The Hit

  “Er. What do you recommend?” Adam asked.

  A couple of minutes later he was standing with a pint mug in his hand, with a drink called a Zombie in it. A cube of sugar burned weakly on top of a mound of ice. He stuck a can of beer in one pocket and a small bottle of vodka in the other — he had a feeling he was going to need friends tonight — then headed off to find Lizzie. He found her soon enough, killing herself laughing with Julie in the middle of a crowd. Everyone was tall, slim, tan, and expensively dressed. By the look of it they were pretty amusing, too. Lizzie was having the time of her life.

  He walked past a couple of times in the hope that he’d catch her attention, but she didn’t notice him at all. In the end he just shouldered his way in among them, and went, “Ta-da!” as if he’d just pulled off a trick.

  At least it got him some attention. The beautiful people stared at him, then burst out laughing. He had no idea if they were laughing with him or at him. Then they started jabbering away again, glancing sideways at Adam as if he was made out of mud. But Lizzie found time to squeeze his arm before Julie dragged her off again.

  “See you in a bit,” she hissed. She shoved a little paper packet into his hand, winked, and vanished. Adam tried to make conversation.

  “What do you do?” one of the girls asked.

  “Still at school,” he said.

  “What does your father do?” she said.

  Adam thought about it, and decided he couldn’t be arsed trying to impress. “He used to be a stonemason, until he had an accident at work,” he told her, and watched the girl’s face fall.

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope.”

  “So you …”

  “Don’t have any money. Yet. Yet,” he said.

  “So what are you doing here?” she wanted to know.

  “I’m a tourist,” he told her.

  She smiled. “So we’re …”

  “Yeah. You’re the zoo.”

  The girl’s face fell, for the second time. Adam waltzed off. It didn’t feel great, but making a fool out of someone else was better than feeling like a fool himself.

  He needed to pee, so he got himself to a toilet and snorted up the entire packet of powder Lizzie had handed him.

  Wow, he thought. Suddenly, he was in the mood to party. He ran straight out of the toilet and into the first group of people he could find. Everything was great! All his earlier anxieties about fitting in were gone. He was witty, attractive, full of ideas and jokes. In fact, he’d rarely felt so good in his entire life. His problems — Jess, his parents, his whole life — all disappeared into a sparkling fountain of happiness and well-being.

  It lasted about fifteen minutes, going up all the time. Then — panic attack. It took him almost without warning. One minute he was chatting away happily to a girl in the hallway, then his heart began beating too fast, and before he knew it his head was about to explode and he could hardly breathe. He put out a hand to steady himself on the wall next to him. The girl he was talking to looked at him curiously.

  “You OK?” she asked.

  He looked back at her, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, with nothing coming out.

  The girl laughed shrilly.

  “Look at this guy,” she shrieked. “It looks as if his brains are going to come out of his ears.”

  Adam turned and fled, stumbling out into the garden, his heart going like a jackhammer, his brains boiling in hot fat. What was going on? That powder he’d hoovered up? And he’d been drinking cocktails. How many? At least three. He checked his phone for the time. They’d been at the party less than an hour and he was already so off his face he was hardly able to speak. How had it happened?

  There was no way Lizzie could see him like this. He had to hide.

  He headed off across the lawns into the night. There were lights around the edges of the flower beds, and a big, waxy yellow moon overhead, so at least he could see where he was going. Eventually he came to some water, with a dark, overgrown tree hanging over it. He crawled right under the dense canopy, where the thick leaves hid him completely. He lay on the ground in the dark shadows and waited for his heart to stop leaping around his chest like a rat in a trap.

  Gradually, his breathing stilled, his heart began to beat rhythmically. But then, one by one, as if they were things he hadn’t thought of up till now, the events of the day came crowding in on him. His parents weeping at home while he’d run away to have a good time. The pin-holed condom in his pocket — and Jess! Jess! Somehow he’d managed to forget about him altogether for the past couple of hours, but now the dreadful reality drove into his mind like an iron bolt. His lovely brother, gone, whom he’d thought he looked down on but in fact admired above anyone else. He’d thought Jess was someone he could rely on, even more than his mum and dad, but now he was dead and Adam had never even known him. Nothing was as it had seemed. All the hope and optimism of the past couple of days turned to despair. His life was ruined. He would never see his brother again.

  Rolling over onto the dead leaves beneath him, Adam drew his knees up to his chest and held his breath. He hung on to the air as long as he could, but he had to breathe in the end, and when he did the tears came — great wracking sobs that tore at his chest, and which he was utterly unable to control. He lay in the dirt, bawling like a lost soul, astonished at both the intensity of his grief and the fact that he had somehow been so unaware of how bad he really felt.

  * * *

  Julie was right when she said there were some interesting people at the party. In the space of an hour, Lizzie had been introduced to rock stars, drug dealers, lawyers, a high court judge, politicians, and any number of hopelessly cool people involved in various kinds of money management. It was fun, but she was getting worried about abandoning Adam. She and Julie were on the stairs babbling with an offshore accountant when she spotted him pushing his way across the room on his own. He looked lost.

  Full up with XL5 and fizz, Lizzie’s heart melted. He was a boy. He wouldn’t know what a feeling was if it got down on its knees and bit his bottom. He was confused! Poor baby.

  It was up to her to reassure him.

  “Fun, huh?” said Julie. “See anyone here you like … just meow!”

  “I told you, I already have a boyfriend.”

  “Aw, you really like him, don’t you? Are you … ?” Julie rolled her eyes and rocked her hips.

  Lizzie laughed. “Not yet.”

  “Are you going to?”

  “I guess I am.”

  “Of course,” Julie added, “boys like that are just practice, you know? But it’s a good idea to get a lot of practice in, if you see what I mean. So it’s your first time with him? Has he been around much?”

  “No. It’s going to be his first time.”

  “Oh my God!” Julie stopped dead and stared at her. “And you … ?”

  “My first time, too,” Lizzie admitted.

  “That’s so sweet! Right. Come here.”

  She dragged her off to a quiet spot on the landing, rummaged around in her bag, and dug out a key.

  “I was keeping this for something special. It’s the key to the summer house. It’s in among the trees; there’s a fridge, some champagne on ice. Nice little sound system. You know? It’s very private, there’s a huge duvet … the moon is out, it’s by the lake. Hey! What d’you think?”

  “Is there really a moon?” Lizzie peered out the window — and yes, there it was, big and yellow, hanging among the trees.

  “It’s full, too, almost,” said Julie. “Kinda cheesy, huh?”

  “It’s perfect!” Lizzie beamed and took the key.

  Julie beamed back. “Go for it, babe,” she said. “Be gentle with him,” she called as Lizzie ran off. She sighed happily. Lizzie was so naive, she’d been worried about inviting her. There were some very dodgy sorts here tonight. But it was all right. She only wanted her sweet little virgin boy.

  Lizzie spent the next twenty minutes running around the party
with the key to the summer house in her pocket, trying to make Adam’s dreams come true, and failing. Irritating! Where was he?

  She was aware she was being a little unfair — she’d been off on her own for ages, after all — but it did remind her that she was annoyed with him anyway. I love you. Really? Just like that?

  Her mother had warned her that he was a gold digger.

  “I thought gold diggers were girls,” she’d said.

  “No, Lizzie. Gold diggers are poor,” her mother replied.

  Ridiculous. So how come she suddenly got the feeling he was playing her? He was probably just desperate to get into her pants. Fine. So where was he?

  She ended up on the mezzanine floor, where she hoped she’d spy Adam below, but instead she got pounced on by a pair of really odd guys — some of those older men that Julie had been boasting about, perhaps. One of them was a huge, powerful-looking man, built like a house. He was wearing a suit so sharp you could have tied his lapels to your shoes and skated on them. He looked hopelessly out of place at a party like this.

  The other was somewhere in his forties, quite handsome at first glance, but you could tell as soon as you looked closely that he’d had loads of surgery to make it happen. The oddest thing about him was the way he was dressed, like an American teenager out of an eighties movie: baggy jeans hanging down his bum, T-shirt with a gory picture of Metallica on the front, high-tops, and, most ridiculous of all, a baseball cap with the bill halfway around his head. At first she thought it was a costume, but from the way he was preening himself, he obviously thought he looked cool. His eyes, which had trouble meeting hers, kept dropping down to her breasts. All in all, he was one of the creepiest guys she’d seen in a long time.

  It turned out that Vince, the sharp suit, was actually employed by the elderly teenager, whose name was Christian.

  “As what?” Lizzie wanted to know.

  Christian smiled. “Whatever I want him to be,” he said. “Right, Vince?”

  “You bet, Mr. Christian.”

  “You mean he’s some sort of servant?” she asked. “Like Jeeves and Wooster? He’s your butler?” She snorted.

  “Kinda,” said Christian. “And my bodyguard.”

  “Wow,” said Lizzie. She looked at the sharp suit. “What do you need a bodyguard for?” she asked.

  Christian shrugged. “I’m a rich man,” he said, gazing vaguely at her groin. “Rich people get kidnapped, attacked, robbed. All sorts of bad things.” He shook his head. “There are always people around who aren’t happy about stuff.”

  Lizzie thought about it. “Would he take a bullet for you?” she demanded.

  Christian seemed struck by this thought. “Would you?” he asked, turning to Vince.

  “That’s what I’m paid for, sir,” said Vince.

  Christian smiled. “I pay him a fuck of a lot of money. He’s carrying. Show her,” he ordered.

  Obediently, Vince turned slightly away from the crowd and opened his immaculate jacket, revealing a holster with a gun tucked inside. Lizzie was so shocked she almost choked on her wine.

  “Me, too. But not a gun.” Christian lifted up his T-shirt to reveal a stout-looking knife with an odd, short blade.

  “Why’s the blade so short?” she wanted to know.

  “Specialist item,” said Christian. But he didn’t offer to tell her what for.

  Lizzie was both scared and mesmerized. “Wow. But what do you do?” she asked. “How come all these people want to kill you?”

  Vince coughed discreetly. “A lot of people would think that was a silly sort of question to ask,” he said.

  “Lizzie’s not a lot of people,” said Christian. He smiled at her, revealing a set of teeth that looked at least twenty years younger than the rest of him.

  Vince made a soft but exasperated noise, like an irritated parent.

  Christian ignored him. “All sorts of stuff. Drugs. Weapons.”

  “You’re a gangster?!”

  He shook his head. “Businessman!” he said.

  “You don’t look like a gangster,” Lizzie said to him. “He does,” she added, nodding at Vince.

  “I might be in disguise,” said Christian.

  A joke! It wasn’t all that funny, but Lizzie laughed anyway, out of kindness as much as anything. Christian was delighted; he beamed at her.

  “I like you,” he told her, reaching out and touching her lightly on the arm.

  It was a pass, definitely. “That’s very nice, thank you,” said Lizzie. Time to escape. She began to edge away but he plucked at her clothes.

  “Do you want another drink?” he demanded. “What do you want? Vince’ll get it for you, won’t you, Vince?”

  “But he’d have to leave you on your own, wouldn’t he?” Lizzie said. “What if an assassin comes? Hey — what if I’m an assassin?”

  “Are you?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “I didn’t think you were. So, what’ll you have?”

  Lizzie shook her head. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve got to go and find my boyfriend. Another time, eh?”

  “Hang on …” Christian fished a card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Give me a call sometime,” he said.

  “Thanks. Great,” said Lizzie brightly. She turned and made her way downstairs.

  Behind her, Christian nudged his bodyguard. “I like her,” he said. “She’d make a good girlfriend. Follow her.”

  Vince looked suspiciously at his employer. “Sir, excuse me for asking, but did you drink your milk this morning?”

  Christian was furious. “Fuck you, Vince,” he said. “This is a party. We do not talk about milk at a party. For your information, yes, I did drink my fucking milk, as you well know since you stood over me watching me swallow it. How much do I pay you, Vince?”

  “A fuck of a lot of money, sir.”

  “Right. So go and do as I tell you.”

  “Yes, Mr. Christian,” said Vince, and he edged his way into the crush after Lizzie.

  SHE FINALLY CAUGHT UP WITH ADAM IN THE ENTRANCE HALL.

  “Where’ve you been?” she demanded.

  Adam gave her a wobbly smile. “Couldn’t find you. Went for a walk,” he said.

  He looked really odd. He had leaves and mud on his clothes. “What’s been going on?” she asked.

  He laughed awkwardly. Suddenly she was struck by a dreadful suspicion. Leaves on his clothes … ?

  “Looks more like you went for a roll,” she said primly.

  “No! No, no. I had to lie down. I got in a mess. That stuff you gave me …”

  “XL5,” she said. She looked at him more closely. His eyes were red. “Have you been crying?” she asked.

  “No!” insisted Adam. He hurt so much, he couldn’t admit it to anyone — least of all Lizzie. “I just took too much of that stuff, that’s all.”

  “How much did you have?”

  “All of it,” he admitted.

  “All of it? Adam!”

  “I had to go for a walk, it blew my head off.”

  Lizzie hovered for a moment between anger and pity — anger because he’d hogged the lot, pity because …

  “You’re only supposed to have a tiny little line. It’s uncut.”

  “No one told me,” he said, and his voice sounded tearful. Pity won.

  “Oh … Come here.” She linked arms with him and planted a little kiss on his cheek. “Poor soldier. Beaten up by drugs.” He grinned at her — another wobbly, uncertain grin. Sweet! “Feeling better?”

  “Bit better.”

  He looked so upset, she laughed. “Come with me.”

  She led the way out of the house and down the steps. A bottle of champagne, some relaxing music, a snuggle up under the duvet. If that didn’t make him feel better, nothing would.

  * * *

  The moon, the balmy air, the music drifting across from the house. Adam was pretty much out of his head, coming down now, in grief for his brother, his life, God knows what else, and st
ill feeling panicky; but even so, he knew that this had to be his time with Lizzie. He squeezed her arm. It was going right again. He felt really weird, but it was going right. With his other hand he touched the doctored condom in his back pocket. He was going to lose his virginity and try to make his fortune in one go. It was so pathetic he snorted in amusement at himself.

  “What is it?” demanded Lizzie.

  “I’m having such a good time,” he said, but it sounded like sarcasm. He hurried on. “Hey, look. Why don’t we sneak upstairs and find a room?”

  But Lizzie shook her head. “You just come with me,” she said.

  “What for?”

  “I want to go for a walk.” She guided him across the lawn toward the lake, but Adam held back. It was the wrong direction. He wanted the house, a room. He wanted sex.

  “I’ve already been this way,” he said.

  She shot him a curious look. “Just for me,” she wheedled.

  But he stopped walking. “No, let’s go in and find a room. You haven’t changed your mind again …” Despite himself, his voice was sounding sulky.

  “Adam … don’t do this to me, not now …” But he was already certain she was putting him off.

  “You’re always making promises,” he complained. “And then you back off. It’s always the same.”

  “Adam, stop it!”

  “Are we going to do it or not?” he demanded.

  She let go of his hand and shook her head. “You know what, Adam? No, we’re not. Just …” She turned abruptly without finishing and stomped off back across the lawn.

  “You never had any intention of it, did you?” he shouted after her.

  She spun on her heel. “This,” she said, taking it out and shaking it at him, “is the key to the summer house. There was going to be champagne on ice, nice music, and the moon over the lake. I wanted it to be like that, and all you wanted was a fuck. So find someone else to fuck. OK? Because it isn’t going to be me!”

  She stormed off.

  “Liar!” yelled Adam. He stood still and watched her go, then put his head in his hands. Was it true? Of course it was true! He’d talked himself out of it. Everything was turning to shit. Everything he touched — everything he even thought about, he now realized — all turned to shit.