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Ben grit his teeth on other things he wanted to say, but replied dutifully, “I made her donate her favourite Disney gown to Animals in Distress.”
Squeezy nodded, then in an entirely conversational tone offered, “The boss once shot someone through the top of the head while the guy was giving him a blow job, but if he told you, you’d have turned a blind eye and made sure he was still safe up there on that wobbly bloody tower. One day it’s gonna collapse because there won’t be a base broad enough to support something so high, and he’s gonna be plunged instantly into a whole ocean of pain fromactual, genuine contrition. How’s he gonna cope then, hey? He’s had no practice with the small stuff. And you know what?”
Ben didn’t and didn’t want to.
“Maybe that day has finally come.”
“And you think this ismyfault? If his own fucking shit finally catches him up?”
Squeezy sighed and leant forwards, folding his arms over the pistol so that it was out of sight. “False gods believe their own publicity after a while. In for a penny, in for a pound. Isn’t that what you always say?”
“I’ve never said that in my fucking life.”
“Ah, it must bethere’s nothing you could ever do that would stop me loving you. My mistake.”
Ben’s blood ran cold, whether with shame that Squeezy knew this or that he had indeed always said it. “Nikolastoldyou that?”
“He tells me lots of things.”
“Yeah. About that.”
“Well it’s hard to fucking shout loud enough for you to hear, Matey. He’s up there on your insubstantial pillar of love! Remember?” Suddenly, Squeezy grinned and chuckled. “Go make some fresh tea, Son of Wat. And maybe dig out some bikkies? Diesel is thinking metaphorically. He’ll need some extra calories.”
Ben wasn’t sure he liked this version of Squeezy.
Fuckwits were more believable when they were consistent.
And it had just hit him that Squeezy had apparently nicely turned the whole thing, theNate Situation, into being entirelyhisfault.
* * *
Chapter 42
Four Months Before April
When Ben arrived home the house was oddly quiet. Not that Nikolas was ever loud. That washim, always noisy according to Nikolas, always on the go and needing activity. He was the one who played the radio in the kitchen and sang along in a falsetto voice that drove Nik to seek solace in his study. Nikolas's presence anywhere was subtler. Perhaps no one else would have sensed this absence of Nikolas-noise, but Ben did. He always knew when Nik was home, and now the house was almostcoldlystill.
Ben felt a prickle of unease from this, which only added to the exhausting mixture of emotions roiling around inside his body, a body which felt battered by the events of the previous twenty-four hours.
He’d accepted the refreshed tea.
He’d accepted the love, albeit couched as reprimand and the need for self-examination as it had been.
He’d accepted that he needed to speak with Nikolas.
He’d not turned his phone back on, however. He wasn’t that forgiving.
The dogs weren't helping the unsettling atmosphere. Radulf was blindly staring out into the grounds. He did this a lot, apparently making up imaginary invaders to thwart, and both Ben and Nik usually ignored him, but now his tail was tucked in and there was a quiver of genuine agitation rippling along his back.
PB was pacing. It was uncanny. He looked like a human frowning and marching impatiently from one side of the room to the other. Neither dog gave Ben much attention. They were clearly concentrating on something, or someone, else.
Ben made straight for the bedroom.
The bed was rumpled but empty and cold.
The study was unoccupied, the computer off.
Gym. Deserted.
