The Odour moves to lie in Ed's lounger and I tip gin and tonic into the thermos cap for him.
He takes a large gulp and smacks his lips. "This whole thing's a complete fucking disaster."
I wait, hoping he'll expand on what 'disaster' for him actually looks like. When he doesn't, I say, "So what happened with your money?"
The Odour's eyes slide to mine and away again. He looks down at his cup and swirls the liquid. Eventually he says, "I got phished."
"Phished? As in scammed by a Nigerian prince about to receive a financial windfall?"
"Something like that." He drains his glass and I empty the last of the mix into it.
"How did you let that happen?"
He shrugs. "It doesn't even have to be particularly sophisticated anymore. All you need is an AI video generator and an AI voice cloning app and to find a willing target and you're a lounge chair fraudster."
"Is it really that easy?"
The Odour doesn't reply.
"Who did they pretend to be?"
"Sam Mathers. An investment specialist who's a very big social media influencer on making your money work for you. I've followed him for years." He laughs. "I've even met him at some fundraiser or other. Nice guy. An exceptionally wealthy nice guy."
"What was the scam?"
"He messaged me on Instagram, or so I thought. He was sharing a once in a lifetime investment tip to a select few of his followers. Guaranteed thirty to forty percent return within a couple of years."
"Right. So far too good to be true."
"Apparently so."
"And how much did you 'invest'?"
"Not quite all of it, but very near."
"You daft bugger." It's an understatement. What The Odour has done is catastrophic. No wonder he's turned into an unreasonable, greedy sociopath.
"Indeed." He pinches the bridge of his nose and looks delightfully pathetic in his Amani shirt and trousers and very shiny gold watch.
"How did you know you'd been scammed?"
"I bumped into him again, thanked him for the tip and he had no clue what I was talking about. I tried to show him the message, but it'd been deleted. Worst bloody moment of my life."
"Well, Theo. Ordinarily I might have some sympathy for you, but given it's led to the worst bloody moment ofmylife and a whole lot of financial hurt for everyone else, I don't. So, say what you've come here to say and then go home to cry into your empty bank account."
He takes a deep breath and looks mournfully down at his empty cup. "Alright. I've come to check you were still intending to occupy the building."
"For now, yes."
"Good." He places the cup on the little table between the loungers and pushes himself up to standing. "I'll get my lawyer to send over the paperwork in the morning."
I don't bother with any response and he doesn't bother with a goodbye.
The rhythm of his departing footsteps is slower than his arriving one, but I don't waste any energy beyond noticing the change of pace. My thoughts immediately return to Ed and the emotions churning through me, threatening to settle.
A sense of dread sweeps over me.
When they do settle, I might understand them and I have no idea if I'll like what I see.
