Simon Beckett: Owning Jacob - SA

“You stupid bastard!” he snapped, taking it from around his neck, and as he did the singer snatched it from him. The strap snagged on Ben’s head, only briefly, but enough to jerk the camera from the singer’s grip. Ben tried to catch it but missed.

It struck the edge of the table then bounced to the floor with a terminal crash.

“Oops,” the singer said as Ben bent to pick it up. The lens came away in his hand, sprinkling glass. There were one or two giggles, but most people seemed to realise that what had happened wasn’t funny. The singer wasn’t one of them.

“You weren’t going to use it anyway,” he jeered, and the last of Ben’s restraint disappeared. He flung the broken camera across at him, more of a reflexive gesture than anything else.

He expected the singer to block it, but he had taken that moment to turn and laugh with the girl sitting next to him. He was still grinning when the camera struck him in the face.

The singer cried out and fell back as blood spurted from a gash on his forehead.

Ben had time to realise that things had got a little out of hand before another member of the band sprang up and swung at him. He ducked and felt the punch land on the top of his skull. His vision burst into popping lights and he flailed out himself as he stumbled and fell. The next seconds were a vague impression of bodies, shrieks and breaking glass. He felt himself being hit several more times and covered his head, then he was being hauled to his feet by a burly pair of arms. He looked out through the eye that didn’t hurt to see Colin’s anxious face as he tried to calm everyone down, including the door staff, who seemed inclined to join in themselves. Beyond him, the singer’s face was slick with blood as he pressed both hands to the cut on his forehead, while the musician who had thrown the first punch was cradling one of his hands to his chest and moaning.

“Okay, it’s cool, it’s cool,” Colin was assuring everyone, his anxious expression belying the words. He shot Ben a look that was part concern, part anger, then spoke to someone at Ben’s side. “Take him outside. I’ll be along when I’ve sorted out this mess.”

Ben thought he was talking to the bouncer who had helped him up, but it was a young woman whom he had seen at Colin’s table earlier. “Come on,” she said. “Can you walk?”

They made their way through the club to the exit.

“Do you want to clean yourself up?” the young woman asked. She was wearing a matching dark jacket and skirt, the businesswoman’s equivalent of Colin’s suit. Ben shook his head.

He still hadn’t spoken to her yet. The adrenalin was draining out of him now, and mortification was flooding in to fill the gap. It was only just beginning to dawn on him what a fool he had made of himself.

They went outside and waited by the club’s entrance. The night air tasted like oxygen after the smoky atmosphere of the club. It was September, still warm but with enough of a cool edge to feel like a sobering flannel on his face. Ben pushed his hands into his pockets and tried to keep from shivering. He avoided looking at the woman, but he could feel her watching him.

“So what happened back there? I take it they didn’t want their photos taken?”

Ben was uncomfortably aware that his teeth were starting to chatter from reaction. “No, it, uh... it was because I wouldn’t take any.” He could feel himself starting to blush.

“Well, that’s a new one. A photographer beaten up in a nightclub for not taking photographs.”

He couldn’t help but respond to her amusement. “Yeah, well, you’ve got to be selective about these things.”

Colin emerged from the club. Not even the neon light could disguise the flush on his cheeks as he strode over. “Well, this is fucking great! Jesus, Ben, what the fuck were you thinking of?”

“What was I thinking of? They smashed my camera!”

“I don’t give a shit about your camera! I’ve been working on this deal for the past six months and the day it’s signed I get a singer who’s going to need stitches and a bass player with a broken hand! And it’s my fucking guest who does it! I mean, thanks Ben, this makes a really good impression, doesn’t it?” He had never seen Colin so angry, but a sense of injustice brought a spurt of his own anger. “What do you expect me to do, smile and say thank you?”

“Would it have killed you to take a few fucking pictures just to keep things quiet, if only for my sake? But no, that’s too much to ask, isn’t it? You have to get into a fight with the singer and chuck the bloody camera in his face! Their manager’s talking about suing you, for Christ’s sake!”

Belatedly, it began to occur to Ben what an embarrassing position he’d put Colin in. “I thought he’d catch it,” he said, lamely.

“Yeah, well, he didn’t.” Colin ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Look, I’d better get back in there. And you’d better make yourself scarce. They’ll be coming out to go to the hospital soon. I don’t want any more trouble if they see you.”

Ben nodded, chagrined. “Sorry.”

Colin looked at him for a moment, as though considering whether to accept the apology or not, then sighed, “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out.” He gave a tired smile. “It could be worse. At least it’s only the bass player’s hand that’s broken. We’re probably going to get rid of him anyway.”

Ben was about to laugh when he saw that he wasn’t joking.

Colin turned to the young woman, who had been standing in the background during the exchange. “Sarah, can you make sure he gets a taxi? And you might as well go home yourself then. There’s no point you hanging about any longer.” Without waiting for an answer he hurried back inside.

There was a silence afterwards. Ben wanted to crawl under something.

“Come on,” Sarah said. “We can get a taxi down here.” They walked away from the club.

“I don’t need a taxi,” he told her when they reached a side road. “My car’s parked down here.”

She stopped and looked at him. “I don’t think you should drive.”

“I’m okay. My eye isn’t that bad.” He tentatively felt the swelling.

“I didn’t mean your eye. How many drinks have you had?”

“I’m not drunk,” he retorted.

“Perhaps not, but don’t you think tonight’s been eventful enough already?”

The amused expression was still on her face. She had light brown, jaw-length hair tucked back behind her ears and a smattering of pale freckles running across her nose and cheeks. It was difficult to tell what colour her eyes were in the light from the streetlamps, but Ben thought they were probably hazel. She was quite attractive, he realised. He felt his scowl slipping away.

“Yeah, perhaps you’re right.”

They flagged down a taxi. Ben offered it to her first, but she declined. “Colin’ll only quiz me about it tomorrow. I want to be able to tell him I saw you safely on your way.”

There was something vulnerable and yet aloof about her slim figure as she waited for him to get in. He felt strangely nervous. “Where are you going?” he asked. “We might as well share.”

She lived in Clapham.

“You’ve done me a favour, actually,” she said, as the taxi pulled away. I’d have had to stay for another hour or so, and I don’t like being late for the baby-sitter.”

“You’ve got children?” He was surprised at how disappointed he suddenly was.

“A little boy. Jacob. He’s nearly two now.”

“Is your husband out tonight as well?”

“I’m not married.” It was said without emotion, a flat statement.

Ben realised he was pleased. She’s got a kid. Don’t get carried away.

“So are you a lawyer too?” he asked.