“Why?” asks Steve.
“I’m just going to send a text to the newest member of our team,” says Amy, downing her shot.
56
Adam Wheeler has had a successful day. Meeting after meeting, listening, writing things down, thinking things through. He’s sold a stake in a Singaporean cinema chain, and bought a stake in a South Korean AI software start-up, and he had a nice sandwich for lunch.
He’s flying to Dubai on Tuesday, where there’s a diamond conference; it’s a good place to chat to a few of his clients. By and large people enjoy chatting with Adam, because he listens more than he talks, and he usually makes them money.
Amy was supposed to be joining him in Dubai, but her contract with Rosie D’Antonio has been extended. It’s a shame. He misses Amy, but he understands her work, and she understands his. They both have things to prove, and they need time and freedom in which to do it.
She’s with his dad, apparently. Adam wonders why. There will be a reason, but the last few days have been too busy for him to spend time thinking what that reason might be.
Some of his colleagues, the brokers, the senior analysts, the traders, are going out tonight. A meal, casino, the men picking up women, the women picking up men, or whichever way around works for them. It’s a free-for-all. That’s his world. Put in the hours, reap the profits, buy watches and cars and houses, sleep with anyone and anything that moves. Cocaine, ketamine, whisky, money, money, money.
Adam is going to get room service and watch a film on his laptop instead. He’s downloaded Rampage 5. He might have a gin and tonic from the minibar, although it’s £12. One of his colleagues, Wanda, bought a Rolex last time they were all in Singapore—£25,000. For a watch. Back in London she wore it on an evening out, and a teenage boy on a moped with a gun took it off her. Adam is no apologist for teenage criminals, but if you’re going to wear £25,000 on your wrist, then, in Adam’s view, two crimes have been committed.
Adam loads up Rampage 5 on his laptop. He had thought the Rampage movies were Jason Statham, but now he sees that it’s Max Highfield. Not as good as Statham, in Adam’s opinion, but probably the next best thing if Statham is unavailable. The Jean-Claude Van Damme to Statham’s Schwarzenegger. Adam remembers Max Highfield starting out. He was a minor character in a soap opera, had an affair with someone, or burned down a launderette or something, so perhaps that stops him from taking Max Highfield seriously as a Hollywood A-lister.
Not that someone like Max Highfield would ever care what someone like Adam thinks.
Wanda is married to a guy Adam knows from his banking days. She’s also having an affair with a Finnish hedge-fund manager. Adam doesn’t like to judge, although, honestly, he can’t help but think that sort of life must be exhausting. He doesn’t get casinos or infidelity. Why earn money, just to lose it, and why look for love, just to betray it? Adam has been very smart with his money. Amy doesn’t know exactly how much he has put away over the last few years, nor, Adam knows, does she particularly care, but he is looking forward to telling her one day.
Adam has also been very smart with his love. When he and Amy met, neither was in the right place for a long-term relationship, each traveling the world, Amy punching people, and Adam looking for value in zinc derivatives. By rights, the whole thing should never have got off the ground. But both knew what they had found in each other. They discussed things openly and honestly. Amy had no interest in settling in one place, in nesting, raising a family, getting a mortgage, painting a living room, and being a wife. But, she stressed, she wanted to stay with Adam forever. Adam, for his part, agreed. For now, any sort of traditional marriage would be a disaster, but, equally, the thought of spending the rest of his life without Amy was unthinkable.
So what to do?
On Adam’s laptop screen Max Highfield is driving a sports car underneath a moving airplane. Highfield’s wife, as far as Adam can follow, has been kidnapped, and is on the plane. He is shooting at the fuselage, which seems foolhardy to Adam if his wife is on the plane. The plane then takes flight and Max Highfield lets out a roar of anger. Not bad.
Years ago, when Adam was more junior, he was on a desk that dealt almost exclusively in “options.” If you think a particular stock is going to rise in the future, you simply make a bet, a “call option,” allowing you to buy that stock at a predetermined price at a future date.
He had explained this to Amy, in the context of their relationship. They could both take out a “call option” on each other, if they felt their love was likely to grow, but they didn’t currently have the emotional bandwidth to commit to each other. Amy had said that this was quite unromantic, but she was also of the view that romance was overrated, and so was happy to hear more.
Adam further explained that taking out a “call option” on their relationship was an incredibly efficient way of leveraging their emotional investment, while also representing their faith in a directional bet as to which way their love might go.
At this point Amy had said that this was actually too much information, and Adam had agreed. They had kissed, and Adam had asked if Amy would like to meet his mum and dad.
But, from that day, they both understood the contract. They loved each other, they would have a life together, but they would do it when they were good and ready. They married; Amy had held him at his mum’s funeral; Amy formed a bond with Adam’s dad, which was great news, because Adam had never quite been able to do it; and they traveled the world, counting down the days until they were ready to cash in on their love. So theirs was a fairy tale that might not have started with a “Once upon a time,” but they are both confident it will end with a “Happily ever after.”
Back on his screen, Max Highfield has just thrown a hand grenade out of a helicopter. Perhaps Adam will ask Amy whether she’s ever done anything similar? He had been looking forward to seeing her in Dubai. They are both self-reliant, that’s for sure, but there are evenings when he aches for her.
Come on, Adam, it’s every evening.
Now Max is killing the helicopter pilot, so one assumes that he is a qualified pilot also.
Adam’s phone buzzes. A message from Amy. His heart pulses at the sight of her name. So silly, really.
Will you be in Dubai on Tuesday?
Adam pauses the film. Max is kicking a hole in the windscreen of the helicopter, for no reason that Adam can fathom. He replies:
Land at 9ish, Dubai time.
Perhaps she is coming after all? Job finished? Another message.
Do you mind going to Al-Awir Prison?
So she’s not finished. Prison in Dubai? Well, that’s a good question. I mean, he wouldn’t choose to go there, but Amy wouldn’t be asking without good reason, would she?
Yes, I’d love to. Do you fancy a chat? I’m between meetings.
Can’t right now. Drinking tequila with your dad.
Dad doesn’t drink tequila?
He does now. You need to talk to a Courtney Lewis. She’s there on smuggling charges. Let her talk, and take notes, they’re expecting you. Are you going to be in meetings all evening? We could chat later?
Adam looks at his laptop. There is literally nothing to be gained by kicking a hole in the windscreen of that helicopter. He would love to speak to Amy, but he doesn’t want to seem needy. He can sense she’s busy.
I’m going to be stacked back-to-back this evening. Ames, can I ask you a question?
If the question is “Do I love you,” the answer is “Yes.”
Well, likewise. But I really wanted to ask if you’ve ever thrown a hand grenade out of a helicopter?
Also yes. Take care, my prince. Should I give your love to your dad?
Say hi, yeah.
