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you
up.’
    Alex laughed.
    ‘ Nothing too
outrageous Mel, I’m not eighteen any more.’
    ‘ No, you’re
older and more experienced and should be celebrating that. Leave it
with me Al, you’ll be looking like a Goddess by the end of the
week.’
     
    Four
     
    Jackson Pearce lived in
the most spectacular apartment Tom had ever seen. It took up the
entire top floor of a mansion block overlooking Central Park and
had every conceivable luxury and mod con. He had a rather sexy
looking Spanish girl called Bonita as a housekeeper and Tom guessed
she probably provided other services too. A part of Tom couldn’t
help but feel bitter. He was the oldest of Sorcha’s grandchildren
by two months and should have been the rightful heir to the
Montague fortune, and yet because of his grandmother’s dogmatism
and misplaced principles, he’d been pushed aside; resigned to a
life of poor state schools, crummy jobs and failure. It didn’t seem
fair and now he was here, on the threshold of being accepted back
into the bosom of his family, and he was determined to make the
most of it.
    ‘ First thing
we’re going to do with you is tidy you up,’ Jackson said after
they’d enjoyed a lunch of fresh sushi, delivered from the local
Japanese restaurant, washed down with Tiger beer. ‘Looking like you
do, Grandmother’s just going to think you’re some sort of lower
class lout.’
    ‘ I don’t want
to look like a male model or something. I’ve got my own individual
style.’
    ‘ And where has
that individual style got you Tom? I’ve made you an appointment to
see Marcus Farrell this afternoon. He’s my personal stylist and
groomer. He’ll sort you out. Then this evening we’re going to go to
Zen’s. It’s my favourite club. My sort of girlfriend, Lisa has her
English friend staying over and we’re meeting them
there.’
    Tom felt like telling him
to slow down a bit. He was still jet-lagged, nervous about meeting
his grandmother and just a little worried about the prospect of
crossing the Cusack family. Women were the last thing on his mind –
which was actually quite unusual. Still, it was best not to argue
with Jackson; he was controlling the purse strings after
all.
    ‘ I still don’t
know what I’m supposed to do in all this,’ he shrugged. ‘I’m hardly
spy material.’
    ‘ Just leave it
to us,’ Jackson said with a wave of the hand. ‘You’ll be fine. But
let’s concentrate on getting you looking good first.’
    Marcus Farrell’s salon
was on Fifth Avenue. It took up a huge, brownstone building; the
ground floor was occupied by the hairdresser and personal groomer,
and each floor subsequently held the various stylists who worked
for Farrell. Tom was taken straight to the top floor and the man
himself. Marcus Farrell was a small, camp black man, whose
effeminate manners made Tom giggle. On the floor, a ginger
Chihuahua walked around and within moments of Tom and Jackson
entering the room, it crouched down and shat on the carpet. Farrell
went into hysterics, yelling for Jose, his assistant to come and
clean it up.
    Once the drama had died
down and the dog had been banished to Jose’s office, the men got
down to business. Farrell told Tom to stand in the middle of the
room, while he walked around him, clutching his chin and murmuring
to himself.
    ‘ How tall are
you?’ he asked.
    ‘ Six,
one.’
    ‘ Weight.’
    ‘ About twelve
stone I think.’
    ‘ Stone? Stone?
What are stones?’
    ‘ A hundred and
sixty eight pounds Marcus,’ Jackson chipped in, making Tom feel
stupid, remembering the Americans measured in pounds, not
stones.
    ‘ He has very
striking blue eyes,’ Farrell said, peering up at Tom, making him
feel just a little uncomfortable. ‘We need to work with
that.’
    He left Tom and told him
to sit at his desk. Farrell then proceeded to sit beside Jackson on
one of the plush, brown leather sofas.
    ‘ So what will
he be doing?’ he asked.
    ‘ He’s going to
be working in a museum