I nodded. ‘I’ve got the same feeling too.’
‘Do you want to say something, or should I?’
‘What do you need to say?’ Nick’s voice made us jump. He strolled in and dropped into an armchair. He’d taken off his jacket and tie – he looked like an entirely different person without the rigid lines of a suit. Someone I didn’t know.
Simon looked at me, as if asking permission. I gave it with a nod.
‘Zoë told me who you really are, Nick,’ he began, his voice low. ‘I know what you do for a living, and it hasn’t escaped my notice that whenever you’re around, the paparazzi show up.’
Nick frowned. ‘Wait, do you think I’m the one who tipped them off? That I organised the whole thing?’
‘This was all your idea,’ said Simon. ‘Right down to the choice of bar.’
Simon was right – Nick had been keen to meet by London Bridge; I hadn’t questioned it at the time, but now it felt off.
‘Now hang on a minute,’ said Nick. ‘Jess chose to sit at a table facing the road.’
‘But you knew she was a smoker,’ I said, with a growing feeling of unease. ‘She was always going to sit in that section.’
He looked surprised. ‘You can’t honestly think that I sent those paps, Zoë.’
I wasn’t sure what to think. But Nick had told me he knew the paparazzi who were chasing Jess, and Simon’s theory was starting to make an awful lot of sense.
‘I don’t know, Nick. But lies seem to trip off your tongue mighty easily. The night I saw you in Camden at Jess’s first concert, you told me you lived nearby.’ I looked around me. ‘Yet, here we are in Southwark, which is definitely not near Camden.’
‘That was a white lie. You asked what I was doing there and it was the easiest explanation.’
He leant forward and picked up his coffee. Was he avoiding making eye contact?
Simon leant forward too, anger squeezing his features. ‘You know what I think, Nick? I think you’ve been feeding us a load of bullshit. Marcie doesn’t want to make amends with Jess; she wants to humiliate her and ruin any chance she has at a second music career. You’re just her errand boy.’
I searched Nick’s face, hoping to find signs of shock or disbelief. But the seconds ticked by and he remained silent.
Simon stood. ‘Fuck this, I need a cigarette, too.’
He stalked out, leaving me to deal with Nick.
‘Are you not going to deny it, Nick?’
He sat upright. ‘Of course I deny it. You think I’m the one scuppering Jess’s chances? She’s the one drunk as a sailor every night, unable to go to her own gigs.’
‘But you bought the tequila earlier. You were encouraging her to drink.’
He let out a hollow laugh. ‘I was just trying to break the ice. I might have suggested a few drinks and joined in myself, but last time I didn’t touch a drop.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s doing a perfectly good job of fucking up her career all by herself.’
The swear word jarred; I hadn’t heard him curse before. Was he rattled because we’d rumbled him?
‘Can you tell me categorically that this isn’t Marcie’s payback for Jessica sleeping with Benedict?’
He laughed. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This isn’t a storyline from a damned soap.’
I went cold. ‘That doesn’t sound much like a denial.’
He held my gaze. ‘Marcie wouldn’t be that petty.’
I stood up. ‘Maybe it was your idea.’
‘Myidea?’ He stood too and came toe to toe with me. He was flushed with anger. ‘I expected more from you, Zoë.’
