How to Kill Men and Get Away With It(78)

Charlie’s expression darkens and he slams his hands against the seat in front of him, making me jump.

‘Are you okay? Did he hurt you?’ His eyes are furious as they meet mine.

‘I’m fine. Just shook me up a little. I didn’t think he’d let me out.’

‘That man. He never learns.’

‘What do you mean?’

Charlie sighs. ‘You’re telling me you don’t know that James has got a bit of a reputation? There are a lot of rumours floating around about him in his industry. And he gave a few women who work for the charity a hard time whenever he came into the offices. I had a number of complaints about his inappropriate behaviour.’

I stare at Charlie in shock. ‘What? No. But he’s still a patron? Why?’

He sighs again, much more heavily this time.

‘Why do you think, Kitty? Because he brings a lot of money in. And gives a lot too. Half of the projects we’ve done wouldn’t have been possible without his money. I’m not proud of it, but our association with James is a huge fucking deal, okay.’

I stare at him, not quite believing what I’m hearing. ‘So, in essence, you’re saying it’s fine for him to sexually harass your staff because he gives you money? You’re basically prostituting them?’

He shakes his head. ‘No, it’s not like that. He’s been warned, several times, that he can’t act like that. He seemed to take it on board, even apologised to the women in question. But it looks like he can’t help himself.’

‘And what are these rumours? The ones you said about in his industry?’

Charlie looks pained. ‘It’s gossip. I hate talking about a person when they’re not there to defend themselves. And nothing official has ever been raised.’

‘What rumours, Charlie?’

He sighs for the third time. ‘There’s a lot of talk about him offering women – young women who want to be the next big thing in music – the earth in exchange for various things. Nude photos, sexual favours, that kind of thing.’

‘Wow.’

‘Yeah. And there’s even some chat about him taking it anyway, if the women say no.’

I’m floored. ‘And this is a man you choose to have associated with your charity?’

‘Like I said, I’m not proud of it. And it’s just talk as far as I know. He’s never been taken in for questioning or anything like that. No one’s come forward. To be honest I thought it was something started by a rival label to sully his name.’ He turns to face me. ‘But now I’m not so sure.’

‘But you believe me? You believe the women who work for you?’

‘Of course I do.’ He cups my face in his hands. ‘I’ve been an idiot, clearly. Look, try not to stress about it too much now. I’ll have some sort of crisis meeting with myself in the morning and see if there’s anything I can do about James’s involvement going forwards.’ He kisses the top of my head. ‘I love how deeply you care about people. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t want to go to the police or anything?’

I shake my head. ‘What’s the point? He’d just deny it,’ I say miserably as we pull up outside my apartment. When we get inside Charlie grabs his laptop and takes himself off to a spare room, which doubles as an office/jumble of clothes, saying he’s got to send some emails and make some calls.

I make us tea and scroll through my Instagram messages, skipping the usual flurry of requests asking me to promote a weight loss tea or some other shit, when a notification pops up.

It’s from The Creep, of course. I mean, what else could top the night off so perfectly?

‘Get a good night’s sleep, Kitty. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day for you.’

What? What does that mean?

‘What???’ I reply, but he’s offline already.

Stressed, I swallow a couple of diazepam, knock them back with a gulp of vodka and head to bed.





65


KITTY’S APARTMENT, CHELSEA

I’m woken up with a start the following morning. I sit up in bed, squinting and trying to work out what woke me. Charlie isn’t in bed with me. I’m not even sure he actually came to bed last night. I grab a robe and walk through to the living area. He’s in the kitchen, sweeping bits of glass from the floor. Something smashed. That’s what woke me. I breathe out, slowly. Relief.

‘Morning, you,’ I say. ‘What happened?’

‘Dropped a vase. Sorry. Was it expensive?’

‘I didn’t even know I had a vase. Woke me up though. Did you come to bed last night?’

He shakes his head. ‘Kitty, go and sit down. I’ll make you a coffee. But please don’t look at any news or social media before I speak to you.’ He’s looking hard at me. ‘Please, baby.’

‘Is everything okay?’

‘Something’s happened. It’s, er, look, just brace yourself, okay? It’s pretty big. Do your breathing for a bit.’

I sit at one of the stools at the kitchen island. Charlie hands me a mug of coffee a few moments later and switches on the Smart TV installed to look like a microwave. A pretty blonde is talking earnestly to the camera from an outside location. I sip my coffee. It takes a couple of moments for me to realise that I recognise the place she’s reporting from.