Kiss Heaven Goodbye

'A million pounds,' said Sasha calmly. 'Three hundred thousand to buy Ben out, the rest for capital investment: a store in a chic street in London and the nuts and bolts of creating a ready-to-wear operation. Fabric, a manufacturer in Italy, distribution and so on.'

Miles folded his hands in front of him on the desk. 'So let me get this right,' he said with a superior smile. 'Three hundred thousand buys you a controlling interest in Ben Rivera. Let's say a sixty per cent stake. But you want to keep hold of a majority shareholding, which is fifty-one per cent. The designer also retains a share. So where does that leave the investor? You can't honestly expect anyone to invest a million pounds for a ten per cent stake in a back-street fashion designer, can you?' He gave a little laugh she recognised well, the laugh he reserved for people he pitied or felt were beneath him.

'Ben Rivera is not a back-street designer,' she said firmly. 'His will be the next big name in fashion.'

Miles looked bored. 'And who's the management team?'

'There's me, of course.'




Miles laughed. 'Spending money was always your strong point, Sasha, not making it.'

Sasha tried not to flinch. The management team was the weak part of her plan. She was completely convinced of her own abilities and the potential of the Rivera brand, but she was well aware that investors saw 'creative' types as a liability. They wanted to see that other people like them steady, a.n.a.lytical people with a track record in business were prepared to get involved in the project.

'I have Philip Bettany, an a.n.a.lyst at Schroder's, as my financial director.'

She hadn't officially asked Phil if she could use his name, of course, and she had zero expectation that he would give up a glittering career in the financial sector to help his sort-of-girlfriend out with her silly dresses, but she wasn't going to let Miles know that.

Miles nodded, looking much more impressed. 'Well, he should know what he's talking about at least,' he said, tossing the business plan on his desk. 'Trouble is, I haven't got a million quid to give you.'

Sasha swallowed. She had expected resistance, even out-and-out refusal, but not this.

'Bulls.h.i.t, Miles,' she said. 'What about your trust funds?'

He held his hands open. 'They're bankrolling this place.'

'I thought that was your father's job?'

Miles shook his head. 'You have the wrong information.'

She felt panic rising. She couldn't leave this room without the money; what would she do? She'd tried every other avenue and it was only a matter of time before someone else spotted Ben's potential.

'You owe me, Miles,' she said quietly.

'And how exactly do I owe you?'

'You know what I'm talking about. That night on Angel Cay, the body of the boat boy.'

'What body?' he said. 'There was no body.'

'Really? Well perhaps we should get the Bahamas police to interview Grace and Alex. That should jog everyone's memory.'

He held up a hand. 'Look, OK, so we all saw this guy on the beach. We all agreed to ignore it. All All of us. But then it turns out the f.u.c.ker wasn't so dead after all. He nicked a boat and b.u.g.g.e.red off. So don't pretend you have something over me. All we had was a thief, not a body.' of us. But then it turns out the f.u.c.ker wasn't so dead after all. He nicked a boat and b.u.g.g.e.red off. So don't pretend you have something over me. All we had was a thief, not a body.'

Sasha shook her head slowly. 'You almost battered someone to death, Miles. How's that going to go down with your little s...o...b..z chums? I can't see them flocking around when the story gets out.'

'I did not batter anyone,' he growled, gripping the front of his desk.

'You know it, I know it, Grace and Alex know it. Why else do we all avoid each other like the plague?'

'You don't know anything,' he spat. 'Why the h.e.l.l would I even care about that stupid deckhand?'

She paused, picking at an imaginary thread on her skirt.

'I f.u.c.ked the boat boy, Miles,' she said casually. 'On the last night, in his cabin. I think he came to find you and I think you attacked him. And I know you were coming from West Point Cove just before we found him.'

His face was like stone. 'I did not do it,' he said quietly, his voice betraying just the slightest crack.

'But you had motive, didn't you? And opportunity. And it would be just like you to attack someone from behind.'

Their eyes locked.

'What's that supposed to mean?' he hissed.

'Whatever you want it to mean, Miles.'

Suddenly he jumped up, leaning on the desk. 'This hangs over you too, Sasha,' he said.'You're planning this hotshot fashion career. You have just as much to lose.'

Sasha laughed. 'Miles, right now, I have nothing to lose.'

Cursing, he turned away and walked to the window.

'We all agreed to keep quiet,' he said, looking down at the street. 'And now you come here threatening me.'

'This isn't a threat, it's a business opportunity. I'm not asking for cash to keep quiet, I'm offering you a slice of a global fashion brand with the potential to make us all rich. I just needed to get your attention.'

'Well you've certainly done that, Sasha,' he said, not turning to look at her.

Sasha wondered if she'd pushed him too far. She knew what he was capable of and she certainly didn't want Miles Ashford as an enemy, but what she had said was true: she really didn't have anything to lose.

'For old times' sake,' he sighed, 'and because I actually agree with you about the potential of the fashion sector, I could offer five hundred thousand for a fifty per cent stake.'

Sasha's heart gave a lurch. She had him, but she couldn't let go yet.

'You don't appear to be listening to me, Miles,' she said coolly. 'Half a million isn't enough.'

'It's all I can afford.'

He had to be bluffing: half a million was pocket change to someone like Miles Ashford. Besides, it was academic: she needed more.

'Twenty-five per cent of the company for seven hundred and fifty thousand, and that money is in the form of a loan. After four years, if I can pay you back, then your shareholding reverts to me.'

'I want interest at ten per cent.'

She snorted. 'You get interest at five per cent and think yourself lucky,' she said.

It was Miles' turn to laugh. He put out a hand and they shook. 'Maybe I was wrong about you having no head for business,' he said.

'A head for business, a body for sin, isn't that the phrase?' said Sasha, her heart speeding up as she felt Miles run his eyes over her body. Then, abruptly, his face changed, softened.

'I didn't kill him, Sasha,' he said, looking into her eyes.

'It's all in the past.' She shrugged. 'Like you said, there was no body.'

For a long moment it was like the years had fallen away: they were both eighteen, walking hand in hand on the beach, a life of possibility ahead of them. Then that moment was gone and he dropped her hand.

'Now,' said Sasha, smoothing down her dress, 'when can I expect the cheque?'

She walked out of Miles' office and down the walnut-panelled stairs, into the ladies' cloakroom. Sunlight flooded in through a window, dappling the floor with colour. She went over to the sink and looked into the mirror, taking deep breaths. Then she turned away, stumbled into a toilet cubicle and vomited.

35

April 1995

Alex took another belt from his bottle of f.u.kucho sake and lurched out into the late-night Tokyo traffic. The Hondas and Nissans swerved, tyres screeching, horns blaring, but Alex just roared back at them, holding up his clawed hands like bear paws.'h.e.l.lo, Tokyo!' he bellowed, their headlights blurring into the endless neon. Reaching the far pavement, he tipped his head back and spun around, gazing up at the towering skysc.r.a.pers above him and reflecting that he couldn't remember having more fun. It was as if someone had created Tokyo as a personal neon-lit playground just for Alex Doyle. Everything about the place was quirky, unreal or upside down. Stumbling over a sign advertising 'Octopus b.a.l.l.s', he b.u.mped into a suited businessman who bowed rapidly and scurried away. He had been warned that the j.a.panese thought all Westerners were insane, so he guessed a six-foot-two long-haired Westerner in biker boots was going to be terrifying.

'Gomennasai!' he shouted after the retreating figure. 'Gomennasf.u.c.king- ai ai!'

Alex had certainly had plenty of need for both of the two j.a.panese phrases he'd learnt on Year Zero's short tour of the country: 'Gomennasai' for 'sorry' and ' for 'sorry' and 'arigatou' for 'thank you'. The thank yous had begun the moment Year Zero had stepped off the plane and been mobbed by obsessive but polite fans, many of whom had brought gifts: teddy bears embroidered with the band's logo, sweets in hand-made boxes, even T-shirts and shoes. Gift-bearing, camera-waving fans seemed to be everywhere: at the hotel, at the club, in the restaurants, often waiting for them in lifts or toilets. Luckily Jez was only too pleased to bathe in adulation wherever he found it, often inviting five or six girls back to his room for what he called a 'tea party'. They often saw tearful girls fleeing down the corridors; presumably he wasn't serving cup cakes. for 'thank you'. The thank yous had begun the moment Year Zero had stepped off the plane and been mobbed by obsessive but polite fans, many of whom had brought gifts: teddy bears embroidered with the band's logo, sweets in hand-made boxes, even T-shirts and shoes. Gift-bearing, camera-waving fans seemed to be everywhere: at the hotel, at the club, in the restaurants, often waiting for them in lifts or toilets. Luckily Jez was only too pleased to bathe in adulation wherever he found it, often inviting five or six girls back to his room for what he called a 'tea party'. They often saw tearful girls fleeing down the corridors; presumably he wasn't serving cup cakes.

Alex was much more interested in visiting temples and markets, soaking up the weird atmosphere of the Far East he'd read about as a teenager, but it quickly became apparent that playing the tourist just wasn't possible. Six months ago, the band had shot a TV commercial for Fiju beer which had meant he was recognised everywhere he went. Besides which, the band had a punishing schedule: six shows in six different cities over six nights, squeezing in appearances on TV, radio interviews and in-store acoustic gigs. Year Zero were genuinely Big in j.a.pan: a number-one alb.u.m and single plus sold-out arena shows. It was the same in Sweden, France and Germany, but in the UK, the band had, in record industry parlance, 'failed to break out'. Yes, the Long March Long March alb.u.m had been a hit, but then Blur and Oasis had come along with alb.u.m had been a hit, but then Blur and Oasis had come along with Park Life Park Life and and Definitely Maybe Definitely Maybe and completely stolen their thunder. In fact, Pulp, Supergra.s.s, Elastica, even the Boo Radleys were on and completely stolen their thunder. In fact, Pulp, Supergra.s.s, Elastica, even the Boo Radleys were on Top of the Pops Top of the Pops more than Year Zero. It was the most exciting period for British music in decades Britpop, they were calling it and Year Zero were sitting in the second divison, facing relegation. more than Year Zero. It was the most exciting period for British music in decades Britpop, they were calling it and Year Zero were sitting in the second divison, facing relegation.

Alex finished the last of the sake and dropped the empty bottle into a rubbish bin with a clang. Nothing was going to dampen his mood tonight. Ducking into a doorway, he pulled out his bag of c.o.ke and, using the corner of his hotel room key, scooped up a generous pile and snorted it.

As he left his hidey-hole, he spotted a flashing sign reading 'Rock Club' just down the street. Outside, there was a queue of teenagers wearing black leather and studded belts. Pushing his way to the front of the queue, he slapped a five-thousand-yen note on the counter. A huge bouncer in a black vest stepped out in front of him, but a girl jumped up and began jabbering in j.a.panese. The only words Alex could make out were 'Alex san', and 'Fiju beer'. The man reluctantly moved aside and Alex plunged inside.

'Gomennasai,' he said, elbowing his way to the bar. He pulled out another note and waved it in the air like a distress flare. 'Oi, mate!' he called to the barman. 'Sake over here, mate.'

''Scuse, Alex san.'

Alex turned to see the girl from the front of the club standing next to him. She was pretty, with big almond-shaped eyes thickly lined in black and a Cleopatra-style bob. She also had a studded dog collar around her neck. 'May I help?'

'Just trying to get served, darling.' Alex smiled, continuing to wave his money.

'With respect, Alex san, he will not serve you,' said the girl.

'Oh really?' he said, looking at her with interest. 'Why not?'

'Because in j.a.pan, waving money is very rude. Also, the word "mate" in j.a.panese means "wait!" or "stop!". It is very confusing for him.'

'Oh, b.u.g.g.e.r. Can you do it for me? Get yourself a drink too. And say sorry to him for me, will you?'

She bowed and went to speak to the barman, returning with a bottle of sake and two beers.

'I am Maiko,' she said, bowing. 'I study English at college and I love Year Zero very much.'

'Well, you're a lifesaver, Maiko,' he said, slumping into a booth and sinking half the beer in one.

'Why you drink so much, Alex san?'

'Because I should be in Osaka.'

He thought back to that morning when he'd woken up feeling unwell after a bender the night before. He'd started the day with a line of cocaine anyway, which had made his nose start to bleed. Worse than his poor health was the realisation that he had long pa.s.sed the point where he could survive without either a wrap or a bottle. Three hours later, he'd had to leave Tokyo for Osaka with the rest of the band. On the train he'd found himself paranoid, shaking and insular. He just didn't want to be around his band mates any longer, so when they had arrived at Osaka Arena, he had hung back, then got a taxi to the station and the bullet train back to Tokyo.

'I should be on stage right now,' he said sadly, the bravado replaced by guilt. 'I've f.u.c.ked up, Maiko. I've let them all down.'

'It is sad if you fail others, Alex san,' said Maiko seriously. 'But it is tragedy if you fail yourself.'

He blinked at her. She had hit the nail on the head. The drink and drugs were just masking his unhappiness. Deep down he hated what he was doing. He had set out wanting to make music, not just to be a rock star. He wanted to write songs as singular and affecting as all those bands he had listened to in his room at Danehurst, but instead he had cobbled together something he thought would appeal to everyone when it hadn't even appealed to him.

'I think that calls for a drink,' he said, splashing sake into two cups, then knocking both of them back.

'Hey, Alex san!' said Maiko, c.o.c.king her head. 'It is your song!'

Alex grabbed her hand.'Come on,' he replied.'Let's have a dance.'He woke up to the smell of noodles. Turning his head painfully, he saw a black plastic bowl sitting on a low table beside the bed. He didn't recognise the bowl, or the bed for that matter. In fact, he didn't recognise any of it. For a moment he felt scared, fl.u.s.tered, searching the room and his memories for a clue. Except he couldn't remember anything about the night before.

'h.e.l.lo, Alex san.'

The door opened and a pretty girl came into the room. He immediately wondered if he had slept with her and felt both aroused and ashamed.

'You feel better?' she said, pouring Alex some tea.

'Er. Where am I?' He tried to sit up, but his head hurt and he lay back down. 'How do we know each other again?'

'I am Maiko. We meet in club, Alex san.'

'Last night?'

Maiko giggled. 'The night before. You drink very much. You sleep on the street.' She smiled, which made him feel a little more rea.s.sured.

'But why am I here?'

'I did not know where you stay,' said the girl. 'So you stay here. Yesterday, you sleep.'

Now Alex did sit up, clutching his head. 'You mean I've been here two days two days?'

She nodded.

'Oh Jesus,' he breathed. That meant he had not only missed the Osaka show he remembered that much but a s.h.i.tload of promotion.

He tried to work out the time, but evidently somewhere in the last thirty-six hours he'd lost his watch. He was just about to ask Maiko if she knew where it had gone when he heard a knock on the door and a loud English voice in the hallway. The bedroom door swung open and Alex was startled to see Jez standing there.