t get its fee. And didn’t I hear something about needing the money for next season, or you’ll have to fold?’

Mattie watched as t
he group of men started advancing on Baz, baring their teeth. Baz backed away nervously. ‘Come on, let’s pack up.’ He turned towards Adam. ‘You all right?’

‘
Fine,
’ Adam spat through clenched teeth. His face had returned to its usual vacant expression. Beating the mud off his clothes, he trotted with Baz and Nate towards the Land Rover, the players angrily stomping after them.

‘
Thanks for your help back there,’ Mattie said to Ram sarcastically, watching as the trio climbed into the Land Rover just before the players reached them. Mattie shook her head as the men swarmed the car and started banging on its doors.

Ram looked up from cleaning the lens of his camera. ‘I helped!’ he said.

‘
Yeah, after you got all the gory action.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s my job, innit?’ He shook his head. ‘This place is a fucking nuthouse. Thank God I only got three more days after today.’

Mattie stared. ‘What do you mean, only three more days? Is someone coming in to replace you?’

Ram shrugged. ‘I told you, they don’t tell me nothin’. All I know is they got me contracted until Friday.’

‘
Shit.’
Ram was hardly her favourite, but who knew what kind of idiot they could get for the last week of the show? It seemed kind of strange, switching the principal cameraman for the last week. Did Nate and Baz have something else up their silly faux-designer sleeves?

The
Land Rover screeched into gear and bounced across the field towards them, the players trailing after it. It skidded to a halt, and Mattie yanked open the door and jumped in beside Adam, trying to keep as much distance between them as possible. As they pulled away, she saw Aussie hobbling towards the clubhouse. Imagine, Adam doing that to someone, she thought, sneaking a look at his frozen face.

And for a sp
lit second, she felt scared.

*

Jess
parked her car in front of her flat and grabbed the keys, still trying to absorb what she’d seen. Stuck in traffic near the Chiswick roundabout, she’d tried over and over again to come up with a reason why Adam had those photos in his flat. But as she did, incriminating pieces of a sordid puzzle kept falling into place: Adam’s questions about Mattie, her flat, where her office was . . . Jess had just blathered on, as usual, without thought for the consequences.

There was no l
ogical explanation other than the obvious: Adam was dangerously obsessed with Mattie. For the first time since she’d sworn off the show, Jess felt her resolve waiver. Maybe she should check in and see what was happening. Just to make sure everything was okay.

She
looked at her watch – almost eight, and time for the show’s daily recap. She turned on the telly.

The
Jackson 5
tune filled the room and Seamus’s voice boomed out: ‘Tonight, on
The Hating Game
. Mattie and Adam take to the rugby field . . . where you won’t believe the dramatic turn of events.’

Jess crashed down onto the sofa, eyes glued to the dusty screen, heart caught in her throat. Dramatic turn of events? What had happened? She watched as some toothy Australian man sleazily patted Mattie’s back and the camera cut to the expression on Adam’s face. He didn’t even look like the Adam she knew – his eyes seemed to burn holes through the television set.

All of a sudden,
Adam was slamming into the Australian, landing a punch on his meaty face. Jesus Christ, Jess thought, hands flying to her mouth in horror. Who
was
this person? The man she knew wouldn’t hurt a flea!

Jess’s heart pounded as she envisioned Adam crouching behind rubbish bins and hiding around corners to take all those photos of Mattie. She shivered; definitely not the sign of someone normal. Nor was smashing some poor bloke in the head! No, this new Adam was scary.

W
hat if the obsession got out of hand and he hurt Mattie? Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, and who knew what crazy kind of romantic rubbish those producers had planned! Her friend could be in serious trouble.

She had to warn Mattie
. But how? Jess grabbed her mobile and dialled Mattie’s number. Unsurprisingly there was no answer – wherever they were, phones probably weren’t allowed. Besides, when Mattie saw who was calling she wasn’t likely to answer anyway.

Jess
sat back, staring as the rugby man finally struggled to his feet. If she couldn’t warn Mattie then she should warn the show. Once they found out just how obsessed Adam really was, surely they’d pull the plug on the whole thing?

The credits rolled across the screen an
d Jess caught the name of the executive producer, Nate Reilly, and the company that made the show, SiniStar Productions. She scribbled down the names, then Googled the company and quickly accessed their website, scrawling down the number from the Contact Us page.

Jess’
s heart beat faster as she punched in the digits then crossed her fingers someone – anyone – would pick up.

‘
Welcome to
SiniStar Productions,’ the recorded voice answered. ‘Our offices are now closed. To leave a message, press one.’

Jess hung up. She wasn’t about to leave a message they could easily ignore. If she couldn’t get in touch with the production company, she’d try reaching this Nate Reilly directly. But how? She tugged a strand of hair around a finger as her mind worked, then sat up straight as a flash of inspiration hit. Kyle might know the number; maybe the show gave contestants the producers’ contact numbers in case of emergency. Mattie might have rejected Kyle – again – but Jess was sure Kyle wouldn’t let any harm come to her. He’d help Jess get Mattie out safely.

She scrolled through ‘Contacts’
on her phone, hoping she still had Kyle’s private details. They hadn’t spoken since Kyle had rung, pleading with her to help convince Mattie to give him another chance. Jess hadn’t exactly been successful . . . Oh good, she
did
have the number. She hit ‘Call’ and waited, listening to ring after ring.

‘
You’ve reached Kyle Cook. I’m currently unavailable until the twenty-fifth of February. For any client inquiries, please contact my office at . . .’ Jess hung up, biting her lip. Poor Kyle, she couldn’t blame him for taking off after what had just happened. But what was she going to do now?

Typing ‘Nate Reilly London’ into Google
on the off chance she’d strike gold, her heart sunk as result after result filtered onto the screen. It would take forever to track him down that way.

She grabbed the white pages and flipped to R, gulping at the long columns of ‘N Reilly’, and then determinedly dialled the number at the top of the list. She’d call all night if she had to! And at the very worst, she’d just ring back SiniStar tomorrow and demand to speak to someone. Anyone.

After all, h
er best friend’s safety was at stake.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ninety per cent of women expect a romantic gesture for Valentine’
s Day.

Twenty
per cent of men plan one.

‘
NOW
, DON’T YOU WORRY,’ Nate heard Baz saying to someone the next morning. Nate raised himself up on one elbow and tried to pat down his curls into some kind of order. Who was Baz talking to?

‘
No, no, I assure you
, it’s fine. Adam, like the rest of our contestants, is mentally fit. They all have to go through a psychological assessment, you see.’

Gosh, Baz was smooth,
Nate thought. It was nine a.m. on Wednesday – finally a morning when Nate could have a lie-in – and already Baz sounded like he could be on Radio 1. Nate yawned. He’d had a terrible sleep, the mangled face of that poor rugby player plaguing him all night. He really should have intervened despite Baz’s insistence they let it play out.

‘
Look, whatever you found in Adam’s flat, it’s not really important. We keep a close watch on all our competitors and we wouldn’t hesitate to remove them if we felt anyone was at risk. So thank you for calling and I hope you enjoy the rest of the show.’

Nate wandered into the lounge.
Who
was
that on the phone? What could they have found in Adam’s flat?

‘
Took the bullet for you on that one, mate,’ Baz said, waving the phone. ‘Some crazy woman wanted to talk to you but I managed to put her off.’

Nate pushed aside annoyance that Baz had taken his call.
As EP, though, he did have to start learning to delegate. ‘What did she want?’ Nate asked, pouring himself some water.

Baz shrugged. ‘Aw, I don’t know. Some rubbish about how Adam
’s all fucked up.’ He snorted. ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

Once again Nate
pictured Adam pummelling the rugby player. ‘He’s not really that fucked up, though, right?’

‘
Oh no, no. Of course not,’ Baz said quickly. ‘Look, I’m going to go wake up Mattie and Adam, get them ready for the big day. Everything’s set for tonight, right?’

Nate nodd
ed. ‘Yeah, it’s all set.’ If Adam wanted to kill someone yesterday, just wait until things played out tonight. Today’s Relationship Repair was focused on romance, it being Valentine’s Day and all. Nate had organized a schmaltzy dinner but late last night Silver had rung with a whole new plan that would ensure romance was the last thing on the menu.