We leave the room quietly, Jay walking behind me. When we get out onto the street, he asks, “So, lunch anyone? My treat.”
“No,” says Dad. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now. But thank you for offering.”
“Me, neither,” says Will, and they both start walking in the direction of the office, not far from our current location. I’m left standing alone with Jay, the sounds of afternoon traffic passing us by.
“Well, they aren’t happy with me,” he observes.
“Nope.” I try to suppress a grin. I shouldn’t want to smile, but there was something so hilarious about Jay mouthing off to Una and Brian. I mean, those two are probably never spoken to like that. I bet they spend half their lives having their arses licked.
Jay sticks his hands in his pockets. “Well, are you going to come to lunch with me, Watson? Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”
I glance at him, and it all becomes too much. The laughter bubbles forth, and it just won’t stop. I clutch at my belly, I’m laughing so hard.
Jay grins. “What? What are you laughing at?”
“It’s just,” I manage, followed by more laughter. “The look on Brian’s face when you called him a pussy. He really wasn’t expecting it.”
Jay throws his arm around my shoulders and leads me forward. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a funny fuck. We’re going for lunch.”
I think, but I’m not certain, that I see Una Harris and Brian Scott sitting in a fancy car by the side of the road, watching us as we walk away. I just about manage to calm myself down by the time we reach the café.
Twenty-Six
Months go by. After a couple of weeks of keeping a painful distance from me, Jay starts coming over to the house. Almost every other evening he shows up and we sit together, each of us focusing on our own tasks. He’s creating a brand-new show from scratch, which can apparently take a really long time to put together.
It seems magic and illusion doesn’t come easy. It takes dedication almost to the point of obsession. My little dressmaking business grows, and Jay even helps me set up a website. The man is a genius with computers. He also helps me with orders, packing, and doing post office runs, which kind of melts my heart.
We rarely touch, but when we do there are fireworks. Silent explosions. And all from an innocent hand on my elbow. Our arms brushing absently against each other. Sometimes he’ll gently pull my hair out of the messy ponytail it’s in and redo it for me.
I love when he runs his fingers through my hair.
I always thought that in order to have a relationship, there needed to be sex. But really, that’s not the case. I’ve grown closer to Jay without sex than I ever had when there was sex. Not that the sex lasted very long, anyway.
Still, I ache for him.
I long for the day when he’ll allow his touches to linger, to transform into something more. I patiently wait for the circus that his court case has become to be over.
The newspapers in both Ireland and the UK have caught on to the case, and in the weeks coming up to the court date, it gets a lot of attention. As the day draws near, I notice something building in Jay, a kind of electricity. The anticipation of relief for it all to be done with.
A week before the trial, I get home late. I’d spent a couple of hours at Michelle’s house, hanging out with her and Jessie. Yes, over these past few months their sex affair has transformed into something of a permanent thing. I’m not sure if either of them ever broached the subject of having a relationship, but that’s what seems to have happened.
They’re happy together, and I couldn’t be any more surprised by it all. I just hope the day never comes when Michelle decides she wants to go back to men.
It’s dark out on a cold January night as I try to locate my house key in my handbag. I’m rooting away when a gloved hand slides roughly over my mouth and a strong body presses me hard against the door.
I feel something sharp dig into my belly, just before a male voice threatens, “Scream, and I’ll cut you.”
My heart pounds fast, sweat breaking out all over my body.
I don’t scream. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m in too much shock to react at all.
The hand covering my mouth goes to my hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling down hard. A strangled whimper comes out of me, but it’s barely audible. In my head, I wonder if this is the man from the park finally come to make good on his threat.
“You’re gonna give Jay Fields a message,” the voice continues, the very sound of it grating on me.
All I can do is nod.
“You tell him that if he shows up at court next week, we’ll come for you again, and the next time we’ll leave a mark.”
“We”? Is there someone else with this faceless person? I nod again, and the pressure is gone. I stand in place for several seconds, unable to turn around, but I think I can hear the click of high heels alongside the boots as they walk away. A car engine starts up somewhere nearby, and my body finally kicks into action. I turn and swiftly run out of the driveway just in time to see a black vehicle speed by. The windows aren’t tinted, and I’m not sure if my eyes are deceiving me when I see Una Harris staring at me from the passenger seat, a sick grin on her face.
What the hell?
It wasn’t the man from the park at all. My hands are shaky as I try to find my phone. I take it out and quickly pull up Jay’s number.
“Watson,” he answers, his voice warm.
“I need you,” I say, and there’s no mistaking my fear.
“You at home?” he asks, serious now.
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
I try to be quiet as I step inside, knowing Dad’s asleep upstairs. I’ve just been through one of the most frightening experiences of my life, second only to when Mum was killed, but there was barely a sound made. It all happened so quickly, without much needing to be said at all, and I can still feel the knife the faceless man had pressed into my belly.
There’s certainly much more to Una Harris than meets the eye, because the woman I saw just now was definitely no stranger to seeing people scared out of their wits, to threatening them to get what she wants.
On unsteady legs, I close the front door and walk into the kitchen, turning on the light and sitting down at the table. I don’t know how much time passes when the door opens again, and Jay strides in with purpose. He sees me sitting there, white as a ghost, and instantly he’s kneeling before me, taking my hands in his.
“Watson, what happened?” he asks, looking like he wants to hurt someone.
“I…somebody attacked me as I was coming home. They had a knife.”
His eyes go darker than I’ve ever seen them before, his grip tightening. “What? Are you hurt? Did you get a look at their face?” His hands start to move over my body, looking for injuries that aren’t there.
Una Harris’ sadistic grin flashes in my mind, and my heart pounds. I’m just about to tell Jay about how the man threatened to hurt me if he shows up in court next week. But I look into his eyes and suddenly realise that I can’t do it. I can’t tell him. If I do, then all these months working toward the trial will be for nothing. He won’t be able to clear his name and might never be able to get his career back on track.
I won’t do it.
Somehow knowing that Una Harris would go to the lengths of getting some thug to threaten me with bodily harm makes me more determined to see her get what she deserves.
“They didn’t hurt me. I think they were just trying to scare me.” I pause, thinking on my feet. “They tried to grab my handbag, but then a neighbour’s car drove by, and they ran. I’m okay now.” Lying to him feels awful, but, as Jay once told me, necessary evils are everywhere in this world.
He pulls me into his embrace. “Jesus. You shouldn’t be coming home this late on your own. Next time, you make sure someone is with you. Or hell, call me, and I’ll escort you home personally.”