Read GLAZE for Free Online Page B
Authors: Kim Curran
out a groan of frustration.
‘Well, that’s as maybe, but our actions do have consequences. I hope you can see that, young lady.’
I glare up at him from between my fingers.
‘Look, as this is your first offence—’
There’s a knock on the door. Whoever’s on the other side doesn’t wait to be called in. They throw open the door like they belong here.
I’m expecting to see Zizi’s lawyer, when…
‘Max!’ Zizi gasps. ‘What are you doing here?’ She looks confused. Angry even.
I don’t care. Relief washes over me like a warm breeze. Max has that effect on me. On everyone really. Whenever he walks into a room it gets instantly calmer, happier. And not only because he’s the creator and CEO of Glaze, but because there’s something about him that makes people feel good about themselves. The way, when he talks to you, he makes it feel like he’s really listening. When I was younger, he was the only adult I knew that didn’t treat me like an idiot. Who didn’t make me feel like I was in the way.
He’s wearing his usual grey shirt, grey suit with a red handkerchief poking out of the top pocket. No tie though; the only sign that he’s been on a transatlantic flight. He doesn’t even look tired. Although his greying stubble does look a little less designer than usual.
I look behind him, expecting to see the gaggle of staff that follow him everywhere these days. But he’s alone. I must be in even more trouble than I thought.
‘Detective Lee,’ Max says, approaching the policeman, his leather-gloved hand outstretched.
Lee stands up, curling the tab into a tight tube. ‘How did you get in here?’
‘I’m Maxwell White,’ Max says, by way of explanation. It’s the only explanation he ever needs.
‘Yes, I know who you are,’ Lee says, his voice icy cold. ‘Everyone in the world knows who you are, Mr White.’
‘Well then,’ Max says, slapping Lee on the shoulder with his gloved hand. The detective flinches as if Max’s touch is toxic.
If Max notices Lee’s obvious hatred he doesn’t react. Instead, he turns to me. ‘Petri, what have you been doing to worry your mother so?’
Zizi stands up and kisses Max on both cheeks, her lips never touching his skin. Max has a thing about germs. ‘How was the flight from Guatemala?’ she says, eyeing him coldly. Whatever they fell out about, it was big.
‘Long.’
‘And my lawyer told you about what was going on, I assume? Remind me to fire her.’
Max laughed. ‘And what has been going on?’
‘It’s nothing I can’t handle,’ she says, fiddling with her coat collar. ‘Nonsense cooked up by the police.’ She faces Lee while continuing to talk to Max. ‘You know how they’re always looking for some white, middle-class scapegoats to blame to hide their institutional racism. Couldn’t have them blaming Ryan McManus, the boy who organised the riot—’
‘Protest, Zizi,’ I interrupt. The knowledge that it was Ryan who gave me up turns in my stomach like a worm. ‘Ryan organised a protest,’ I finish lamely.
‘Either way, they couldn’t arrest an articulate, intelligent mixed-race boy, now could they? Not when they have the Investigation for Racial Imbalance breathing down their necks,’ Zizi finishes triumphantly.
I don’t follow her logic. They’re not going to arrest Ryan because he’s black because they’re racist? I don’t bother to try to work her out. I can only follow what she’s on about half of the time.
‘I’m sure the police are doing their jobs to the best of their abilities with the information available to them, isn’t that right, Detective Lee?’ Max says.
Lee doesn’t answer. He licks his lips slowly, and smacks them together.
‘Although, I am interested to know why a member of the Police Central eCrime Unit is investigating a protest?’
‘You’re with the eCrime Unit?’ Zizi says, the ice in her voice melting a fraction.
‘Well, that’s as maybe, but our actions do have consequences. I hope you can see that, young lady.’
I glare up at him from between my fingers.
‘Look, as this is your first offence—’
There’s a knock on the door. Whoever’s on the other side doesn’t wait to be called in. They throw open the door like they belong here.
I’m expecting to see Zizi’s lawyer, when…
‘Max!’ Zizi gasps. ‘What are you doing here?’ She looks confused. Angry even.
I don’t care. Relief washes over me like a warm breeze. Max has that effect on me. On everyone really. Whenever he walks into a room it gets instantly calmer, happier. And not only because he’s the creator and CEO of Glaze, but because there’s something about him that makes people feel good about themselves. The way, when he talks to you, he makes it feel like he’s really listening. When I was younger, he was the only adult I knew that didn’t treat me like an idiot. Who didn’t make me feel like I was in the way.
He’s wearing his usual grey shirt, grey suit with a red handkerchief poking out of the top pocket. No tie though; the only sign that he’s been on a transatlantic flight. He doesn’t even look tired. Although his greying stubble does look a little less designer than usual.
I look behind him, expecting to see the gaggle of staff that follow him everywhere these days. But he’s alone. I must be in even more trouble than I thought.
‘Detective Lee,’ Max says, approaching the policeman, his leather-gloved hand outstretched.
Lee stands up, curling the tab into a tight tube. ‘How did you get in here?’
‘I’m Maxwell White,’ Max says, by way of explanation. It’s the only explanation he ever needs.
‘Yes, I know who you are,’ Lee says, his voice icy cold. ‘Everyone in the world knows who you are, Mr White.’
‘Well then,’ Max says, slapping Lee on the shoulder with his gloved hand. The detective flinches as if Max’s touch is toxic.
If Max notices Lee’s obvious hatred he doesn’t react. Instead, he turns to me. ‘Petri, what have you been doing to worry your mother so?’
Zizi stands up and kisses Max on both cheeks, her lips never touching his skin. Max has a thing about germs. ‘How was the flight from Guatemala?’ she says, eyeing him coldly. Whatever they fell out about, it was big.
‘Long.’
‘And my lawyer told you about what was going on, I assume? Remind me to fire her.’
Max laughed. ‘And what has been going on?’
‘It’s nothing I can’t handle,’ she says, fiddling with her coat collar. ‘Nonsense cooked up by the police.’ She faces Lee while continuing to talk to Max. ‘You know how they’re always looking for some white, middle-class scapegoats to blame to hide their institutional racism. Couldn’t have them blaming Ryan McManus, the boy who organised the riot—’
‘Protest, Zizi,’ I interrupt. The knowledge that it was Ryan who gave me up turns in my stomach like a worm. ‘Ryan organised a protest,’ I finish lamely.
‘Either way, they couldn’t arrest an articulate, intelligent mixed-race boy, now could they? Not when they have the Investigation for Racial Imbalance breathing down their necks,’ Zizi finishes triumphantly.
I don’t follow her logic. They’re not going to arrest Ryan because he’s black because they’re racist? I don’t bother to try to work her out. I can only follow what she’s on about half of the time.
‘I’m sure the police are doing their jobs to the best of their abilities with the information available to them, isn’t that right, Detective Lee?’ Max says.
Lee doesn’t answer. He licks his lips slowly, and smacks them together.
‘Although, I am interested to know why a member of the Police Central eCrime Unit is investigating a protest?’
‘You’re with the eCrime Unit?’ Zizi says, the ice in her voice melting a fraction.