Майкл Ридпат - The Predator

‘Oh, really? I assumed she was a younger sister.’

‘ ’Fraid not.’

‘No need to be jealous, Chris,’ said Tamara, squeezing his hand. ‘I’m quite happy with what I’ve got.’

Chris smiled. She was clearly trying to make amends; he didn’t want to ruin the weekend by being surly.

‘Besides, I don’t like his taste in art,’ Tamara said, frowning at Alex’s painting of the petrochemical plant in the desert.

‘I do,’ said Chris.

‘Oh, Chris, you’re so industrial .’

They found the beer. It was indeed in the bath, which was full of ice.

‘How very quaint,’ said Tamara. ‘This must be an old American custom.’

‘And a very practical one,’ said Alex, who had emerged from the crush of bodies. ‘But I know you Brits like your beer warm. I can put yours in the oven if you like?’

Tamara smiled thinly. ‘I think I’d like some white wine,’ she said in her most cutting voice. Chris winced.

‘Sure, there’s some in the kitchen. I’m Alex Lubron, by the way.’

‘How do you do?’ said Tamara, looking over his head.

‘This is Tamara,’ said Chris.

‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ said Alex, with a smile.

‘Mm,’ said Tamara.

Alex paused and narrowed his eyes. ‘All right. Enjoy yourselves.’ He turned away from Chris and Tamara to Tetsundo Suzuki, who had just arrived. ‘Hey, Tex, how’s it hanging?’ he cried, giving the Japanese trainee a high five.

‘Who was that little man?’ said Tamara with a shudder.

‘Alex is a friend of mine,’ Chris said. ‘He painted the picture you didn’t like.’

Tamara caught the tone in his voice. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but that stuff about English people liking warm beer is such a cliché . Now, can you get me a glass of wine?’

Chris didn’t enjoy the party. He had wanted to show his new friends off to Tamara, but now he felt awkward at every introduction. After half an hour, she mellowed under the effects of alcohol and the drug she had taken, and was probably having a better time than he was. He tried to forget about the cocaine, but he found he couldn’t.

‘Hey, Chris, there you are!’ Lenka’s hoarse voice rose above the din.

She and Duncan fought their way towards Chris and Tamara. Lenka put her arm round Chris and kissed him. She was pretty drunk. ‘So, this is Tamara? Hello, Tamara. Welcome to New York.’

She smiled down at Tamara, who was at least nine inches shorter.

‘Hello,’ said Tamara, coldly.

‘You’ve come to relax Chris. He needs relaxing, don’t you, Chris?’ Lenka said, squeezing him. ‘He works too hard, you know.’

‘I’m sure he does,’ said Tamara. ‘You American bankers are all so serious about work. I prefer the British approach. We don’t go in for all this financial analysis stuff. But we get by.’

‘It’s useful,’ said Duncan, earnestly. ‘I think the merchant banks should have their own training programmes. I don’t see how they can survive in the modern world without them. At some point it’s what you know as well as who you know that counts.’

Tamara’s cheeks went ever so slightly pink. Chris recognized the symptoms, and winced.

That’s not quite fair, Duncan,’ she said. ‘Gurney Kroheim have some very good people.’

‘Oh, I’m sure they have,’ said Duncan. ‘I just think those people would benefit from some formal training.’

‘Just as you have,’ said Tamara, with a glint in her eye.

‘Yes,’ said Duncan, suspiciously.

‘You don’t think the Bloomfield Weiss training programme’s too tough, then?’

‘Well, no,’ said Duncan, uncertainly. ‘I mean, it is difficult, but I can handle it.’

‘That’s not what I heard.’

‘What do you mean?’ Duncan looked from Tamara to Chris, who shifted uncomfortably.

‘Just that a system which pushes some of its trainees so hard that they crack under the pressure seems less than ideal to me. But I’m sure you’ll pull through.’

Duncan was about to say something, but then bit his lip. He knew Tamara didn’t like him, and he wasn’t drunk enough to pick a fight. Lenka was, though.

‘How can you be so rude to my friend?’ she said.

‘I’m not being rude,’ said Tamara. ‘At least, not intentionally. Duncan started it. I was just carrying on the discussion.’

Lenka swayed. ‘Chris. This woman is awful. I can’t believe you can have such a horrible girlfriend as this.’

Chris, who had been watching this exchange with dread, knew that the time had come to intervene.

‘Lenka,’ he said firmly. ‘I know you’ve had a lot to drink. But you shouldn’t say things like that.’

‘I should,’ said Lenka. ‘Because it’s true. You’re a very nice person, Chris. You deserve someone much better.’

‘Chris!’ gasped Tamara, shocked. ‘Make her apologize.’

The bodies surrounding Tamara and Lenka were all quiet now, all watching Chris.

‘Lenka, I’m sure you didn’t mean what you just said. Can you please apologize?’

‘No way,’ said Lenka, staring at Tamara.

‘Here,’ said Duncan, pulling at her arm. ‘Come here. Let’s get some air.’

Lenka hesitated, and then allowed herself to be pulled back by Duncan. The crowd watched in silence as they left the room, and then exploded with chatter.

‘We’re going,’ said Tamara, firmly.

‘Let’s just say goodbye to Eric and Alex,’ said Chris.

‘No. We’re going now.’

So they left. As they spilled out on to the quiet street, they saw the figures of Lenka and Duncan disappearing round the corner. Chris hailed a cab, and they rode back to the apartment in silence.

‘Bye, Chris. It was fun. I’ll miss you.’

They were standing outside the gate to Departures at Newark Airport. It was Sunday evening; the weekend was over.

‘Thanks for coming all this way,’ Chris said.

‘It was worth it.’

‘Do you think you’ll be able to come again?’

‘I’d like to,’ said Tamara. ‘Perhaps the bank holiday at the end of May. If I can get a cheap ticket.’

‘They’ll probably put the fares up that weekend,’ said Chris. ‘To take advantage of people like us.’

‘I’ll try, anyway,’ Tamara said. Chris pulled her tightly to him, they kissed, and then he let her go. He watched her as she stood in the queue to go through the metal detector. She turned as she set off down the long corridor towards her gate and waved. He waved back, and she was gone.

Chris took the bus back to the Port Authority. It was dark outside, and the orange lights of New Jersey’s oil refineries glowed through the windows of the bus. The twin towers of the World Trade Center peeked over the twisted braids of a turnpike interchange. It reminded Chris of one of Alex’s paintings.

Although it had started off disastrously, it hadn’t been a bad weekend. Tamara had realized she had upset Chris and had done her best to make up for it. They had spent Saturday and Sunday away from the apartment. The weather had been glorious: they’d walked through the Park, visited the Frick and the Museum of Modern Art, and also spent an hour or two in Bloomingdale’s and Lord and Taylor. The sex had been great, too. But the sour aftertaste of Friday night remained in Chris’s mouth.

Tamara could be rude; everyone knew that. But she was usually funny as well. She had a wit that could be cutting, but she didn’t really mean the things she said. Or at least that was what Chris had assumed. But she should have been nicer to his friends; she could have made an effort.

And they were his friends. He liked Duncan. And although he hadn’t known Alex and Lenka for more than a few weeks, he liked them, too. Of course, he had known Tamara much longer, and he knew he had been right to defend her against Lenka. But he hadn’t liked to choose between these new friends and his girlfriend, and he resented Tamara for making him do it.