Page 28 of Hooked On The One That Got Away
Friday, and Willow could stand it no longer. Charlie had said a week, and it was more than a week now! But what could she do – phone him and berate him for missing his deadline? She’d have to be patient. If it killed her. Which it felt like it might.
Four o’clock and Willow was half dead already. Then her phone pinged. A text from Maeve.BBC right now! SHIT HITTING FAN!
Willow fired up her browser and found the BBC site. First story was under the headline:WATER COMPANY UNDER OFFICIAL SCRUTINY. There was a video. Willow hit play. And saw Charlie, speaking on behalf of the water company as their external communications manager. He looked handsome and amazingly calm, as he delivered the company’s official statement, which in words a weasel would find insincere said that the company had nothing to hide and would welcomethe official regulator’s investigation into their practices. The company, according to Charlie, expected to be fully exonerated. Then the video cut to a representative of the regulator, who laid out the complaints against the company, and made it clear that this was one of the most egregious breaches of public trust in recent history. Then it cut to a gleeful-looking reporter, who knew they’d just been handed a ratings bonanza on a plate.
Ping. Another text from Maeve.Hz Charlie really sold his soul??A bit rich, thought Willow, coming from a demon fancier.
No!she texted back.But keep schtum!
Maeve sent back a GIF of someone zipping their mouth, with an actual zip. Then another GIF of Kermit the Frog waving frantically. Then a text:PUB NOW!!!????
Willow sighed. Clearly, Maeve would not rest until she knew all. Before she could reply, her phone pinged again, and Willow almost did a Kermit the Frog herself.Charlie!
His text read:Fell on sword & resigned. Need drink. And you xxx
Willow texted back:Oak and Whale in 15.Prepare 4 Maeve.
Fuckwas Charlie’s succinct reply. Then:OK.Will buy armour on way.
Friday was the pub’s busiest night, but once again, Maeve had managed to grab their usual booth.Does she charm people into giving it up, Willow wondered?Or is she just ridiculously lucky?
Willow was glad she’d started making more of an effort with her clothes, though her pleated green midi-dress and matching sandals were no match for Maeve’s form-fitting shift in cream lace and orange kitten-heeled slingbacks.
Geillis was at the bar – and so was Maeve’s snake-hipped demon-bloke, Willow saw. But then, nothing should surprise her these days, should it?
‘His name’s Xander,’ said Maeve, with more than a hint of smugness. ‘His father’s a Lord.’
‘Of darkness?’ said Willow, amused.
‘Close,’ Maeve replied. ‘North Yorkshire.’
Then she leaned across the booth, and hissed, ‘Now, tell me aboutCharlie!’ in a stage whisper audible to the entire pub. ‘Whatgives?’
Willow’s eye was caught by a man standing in the pub doorway, looking around the crowded room with the weary despair of someone who’d had a very long day. She waved until he finally, and with obvious relief, spotted her.
‘Why don’t you ask him yourself?’ Willow told Maeve.
‘Char-leee!’
Maeve leapt to her feet and threw her arms around Charlie, who mouthed ‘Help’ over her shoulder at Willow.
‘Come! Sit!’ Maeve pulled him into the booth beside her, and said, ‘Now, what onearthare you doing shilling for those water-defiling scoundrels?’
Before Charlie could reply, Maeve’s bloke appeared. Judging by the expression on his face, Willow guessed he’d come to check that she and the handsome man Maeve had just enthusiastically hugged were nothing more than old friends.
‘Xander!’ said Maeve. ‘You know Willow. And this is Charlie!’
As usual, Xander paid Willow no attention, but fixed Charlie with a stare that went several miles beyond hostile.
‘You were on TV,’ Xander said to him. ‘Fucking hell, man, have you no shame?’
‘I don’t have to explain myself to you.’ Charlie sounded calm. Willow could tell he was anything but.
‘Oh, you don’t, do you?’ Xander was spoiling for a fight. ‘You don’t have toexplainwhy your company hasdeliberatelybeen dumping shit –actualshit – inourwaterways foryears.And for the simple fucking reason that they chose to take money forupgrades and pay it out in fat bonuses, instead? Sure, man, no need to explainanyof that!’
Xander all but spat on the table in front of Charlie. ‘If I were you, I couldn’t show my face around decent people again. If this wasmypub, I’d kick you out on your corrupt, evil arse.’
Willow had had enough.
