‘Oh my God, it’s a penile sleeve!’ Justine replied. ‘It fits over an impotent guy’s dick and it’s secured with those straps. Means they can have penetrative sex. Sort of. What’s she doing with it on live television?’
‘How would you know—?’
‘I did that documentary on erectile dysfunction a few years back, remember?’
Allan did. It hadn’t been cutting-edge television, but it hadn’t been a bad programme.
‘Should we cut to a break?’ he said, his fingers hovering over the red button.
‘Seriously? You want to cut Morgan off now? She’ll skin us and wear us as hats.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘But get ready,’ Justine said. ‘Hunt looks like he’s about to have a heart attack.’
Justine wasn’t exaggerating. Hunt didn’t look well. Morgan pushed the penile sleeve across the table. She used a paper tissue.
‘You left this at Anita Fowles’s flat,’ she said. ‘She asked if I could return it to you.’
‘Th-th-that’s not mine!’
‘It isn’t?’
‘Of course not!’
‘But itlookslike yours.’
‘It looks like … What the hell do you mean itlookslike mine?’
‘Oh sorry, didn’t I say? Unbeknown to you, Anita filmed you stuffing your flaccid little thing into this contraption. When she asked why you were wearing a strap-on, you burst into tears.’
‘She signed a non-disclosure agreement,’ Hunt said. ‘Even if there were a video, which of course there isn’t, she couldn’t show it to anyone.’
‘You’re right, of course, Anita did sign an NDA,’ Morgan agreed. ‘Theyallsigned NDAs. It’s why to date nothing’s surfaced on the internet. Unfortunately for you, Anita’s a law student, and the video she took also has you performing your party trick: lighting a cigarette with an electronic stun gun. Does that ring a bell, Kane?’
Hunt said nothing. He began to hyperventilate.
‘Now, you may not know this, but like all contracts, NDAs cannot be used to protect illegal activities. We’ve taken legal advice and your possession and use of an illegal weapon appears to have rendered the NDA null and void.’
‘I don’t feel well,’ Hunt said.
‘No?’ Morgan said. ‘Well, I don’t think this will make you feel any better. Because you’d already shared a picture of Anita online, she felt it only fair to reciprocate. The moment we went on air, Anita sent her video to a bunch of websites and newspaper editors and—’
‘No, really, I don’t feel …’
Hunt slumped in his seat. He stayed there a moment then collapsed on to the polished studio floor. Unconscious, he vomited.
Justine stared in horror at the monitor. Yosef had switched the live feed to Morgan’s stricken face, but camera three was still on Hunt’s. It was beetroot red. Vomit dribbled from the corner of his mouth.
‘Go to a break!’ Justine screamed.
Allan punched the cut button and the live feed went dead.
And on the studio floor, Kane Hunt got on with the business of dying …