Exhibit Read online

  Table of Contents

  Exhibit

  About This Book:

  Chapter 1 | Bain

  Violet

  Bain

  Violet

  Bain

  Violet

  Chapter 2 | Bain

  Violet

  Bain

  Violet

  Bain

  Chapter 3 | Bain

  Violet

  Bain

  Violet

  Bain

  Violet

  Bain

  Violet

  Bain

  Chapter 4 | Violet

  Bain

  Epilogue

  Violet

  Bain

  Bub

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Shadow

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About Stella Noir:

  Also By Stella Noir:

  Exhibit

  Copyright © 2016 by Stella Noir & Aria Frost

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.

  Please note that this work is intended only for adults over the age of 18 and all characters represented as 18 or over.

  About This Book:

  Everyone has a secret…

  New York’s top earning city trader, Bain Power, receives a special present in his annual bonus this year - access to exclusive members only bar ‘Kings’, where color coded rooms provide each of their exclusive guests with tailor made fantasies.

  Violet, a struggling au pair for a rich family, finds herself unexpectedly taken along for the ride, when their paths cross on Christmas Eve, and Bain can’t resist her.

  When they enter the red room together, what secrets will they find inside?

  Chapter 1

  Bain

  The office floor is on fire when I get there. Phones buzzing off tables, desk jockeys jumping off seats. A pack of lions in a world of chaos and a hundred hungry eyes all over me.

  “Here he is, the man of the moment. It’s about fucking time.”

  Jack puts his arm around me and kind of chaperones me to my desk, massaging my shoulders as he does so. Massaging my ego. Sycophant.

  His breath smells of whiskey, and judging by the bags under his eyes and the creases that match them across the apex of his suit, it’s from this morning not the night before. He probably hasn’t even been home yet.

  “Where have you been?” he asks, agitated, eyes jerking across mine to read them.

  I don’t get a chance to answer before Mark is upon me.

  “You seen this?”

  He thrusts a copy of this morning’s newspaper towards me. I’ve seen it already, but I don’t let on. “They could have got a more flattering picture”, he goes on. “You aren’t even wearing a suit.”

  I get nods and smiles from people I don’t even know, and as soon as I’ve sat down at my desk, Craig calls me out of it and into his office.

  There is a red envelope on the table in front of him, the corners embossed with gold tinting. Craig offers me a drink, but I don’t take it. He pours himself a fat slug of some kind of exclusive bourbon and eases back into his chair. Snowflakes stick to the window, and I can see the Christmas tree of Times Square behind him. There is a darkness over the city that hasn’t yet lifted, snow piled up at the edge of the sidewalks, shovelled there by dime a day store owners. Another fucking Christmas with nothing to show for it. It makes me sick.

  “Go on”, he says, feet already up on the desk. “Open the fucker up.”

  I open it up. Inside is a black credit card sized slab of polished platinum with a gold K trapped inside it.

  “Kings”, I say.

  “Too fucking right”, Craig says, his Scottish accent too thick to disguise. Ten years out of the country of his birth and it’s still stamped all over him like a watermark. “I’ve taken the liberty of loading it with a little bit of pocket money, just to get you through the first night.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Well fucking enjoy it”, Craig says, the bourbon in his hands ready to warm his belly. “You’ve earned it.”

  “I will”, I say, turning the cold metal over in my hands. “Thank you, Craig.”

  “Right, now fuck off”, Craig says. “Before your head gets so big you can’t fit through the door.”

  There is a place round the corner from the office where we go to eat.

  Snow has begun to fall more heavily around us and everything stinks of Christmas so much it’s making my head spin. Dazzling lights, platitudes from passers-by, the shallowness of virtue hiding sin so obvious it hardly makes it worth it.

  When we’re settled into our usual booth, I take out the card, just to show it around.

  “Mother fucker”, Mark says, snatching for it.

  I move my hand away quickly and then let him take it. “Real gold”, he says, trying to run his fingers over the K, his eyes lighting up like the chinese lanterns on the street outside. “How the fuck do they do that?”

  “I’ve never seen one of these”, Jack says, taking it from Mark and investigating the veracity himself. “I thought it was a legend.”

  “You haven’t ever earned enough money”, I say.

  “Fuck you”, Jack says, and I smile at him just to show there are no hard feelings. “You got lucky.”

  “That’s a hell of a lot of luck”, Carter says, taking the card before it comes back to me. “You get a plus one?”

  “I don’t think it works like that”, I say, holding my hands up. “Sorry boys.”

  “Well, fuck it”, Mark says. “You’re still coming with us aren’t you?”

  A round of drinks come to the table, which the waitress begins to hand out to us. I can see Jack’s got his eyes all over her, and I watch him just to see how he plays it. He’s as predictable as the fucking tide. As old as well. I almost laugh when his wallet comes out, and a hundred dollar bill goes onto the tray where the drinks started off. The waitress looks at the money and then looks at him. This isn’t the first time he’s done this to her, but he does it so often he’s probably forgotten.

  “You pay at the end”, she says, coldly. I think she’s Italian, but I could be wrong. Her dark skin places her anywhere in the mediterranean, but the way she carries herself makes me think she’s been away from home awhile. Maybe second generation, maybe neutralized, maybe just here for kicks. She’s pretty, there’s no doubt about that, but Jack lacks style so much I’ve seen him get turned down by a hooker. The rest of us sip on our drinks and watch him fuck it up.

  “It’s a tip”, he says. “What’s your name?”

  “Claudia”, Claudia says.

  “Claudia”, Jack repeats. “I like that.”

  “You fucking dick”, Mark says under his breath, and the rest of us laugh.

  Claudia scratches her arm and laughs nervously. Twenty, maybe twenty one. Out of her depth around a group of men.

  “You want to join us?” Jack asks.

  “She’s working, man”, Carter butts in, defending her, pullin
g her over to him.

  “I can see that”, Jack says.

  “So why did you ask her then?”

  “I’ve got to work”, Claudia says, excusing herself politely. “Maybe another time.”

  She’s already walked away before Jack has a chance to call her back. Another missed opportunity to go with a lifetime of them.

  “Fuck, she was beautiful”, Jack says, wistfully.

  “Why didn’t you tell her how much you earn?” Mark says.

  “Fuck you, why didn’t you?” Jack retorts.

  “Easy man, you’ll get yours later on”, Carter says.

  “I’ll tell her when she comes back.”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  “I’m still on a better base than all of you mother fuckers”, Jack adds.

  “That’s because you’ve been here for so long”, I say, “and anyway, base doesn’t mean shit. Base was ten percent of my take home this year.”

  “Ten percent?” Mark says, astonished.

  “Beginners fucking luck”, Jack says.

  “Don’t be bitter, Jack”, I say. “You know how fickle this industry is.”

  He swigs his beer and ignores me, eyes scanning the room again, looking for Claudia.

  “You coming tonight?” Mark says again.

  “Where?”

  “Where else?” Carter asks, his face cut into a smile.

  The food comes a little while later and Jack’s disappointed to see that Claudia doesn’t bring it. It’s a sort of Asian, western fusion and pretty much the most expensive you can get around here without going up into midtown. When you earn what we do, it isn’t about what you eat, it’s about where you eat it. If it doesn’t even have a menu, you’re on the right track.

  After we’ve eaten, and Carter’s got Claudia’s number, we head back to the office. It’s the 24 December, but the stock market never fucking closes, so we’re here today and some of us again tomorrow.

  I escaped that privilege for the work I did over the year, but Mark and Jack are back in. Perhaps Jack can try and earn some of that money he’s spent the whole year avoiding like an illness. That joker has been here almost ten years and he’s never once got a bonus higher than his base. No wonder he’s still wearing the same fucking shoes and suit.

  Craig doesn’t come back into the office after lunch. Stuart checks out at 4.30pm, and shortly after that, I check out too. I’m done making money for the day, and it’s time to play.

  In the car on the way back home the card comes back out of my wallet again. Kings. Motherfuckers. The last time they gave this card out was five years ago. No-one has earned as much money for the company as I did for them this year in over fifty years and the only person who got more money than me this year was Craig, because his base is so fucking high. I’ve been there two years, I’m younger than everyone else and I’m already flying.

  Snow makes the journey back to the apartment longer than I want it to be. I tip the driver, wade through a slushy pile of it that has gathered up on the sidewalk, swipe my card at the entry gate and head on inside.

  From my window, I can see out across New York. This is my fucking playground and I’m going to make everyone realize that. There aren’t many people in this city who’ve earned more than I have this year, at this age, and I can do anything I want with it. If I’d wanted Claudia, she would have been mine. If I want any girl, I can have her like that. Politicians, businesswomen, sports stars. You name it.

  Kings, man, fuck. Here I fucking come. That place was made for me.

  Violet

  I’m pushing sheets into the washing machine when the phone rings. Maddy’s bawling her eyes out, and there is food all over the goddamn floor, where she’s thrown it away for some reason only she knows about. If this was my own kid, I’d starve her until she learned the value of it, but because she’s not, I don’t have the luxury of deciding how to control her.

  The phone rings out just before I get to it. On the way back to the kitchen I nearly break my neck tripping on one of Harry’s expensive toys. Harry’s the older of the two children I look after and equally as badly behaved. At least Maddy has a bit of an excuse, but Harry? Harry’s just a spoiled little brat and he knows it.

  I put up with it because I need the money. Stephanie’s loaded, and she pays well enough for me to look after them. I’d be an idiot to jack it in.

  This is my last day before the end of the year too, and I can’t wait for them to get back from work so I can go home. Ten days holiday while they have an expensive Christmas dinner and fuck off to somewhere hot for a week, no doubt on a yacht in the south of France, or something equally as extravagant. I’m going to get drunk, spend a miserable Christmas with my family, if the snow eases up and they put the trains on again so I can actually get there, and relax in a freezing apartment for the rest of it with a fucked heating unit I can’t afford to repair.

  I just hope Stephanie’s been kind enough to give me a bonus this year. That might brighten up what has been an otherwise shitty day.

  I clear up the mess that Maddy has made, take her out of the high chair and into the living room so I can feed her. A little while later she falls asleep and I take her up to her cot to put her down. I sit with Harry for the rest of the afternoon and watch cartoons. I get a jigsaw puzzle out just to try and get him interested in something else, but he’s not having it.

  I give up. Fuck it. If I just make sure they don’t stick their fingers in wall sockets, they can fucking educate them. I doubt they’ll be doing that either though. Harry and Maddy have got private school written all over them.

  By the time Stephanie gets back home from work, I’ve just about managed to do what she’s asked of me. The sheets are laundered and back on the beds, the house has been cleaned and tidied, Maddy’s had her daiper changed, and I’ve gone mad watching endless fucking repeats of cartoons because Harry wouldn’t let me leave him alone with them. That kid can scream if he wants to, and every time I tried to sneak off to get a break from him, he yelled to make it clear he was the one in control. I’m so tired, all I want to do is go home.

  Stephanie points out all of the things I’ve done wrong and then digs into her wallet for my pay. She’s not all that liberal with her emotions anyway, but I expect more from her than this. I expect her to thank me at least. She gives me what she owes me for the week, wishes me a happy Christmas, and walks me to the door. No fucking bonus. No fucking season of goodwill Christmas cheer in the form of a hundred dollar bill.

  The bus home takes fucking ages because of some accident that blocks the road. I end up jumping out half a mile from the house and walking the rest of the way home through muddy snow. When I eventually get there, my feet are freezing and the bottom of my jeans are soaked wet through.

  It’s only 6pm and already so dark it looks like it should be the middle of the night. I get changed, jump in the shower and wash myself with lukewarm water, just as cold under the water as I am out of it.

  I’ve got a three bar electric heater which I fire up and stand in front of to try and get warm, but I can only keep it on for a while because it sucks so much electricity that the light bulbs all start to flicker, and I shit myself that the thing is going to explode and burn the whole apartment down.

  I pay way too much for what I’ve got here, but I’m locked into a contract and I can’t get out of it for at least another year. The electrics need to be rewired and the boiler’s on its last legs, but that doesn’t seem to matter to my landlord, nor any of the adjudicating authorities that should be looking out for my rights. He refuses to do any work on the apartment, even though he’s got more money than I’ll ever see in my lifetime. The asshole owns a huge house in Manhattan, and several other apartments in this area as well, two more on the same floor as mine. I bet they’re both just as fucked too.

  I’m shivering now because of the cold, so I dry myself quickly with a towel and get dressed again. All I want to do is get into bed, but I can’t. It’s my best friend’s bir
thday tonight and I have to go out again, because I’ve already promised her I’ll be there.

  This is not where I expected to be in my life at this age. Two years out of University and instead of working in the field I’ve trained in, I’m clearing up someone else’s children’s shit.

  I’d be a bit more positive if there was something in the pipeline for me to work towards, but with the crisis still hitting this country hard, and hitting the arts and publication industry the hardest, I can’t for the life of me see a way out.

  My parents want me to move back home, but there is fuck all around for me in the shit hole town I grew up in. I’d much rather scrape together a living here on the pittance Stephanie pays me, chasing that ever eluding dream of a full time investigative journalist contract with one of the nationals than even spend one minute thinking about the state of depression that would bleed into me if I had to go back home.

  As long as I can afford this shitty apartment, and I can, just about at the moment, then I’m going to stay put.

  Most of my clothes are either dirty, wet because they haven’t fully dried yet, in need of ironing or too old to wear. I dig something out I haven’t put on for a while, thank God it still fits me and pray that someone buys me something new this Christmas.

  Bain

  I lower myself into the hot tub, a glass of very expensive, limited run scotch in one hand, the newspaper article about myself in the other. Above me, through the glass ceiling, I can see a handful of stars, strong enough to shine through the cloud of stench that rises above America, and snowflakes that looked like frozen leafs continuing to fall. Outside looks fucking freezing, but here in the tub, I’m as warm as I want to be.

  ‘New York’s youngest trader gets biggest bonus’, the headline reads. ‘City trader Bain Power is amongst the biggest earners this year in a record breaking moment in Hampton Schutz’s history. Twenty six year old Bain, in only his second year at the company, nets more than ten million dollars in salary and bonuses.’