The Other Side of Greed by Lily Zante

Chapter Eight

BRANDON

I’m about to cut into my nice, juicy steak when my cell phone goes off. It’s on vibrate mode, but I can feel it jiggling around in my jacket pocket.

I ignore it but a few seconds later it goes off again. I give Jessica an apologetic grin and reach for my cell phone to quickly see who it is and to turn the damn thing off, but the darn thing stops buzzing.

I stare at the number. It’s one I don’t recognize. Just as I go to switch it off, it starts to vibrate again.

It could be a prospective investor. A client. A chance to make another deal. I can’t ignore these things. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” Jessica shrugs and plays around with her salad.

“Hi, is this Brad? Brad Hartley?” It’s a voice I vaguely recognize but can’t place.

“Who?” My jaw clenches during the few seconds it takes for the penny to drop.

“This is Kyra Lewis. You came for an interview at Redhill last week.”

The corners of my lips turn upwards in a wry smile as I wipe my mouth with a napkin. Well, well, well. She wants me after all. “How can I help you, Kyra?”

Jessica’s interest rockets. She sets down her fork, her eyes widening.

“Are you still interested in doing some volunteer work?”

Of all the times she could have called, she picks now. “Can we discuss this another time?” The quiet ambiance of the restaurant and the sight of my tantalizing steak divert my attention. I wish I hadn’t taken this call.

“I don’t have another time. You either want to help or you don’t, and right now we could do with some help.”

I cough lightly. It’s late in the evening. What the hell could she possibly want right now? “Now? As in, right now?” It’s after hours. I never signed up to work after hours.

“You said you were free. You said you were eager to help.”

“I am, but, I’m kinda busy.”

“You don’t seem to be interested. Don’t worry about it.”

She hangs up.

My eyebrow lifts. No one hangs up on me. Jessica eyes me coolly. “Did I hear correctly? Was that … Kyra Lewis?”

I hold up a finger, indicating to Jessica that I need to deal with this. Then I call Kyra Lewis back. She doesn’t pick up until about the fifth ring, and this infuriates me even more.

“What?” Her irritation crawls down the phone.

“You hung up,” I state, breathing in slowly, in order to ground myself.

“Look, Bradley. I don’t have time to talk. Either you can help right now, or you can’t.”

This could be my chance to get into Redhill. “Where do you need me to be?”

“At Redhill.”

“I’m making my way over.” I hang up and stare at my barely touched steak, my mood plummeting at the meal I’m going to have to give up. Lewis had better make it worth my while. “I’m sorry. I have to go,” I tell Jessica.

Shock animates her face. “Was that Kyra Lewis?” she asks, again, trying to read my expression. “It has to be. Such an unusual name. Such an unusual woman.”

“It’s business.” I hesitate on whether to tell her.

Jessica wipes her mouth as her cool expression slips into confusion, wondering what I am up to. She doesn’t need to know. “But you’ve barely touched your food,” she cries.”

“You’ve barely touched yours.” I nod at her plate. She’s had maybe a tiny flake of tuna, and a couple of salad leaves.

“I’m done.” She presses a dainty, manicured hand against her super flat stomach.

I chortle. “You’ve hardly eaten a thing.”

“What are you up to, Brandon? Level with me here. Why are you leaving me to see Kyra Lewis?” Is that a hint of disappointment I detect behind that cool mask, that flawless porcelain skin. I sense unease behind her cool blue eyes and perfectly painted glossy lips. Dare I think that she might even be jealous? “I’ll explain later.”

“Explain now.”

“I have to go, Jessica.”

“To see Kyra Lewis?” she snarls. This surprises me. Jessica is usually emotionless.

“What are you up to, Brandon?”

The muscles in my neck tighten. “I need to take care of something.”

“At this time of the evening?” She’s going to pry it out of me unless I tell her.

I huff out an irritated breath. “It’s ... you know I have my sights on Greenways?”

Jessica’s eyebrows lift ever so slightly north. “Go on,” she says, a wicked grin spreading on her face.

“I’ve offered her my services.”

“What services?”

“My business acumen.”

“What for?”

I’m tempted to quickly wolf down my steak, because I don’t know what Kyra wants me to do or how long it could take. While this is a useful turn of events, it’s not ideal, her interrupting my evening like this.

“To convince her that moving somewhere else would be better for her company. She doesn’t know who I am. She has no idea. She thinks I’m a hippie-cum-redeemed-capitalist who has returned from a sabbatical visiting Third World countries and now I want to do good here.”

Jessica claps her hands together. “That is brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!”

“Thank you.” But I am still completely bummed about having to give up my steak. I need the deal, and this woman has summoned me. I should go because I have no choice. “Sorry to leave you.”

“Don’t be. I’m intrigued. This is fabulous; this idea of you going undercover. I want you to keep me up-to-date with your progress.”

“You can’t tell anyone, Jessica. It will ruin things.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I’m impressed at the lengths you’re going to.”

“The situation demands it.” I get up and leave a wad of bills on the table. “Are you staying?”

“I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go.”

“I can drop you back.”

“You run along. Keep me posted.”

“Sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry. Why does she even want you at this ridiculous hour? Doesn’t she have a life?”

“Evidently not.”

She gives a stiff laugh. “What a crazy world, you leaving our dinner and seeing Kyra Lewis instead.”

“Seeing her? I don’t think so. I’d rather rot in Alcatraz.”

“You owe me another evening, Brandon.”

“We’ll have dinner again soon, I promise.” I take her hand and kiss it.

“I’ll hold you to that.” The smile she gives me has more sizzle than ever. She wants me. Odd that it’s taken the mention of Kyra Lewis for her to express her feelings so pointedly.

I rush away, remembering that I have to get into character. That I’m not a billionaire any more, but a down-on-his-luck, broke loser.

Kyra hasn’t told me a single thing, she hasn’t given me a clue as to what she needs me for. I suspect she’s calling my bluff. I got the impression she doesn’t like me much, and for that very reason, I’m determined to rise to the challenge.

I rush home to change into my casual clothes, then drive the battered old Toyota Corolla. The fucking stick shift takes some getting used to. It’s a cart. A real pain in the butt to drive. Every time I have to get into this, I cry for my Tesla.

I reach her factory and walk around the side to the back. What I see is like a punch to my gut. The huge expanse of land is now teeming with life. Lowlifes, by the looks of it. I suddenly feel as if I’m in the middle of Hell.

The place is a hive of activity, filled with people. A shiver rolls over me as I glance around. This assortment of people makes me want to retch. I suddenly fear for my life.

A long row of tables is on one side. People are setting them up, and others are bringing things over. I see the big guy, and then I notice that his arm is in a sling. He catches my eye and waves at me. I walk over to him, grateful to see a familiar face.

“Hey, glad you could make it. Kyra said she called you.”

“Yeah, I came as soon as I could.”

At least he seems happy to see me. When I ask him about his arm, he says he tripped and fell. I catch sight of the older woman setting up the tables with a bunch of others.

Still none the wiser, I ask him what’s going on.

“It’s our weekly food night for the homeless. Didn’t Kyra tell you?”

Food night? We’re feeding homeless people?

I gave up steak and Jessica for this? I look around with a sinking heart. This isn’t what I signed up for. I fight the urge to gag.

We’re feeding people who don’t shower? Or clean? People who could be crawling with all sorts of lice and fleas? And then I remember what Jessica told me. Fredrich starts to pick up a box with his one good arm but I tell him I’ll do it.

Holy crap.

It’s heavy.

I follow Fredrich over to a table. Just as I set the box down I catch sight of Kyra who is carrying a box that looks way too big and, given the way she’s struggling to carry it, seems too heavy for her.

“Will you stop it?” she cries as Fredrich tries to take the box from her. Then she sees me as she sets the box down.

“I see you made it,” she states in a voice that drips more with disappointment than relief.

“You asked me to, and here I am.”

“How about you help me get the rest of the stuff out?”

I swear under my breath as I follow her.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your evening,” she says.

“I was free, like I said.” My voice is tight, like hers. We eye one another like pit bulls about to fight. She opens the double doors of a large van, fumbles around inside it and then hands me over another heavy box. She tells me to take it back to the tables and then to come back for more.

This is shit I’m not prepared for. Feeding people? I’ve left a perfectly fine, ridiculously expensive meal at a Michelin-starred restaurant, for this?

A quick glance at the crowd of people all standing quietly, patiently, waiting for something, unnerves me.

I have never been in a situation like this. Not in this life. I have spent the last twenty years trying to forget. I wipe my hand across my face and turn away, wondering how I am going to get through this evening. I see now that the people at the tables must be Kyra’s staff and workers, and the group of misfits over in the distance are the ones needing to be fed.

“You can admire the scenery another time.” Kyra’s voice ricochets off my back. I turn around. “Jump in, make yourself useful.”

“I carried a box.” The words sound pathetic out loud.

“Get used to it. There are a lot of boxes to carry.”

“I can manage.” I sound like a teen trying to convince his parents he can handle booze.

Kyra stops. “Do you have any questions? I know it must seem like I’ve thrown you in at the deep end.”

“You don’t say.”

“You told me you’d be willing to do anything. If you can’t handle it, just let me know.”

This woman is taunting me. I quirk an eyebrow. “I’m up for this.”

She folds her arms as her expression turns jubilant. “You look as if you’re going to throw up.”

I force a laugh. And then my stomach rumbles, reminding me of what I gave up for this.

“You’re mistaken.” I head towards the tables, towards Simona where I expect a better reception and I get it.

“Brad!” She greets me with a smile. “How lovely to see you.”