Read Little Men - The E Book Online
Authors: Ronnie Yax
He took it into his office, but opened his other mail first. The usual stuff, invites to parties mainly. He tossed the paper onto his desk, then set about opening the large package. It was well sealed, as it should be. He carefully pulled away the grey plastic packaging to reveal the banknotes. Lots of them. £5000 in this packet in tens and twenties. He quickly counted it. Then, making sure the office door was shut, he opened the secret safe that was housed in the floorboards under his desk. There were another twenty-one bags there already, each with at least five grand in them. Well over a hundred-K in hard currency. The safe was full and it was the end of the month. Time to confiscate Magda
The scam had worked well so far and it had been in operation nearly two years. Magda Milosz worked for Simon part-time, cleaning the office in the evening. She was very good at her job. Her father, Jan, worked as a builder in London, moving around the many construction sites in the city. It was good, regular work and paid well. Once a month he would get into his Polish-registered Ford Galaxy and drive the nine hundred miles back to his home city of Warsaw. The main purpose of the visit was to see his extended family as they preferred to stay in their home town rather than take their chances on foreign soil as he and his daughter had done, albeit pretty successfully.
Somewhere in the MPV he would stash Simon
When he arrived in Warsaw, Jan would walk into his local branch of Poland
Enter Tony Hawkins. From his base in the Netherlands he could access Jan
The Luxembourg account was in NMA
The existence of a foreign branch of NMA justified the necessity of export papers which gave them preferential exchange rates. The washed money was then placed back in Simon
It was made very clear to Jan that if he or any of the money went
Simon felt very pleased with himself as he counted the drug funds. They would magically appear in the company
Chapter Thirteen
Simon Owen was nearly ready. He looked in the mirror. He was thirty-six years old, and his appearance had arguably improved with age. Six-foot tall with a full head of thick, blonde hair that was only just starting to show flecks of grey. He was lightly tanned from his many trips abroad, and his healthy complexion belied the fact that he took drugs, drank heavily and had a very erratic sleep pattern.
He put the finishing touches to his outfit. A chest-hugging white Versace shirt, which he hoped would accentuate his toned physique. A pair of tight, velvet D&G trousers teamed with brown Oliver Sweeney loafers. He completed the look by hanging a solid silver Stephen Einhorn chain around his neck and fastening his Rolex watch.
His timing was perfect as the buzzer on his intercom sounded to indicate his car was waiting outside, ready to transport him to the club. Simon lived in the Kent countryside, it would take roughly an hour to get to London and the
Sleeping With The Enemy
wrap
party hosted by Slam! television.
The show had been a huge success and had the nation gripped. It had exceeded all expectations and even outdone the previous two series. Slam! staff were becoming highly-revered within show business and tonight were throwing a lavish party to celebrate.
Everyone who was anyone was going to be there. The production staff, the judges, the contestants and a carefully selected show business clientele. Top brass from the worlds of fashion, television, media and music would be there, so it was natural enough that Simon would be top of the list of invitees.
Simon still enjoyed nights like these. He was a veteran party-goer, but showed no signs of slowing down. He buzzed off the fact that people actively tried to get him into their parties. He could still remember when it was the other way round, in the ’eighties when he and his mates had to almost beg bouncers to let them in. Those days were long gone. Going to parties was part of his job, but a part he adored nonetheless. He loved the fact that other industry executives would attend just because they thought Simon would be there, taking advantage of any opportunity for a little schmoozing.
There were usually plenty of wannabe dance acts and DJs that knew Simon had the power to make them rich and famous. They would feel privileged just to be in the same room as Simon Owen. And, naturally, there would be the obligatory beautiful women and free champagne associated with the fact that it was an after-show party for one of the biggest television series in the country, which was tasked with finding the country’s next top singer. Simon was going to enjoy the evening.
In West London, Kyla was already at the Slam! party. The alcohol was flowing, and for once she was enjoying herself. This was the sort of thing she dreamed of: a showbiz party where she was one of the guests of honour. Some of the other contestants were in the room, but not the winner yet, Debi Roberts.
Kyla was still the main story of the show. It was three weeks after her eviction and her feet had barely touched the floor. She was enjoying playing up to her ‘superbitch’ persona. She had been on talk shows, invited to launches and other events, and been interviewed by newspapers and magazines. Panto offers would start flooding in any moment. Tonight everyone wanted a piece of her, and she discovered she could be absolutely charming when she wanted to be. It seemed like, for the first time in ages, people were treating her with genuine respect. Even Jeff Stein, the judge who’d been the most disparaging about her, was trying to be pleasant.
“So you’re doing alright then, Kyla, are you? I can’t open a paper without seeing you in it!” he said.
Kyla wasn’t sure if he was mocking her or not. “Yeah, the offers are flooding in. Best thing you could’ve done, booting me out!”
“Any time, any time. Do you think it will last?”
“I think so. The world has not yet seen the real Kyla Andretti.”
“And who’s that exactly?” Jeff was definitely taking the piss now. Kyla decided to play along. She was in a good mood.
“Oh, just that I’m planning world domination. You and
Sleeping With The Enemy
were just part of it. It was a stepping stone to bigger and better things. Soon the whole world will know who I am!”
“That’s the spirit, you go, girl! Just remember who helped you get started though, eh?” Kyla could barely believe what she was hearing. Help her? Jeff had called her a ‘catty bitch with no talent’ on live TV. She knew show business was fickle, superficial and pretentious, but this was still a little shocking. Kyla suddenly realised it would take everything she had and more to succeed if she was up against tossers like Jeff.
The conversation continued with increasing insincerity until someone caught Jeff’s eye.
“Oh, Simon Owen’s here. That’s good, I was hoping to catch up with him tonight.”
The name rang a bell with Kyla, but she couldn’t quite place who it belonged to.
“Simon Owen?” she asked innocently.
Jeff smiled sardonically.
“You mean you don’t know who he is?”
“Well, I do, but…”
Once again Jeff deliberately demonstrated his arrogance. “He’s probably the biggest music producer in the country right now. He happens to be a close personal friend of mine. I helped him get where he is, you know.” Condescending is too nice a work for this prick, Kyla thought.
“Yeah, me and Si go way back,” he continued. “I’m surprised you don’t know him, now you’re a bona-fide A-lister.”
“Well, I’m sure he knows me,” Kyla said with an icy smile. Her attention had now turned to Simon. Jeff had really started to irritate her. She
did
know who Simon was. He worked with Charlie Caxton, one of the biggest DJs in the world, and
everyone
aged under twenty-five knew who
he
was.
She watched Simon across the room, transfixed. He was gorgeous. At least ten years older, which she liked, and clearly a man of money and power. She stared at him as he worked the room. People swarmed to him, their faces lit up as they realised he was in their vicinity. They jostled to shake his hand or buy him a drink. A new energy seemed to take hold of the small but suddenly very crowded party.
Eventually Simon fought his way through the crowd. He noticed Jeff.
“Hey Steino, how’s it going?” Simon said, shaking him warmly by the hand.
“Not bad, mate, not bad.” Kyla was perplexed. How could someone as cool as Simon be friends with a dickhead like Jeff?”
“And who is this delicious creature?” Simon looked at Kyla, his charisma allowing him to get away with the cheesy line.
“This, my friend, is Kyla. She’s the next big thing on TV. Got kicked off early from
Sleeping
,
and now she’s a media darling. Surely you’ve seen her? She’s been all over the
Daily Star
in her knickers.”
Kyla would have lost her temper with Jeff if she’d heard him properly, but she was utterly engrossed in Simon. And he was having trouble keeping his eyes off her.
“Yeah, I think I have seen you. How could I forget those gorgeous eyes?”
Kyla smiled coyly. Simon offered his hand for her to shake. She touched it gently. He sandwiched it with his other hand, and held it far longer than necessary for two strangers that had just met. He just couldn’t look away from those huge, brown puppy-dog eyes. Kyla parted her lips ever so slightly.
“Simon!”
“Yeah, sorry, Jeff.” The older man was eager for the attention to focus back on him.
“What did you think of the series?”
“Yeah, really good, Jeffrey, really good. I have to agree with Carl, though. It could do with a slight… update.”
“What do you mean? What about Carl?”
“Well, it goes out on
4Xtreme
, doesn’t it?”
“Among others, yeah.”
“That channel was invented for the kids, but you’ve mums and granddads tuning in and what have you.”
“So, who cares who‘s watching, as long as they
are
watching?”
“And you’re selling advertising, you mean?”
“Yeah, course. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? I thought you understood that, Simon.”
“Oh, I understand it, Jeff. We discussed it in the treatment meeting last week.”
“Hold on… meeting?”
Kyla smirked impertinently. Simon continued.
“Yeah, there’s youth brands out there with bags of cash, ready to do huge sponsorship deals, but they won’t at the moment because the programme’s too, well, stuffy.”
“What are you saying?”
“They love the idea and that, it’s just the format needs re-vamping for the next series. They’ve brought me in as a consultant. I’m dahhhn with the kids, y’know!” Simon winked mischievously at Kyla.
“It’s news to me,” said Jeff, clearly perplexed.
“It’s a good show, Jeff, but this series was a bit like ‘super sounds of 70s karaoke down the pub’.”
“And how are you gonna change it, then?” Jeff was beginning to sound aggressive.
“I’m gonna be doing the music for a start, and…”
“When was this all decided?”
“In the meeting the other day. TV’s fickle, Jeff. It moves fast, you know that.”
“And who else was at this meeting?”
“Oh, it was just me, Carl Johnson and the new…um…judges…”
Jeff’s face was a picture. It first contorted with surprise and then rage as the implications of what Simon had said sunk in. Kyla tried desperately to control her giggling.
“I’m getting a drink!” Jeff stormed off in the direction of the bar.