Six of Hearts
Page 35

“Well,” he says under his breath. “Well.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “Don’t make a big deal.”
Dad nods, and that’s all that needs to be said. Like me, Dad doesn’t really care much about what people decide to do in their own private lives. I take a look around the apartment as Dad goes to sit on the couch with the others. There isn’t much furniture yet, just a few bits and pieces. I wonder why Jay didn’t bring the chaise longue with him, but I’m kind of glad that he didn’t. Perhaps it means he’s still going to come over and hang out with me from time to time. Although really, I’m not sure if that would be a good thing for me emotionally.
I find my way into the kitchen and put the wine in the fridge to chill. When I turn back around, Jay’s standing a couple of feet away from me, and I jump.
His lips curve. “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?”
I put on a brave face, even though seeing him hurts. “Well, my host wasn’t anywhere to be found, so I took it upon myself to find my way.”
He full-on smiles at me now, though there’s a touch of sadness to it. “Oh, yeah? You look beautiful.”
I glance down at the simple dress I have on and shrug shyly. He strides toward me, and my breath catches. He doesn’t touch me, though. Instead, he reaches around me, opens the fridge again, and retrieves a tray of burger meat covered with cling film.
“You want to help me?” he asks, unsure.
“Okay.”
Relief floods his features. “Great. Go grab the burger buns.”
I do as he says and follow him out to his terrace. It’s a lovely sunny summer’s day, with a great view out over the water. Jay starts to cook the meat on a fancy new barbecue that he must have bought especially for this housewarming, or else it came with the apartment. There’s a deck table and chairs, so I make myself busy by setting out plates and napkins. When I’m done, I turn back around, and Jay’s standing by the barbecue. He’s not focused on cooking, though. He’s focused on me. The look he’s giving me turns my tummy into pure butterflies.
“Stop looking at me like that,” I say, frowning and rubbing at my chest. He has this habit of making my heart sore, making my lungs feel like there’s not enough air.
He tilts his head attractively, which only makes matters worse. “Like what?”
“Like you’re molesting me with your eyes,” I blurt out.
His answering laugh is long and deep. I can barely handle the affection in his gaze. “Okay, I’ll try to stop. But if it all gets to be too much for you, this apartment happens to have a very nice bathroom. You can go rub one out again to take the edge off. I’ll come listen, too, if that will help.”
There he goes again, pushing me.
I do a slow blink at him before coming out with a rather masterful comeback. And when I say “masterful,” I mean shit. “Why don’t you go and rub one out?”
He cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t rub out, darlin’. I jack off.”
“Oh, my God, shut up!” I suddenly giggle, looking back inside to make sure nobody was close enough to hear.
“You are way too f**king cute when you’re embarrassed.”
I stay silent. Talking with Jay only seems to get me into trouble. The kind that requires a change of underwear. Yes, I said it.
A couple of minutes later, he calls everyone out, and the food is served up. We sit and talk and drink wine, and generally just soak up the nice atmosphere. I find I’m enjoying myself, too, even if I do have to studiously avoid Jay’s penetrating stares. I wish he’d stop, because sooner or later somebody is going to notice.
As the evening draws to a close, Dad decides it’s time to call it a night. I don’t want to leave yet, so Jessie offers to drive me home later. Once Dad’s gone, I feel a little less tightly wound. At least now he won’t be here to notice the weirdness between me and Jay.
I sip my wine and let the conversation drift over me, staring out at the view. My relaxation is short-lived, because a minute later a chair moves beside me, and Jay drops down into it.
“So, do you like my new place?”
I nod. “Yeah, it’s lovely. Great location, too.”
He chugs back some beer and stays quiet for a moment, then asks, “You think you could ever see yourself living in a place like this?”
There’s a touch of insecurity in his voice, which is so out of character.
“I’m sure I could. It’s hardly a shanty town. But I think I’ll always stay with Dad. He’d be lonely by himself,” I answer without thinking. When I see Jay’s expression, I suddenly realise the meaning behind his question. He wants to know if someday I’d live with him. Here. After all the madness is over and he can finally tell me all the stuff he’s been holding back.
Wow.
Just…wow.
And there’s the chest ache again. Only this time it’s a good kind of hurt. Sort of. This man is seriously hazardous for my heart. He just keeps on surprising me at every turn.
“You have to move out some time, Matilda. You know, see the world. I’m sure your old man wouldn’t want you staying with him just because you feel it’s your duty.”
“That’s not why I stay. I like living at home. It’s comfortable. And besides, me and my dad, well, we’re all each other has.”
Even as I say it, I know it’s a lie. Living with Dad is a comfort blanket, one I’ve always been too scared to let go of. Sometimes I think I convince myself he needs me more than he really does.
Jay grabs my hand then and squeezes softly. “You’re not all each other has.” His tone is serious, fervent.
I suck in a breath. More chest pangs.
“So, you mean to say we have you now, too?”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he murmurs, leaning in closer. Air catches in my lungs.
“It doesn’t feel like we have you. In all honesty, I don’t know where I stand with you from one day to the next. You want to be with me, but you can’t be with me. For all I know, you could be gone in a heartbeat, back to America to perform in Las Vegas or some other glamorous location.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, you do remember our little agreement, don’t you? We made a deal you’d be coming with me the next time I have shows there, so you see it’s not true. You’ve got me, Matilda. You always have.” He pauses, and his voice lowers. “You’re mine.”
I close my eyes, his words too much for me.
“I miss you,” I whisper. “I miss having you sleep on the other side of my wall, hearing you pace.”
His eyes go sad. “I’ve only been gone a day.”
“And that’s why it’s scary. I shouldn’t miss you this much.”
“It’s not gonna be forever. Trust me.” His thumb brushes soothing circles to the inside of my wrist, and I melt.
We sit like that for a long time, the day drawing to a close around us, city noises drifting in from nearby. It’s after dark when Jessie comes and tells me she can take me home.
“It’s fine. I’ll drive her,” Jay interrupts.
I look at him, stare down at our intertwined fingers, before pulling my hand out of his. “I should go. It’s late, and I have work in the morning.”
He gazes at me, his expression probing. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” I say, breath whooshing out of me. “I’m sure.”
We hug tight, and as I go, I can feel him watching me the entire way to the door.
***
I’ve always found mediation to be an uncomfortable process. Two opposing parties get together to try to find a solution to their disagreement, with a neutral third party hired to play the middle man between the two. It’s often a measure taken early on in an effort to save money. If an agreement can be made, then everyone can avoid the high costs of going to court.
I knew from the start that the session organised to take place between Jay and Una Harris was going to be a tumultuous affair, and I wasn’t wrong. I was also aware that Jay wasn’t going to accept any offers from the newspaper. This was all a part of the dance for him, a part of whatever strange secrets he was keeping, and we had to go through the motions.
The morning it’s scheduled, Dad’s in fine form, a swing in his usually stunted step. He’s been enjoying every moment of working on this case, and I think he has high hopes that a conclusion can be reached today. I don’t have it in me to shatter his optimism.
I’m not keen on attending, but Dad insists I be there to take notes and the like. We arrive at the conference room early: me, Will, Dad, and Jay. The mediator is there waiting for us. A man named Jon Snow. Yes, I’m not joking. Jay and I both give each other a giddy look as we meet him. We both know the significance of his name. I think back to that first night Jay had moved in, when we’d had dinner and he’d teased me about my Game of Thrones T-shirt. A pang of nostalgia settles deep in my belly.
Anyway, Jon Snow the mediator looks nothing like Jon Snow from TV. More’s the pity.
We sit down at the long table and start to prepare for the session. Jay takes the chair beside mine, and when he sits down, his hand finds my knee, giving it a squeeze. The look I give him says, stop that. The look he gives me in return says, nope.
His hand is still on my leg when Una Harris and what can only be described as an entourage arrives. She has at least four solicitors with her. I absently scan the generic-looking men and women in their designer suits before my gaze meets with a recognizable face. My eyes travel from that face and straight to Jay. When one of the solicitor’s mentions the man’s name, my suspicion levels hit the roof.
Jay has some serious explaining to do.
Among Harris’ party is Brian Scott, owner of The Daily Post. That shouldn’t be surprising. I knew there was a good chance he’d be here. What I hadn’t expected was to recognise him. He’s the old businessman Jay was staring at that night at the casino. The same man who’d left The Daily Post offices while Jay had been doing his street show, the one he stole something from.
Jay gives my knee one last squeeze before letting go. He knows that I know. Obviously, he knew I was going to remember Mr Scott. He could have at least given me some warning, even if he wasn’t fully prepared to explain everything.
That way my mouth wouldn’t be hanging so ridiculously open right now.
I try to regain my composure by picking up some of the files in front of me and settling them into a very neat stack. The formal introductions are made by the mediator, and he outlines how the session is going to be run. Jay’s eyes are narrowed almost to slits as he looks at Brian, who’s sitting directly across from him on the other side of the table.
Jesus.
If looks could kill, Brian Scott would be gutted and chopped up into very small pieces, and those pieces would be carefully wrapped and sunk to the bottom of the ocean. I finally understand what Jessie meant when she spoke about the “white shotgun” look in Jay’s eyes. He certainly has a way of making people uncomfortable without having to move a muscle or say a word.
I can’t understand the ferocity of his hostility toward the man. I know he owns the newspaper and everything, but it’s Una who’s been slandering him.
Speaking of Miss Harris, my eyes meet hers very briefly from across the table. I’m not sure why she’s looking at me, but I make quick work of focusing my attention elsewhere. As I said before, the woman gives me the creeps. Today her hair is up in a French twist, her lips are red, and she’s wearing a black leather dress. I’m not joking. Altogether, the look is very femme fatale. Quite fitting for her, actually.
The session progresses, and one of Brian Scott’s solicitors puts an offer on the table. “We’re prepared to make a once-off payment to Mr Fields in the amount of 25,000 euros to make up for any losses he might have made in his career due to the articles published. Miss Harris is also prepared to write an article retracting her claims about Mr Fields, alongside an official apology in the form of a letter. In exchange, Mr Fields will drop all legal proceedings against Miss Harris and the publication.”
If I’m not mistaken, I think I hear Jay scoff. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and pressing his palms together.
“I think I’ll pass.”
“We should discuss this first,” says Dad.
“No need. I’m not interested in their twenty-five grand or Miss Harris’ apology,” says Jay, his tone dismissive. He says “apology” like it’s a dirty word.
Brian Scott whispers to his solicitor, and then the solicitor amends the offer. “We will increase the pay out to fifty thousand, and Miss Harris will schedule an interview on Radio One where she will make the apology over the air.”
At this Una shoots a highly disgruntled look in Brian’s direction, folding her arms tightly over her chest. Clearly, she’s not happy with the radio interview idea. Brian’s look in return is bland. In person, he seems like a fairly ordinary, inoffensive old man, but there’s something nefarious beneath the surface. Something that suggests he’s not someone you’d want to get on the bad side of.
“Wow, Brian,” says Jay in a fake friendly voice. “You really don’t want this shit to get to court, do you? I’m trying to figure out how a dick could have such a gigantic pu**y.”
I think every single person in the room draws in breath at the same exact moment. I bite on my lip, in all honesty, trying not to laugh. Trust Jay to say something like that in what’s supposed to be a formal, professional environment.
Dad coughs loudly. “Mr Fields, that language is highly inappropriate.” He shoots a conciliatory look at Brian Scott. “I’m sorry for my client’s behaviour.”