Iain Rodgers - The Zima Confession

“Go on then.”

Having promised to be a good customer, Richard wondered what he’d let himself in for. He wondered how much this fakely magnificent room was costing him right now, and as for diamond necklaces and designer handbags, he had to admit he still hadn’t bothered to find out what they would cost. He hadn’t done his research. For all he knew, he might have already blown all the money he brought with him just by stepping into this room.

“Andrew was really, really nice to me. Sometimes we really were like girlfriend and boyfriend. He just told me he was in trouble and he wanted me to have his phone for safe-keeping. So I did. I didn’t expect him to kill himself the very next day.”

“I see.”

“Can’t you see that he was really in love with me?” She turned to him, her face suddenly distraught, tears falling from her beautiful eyes.

Richard didn’t doubt it. She was lovely, she was sweet, she was an emotional roller coaster. He remembered how lonely he had felt as he tried to find her just a few moments ago.

“Did you love him?”

“No, not really.”

The sincerity of her answer convinced him she might be telling the truth pretty much the whole time.

“No, I liked him a lot, and I’ll really miss him, but…” she tailed off and started crying again, holding a tasselled cushion up to her face to catch the tears.

Richard wondered if he should go and put his arm round her to comfort her, but he couldn’t do it. He would feel such a fraud, although perhaps the fake room would welcome another fake addition to its collection of fakeness.

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