‘Miles,’ George says, raising his voice. ‘What if we don’t have to—’
‘I heard you the first time.’ Miles glares at him irritably. ‘What are you on about?’
‘I mean, we should take action.’ His eyes are piercing, serious. ‘We should strike while the iron’s hot.’
Miles huffs. ‘And how, exactly, are we going to do that?’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ George says. ‘A way to identify him. Whoever this bastard is who’s following you, I wonder if we can smoke him out.’
Chapter 22
Reubyn
They arrive back at the bar early, around six o’clock, this time with the girls. Reubyn stays close to Faith as they walk in, to make sure he can get a seat next to her. She was friendly the previous night, enough to make him think he might have a chance, and this is an opportunity to deepen the connection between them. Yes, they’re here for other reasons as well, but there is absolutely no harm in Reubyn getting to know her a little better and seeing where that leads.
In accordance with George’s plan – or identification strategy, as he’s begun calling it – most of their group sits at a large table in the middle of the room, and George, arriving separately with a baseball cap pulled low at the front, heads straight upstairs to the mezzanine level and takes a seat overlooking the whole space. His plan, when he explained it earlier, seemed almost too simple to be of any use. But, in the absence of any better ideas, Miles decided it was worth a try. Probably because the alternative is doing nothing.
The idea, which Jessie and Faith have been told nothing about, is to have a normal night out and behave as if nothing is troubling them whatsoever. Meanwhile, George – who the girls believe is absent due to a migraine – will be scanning the room for anyone who might besurreptitiously keeping an eye on Miles. If he can identify the person watching Miles, and if they match the description given by Heather, then they can follow him when he leaves. They’ve made the decision not to confront anyone in the bar. They don’t want to risk making a scene and security getting involved. Plus, if they follow Miles’s stalker, they might be able to find out where he’s staying, which would be crucial information to pass on to the police.
Reubyn waits until Faith takes her position at the far end of the table and sits next to her. She’s dressed casually tonight, her peacock-blue blouse chiming with her eyeshadow, and, as he pulls his chair in, he’s gently intoxicated by the sweet woody scent of her perfume. Miles, sat opposite, isn’t doing the best job of appearing relaxed: he pulls at the collar of his shirt and shifts in his seat. At least his eyes aren’t searching the room, which is the main thing. Polly hands out the first round of drinks, and a discussion begins about the recent solar eclipse and how the viewing experience compared between Europe and America. Reubyn turns to Faith, boxing them into their own private conversation. ‘So, do you still want to be a YouTuber, after everything I told you last night?’
‘Are you serious? Of course I do, totally.’
‘I thought I might have put you off for life.’
She laughs. ‘I’m a recruitment agent. Compared to mine, your work is literally thrilling.’
Reubyn gets the conversation flowing by asking polite questions about her job.Ask questions and really listen– that was another key takeaway from Dr Jane Sheridan. And the more he listens to Faith talk about her job, the more he silently agrees with her – working in recruitmentisa waste of her time, a waste of her life. She spends eight hours a day in an office she dislikes, doing work that she hates, which involves organising people into jobs that they, in turn, hate. And all the while she earns little more than enough to cover her living expenses in western Sydney. Faith is bright; there is no limit to all the excitingthings she could do if she only believed in herself, and Reubyn makes a point of telling her that several times.
Before long it’s Reubyn’s round, and on the way to the bar he steals a glance up at George, who leans against the balcony rail, purportedly reading a book. As Reubyn waits for cocktails to be shaken and poured, he ponders how much he should reveal to Faith about his work. She hasn’t asked how much he earns from his channel but seems to be under the impression he makes a fortune. It would be stupid to shatter that illusion right away. Faith seems to be in complete awe of his job, of how he’s able to make a living doing something he loves. But the truth is, he really should’ve had a second job these last couple of years to supplement the income he gets from YouTube. But he didn’t do that. Instead, he took out loans. And lately he’s been struggling to stay afloat.
The trouble is: none of his peers do menial work to boost their incomes. There is a stigma around it, the way it lowers social standing. He could just imagine how George would react:time is one’s most valuable commodity, he would say, and it so follows that no one should waste time on work that doesn’t advance their career, raise their status or, at the very least, earn them shedloads of cash.
Reubyn should’ve swallowed his pride and got a job in a pub or shop – anything to help balance the books while he was growing his channel. But people from Holvine don’t have jobs like that; they either get cool jobs, or jobs that progress fast, earning them a ton of money or power. If they’re lucky, they get one that comes with all of those things, and then they’re included in the ‘notable alumni’ section of the school’s Wikipedia page. Reubyn isn’t there yet, but, if he sticks to the path he’s on, pours all his effort into it, one day he might be. In the meantime, all he’s got is debt. And, like an invasive knotweed, it seems to grow and multiply no matter how much he tries to beat it back. He’s committed to his business now, invested heavily, and he needs to make a success of it, and fast, or soon that debt is going to swallow him whole.
Reubyn sets a tray of drinks on the table, his fingers sticky from the syrupy spillage that’s collected in a moat around the edge. He hands out the cocktails, saving the last two for Faith and himself.
Faith thanks him and takes a sip. ‘So, you never actually told me how you got started as a content creator. You know, like you promised you were going to.’
Reubyn takes a sip of his own cocktail, and a few flakes of salt from the rim cling to his lower lip. ‘Well,’ he says, clearing the salt with his thumb, ‘it wasn’t my first choice. When I was younger, I assumed I would get a job in the TV industry.’
Her right eyebrow shoots up, as if on a string. ‘Youassumed? Isn’t that quite a competitive industry to get into?’
‘Yeah, I know, but you assume you can do the same job as your parents, right? And my dad’s a TV producer.’
‘Wow. Cool. What kind of shows?’
‘He used to run a show calledDealbreaker, it was this game show where—’
‘I know it!’ Faith’s face springs open. ‘Oh my God, I lovedDealbreakeras a kid. We used to get it in Australia.’
Reubyn feels a warm rush of pride. ‘That doesn’t surprise me. It was massive, back in the day. They used to make millions off the phone-ins alone.’
‘Did you ever meet Tony Meadows?’
Reubyn laughs. ‘That’s all anyone ever asks about it – do I know Tony.’
‘And do you? What’s he like?’
