Page 26 of Disgrace

We pretty much inhale the Dim Sum starter and comfortably wait for the next course. When I remember one of the many things I want to discuss.

My brows must furrow, because before I say a single word, Sam speaks.

“Uh oh, this looks serious. Let me guess, I should be eating my meal off the floor,” she quips, but her eyes flash with something quite dark. I get an unpleasant twist in my gut at the notion.

“Um no. Humiliation isn’t my kink.” I sip my drink. All the same, my mouth is dry. I have no idea how she is going to take this. “Sam, I have asked you to stop seeing certain clients, and I need to know you will be all right for money…I mean, I would like to make sure you don’t need money.”

“Are you offering to pay me, Jason, because wouldn’t that just makeyoua client?” Her voice is flat but she’s bitten her lips flat, and I don’t know if she’s holding back hurt, rage or laughter.

“Fuck, no!” I snap, but lean in, adjusting my speech to a more tempered volume. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Relax, Jason. I was teasing.” She fails to suppress her smile this time. I scowl because it seems not telling the truth causes her to run out but insinuating I am going to pay her for sex is a laughing matter. This is fucked up. “Sorry…sorry, my bad. Not something to joke about. I get that.” She purses her lips in mock seriousness. “It is very thoughtful of you but, really, I am fine for money.”

“Really?” Not that I doubt her ability to charge a premium price, but she lives in one of the most expensive parts of London. She left home at eighteen, and I struggle to see how she manages to maintain the lifestyle she does.

“Leon’s rent covers my living costs—”

“Leon lives with you?” I interrupt.

“Yes. My best friend shares my flat,” she clarifies with a touch of attitude in her tone. “As I was saying, his rent covers most my expenses. I have no mortgage, and if I get to keep my other clients, I can still make my other investment commitments. It’s all good.” She cups my cheek, but I’m still reeling from her sharing a flat with Leon. He is a player at the club, very attractive, and until two days ago, I thought he was her boyfriend.

“Leon?” I repeat.

“Leon saved me. I owe him everything. I trust him with my life…just in case I am not being understood.” She arches her perfect brow but then hums out her musing. “Hmm although, he does have an annoying habit of thinking he knows what’s right for me.”

“You regret him talking to me?” My voice is soft. I can’t help the stabbing pain just below my collarbone, maybe a little lower.

“Oh, no, not at all.” She pushes herself out of her chair and slides onto my lap. With the fixed table and wall seat there is no room, but we manage to meld together. Her slim arms wrap around my neck, and my arms slip around her waist. “Like I said, he saved me, and not for the first time.” Her lips cover mine for long, sensual minutes; only an embarrassed cough interrupts our intimate embrace. The waiters layer several dishes on the table, with a glossy colourful feast on each individual plate.

“Oh, yum!” She slides back off my lap and settles in her seat for round two.

“So how did you two meet?” I take the bowl of sticky rice she offers me and start to load my plate.

“In a bar…a sleazy bar. I had left home, checked into a hotel, and went to the first bar I could find. Not my proudest moment. He spotted me and saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life. I had no idea what I was doing, or what I was going to do with my life. He sorted me out, helped me find my way.”

“Excuse me if I don’t champion him as a true friend, because he sounds more like your pimp,” I scoff. Her shoulders lift in a dismissive shrug.

“Anti-pimp more like. No, no, you don’t understand. I know how lucky I am to have him in my life. I know exactly where I would be if he hadn’t dragged me out of that bar.”

I raise my hands up in surrender. I know a futile conversation when I hear one. Despite his initial help, he is high on my ‘jury’s out’ list.

“All I had when I left home was the damn necklace my mother had used all my life as a type of dowry to try and get some rich titled guy to marry me.” She lets out a resigned breath, but I can see the pain still evident in her eyes. She shakes herself and stabs at some crispy chilli beef, scooping it into her mouth. She chews slowly, collecting herself. “Leon took me to Sotheby’s to get it valued. It had once belonged to Queen Mary. I couldn’t believe it was genuine. I was expecting them to laugh me out of their offices and tell me it was fromAccessorizeor some chain store. They took a week or so to establish provenance but gave me a valuation at the time of around a million pounds. When it went to auction, it sold for over double that.” She shrugs nonchalantly. My chopsticks are hovering about an inch from my mouth. I drop the sticks. “It was my grandfather’s. Part of me wished I could’ve kept it. It was the only thing I had, other than a few clothes, when I left home but he wanted me to have it, and I needed to sell it to live.”

“Two million?” I repeat.

“About that…so really, you don’t need to worry. I bought the house I live in and converted the four other floors into flats. I still have to work; the money is all tied up in property, and this is not a cheap city to live in, but I can cut back on clients without it hurting. Without it hurting me, I mean. The clients wanting pain pay more.” I open my mouth as she has her own chopsticks at my lips with something; I have no idea what, but I chew and swallow. She is just full of surprises.

“And who’s Grace?” I take a sip of my water.

“Grace?” Her back straightens, and she looks confused.

“Your nightmare, you called out Grace. Was Grace the name you gave your baby?” I ask softly but she shakes her head.

“No…no, I’m Grace…that was my name but I legally changed it.” She draws in a deep breath and flashes a smile clearing any sadness with her own radiance. “I think I’ve done my bit…How about you?” She sips her champagne, there is still a mountain of food, but she doesn’t look nearly finished. I like that. I hate it when women don’t eat; it’s like air and sex…natural.

I run my hand through my hair. “Not much to tell. Normal family, met Daniel at Oxford, but he dropped out, and I stayed. I helped him regroup when his company was in trouble. He had the financial backing from Jack Wilson but needed someone he could trust as his right hand.” I pause, and the silence swells between us like an ominous tide.

“You’re right; that was not much to tell.” She sits back and eyes me carefully. I hold her gaze because she knows there’s more.

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