Counterpoints: Book 2 Page 12

  “I didn’t mess around today, I was pushed out remember?” Christopher said and a smug sound came out of his mouth.

  “I don’t want this situation to play with your head. You were so sloppy and out of control the other day during qualy” Mr. Jenkins pressed on.

  Christopher didn’t say a single word, but Isabella didn’t know if he had nodded or had whispered something. She was inside the stairwell and unable to see the two men in the corridor.

  She took a few steps downwards but stopped, when she heard Mr. Jenkins speak again.

  “Look, I’m doing all I can to fix this mess. I’m taking care of it. You don’t have to think about it”

  “Believe me, I am trying to” Christopher said “But two nights ago I received a little preview of what is going to be like. Trust me, there is nothing to fix. We can’t do anything now to stop it, besides damage control”

  “I said I am trying to fix it” Mr. Jenkins said and sounded exasperated all of a sudden.

  “I told you already. I know who we are dealing with. There’s no way to stop this” Christopher’s voice sounded different now, upset and tense.

  “We could give her what she wants…” Mr. Jenkins started saying but Christopher interrupted.

  “No, I won’t” his voice calm as usual, but there was an edge to it, like he wasn’t going to discuss this any longer.

  “You are not thinking straight”

  “I said no. She’ll go through with it anyway. Let her do it. Let her write her stupid story. I am not going to sit there and let her play with my time, my life. Right now the only thing I’m worried about is my mother. I need to speak to her about it. And I would like you to be there, when I do” Christopher told him.

  “Of course” Mr. Jenkins said.

  Isabella heard Christopher thank Mr. Jenkins and they told each other they would meet at the airport, later that night.

  His hand was on the door when Isabella started moving down the stairs again.

  Christopher walked in slowly- his suit still halfway down his body, folded on his hips- and Isabella moved out of his range.

  “Look, she said she wants five hundred thousand pounds and she won’t do it” Mr. Jenkins went on “But only if we speak to her tonight, before we get on that plane. Think about it. It’s doable. Think of the damage she’ll do to your project, to our project. We worked so hard on it and this could mess things up”

  As the numbers echoed in the stairwell, Isabella held in her breath, while her mind started running wild.

  Oh my God. Isabella covered her mouth.

  Somebody was blackmailing Christopher.

  Someone was clearly playing with his head. That explained his mood, his loss of concentration – besides their relationship.

  Is that why he’s flying back to London? To fix the situation? Isabella shook her head slowly, the thought made her sick.

  Christopher stopped walking- one foot was already inside the stairwell- and turned to look at Mr. Jenkins, his lips curled in a deadly smile. Isabella could just barely make out his face from down below.

  He walked back out of the stairwell and the door closed again behind him, but Isabella could still hear his last words to Mr. Jenkins.

  “Tell her to go fuck herself”

  While giving the finishing touches to the blog post about Christopher’s interviews and Noah’s absence, Isabella heard her phone ring. Her hands dug inside her handbag instantly, shoving all obstacles out of the way, without taking her eyes off the screen.

  “Ha, ha” she said triumphantly, like she had just won a competition.

  I should get a medal for finding it so quickly, without looking inside the bag at all…the bag of a woman!

  “Hello?” the screen said unknown number.

  “Happy birthday!!!” her sister’s Emilia’ voice sounded on the other end. “Sorry I am late”

  “Hey” Isabella held on tight to the phone “Thanks. How are you?”

  “I am good. I watched the race… how are you?” Emilia asked.

  Isabella sighed. How could she explain her mood, her feelings to her sister Emilia?

  Stressed. Worried. Uncomfortable, Isabella thought – for what happened during the race between Christopher and Noah, and for the conversation she had overheard in the stairwell.

  “Busy and cranky. Where are you?” Isabella summed up.

  “I am in London town!!!” Emilia almost screamed on the other side.

  “What?” Isabella gaped.

  “Well, you know what they say: if the mountain won’t come to Mohamed, then Mohamed must go to the mountain” she heard Emilia giggle. “I haven’t seen you in ages, since you left to start the new job. I needed to see you” she wined.

  “Only I am not in London, dummy and you know it. I’m still in Toronto”

  “I know that, I saw you next to that cute driver, what’s his name?”

  Cute driver? What’s his name? Isabella shook her head. Oh God, she IS in love isn’t she?

  “It was meant to be a surprise, but you know me, I can’t keep a secret. I’m coming to pick you up at the airport”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet but don’t. You’ll only take time away from sightseeing. We can meet once I am in Central London. And you can stay with me from tomorrow night. I think I land around seven in the evening” Isabella dug her hand back in the bag, desperately looking for her agenda with all the flight details.

  “Uhm, I don’t think so”

  “Why?” Isabella closed her laptop and leaned back in her seat, in the foyer of the hotel where she had been waiting for Hillary for the last twenty minutes.

  “I am not alone, I’m with Giovanni” she told Isabella “I really can’t wait any longer, I want you to meet him”

  Emilia went on and on about how they were getting serious and how it was important to her to have her sister’s opinion.

  Isabella listened to every word and smiled, her mind recalling when growing up - Isabella being almost ten years older than Emilia- their relationship had been catastrophic.

  Fighting and arguing had always been their way of communicating.

  Our favorite sport!

  They would get into fights for anything- Isabella feeling the pressure of being the eldest and having to take care of Emilia when her mother was at work. And Emilia had always been a rebel, dauntless and therefore difficult to handle.

  After teenage years, their relationship had taken an unexpected twist.

  Suddenly, there were no more tensions, no resentments. Isabella and Emilia had gradually become friends, inseparable friends.

  It must have happened after all those times I held her head, when she was drunk and feeling sick at parties, Isabella snickered.

  A large shade covered Isabella’s face, before she could say more to Emilia.

  Mr. Jenkins was standing before her, his face a little crossed as always, his eyes squinting at Isabella. That look meant she had to get off the phone.

  “Emilia, I’ve got to go now. I’ll text you the details later” and just like that Isabella ended the phone call with her sister and mentally prepared for an unpleasant conversation with ‘Scrooge.’

  She almost burst into a laugh, Scrooge.

  Isabella stood up and took Mr. Jenkins’ hand –who to her surprise had voluntarily and unexpectedly offered his.

  There’s always a first.

  “Let’s get straight to the point” he mumbled taking a seat across from Isabella “I don’t know what you think of me” he started to say, forgetting the ritual ‘hello’ and ‘how are you’ somewhere along the road. If Isabella had been talking to someone else, it would have been odd, but this was Mr. Stuck Up Jenkins.

  Just another ordinary day at the office.

  “And I honestly don’t care” he added and Isabella couldn’t hide her feelings any longer.

  The limit has just been breached!

  She raised her eyebrow at him and shook her head.

  “Why exactly are you here, sir?” s
he wished she could chew up the word sir.

  Sir to Isabella was meant for gentlemen, not for rude pricks.

  “It’s not about work obviously, since you and Hillary have taken things in your hands” he grunted and leaned forward, over the small table that separated the two seats.

  He lowered his voice, even though the foyer was mostly deserted. Everyone was either taking showers, having dinner or busy with the physiotherapist, like Noah and Christopher.

  “I want to talk to you about Cannes”

  Shit! Isabella could go through Hillary talking about it, but not Mr. Jenkins.

  “Like I said to Hillary, It doesn’t concern me. I have nothing to say about what happened in Cannes”

  She had just had enough. This all talk about Cannes was exhausting. Cannes, Cannes, Cannes. Everything had happened in that damn city. Isabella swore if anyone said Cannes again….

  “Well I have” he continued “What happened in Cannes” Isabella’s hand twitched to the sound of that city again “is personal”

  Yes, thank you. We agree on something.

  “No need to talk about it then” Isabella crossed her arms over her chest.

  Honestly, she would rather be anywhere else than sitting in that foyer, with a man who had hardly ever spoken to her, if not to complain about her work.

  “Just, one thing” he raised his finger and Isabella squinted at him “I trust you won’t say a word to anyone about it”

  “Mr. Jenkins” Isabella straightened her posture on the couch and cleared her throat.

  Keep calm.

  “I’ll tell you exactly what I already told Hillary. It’s none of my business. I don’t care. It’s really your business”

  “Well Hillary seems to trust you, so I am trying to do the same. Can you be trusted? I am a married man” he mumbled the last part.

  “I know you are a married man. I am aware of that” she said the words sarcastically, with just a hint of disgust, just enough to make sure he could feel her loath “Again, I am here to work. Not to stick my nose in other people’s affairs. Now If that’s all, I have to finish my work. I emailed you all the things I’ve put online” she got up and he stood, too.

  While she gathered her bags and laptop –doing her best to make it quick- he stayed right where he was, he studied her a moment longer.

  “It’s nothing personal, my distrust in you” he said and Isabella sighed.

  Everyone seemed so eager to let her know that his rudeness wasn’t personal.

  Did that change the way he was unfairly treating her? No.

  Did it make her feel any better? No.

  “Mr. Jenkins, I’ve been hearing these exact words from everybody since I started working here and frankly sir it doesn’t make any difference” Isabella blurted out.

  She looked straight at him, her face as hard as a rock but her cheeks were boiling red.

  “I really think I don’t deserve to be treated like a mistake, like a little nothing walking around. I am part of this team, I work with Christopher and I’m doing everything I can to make things run smoothly”

  “I don’t trust people easily, especially when they work next to Christopher. He is a bad judge of character, just like his father was. I should know, his father was my best friend” Mr. Jenkins snorted and his mouth twitched a little.

  His eyes seemed to lose focus, his mind recalling something from the past, probably something about James, Isabella would have guessed.

  “I think it’s part of my job to make sure Christopher stays clear of unwanted attention. Christopher is a lot of work, just like James was” he went on a moment later.

  “I’m sorry but I just don’t see how this has anything to do with me. I am here to promote MB” Isabella said once again, to stress the point.

  To damage Christopher would mean to compromise the entire MB team and consequently jeopardize her job.

  He hates me and he still doesn’t know Christopher and I are sleeping together, she thought.

  “You see, I know what this environment is like. All the excitement, the glamour... And there is a lot of money going around here in First Category Racing. Money can make you blind, you don’t realize what’s good and what’s bad anymore. And where there’s money, opportunists bread like rabbits. It’s a constant battle with parasites. The Taylor family has a long history with those” he paused and gave her a good intimidating look “I’m not sure where you stand but as you can see Isabella, I care about Christopher. I help him figure what’s good and what’s bad. I have his best interests at heart”

  So do I, she wanted to scream in his face but instead Isabella let him finish.

  “And I take my work very seriously”

  “So do I, Mr. Jenkins” Isabella looked straight at him, they were standing face to face.

  “I sincerely hope so, for your own good” he mumbled.

  Chapter 10

  First thing to do before the next race, was to learn how to pack a lighter suitcase.

  Definitely.

  Either that, Isabella thought, or do a little exercise and learn how to lift heavier baggage.

  She dragged her big black suitcase- with her laptop secured on top of it and her camera around her neck- and walked the distance from Paddington station to her studio apartment in Bayswater.

  I can do it, It’s not that bad.

  Of course, she hadn’t expected heavy, thick, ‘impossible to walk through’ rain.

  Actually, it was silly of her to not have expected that. Sure, it was the beginning of summer but did that mean something in England?

  Obviously not.

  Learned that the hard way!

  It rained the day she came back from Toronto and It wasn’t a pretty scene to watch, Isabella dragging her stuff in the rain.

  She did her best to walk fast and take shelter from the few platform roofs, she came across along the way home.

  It didn’t help that she was tired, dead tired. Hillary had literally dragged her out after the race.

  “I had a such a bad day, you have no idea” she had said and had insisted Isabella accompany her and Fred, John, Mark and two other technicians from MB.

  They had gone for a quick nibble in this cool bar at the top of a skyscraper, where they stayed until very late, when the place had turned into a sort of club.

  Isabella saw a green pedestrian light and decided last minute to cross the street. Her house was on the other side, anyway. She held onto her camera bag with one hand and was quickly under the shelter of a small bus stop roof.

  Once she had removed a strand of wet hair from her face, she resumed her walk. She was almost there.

  Stray cat Isabella almost made it home.

  Her eyes set on the corner of her street- right where the small pub under her house was- and her lips curled up in a smile. She had never been so happy to see the front door of her building like that day.

  In the end, going out with Hillary and the guys in Toronto hadn’t been such a bad idea. it would have been far worse to sit alone in her hotel room, thinking about Christopher and why he had rushed to London.

  It had certainly helped to not think about the conversation she had had with Mr. Jenkins and the one she had overheard in the stairwell.

  However, Isabella had mostly been happy to be there for Hillary- who was desperately trying to recover from her recent breakup with Mr. Jenkins and hoping to recharge her batteries, after covering up for Noah and his tantrums all afternoon.

  One thing Isabella couldn’t shake off was John, tipsy like never before, trying to make a move on her, trying to kiss her in the taxi ride to the hotel.

  Why doesn’t he get that no means no, it’s the same word in Italian and in English. How can I make myself clear with him?

  Isabella crossed the street again and then almost crashed on her front door, almost hugged the door for the relief. Her arms were aching and her clothes were glued to her like a second skin.

  Home, home, home, home, home!!!!!

  S
o many things crossed her mind, all the things she wanted to do that week, before leaving for Germany the following one.

  Sleep, sleep, sleep, walk in the park, long showers, maybe cook something healthy for a change, face masks, reading, see Christopher maybe… Isabella hopped inside the building, excited to be back despite the rain.

  She looked at the stairs and mumbled something under her breath. Something ugly in Italian.

  One floor up with her luggage, she could do it. The reward was just behind the door of her flat.

  My bed!

  Before she could even begin to climb the stairs, she heard her phone ring.

  Isabella let out a frustrated sound. She put down everything and ravished through the stuff in her bag, like a mad woman.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, did you make it home?” her sister’s voice sounded in her ear.

  “Yeah, I just walked in the front door. Can I call you back?” with her phone trapped between her ear and her shoulder, Isabella grabbed her suitcase and laptop bag and began to walk up the stairs, slowly and in pain.

  “No wait! How about we meet you outside Queensway station in an hour, so we can have dinner together?”

  “Ehm” Isabella twisted her arm to check her watch.

  It was already almost eight o’clock in the evening.

  There goes my dream of a long hot shower session…

  “Okay, see you at nine”

  “Perfect, ciao” and she hung up.

  The suitcase crashed on the floor landing and Isabella wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. While one hand held on tight to her laptop bag, the other one played with the lock. The door opened wide and she let out a triumphant sound.

  “Home sweet home” she mumbled to herself.

  It felt different this time, to walk in her house.

  Last time she had stepped inside the place alone, it had hurt- memories of her and Christopher laughing and having sex, had made it impossible for her to breathe.

  It was definitely different this time, walking in her memories again, in her small, cramped flat.

  It was dark in the room, Isabella’s eyesight couldn’t quite adjust to the dimness. She found the switch on the wall and for a moment completely forgot about her suitcase, still standing in the middle of the corridor, looking heavy and all beaten up.