Eye for an Eye Page 8

  They flicked through a style book, with Robyn pulling faces and making critical remarks about the models on every page.

  ‘Yuck! No. Ugh. That one’s a mess. God, look at her! Not bad. That one looks like she just got out of bed. Oh no way! God, look at this one! What a slut!’

  ‘Perhaps go back to the one that’s “not bad”?’ suggested Mike, after several more pages had provoked unfavourable comments from Robyn. Cherie found the page and looked at Robyn’s hair critically.

  ‘Yes, she could carry that style. What do you think, Mike – is that what you were looking for?’

  ‘Yeah, that should be fine. OK, go ahead with that one.’

  ‘Hello?’ cooed Robyn. ‘I’m still here. Do I get a say in this?’

  ‘Of course you do,’ soothed Mike. ‘Will this style suit you, madam?’

  ‘How the hell should I know? I’ve never had my hair any other way but this. Oh well, I suppose we’ll just have to try it and hope for the best.’ She settled back in the chair with a “do your worst” expression on her face.

  Cherie expertly tipped her backwards, washed her hair and towelled it dry, before beginning to shape the style. The scissors flew, scraps of blonde hair fell, and Robyn kept her eyes firmly closed.

  ‘So, how have you been, Mike?’ asked Cherie. ‘Do your wigs need any styling?’

  ‘No, they’re fine, thanks. I haven’t used the black one lately, and the grey one’s better the worse it looks.’

  Robyn eased one eye open. Wigs? Why would Mike have wigs?

  ‘Caught plenty of bad guys lately?’

  ‘Never enough, Cherie. There are always more out there.’

  Robyn nodded, feeling it was time they remembered she was there.

  ‘You got that right. But at least we’ll fix one of them between us, eh?’

  ‘So you’re working with Mike, eh?’ Robyn thought she detected a hint of jealousy in Cherie’s tone.

  ‘Oh, unofficially - we both happen to be after the same guy. We only met today.’

  Cherie’s face cleared. ‘Well I guess we’d better make you stylish enough to catch that fella you’re after.’ She fluffed Robyn’s hair up with the blow drier, and all three of them surveyed the effect.

  ‘How’s that?’ asked Cherie.

  ‘Damn good!’ said Mike.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ said Robyn. Her transformation to a blonde sophisticate was even more startling than her brief appearance as a redhead, and very much nicer.

  Mike thanked Cherie, and drew Robyn to a quiet corner where he pulled out a pen and paper and started to make a list.

  ‘Now, let’s think about what you’ll need to wear. Some smart casual clothes, and a couple of really stunning dresses for formal occasions…’

  ‘Whoa, hang on a minute, mate! I can’t afford to go spending money here there and everywhere. The hotel is using up most of my travel budget. This is a shoestring operation, low-budget, no spending, OK?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I can charge most of this as part of my investigating expenses.’

  Robyn frowned. ‘Do you really think this will work?’

  ‘There’s no reason why it shouldn’t, as long as you can be convincing enough. And with a little acting coaching, that should be no problem.’

  ‘OK, if you say so. You must be a hell of a good drama coach. Have you done much of this sort of thing before?’

  ‘A little amateur theatrics, that’s all. Performed in a couple of shows, directed a few, did some backstage work here and there.’ He waved it off as insignificant. ‘What about you, Robyn? Have you performed on stage at all, in a school play perhaps?’

  ‘I didn’t have much chance for that sort of thing. I grew up on a farm way out in the wilds of the Marlborough Sounds, did school by correspondence with my older brother, and we only had each other for company. Finished up at boarding school in Picton but all I did there was sports. Sorry, I don’t know anything about acting.’

  ‘That’s all right, it’ll be easier to teach you if you haven’t got any bad habits already.’

  ‘Well I don’t know about that…’

  ‘I meant bad acting habits.’

  ‘Ah. Right.’

  He grinned. ‘Let’s go and pick you out some clothes - it’ll help you get into the character we’re aiming for.’

  He marched her down Spadina Avenue, where boutiques and tailors jostled cheek to cheek along the wide tree-lined street. She felt a jolt of panic but tried not to resist as he pulled her into a glamorous fashion retailer where the window display alone was enough to make her run a mile.

  ‘Just hold this against you,’ he said, plucking a striped T-shirt from the rack. ‘It should be perfect for going out on his boat.’

  Robyn agreed, then gasped as she looked at the price tag. ‘That’s ridiculous! I could get ten of these from the discount store for this price. How can anyone charge that much for a T-shirt?’

  ‘Sshh! Do you think Colwyn Symons would be impressed by someone wearing clothes from the discount store? This is bait to catch a marlin, not a few sprats for the cat.’

  She scowled, but accepted his advice. ‘As long as I don’t have to pay for it. I have to say, I resent spending money for his entertainment but if that’s what it takes, who am I to argue with the expert? So, what else can we tempt him with?’

  ‘You’ll need some skirts, blouses, and a formal dress or two - here, try this on.’ He handed her a severely-cut black cocktail dress and she disappeared into the changing room with a doubtful expression. After some struggling, she had just concluded that the dress was made for a contortionist when a willowy sales assistant pulled back the curtain.

  ‘Good afternoon, madame. Do you need some assistance with the dress?’

  Robyn squeaked with surprise and spun round. ‘Ah, yes please. I can’t seem to get it done up.’ A hot flush spread up her body, making her face glow like a baboon’s bottom.

  ‘But of course, this model is not designed for someone to dress in alone.’ The assistant swiftly pulled the dress straight and fastened the zipper. ‘Madame is pleased with the effect, yes?’

  ‘Madame is having trouble with the whole idea of wearing such a dress, to tell the truth. Excuse me, I’d better seek a second opinion.’

  She evaded the assistant and sought to catch Mike’s attention. He was searching through a rack of designer shorts and seemed blind to her frenzied waving from the changing room door. Finally he turned, saw her, and frowned. Her heart sank. He came over and looked at her critically.

  ‘Hm, a bit too severe for you, I think. Let’s try something with a bit more colour.’

  He plucked a shimmering blue mini-dress from the rack and held it out to her.

  ‘Oh God, do I have to? Look Mike, I don’t think this is going to work. I can just about manage the designer shorts and overpriced T-shirts, but I’m really not comfortable in dresses like this. It’s not me, you know what I mean?’

  ‘Of course it’s not you,’ he said patiently. ‘That’s the whole point. You’re playing a character, remember? And the woman you’re playing has a taste for good clothes, expensive trinkets, things that match the sort of life that Colwyn Symons is enjoying. Come on, you can do it. Just try on the blue dress, you’ll look fabulous, trust me.’

  She retreated into the changing room then emerged again sheepishly. ‘Can you undo this one for me, please?’

  He slid the zipper down and she hurried for the shelter of the curtains. The black dress fell to the floor and she pulled on the stretchy blue sequinned mini-dress. It fitted closely to every curve, and her eyebrows rose when she studied her reflection. That was more like it. With her flash new haircut and this dress, she looked like a successful participant in a makeover show.

  Mike was waiting right outside the changing room this time, and she was relieved to see a wicked grin light his face when he saw her.

  ‘Whoo-ee! That dress is amazing on you. You look the part in that one, girlfriend!’ He gave her a high five, and
her confidence soared.

  ‘Really? Do you think so?”

  ‘Sure, look at yourself.’ He twirled her to face the mirror, where she saw a tall sophisticated blonde woman dressed in the height of fashion looking back at her. ‘Now just lose the stunned expression, and he’ll be falling over himself to get to know you.’

  ‘Damn right! Let’s get the bastard!’

  He helped her carry the armloads of bags back to her hotel, where he drew up a schedule of acting lessons for the next few days.

  Robyn was a quick study despite her lack of experience, and enjoyed the role-playing exercises that Mike devised for her. After two days, she was walking confidently in her new high-heeled shoes, speaking in a fluting English accent, and was almost starting to believe that she was a jet-set dilettante looking for a partner. They had decided on the English background after trials of American or Canadian accents had proved that they slipped under pressure. Mike figured that the occasional lapse from English into a New Zealand accent would probably be less noticeable to Colwyn’s ears.

  ‘Just as well my Mum was English, I can do her voice quite easily. Now I just have to remember not to use any Kiwi expressions that would give the game away.’

  ‘What sort of expressions?’ asked Mike curiously.

  ‘Oh you know, “she’ll be right”, “kick it in the guts, Trev”, “box of birds”, that kind of thing. He’d spot those for sure.’

  ‘I guess he would. They make no sense to me!’

  ‘Of course not, Henry Higgins. This Eliza comes from a different country from wot you do. Now, one thing we haven’t covered - what happens if Colwyn gets um, over-friendly? I don’t have to kiss him or anything, do I?’ Her mouth twisted at the idea.

  ‘You’ll have to judge that by the situation. There’s no script for this kind of thing, you have to play it by ear. If that’s what it takes to get where you want to be, you may have to make the sacrifice.’

  ‘Ugh! I’d be more likely to sink my teeth into his neck!’

  ‘Perhaps we should role-play the situation so that you’re ready for it. If you’ve had a rehearsal of kissing someone you’re not in a relationship with, it’ll make it easier to do it with someone you actively dislike. Ready?’

  ‘Oh I don’t know, this is getting a bit freaky.’ She squirmed. ‘It’s just too personal. I haven’t been close with a guy since I broke up with my boyfriend, and that was over a year ago. And he was the only one…’ The blush set her face glowing again and she looked away.

  ‘Don’t feel bad. I separated from my wife three years ago and haven’t been seeing anyone since. No big deal.’ He pulled her to her feet. ‘Just remember you’re acting a role - it’s not you doing all these things.’

  ‘All what things…oh!’ She stopped as he slid a hand under her hair and pulled her towards him, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. He let her go again and smiled.

  ‘See? Nothing. It’s just a case of stepping outside yourself while you do it - watch your own performance and do what is necessary to be that character.’

  She grinned suddenly. ‘Can I have another go?’ She twined an arm round his neck and kissed him hard, rubbing one leg along his thigh and giving the clinch everything she’d got. Moments passed, until she pulled back with a triumphant grin. ‘So, how was that then?’

  ‘Very good,’ he said calmly, pulling out a tissue and wiping his lips. ‘Quite convincing. If you can do that with Colwyn I doubt he’d suspect that you didn’t mean it.’

  She looked slightly crestfallen. ‘I thought you’d be weak at the knees after that. I gave it my best shot. I must really be out of practise.’

  He laughed. ‘But I’m an actor, remember. We can appear to be immune to the advances of leading ladies, no matter how attractive they might be.’

  ‘Well thanks, I think.’ She looked sideways at him for a moment, but decided to let it go. ‘So, how do I get to meet up with Colwyn, anyway? Have you got a plan in mind, or do I just walk up to him and flutter my eyelashes alluringly?’

  ‘You could try that, but it’s probably not the best approach. We’ll need to get you into the same social arena somehow, or into a place where he goes regularly.’ He clicked his fingers suddenly. ‘Got it! He uses the gym in his apartment building nearly every day. That would be perfect.’ He studied her appraisingly. ‘Hm, how’s your fitness level, Robyn? It doesn’t really matter, of course, but it’ll make a better showing if you’re not too inept. Have you been to a gym lately?’

  ‘Gym? Never been to one. I’m pretty fit from working on the farm though. Just you try lifting a full-grown sheep, or doing a full day in the shearing shed - don’t need any fancy machines for that, boy.’ She flexed her biceps, and he nodded approval.

  ‘Good, once I show you how the machines work I expect you’ll look as if you know what you’re doing. Of course, we’ll have to get you some gym gear first.’

  ‘Oh no, not those poncy lycra thong things that disappear up your bum?’ she wailed. ‘They are so wanky.’

  ‘Think of it as a tool for social intercourse.’

  ‘I should think intercourse was impossible with one of those on.’

  ‘Just go along with me on this, will you?’

  They purchased the necessary clothing, then Mike took her to his nearest gym for a practice session. Robyn eyed the rows of machines suspiciously.

  ‘They look a bit medieval, Mike. Where are the handcuffs attached? Do the attendants bring round the red-hot pokers or do you supply your own?’

  Two rows over, a sweaty florid man grunted and strained, his face a rictus of pain. Mike ignored Robyn’s comments and set up the pegs on a shoulder lift machine.

  ‘Right, we’ll start you off with a light weight on this one, OK?’

  ‘But that’s nothing! I’ll look like a girl lifting that little bit. I can do much more that that.’

  ‘Of course you can, but think about it - you don’t want to look stronger than Colwyn, do you? He won’t be comfortable if he thinks you can bench-press him with one hand. Guys like to be physically dominant, didn’t you know that?’

  ‘Well yeah, but I thought that was just Pete being a pain in the butt. We used to wrestle ourselves to a standstill as kids, when we were both the same height. Once he got taller I had to resort to kneeing him in the nuts, but we were still pretty closely matched.’

  ‘I’m afraid Colwyn wouldn’t respond well to that, not unless he’s got a latent masochistic streak I don’t know about it.’

  ‘Let me try it - I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Robyn, just learn how to use the damn machine, will you?’

  ‘Aye aye, sir.’ She saluted him smartly and got to work.

  By the end of the session she had mastered the basic equipment, finding an unexpected pleasure in the power of her own body. The faintly narcissistic atmosphere in the gym with its mirrors and posters encouraged an appreciation of muscle tone and body shape, something she’d never had time to notice when working in the shearing shed. She began to understand the attraction of an activity she had previously considered quite pointless.

  ‘You know, I could really get into this,’ she said, flexing her legs. ‘It’s not bad once you get going.’

  Mike wiped sweat from his face and caught his breath before replying. ‘Glad you like it! Most people do it because they have to. Colwyn probably does it to look in the mirrors.’

  ‘Bit vain, is he? I knew he was a tosser.’

  ‘While I was following him he checked his reflection in every shop window along the street. Yes, I’d say he’s vain.’

  ‘That could be a way to get talking to him, then, eh? Butter him up a bit saying how good he looks?’

  ‘Sure, that could work. If you can do it with a straight face.’

  ‘After all you’ve taught me about acting? Piece of cake.’

  ‘Right then. We’ll get you into the gym in his apartment building and see how good you are, shall we?’ His grey eyes lit with a challenge and she respo
nded immediately.

  ‘When?’

  ‘This afternoon suit you? Got anything else planned?’

  ‘No. What the hell, let’s give it a whirl. Hey, what could go wrong?’

  He opened his mouth to give her a list, but closed it again.

  ‘How are we going to get in there?’ she murmured as they approached the apartment building.

  ‘Back door,’ he said calmly. ‘I checked it out a couple of weeks ago. They leave a service entrance unlocked that gives access to the toilets which give you access to the gym itself. You can change in the toilet then slip in quietly and start using the nearest machine - nobody should pay you any attention. As to engaging Colwyn in conversation, I’ll have to leave that up to you. Are you sure you’re ready for this?’

  ‘No, but I’m doing it anyway. What shall I do afterwards? Should I ring you?’

  ‘Yeah, sure – call me from his apartment! It all depends on how well you get on. Just play it by ear, and call me when you can do it in private.’ He squeezed her shoulders. ‘Break a leg.’

  ‘Great! My debut performance and there’s no bloody audience to see it! Oh well, here goes.’ She waved bravely from the doorway and slipped inside.

  Her eyebrows rose at the luxurious fittings in the ladies room. Polished marble counters gleamed under concealed lights, while an acre of spotless mirror reflected her trim figure with a flattering warm glow. The taps were golden, and a range of expensive soaps and creams stood ready to use. Fresh white towels hung on sculptured rods, and there was a pleasant scent in the air.

  Robyn got changed in a cubicle then walked confidently towards the gym door. Mike had told her that attitude was everything. If she looked as if she belonged there, nobody would question her presence. If she looked cautious, anxious or shifty, someone would approach her very quickly to find out why.

  She turned the handle and walked in.

  The first person she saw was a swarthy egg-shaped man who looked vaguely familiar. She carefully avoided making eye contact with him, and headed for an empty machine where she set a light weight and started to work her arms. In the first few minutes of her workout, she realised where she’d seen him before. He’d been in the foyer of the apartment building when she had hurried out after giving Colwyn his unconventional haircut. Sweat broke out on her face that had nothing to do with her level of exercise. Suppose he’d seen her? What if he recognised her? She thought furiously, picturing the scene in her mind. She’d had make-up on then, heaps of it, and that ghastly red hair too. And the white coat? Or had she taken all that off by then? Sweat ran down the small of her back. No, she’d only taken off the white coat - the rest of the disguise was still on when she’d left the building. She forced herself to breathe slowly and relax. The chance that he’d recognise her was pretty remote, providing she did nothing to draw attention to herself.