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 pussy.”
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.”
“I’m not sorry,” says Jay, eyeing Brian fiercely.
“No need to apologise,” says Brian to Dad with a dismissive wave. “I know what kind of white trash I’m dealing with.”
Oh, my God.
“Well, would you look at that.” Jay leans farther over the table, studying Brian closely. Then he turns to Dad. “You know what that look means, Hugh? The ever-so-slight raising of the upper lip? It shows disgust. Do I disgust you, Brian? Do you find me distasteful?”
Brian’s eyes slide past Jay before landing on Dad. “Could you control your client, Mr Brandon? He’s letting his emotions get the best of him.”
“You know what I find distasteful?” Jay goes on, eyes darkening. “Degenerate old fucks like you.”
Okay.
“Seriously,” Una exclaims. “We should not have to deal with this type of behaviour.”
“She’s right,” Jon Snow finally puts in. “Mr Fields, you need to be more respectful. This session is not about throwing barbs back and forth. We are trying to reach a conclusion satisfying to both parties.”
Jay sits back, his arms falling to his sides. I reach over and lace my fingers through his beneath the table, unable to help myself. Despite everything, I need to show him my support. He squeezes back tightly.
“Why should I be respectful when Brian’s showing me none?” Jay asks casually.
One of the solicitors speaks. “I apologise for my client’s comment. Now, if we could get back to the matter at hand.”
“I’m not talking about him calling me white trash. I could give a fuck about that. I’m talking about the way he’s looking at me.” Letting go of my hand, he leans forward again, talking to Una this time. “You know all about me, don’t you, Una? Why don’t you tell Mr Scott how I know what he thinks of me?”
“Oh, yes,” says Una, seeming pleased to have an opportunity to speak. She turns her head to Brian. “Mr Fields was raised by his uncle, Killian Fields, one of the foremost behavioural science academics in the United States. That’s where he gets his little…mind tricks from.”
She says the last part with a tone of disdain.
“Ah,” says Brian, for a brief moment looking uncomfortable before the bland expression is back in place. “Well, that’s very interesting. But I’d like to get back to business. I haven’t got all day.”
“Oh, in that case, you can scoot right along. I’ve decided I’m not interested in a settlement. I’ll see you in court,” says Jay, folding his arms. I think he might also have his middle finger ever so subtly sticking up where it rests on his arm.
Brian stares at Jay for a long moment, and Jay stares right back, his gaze never wavering. Jay has hardly paid any attention to Una since she arrived, and it makes something click into place for me. I don’t think Harris is the one Jay is targeting at all, despite all the horrible things she’s written about him.
I think his real target is Brian Scott, and I have no idea why.
Una rises from her seat and goes to link her arm through Brian’s. “Come on, let’s not waste any more of our time on his charade.” Brian nods to her and allows her to lead him to the door.
Jay chuckles harshly as he watches them leave. “Yeah, you go on ahead. The ideal fucking pair, a garbage bag and a trash can.”
I immediately put my hand to my mouth when he says it, laughter bubbling up, because Una’s black leather dress does look an awful lot like a bin bag. And the sad fact is, she probably paid more than I earn in a month for it.
Dad’s staring at Jay with disapproval, and Will is sitting sternly in his seat. I don’t think either one of them is happy with how Jay is behaving. Now I feel bad for not warning them, because I’d expected this all along.