“I’ve just about had my fill of him.” She sniffled. “He’s selling the villa without even asking me.” Kevin handed her a tissue. “He’s got into some terrible financial difficulty. It’s just unbelievable that he’s not said a word to me.”
Kevin hovered. “Perhaps he didn’t want to worry you.”
“Worry me? He can’t pay for his daughter’s wedding. I’m worried all right.”
Kevin took another tissue and handed it to her as she blew her nose. “I’m sorry. Do you want to leave the workout this morning?”
“No, no I don’t. I want to work this out of my system. I want you to really push me this morning, Kevin. Take my mind off that husband of mine.”
“I can think of a number of ways I can do that,” he said, taking her in his arms. They went into a passionate embrace as he tried to peel off her red leotard.
“No, Kevin, we can’t. He’s in the house.”
“So? He’s been in and around before. It never bothered you then.”
“Well, it does now. I’m just not in the mood. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, but you know sometimes? You should think about the way you treat me, like I’m just a hired stud.”
“You know that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? You pay for me to train that body. How long’s it gonna be before you start asking me how much I charge for a fuck?”
“Ah stop it. You know I care about you.”
“So you say.”
“I do. But I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“You said that about the wedding, so you didn’t see me. Now it’s something else, but I’m not taking it, Liz. This has been going on for almost a year now.”
“Kevin, don’t do this to me, please.”
“It’s my doing it to you that you said kept you sane. Your old man can’t get it up, so is that all I am? Sex therapy? You said you two don’t do it anymore. Well, what’s going on, Liz? I care about you, you know that.”
“Kevin, it’s not the way it looks. I really care about you, I do. But he’s my husband, impotent or not. He has been a real pain for the past six months. You know that. He’s never home. I dunno what he’s doing. He’s hardly said two words to me.”
Kevin flexed his muscles and stared at his reflection in the gym mirror. She came to his side and touched his arm, resting her head against his back, staring at their reflections. Kevin’s body was honed to perfection. His hair was just starting to recede at the front, but he was handsome and he noticed her. If she had a new haircut, he noticed. When she had her nails done, he noticed. He’d even recommended the doctor who’d pumped her lips up and noticed when she’d had it done. Tony had asked if she’d got a cold sore because her lips looked puffy! Lately Tony seemed to be in a perpetual bad temper, burping and complaining about his stomach and snoring beside her every night, usually without so much as a good night kiss.
As she thought about her husband, Kevin gently eased her around to face him and began kissing her neck and stroking her breasts. He lifted her off her feet and laid her down on the bench press, stripping off her leotard and sucking at her nipples. If Tony tried to lift her in his arms, he’d put his back out! They became more passionate.
“Not here, Kevin. Take me into the sauna.” She sighed and hugged him close.
The pair was having such a good time that neither heard Driscoll calling her name, or the sound of him at the sauna door. He opened it only a fraction, but he saw enough: his wife naked with her legs over Kevin’s shoulders and her face flushed in pleasure. He shut the door, saying nothing. He left the house fifteen minutes later. His initial anger was gone; in its place there was a cold, seething calmness. He was going to be risking his neck in a few weeks’ time, and in many ways he had been risking it for her; he had not wanted to let her down. Now he didn’t care if he ever saw her again. Win or lose, he would do this last one for himself alone.
Driscoll drove to Chelsea and parked in the underground car park at Chelsea Harbor. He went into the apartments and up to number 204. The apartment was now on the market, but he’d not yet had time to tell Nikki, his patient longtime girlfriend.
Nikki opened the door and immediately wrapped her arms around his portly little body. “I’ve missed you. I’ve not heard from you in weeks.”
“I know, darling, but I’ve had big troubles.”
She brewed coffee the way he liked it with hot milk and then heated up some ginger biscuits. He also liked them hot. Driscoll, for all his fury against his wife and the trainer, never considered that his having a mistress was in any way a fault. In the good old days, when he had been flush with money, Liz had shopped till she dropped and he had screwed until he dropped.
“Nikki, I’ve got financial problems. I’m gonna have to sell this place. I’m sorry. There’s no way round it. But if you go and live with your mum for a while, maybe… I can’t say why or how, but I think I might be free and you and me can go off abroad to live together.”
“Live with my mum?” Her pale face clouded and she started to cry.
Nikki was twenty-nine years old. He’d met her in the perfumery department at Harrods several years ago. For a while his wife received more gifts of perfume and cosmetics than most women would need in a lifetime. Three months later Nikki agreed to move into the apartment. They had been lovers ever since, on and off. He knew she probably dated other guys, but if so he never saw any sign of them and she never mentioned any other person being in her life. She simply focused on him when he arranged to see her. He paid money into a bank account for her every month, but now he had to tell her that he couldn’t do that any longer either.
Driscoll managed to make love to Nikki. It was not a majestic performance by any standard, but as always, she made him feel as if he was the greatest stud in the world. They had some lunch and a bottle of champagne, and with a few more tears, she showed him out, promising that she would leave the apartment by the end of the month. She also promised she would show any potential buyers round when they called.
As the door closed behind him, she swore under her breath and went to the phone. She dialed her brother first, telling him to get a van round ASAP. She wasn’t going to leave a single stick of furniture behind. Then she called her boyfriend and asked whether she could move in with him. Driscoll had been a “nice little earner” for Nikki, nothing more. She was just angry that she hadn’t persuaded him to put the apartment in her name! She had a good mind to call his wife and give her an earful, but she didn’t bother. Besides, she didn’t want to tip the idiot off that she was doing a moonlight flit.
Driscoll met up with Wilcox at Kingston boat yard for some “shopping” for the heist. Wilcox was checking over a secondhand two-seater speedboat for sale. It had seen better days and smelt of mildew as he hauled the tarpaulin off the trailer.
“It’s been knocked around a bit. It’s had a shoddy repaint job. How much are they asking?” Wilcox asked, looking at the For Sale card stuck on the windscreen. “I suppose we won’t do better for this price,” he said, but Driscoll was miles away, still deep in thought about Nikki.
“I mean, I couldn’t say anything,” Driscoll said. “But you know, if we pull this off, I’m gonna make sure Nikki does all right, take her abroad with me.”
“What, leave the wife?” Wilcox asked, still more interested in the boat.
“Yeah, she nags all day. Caught her with her legs akimbo in the sauna today with her one-on-one trainer!” Driscoll said.
“How long have you had her?” Wilcox asked.
“Who, the wife?”
“No, the little girlfriend,” Wilcox said as he bent down to check out all the rust. “This hasn’t been under cover for a few years, never mind in the water,” he said.
“She’s been a fixture for four or five years,” Driscoll said. “She’s a lovely redhead. Tall, lovely long legs. You know, she’s always there for me, makes me feel good, and she’s great in the sack. Used to work in Harrods.”