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The biggest part of me leaps excitedly at having done what I set out to do; piss my father off. But there’s a small part, the young girl desperate for her father’s approval, that silently weeps in the corner of my mind.
“You know I’m always happy to please you, Father,” I say with a mocking smile and attempt to step out of his grasp. He releases me, not wanting to make scene.
“I have important people to meet, but you and I shall continue this conversation later, Jessica.” I keep my face neutral at his cutting remark as he and my mother turn and walk away arm in arm.
As a waitress passes, I snatch another glass of champagne, drinking it down in one mouthful. My nose turns up at the bitter fizz on my tongue, and I decide that if I’m going to make it through this evening, I’m going to need something with more of a kick than the pretentious piss water my father is dishing out.
I can almost taste the under the table backhands my father hopes to buy with this evening’s festivities, and I swallow down the disgust bubbling back up at the thought.
At the bar, I take a seat and order a large whiskey.
Twenty
Rick
I tug at the collar of my shirt. For someone that is usually comfortable wearing a shirt, I can’t get past this uncomfortable feeling working its way beneath my skin this evening. That’s a total lie. I’ve had this feeling since we left King’s Dyke early Wednesday morning. Since I drove away from that site, passing the cabins on the way, I’ve struggled to keep my mind focused on anything other than thoughts of a dangerously insatiable desire to see Jessica again, to check on her, to touch her.
So much so, that when we returned, I called every garage within 5 miles of the cabins searching for the one where Jess’ car was. I found it, of course. Gaz, the owner, practically tripped over himself to spill every detail of what was wrong with Jess’ car. Telling him I was a cop probably helped somewhat.
I almost crushed the phone in my hand when he told me that Jess’ brakes had failed. In fact, as he continued to talk, telling me he thought someone had tampered with them, I may have launched my coffee mug across the kitchen.
When I’d cleared up and finally calmed down, I made some calls and had a former road traffic investigator take a look at Jess’ car. Waiting for his report is playing on my mind and being here is doing nothing to distract me.
It hasn’t helped that Scott called me today to let me know that Jessica is at her flat, and he had to step in when she was harassed by a journalist. Whilst I’ve not asked him to watch her place all the time, I did ask that he stop by when he could. It seems as though it was a good call. I couldn’t help but laugh when he told me what she did.
Scanning the crowd, I watch a waiter as he carries a tray of appetisers around the room before disappearing down a corridor. He looks just like any other waiter here, but there’s something off about him. Getting up, I make my way through the crowd, but just before I reach the corridor, a figure steps in front of me, blocking my way.
“Rick. How good to see you again. I wasn’t aware you would be here this evening.”
“Mr Harris. I wasn’t aware that I needed to report my every move to you.” I challenge, attempting to move past him. He moves with me, continuing to block my path. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr Harris?” I ask, trying to keep my temper in check.
Whilst this man has my sympathy for the loss of his daughter, his arrogant and misogynistic attitude is something I don’t have time for. Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact he’s suing Jess for negligence.
“Ah, well, actually there is something I wanted to talk to you about. Perhaps we can discuss it over a drink?”
“Look, Mr Harris, I’m sorry about Charlotte, but I don’t think there is anything further we need to discuss here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be.” This time when I try to step around him, he lets me, but not without having the final word.
“Of course, Rick. Don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you’re a very busy man. However, be sure to make some time in that very busy schedule of yours for the court date, won’t you. Enjoy the rest of your evening,Lieutenant Sullivan,” he finishes, my name draped in disdain.
“Son of a fucking bitch!” I seethe, spinning round to give the bastard a piece of my damn mind, when a hand on my shoulder stops me.
“He’s not worth it, Rick.” My shoulders sag at Ryder’s words. “You’re better than that. Don’t let the cunt get to you.”
“Such colourful language this evening, dear,” Cam mocks, as she joins us.
“Trust me, if we were anywhere else, preferably a dark alley, I’d make him as colourful as my fucking words. All the colours of the rainbow.”
Cam and I laugh at Ryder, who is now frowning after Tobias and mentally throwing knives at the man’s back. How do I know that? Because I’m doing the exact same thing.
Ryder tells me that we need to take our seats. I usher him and Cam off, telling them that I need to use the bathroom and will be there in a minute.
Once they leave for the main hall, I hurry down the corridor. It’s hardly a surprise I can’t see the waiter anywhere, but I do hear voices coming from one of the rooms a little way down the hallway. The door is ajar, but I can’t see who’s speaking only that the room appears to be some sort of games room given the full-size pool table I can see one half of.
“All this shit in the press is making me and your father look bad, and then you turn up here dressed like that knowing full well it would draw more attention.”
“In case you’d forgotten, we’re no longer married, and I don’t give two flying fucks how bad you and my father look,Alistair. Now get the fuck out of my way.”
I don’t recognise the male voice, but I sure as hell recognise the woman’s. It’s Jess. She was married, and to this arsehole!
