I don’t tell Brian my assumption was I’d be doing that anyway through fear I’ll talk myself out of a pay rise.
‘Now, I’m sure it’s not anything you haven’t dealt with before. All I need is for you to maintain my work calendar so that it complements my private calendar.’
‘That sounds simple enough.’
‘See, it’s not. My wife, Leanne, she can view my work calendar. We’ve had a few issues in our marriage where she feels more comfortable if she knows where I am all the time. That’s why I need a robust and absolutely solid public calendar I share with her that lets her believe she knows where I am, when I’m really where you can see I am in my private calendar. Do you get me?’
‘You need a fake calendar for your wife to think you’re not off having an affair?’
Morally, I find this no more repellent than working at an estate agent’s. Him shagging about is bad. I mean, of course that’s what I’d think as a recently cheated-on woman. But it’s notthatbad. The only person getting hurt in this arrangement is a woman who believes Brian is a catch, which by default means she can’t be a fantastic human being, or she’s very stupid – two kinds of people who do not concern me.
‘Exactly. Except, so we’re clear, it’s affairs, plural.’
‘What if she goes to the locations where you won’t be?’
‘Ah, you’re a bright girl.’
From the breast pocket of his suit jacket he pulls out an iPhone. He places it on the desk and slides it across to me.
‘Leanne doesn’t know I know this, but she’s placed a tracker on this phone. With it, she can access all my messages, emails, photos, apps, location, the lot. Your job is to be the keeper of the phone. You scroll on my Instagram and you see a meme I’d find meaningful and worthy of sharing with my audience, you whack it on my stories. Facebook reminds you of a nice wee break me and Leanne went on to Tenerife seven years ago, you ping it to her with some heart emojis. If I’m meant to be doing a house viewing in Silvertonhill, then my phone is in Silvertonhill. We’re having a “works dinner”, then you might WhatsApp her a picture of the meal I’m eating and tell her we should try the restaurant on our next date night. If my phone syncs up with my calendar, she has no need to turn up where I am because the phone is telling her I’m where I’m supposed to be without her nipping out in the Range Rover. I’m not a mad shagger. It’s not overly intensive, I’m only nipping off two or three times a week, now and again four or five, for an hour or two at a time, tops.
‘What I require is you taking a holistic approach to my phone usage so the activity looks natural, normal. You get me? Those extra wages, that’s my insurance policy to make sure whatever I get up to, Leanne never suspects even a whiff of it. If you take the money, then I need you to be prepared to do what needs to done as and when. How’s that sound?’
In acquiescence, I take the phone off the table, click the button on the side so the screen flashes into life. ‘There’s a pin code required?’
‘120610. Our wedding anniversary.’
When the phone accepts it, I’m rewarded with the display picture of Leanne on a beach at sunset hugging two boys of an age I cannot determine, maybe eight and ten. Kids all look like kids to me. ‘You have a lovely family,’ I say, for lack of anything better coming to mind.
‘Thank you. With your help, I’d like to keep it that way.’
Brian opens up his laptop, types a few words and then clicks on his trackpad. As an afterthought, still looking at the screen, he says, ‘You can get settled in. Keep the phone, get thinking about how’s best for you to manage it. Let me know if you’ve any questions, any suggested workflows you’d like to implement. I’ll message you any updates you need to keep things tallied up.’ He gives me his full attention, throws me a wink and then returns to whatever he’s doing.
Gavin waits until I’m at my desk to whisper, ‘Did he offer you the phone?’
‘Yup.’ I turn my computer on – it whirrs as if it’s building up to taking off – then place the phone on my desktop.
‘You took it?’ I’ve disappointed them. ‘Usually it takes longer for the phone to be accepted.’
‘He’s going to do it with or without my assistance. This way at least I get some extra money.’
‘How would you feel if someone was conniving to help your partner cheat on you?’
The actual cheating was not the most painful thing about what happened to me, to be honest. Lying in bed the week I started high school and had made pals with Amara, my parents’ screams at one another bleeding through the walls of my room, I remember thinking,Thank God I met Amara. I’ve never clicked with someone like this before and I cannot imagine life without her. We’re going to be pals forever. My chest full and heavy in a good way, like the affection and love I held for her already was so huge it was trying to burst out of my body. We were friends for twenty-one years, and then one day, with no warning, we were not. So in my specific scenario, the loss of Amara was the worst bit, which isn’t the case for Brian and his wife. Admittedly, it is still undeniably shitbag behaviour. ‘Maybe I’ll help him get found out rather than hide it.’
‘Sure.’ Gavin doesn’t believe me, nor should they. I only said it to make them think I was a decent person despite what I’ve agreed to do, but having said the words out loud I like how it sounds. Yeah, that’s exactly how I’ll use the power Brian’s given me.
6
Me, Brian and Gavin are in the Stonehouse pub round the corner from the office for post-work drinks, a celebration of my joining the team, an event I do not want marked in any way, and yet, here I am. The pub is cosier than I would have given it credit for. It’s bathed in an orange glow from whatever lightbulbs they have in, which gives it the kind of warm, friendly atmosphere I am not experiencing from Gavin, who sits beside me, stony faced and looking at anything in the bar – the mirror above my head with a brand of whisky’s logo painted on it, the window to the side of me, the beer mat on the table – but me.
As his Outlook calendar can confirm, Brian is at the bar getting a round in before he has to go coach his son’s football team. ‘A dedicated family man,’ I’d said when he told me his evening’s plans.
‘Absolutely,’ he’d replied, without a hint of irony.
I don’t hold out much hope for the drink he is procuring. I fancy a wine, and he said my options were white and red and that was it. I’m not a snob, but no real choice is a bad choice. See also: my new job.
Gavin was on a very frantic phone call as the workday ended, which has left them in an almost comatose state. I couldn’t make out the details of what the caller was saying to them, but I could hear they were yelling. To appear busy, I familiarised myself with Brian’s phone and what he has on it to prove to his wife he is a good and faithful boy. There are a lot of apps to do with football scores, and a WhatsApp account that only contains message chains between immediate family members, Gavin and clients. His photos are all of his family, the hidden folder dedicated to pictures his wife must have sent him herself of her in various lacy pants and bras. Then I browsed through his downloaded files, and in among restaurant menus and bank statements was a healthy amount of pornography. Each video starred blonde-haired, big-boobed women being fucked by men who were nowhere near as attractive as them. The sex acts were all very vanilla and took place in various mansions that looked like show homes. These properties seemed like the dream for a man of Brian’s aesthetic tastes; briefly, I wondered if it was the houses and not the sex acts turning him on.
