Sequela (29 page)

'It is amazing,' Kester nodded. 'The human body is an amazing thing.'

He took a long swig of his champagne and laughed. They all laughed with him. He was laughing because he had been talking gibberish for the last five minutes and they were all still nodding along with him as if they understood and agreed. He was laughing because they didn't care about the science. They cared about standing close to him.

He wondered what the night would hold. Images from the parties they'd ended up at in Stockholm, Paris, Milan, wherever, crowded into Kester's mind: the Colgate sponsored smiles of their hosts – models, musicians, dignitaries; out-of-proportion cherubs on the arched ceiling of a bright restaurant; fifty, sixty tobacco pipes on the walls of a
lamplit
private bar; an underground club, ceiling supported by columns of flame and snow; beds – circular, water, four-poster; sunken baths full of slender arms and legs and bubbles; cars and the night passing by as they raced from party to party. All they had to do was arrive and wait for the invitations to flood Alexis' inbox. One party led to another.

Here, in New York, the company had laid on an official welcome function in a restaurant on Madison Avenue. They'd invited a heady mix of business leaders, officials and local celebrities. The building was luxurious, real art deco, brass and mirrors, with domed ceilings and thick carpeted floor in reds and greens. The mezzanine at the back of the room where they stood gave Kester a demigod's view of the swilling guests. When they had left for Stockholm the previous week, the attention had been embarrassing to him, but he was starting to enjoy it.

Alexis slithered into the space between the twins, hands sliding up over their shoulders. Kester winked and smiled at her. She had shown him how to enjoy it.

'Have you met Miff and Prunella?' Kester asked her, trying to keep his smile under control.

'No,' Alexis said smoothly, looking from one to the other, 'I don't believe I have.'

'They're friends of Franz, remember, who we met in Berlin?' Kester could see Alexis scanning through her blurred memories of Berlin. They had gone to five parties in one night and met at least three people called Franz.

'Franz with the…' Alexis said, waiting for a cue from Kester.

'Yes! That Franz,' he said with a broad smile. He had no idea which Franz they were talking about either, but it seemed that news of their antics had gone before them.

'Wow! What a coincidence,' Alexis replied.

'This is Mason, Jonathan and Bryce.' Kester indicated the three young men in the group. 'I'm sure you all
recognise
Alexis Farrell.'

'So, Alexis,' Mason began, shifting his weight in his green loafers. 'Can I call you Alexis?'

'You can call me whatever you like, darling,' she replied to a chorus of titters from the crowd.

'I'll stick with Alexis,' Mason said. 'We've been trying to winkle out of Kester just what he's been carrying around in that mysterious black case of his.'

Alexis smiled and shrugged.

'The press are saying it's an exclusive. Is it something we can get our hands on?' Mason said.

Again, she shrugged. Again, Kester laughed to himself. At each airport they had visited, Kester had alighted with his mysterious black case gripped tightly in his hand, cuffed to his wrist. The press loved it and he found it hilarious that they did. They questioned themselves in their articles. What's in his little black case? Why won't he check it in? Won't he trust anyone to carry it? And they'd all come to the conclusion that this was either a new top secret viral exclusive that was being transported to high profile wearers in advance of the show, or that it was a network-isolated laptop carrying details of all the viruses to be used at the event. They were so close to the end of his trip he was sorely tempted to admit to the subterfuge. Alexis opened her mouth to speak.

'And don't change the subject!' Mason said.

'I'm changing the subject.' Alexis raised her eyebrow and then looked at the twins again. 'I'm guessing you two are models? I
recognise
your faces – your face.'

'No,' Kester said, seeing the twins pass a smile between them. 'Miff is the new Marketing Director at V New York – you would have seen her picture on the appointments bulletin – and Prunella works at Lapetus Finance. Don't ask me to explain what she does. She tried to tell me and I've had to talk virology for half an hour just to make myself feel intelligent again.'

'My apologies,' Alexis said. 'A pleasure to meet you.'

'And you,' Miff said. Her voice was painfully high and nasal, as if it were being squeezed through a Barbie doll. 'And don't worry, Kester,' her whole face dimpled, 'I don't have a clue what Pru does either. Don't tell the boss, but she got the brains.' Everyone laughed. 'I am looking forward to your presentation tomorrow.' She smiled at Mason and narrowed her eyes.

Kester's tired brain jolted at the thought that he might have to do a presentation the next day, then he blinked long and calmed. Tomorrow's meeting would be fluff, the same as the others. Chen and Farrell were trusting no-one with details of the viruses and he didn't blame them; the models gossiping in the London bars while they were on their quarantine breaks was one thing, but a full-scale leak would not have been helpful. Kester's mind began to wander back to how they'd achieved their real brief – to be seen and talked about – whirlwinding together through the nightlife of the global wearing scene, teasing people with half-talk of plans for the show, charming and bedding the most desirable of their hosts and fellow party guests.

Kester finished off his champagne and found another glass placed in his hand almost directly. The waiter was gone before he had time to say thanks. He took a swig of the fresh glass and smiled. The room was shining, the features of his new disciples bobbing in front of him. The last thing to leave his head that night when he closed his eyes would be their bright white Cheshire grins.

Kester left his apartment through the outside door and stood in the small square hall, trying to empty his head of what the apartment looked like. He walked back in as a guest, acting as if he'd never seen the place before. It was easier having been away for three weeks. What were they going to see? What were they going to think? He imagined the chattering voices of his friends coming out of the lift into the narrow white hall and spilling in through the doorway.

What would his friends see?
An expanse of tiled floor, clean.
A good start. A long wall covered with flock wallpaper, his outrageous carved four-poster. Should he have had a fold-down bed, he wondered, like Alexis' – one of the catalysts for the 'she never sleeps' rumour. No – this was a brilliant bed. He should defend it. He had called in the cleaner to make it up to hotel standards. No matter how carefully he did it himself it always looked like there had been an animal sleeping on it. Should he draw the curtains on it? No. He'd just end up pulling them back to show people.

He turned and looked at the half of the room behind him. At the left was the door he'd just come through at the end of a boxed-off corridor; to the right was his living area, centrepiece to which was his green three-piece suite. They'd like that. It was pretty cool, wasn't it? But not too flashy-looking. Nothing on the window – it was lightly misted, allowing light in but obscuring the view of the building across the alley. Should they see that, or would it be best to have some music up? Music, he decided. This was his home now and he wanted it to feel homely and lively when they came in. It would be getting dark too, by that stage. He should have the lights low to take the clinical edge off the tiling.

Of course, John would go straight for the PS controller anyway – he wouldn't see anything else. So it was just Betta and Sienna he had to worry about. He walked over to the couch that faced the window and looked up at the remaining walls. Both were floor-to-ceiling screens, so they could be changed to fit the occasion. Right now one looked like a normal wall, with a picture hanging on it. He took out his Book and changed the picture a few times, and then he changed the whole wall. Finally, he settled on plain white paint effect.

His cocktail bar was laid out neatly, but not too neatly, and next door his vast glass desk was set up as a dining table. Catering had brought in everything he needed. Had he warned his friends that he wouldn't actually be cooking for them? He was sure John knew that he didn't have a kitchen.

The catering order page was themed so that you could choose what impression you wanted to give your guests. Kester had chosen 'Casual Cool – you don't want them to think you've sweated over it, but you do want them to think you are pretty cool'. The only problem he'd had with catering was that they were a bit sniffy about removing the labels from the tableware, but when he suggested that the pre-fashion show dinner would use the same theme, they capitulated. As far as he knew, there was no pre-fashion show dinner planned, but who would have time to pull him up on it? They would have forgotten about it by then.

The table dressing was minimal. The expanse of white cotton was given completely to the tall slender glasses and plain, long-handled cutlery. Kester picked up a fork and eyed it. He had used this set at Alexis'. It was beautiful on the table but made you look like you were knitting when you started to eat. Too late. He put the fork back down and turned his attention to the lighting. He would have it set low in this room, with the window to the front of the building clear so that they could see the view. Or should he start with it misted and set it to slow reveal?

'Does it even matter?' he asked the empty room.

Standing there, considering the answer, he noticed the spare place-setting he had asked for, sitting on the covered side unit. He fumbled out his Book and checked the time. He had spent every spare moment over the last few days worrying over this dinner party and more specifically over whether he should bring a partner. Glancing down at the graze on his wrist he remembered Boston with a pleasurable shudder. He knew that the only person he could ask without Alexis getting wind of it and taking offence was Alexis herself, but he was holding back. The transition back to being a manager hadn't been easy for him, though their three weeks away had evaporated quickly. His attention kept wandering back to the parties, to early morning hotel rooms with strangers, to strong coffee breakfasts at street tables with Alexis, laughing and shading their eyes from the headache sunlight. He had been looking out for some sign that the same had been happening to Alexis, but he hadn't seen anything. It was stupid, he decided. What happened to those balls he'd been growing? He flicked to her name on his Book.

'Alexis,' he said as soon as he heard the click.

'Kester, I'm in the middle of –'

'Then you shouldn't have answered. I'll be quick. Come up for dinner tonight. I want you to meet my friends.'

'I'll call you back.'

For the next twenty minutes, Kester paced around the flat. She was going to say
no
– that's what it was – this was too personal. Fooling around for business purposes was one thing, but this wasn't business. He thought again of their trip and then of her laid on his dentist's chair, allowing him to paint her. He was afraid she'd say
no
. He was equally afraid she would say
yes
. None of them except for John knew about his relationship with Alexis and John's response to the revelation had been, 'Well, a hole's a hole.' Not entirely what Kester had been hoping for.

His Book buzzed.

'Yes,' he answered without even checking who it was.

'Kester, darling, are you never in?'

It was his mother.

'Mum, I told you there's no point in
routeing
the call through the apartment.'

'I got you this time, didn't I? Besides it's cheaper. And I'm always curious in case someone else answers. How is that Alex girl? She seemed very nice.'

'It's Alexis, Mum, and she's not a girl, she's my boss.'

'That's not how she introduced herself, dear. If you think she's just your boss, perhaps you should tell her that.'

'What? I suppose she announced herself as "the future Mrs Dr Kester Lowe"?'

'Oh dear, you are in a bad mood. No, she didn't, dear. She just said she was a friend.'

'A friend?'

'You sound surprised, darling – don't you have friends any more? You were friends with all the people you worked with at the Institute. Speaking of which –'

'I still am friends with them Mum. In fact they're coming round here for dinner tonight.'

'In your new apartment? That's what this grump is all about? Don't be such a silly sausage, Kester. They're your friends; they're happy you're successful. They'll enjoy all the toys, and seeing another way of living. And you're still you.'

'Yes. Yes, I suppose I am. You're right.'

'And this Alexis, are you having her along? I mean as a friend.'

Kester laughed and sighed. Wandering across the room to the front window, he leaned forward and put his forehead to the glass.

'Mum, I don't know. I just don't know how they'll mix. She's older and –'

'Nothing wrong with being a bit older. How much older?'

'She's in her mid forties. Mid-to-late forties.'

'So ten years.'

'A bit more than that thanks, Mum.'

'Kester, that's nothing when you get to this age.'

'She just seems much older.'

'You want to stop saying "older" son; she won't appreciate it.'

'Well, maybe not older – more mature.'

'I don't know, Kester. I can't tell you what to do, if that's what you're after. If you like this girl, then you should give her the benefit of the doubt. I'm sure she's fun and I'm sure she can handle herself at a dinner party for god's sake.'

Kester laughed at her calling Alexis a 'girl'.

'Thanks, Mum. Truly you are wise.'

'Yes. I am.'

'Mum, I have to go I'm afraid.'

'The dog's fine now, by the way. I know you were worried about him. I'll speak to you tomorrow then – see how everything went.'

'Sorry, Mum. I'll have more time to speak to you then. We can have a proper catch-up.'

'OK, darling, I'll speak to you then. Good luck.'

'OK, bye.'

'Bye, love.'

Kester hung up and dropped his Book back into his pocket.

-o-

'You're early,' Kester said with a fixed grin as he opened his apartment door. John, Betta and Sienna filled the doorway.

Kester took a deep breath. He had hoped that Alexis would arrive first so that he could brief her on what to expect from them. Though this way round had its advantages too.

'Come in, sit down.' Kester ushered them in. As they entered the apartment they exploded into a chorus of 'wow's and laughter.

'Kester, this is amazing!' Betta wheeled around, pointing at things with an open mouth.

'Good call, man,' John said. He had already found the couch and the PS controller.

'Glad you all like it. Can I get you a drink?' Kester ran across the room to his bar and stepped in behind it. 'A drink from my
bar
? The bar in my living room.'

'Calm down, mate,' John said, 'it's pretty cool but don't get above yourself – it's basically a bedsit, isn't it?'

'Is Dee coming?' Sienna said.

'Sienna,' Betta hissed.

'What?'

Kester tensed. Should he have asked Dee? Had he missed his chance? As far as he knew she still wasn't talking to him. John had been keeping him up to date. She had split with Sebastian but she was mostly hiding in her lab being bitter by all accounts.

'Dee wouldn't come if the main course was Kester's balls on a silver platter,' John said.

'Eeew, John.' Sienna made a face. 'You're disgusting.'

'Nice. Right everyone,' Kester said, concerned at the premature nosedive in the conversation. 'I've got a friend coming tonight.'

'He means a lov-errr,' John said.

'Her name is Alexis – you all met her at the bar the night of my leaving do –'

'Your boss?' Betta said. 'Kester, you beast!'

'So she's not seen you at your best. Just…' Kester was unsure what he was getting at – he wanted to say
be professional
, but it didn't make any sense. 'Be nice.'

The door buzzed. Kester rushed over, then paused and took a deep breath before opening it.

The sight of Alexis warmed him. She was dressed as casually as he had ever seen her. Jeans and a spiral knit top, logo tags hanging round her neck. He recognised the top as one she'd bought in Paris. Her hair was tied loosely in a pony tail, the ends curling over one shoulder and down her back. Her makeup was subtle and flattering.

'Alexis.' Kester felt a stupid expression appearing on his face but he couldn't stop it.

'You were expecting…?' Alexis smiled and raised her eyebrows.

'You look great.' Aware he was setting himself up for a jibe, Kester said, 'I was worried you wouldn't be smart enough, you know.'

Alexis gave a soft laugh. She put her hand up to his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. It was the first time she had greeted him like a lover. So that's who she was tonight.

'They're a bit hyper, I'm afraid,' Kester said, 'but there are only three of them so I think we'll be OK.' He led her into the room by one hand. 'Everyone, this is Alexis. Alexis: Betta, Sienna and John. You may remember them from a certain bar incident.'

'How could I forget?' Alexis said, shaking hands with Betta and Sienna. 'But I'd be surprised if this one remembers me.' She met John as he stood up from the couch and took him by the hand. 'Actually, I owe you thanks. I had been looking for an excuse to get rid of that Cameron character –'

'Davis, wasn't it?' Betta said.

'Yes, Davis that's it. Betta, you'd be so much better at this management stuff than me. Anyway, I'd wanted to get rid of him for ages.'

'Why?'

Alexis made a face that might have meant
I don't know
,
I just didn't like him
, anything. Betta laughed. Kester felt himself relaxing. The room, which had seemed too large with four of them, adjusted itself to the right size. Things started to match again, blend into the background, and he started to see normally.