Just One Night: Part 5 (7 page)

William leans in towards Rachel and narrows his eyes, completely oblivious to my distress. “From whom did you hear this, may I ask?”

I’m just trying to digest all this awfulness. His father actually told him to be with Ingrid? Why would he do that? Doesn’t he even care what his son wants? And why did William refuse when this job was so important to him? Was it because of me or just his regular moral standards? I have so many questions, but I can’t ask them here. Is there anywhere I can ask him this kind of thing or should I just let it go? Maybe it’s not my business. I still haven’t even been to the family house for brunch.

Rachel looks embarrassed. “I might have snooped a little.”

“On whom? With what?” William asks. He sounds mad.

Rachel shrugs and stays that way, like she’s a turtle trying to pull her head inside its shell. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“Bloody hell,” William mutters, looking up at the ceiling. “Dogsbody. Dogsbody is right. Edward was right all along.”

“What does that even mean?” Rachel asks. “I’m pretty sure it’s an insult. Is he talking to me?” She looks first at Mia and then me.

I shake my head. “No, it’s just like a cuss word or something. You know the English…” I shrug and nod, like we’re commiserating.

She nods too. “Yeah. Crazy, right? But cute.”

Mia puts the conversation back on track. “Okay, so old Frankie poo wanted William to get it on with Ingrid to keep her mouth shut about a certain B&E that happened.”

William stops staring at the ceiling and gives Mia a sharp look.

She waves him off. “Yeah, yeah, I heard all about it. That and the secret sex tape.”

“How did you hear about it?” I ask.

“Edward. He tells me everything.”

My jaw drops open. “Since when are you guys so close?”

Mia shrugs, suddenly evasive. “I don’t know. Since I met him… that one time…”

“What has Ingrid decided to do? Do we know this yet?” William asks.

Rachel raises her hand and bites her lip. We all stare at her waiting for her to speak, but she doesn’t.

William sighs loudly. “Miss Meechum … do you have something you want to say?”

“Yes. Thanks for calling on me.” She puts her arm down into her lap. “I was going to say that Ingrid was really mad, but she made Frank … Mr. Stratford … an alternative deal.”

“And what, pray tell, would that deal be?” William asks, his accent getting stronger. “Has he promised her my firstborn? Because she can’t have it.”

“No. He’s actually agreed to go out with her. To ummm … you know … whatever.” Rachel looks very uncomfortable and now she’s staring at the table.

“Good god,” William says, sounding a little shocked. “He’s pimped himself out for the company.”

“Actually he’s pimped himself out for you and Edward,” Mia says. Now she’s mad. “He could have let you both sink with those videos she has, but instead he’s agreed to spend time with her and get her to keep her mouth shut.”

William’s face goes pale.

“Hey, maybe they’ll get married and she’ll be your stepmother,” Rachel says, grinning from ear to ear. “Talk about awkward. Holy awko taco.”

“Perish the thought,” William says, massaging his chest. He turns to look at me. “What should I do?”

I feel both sad and guilty. “Talk to him?” I can’t keep him from his family or his family’s business. That would be totally selfish. So what if I just started a new company with him
today
. So what if I just introduced him to my most important clients
today
. So what if he became my roommate
today
. God, my life is such a mess. The fiasco with Hank is starting to look like a walk in the park in comparison.

“I do need to talk to him, but not alone.” William stands. “Come with me.”

“Me?” I ask, my hand going up automatically to take his.

He helps me to my feet. “Yes, of course. You’re my business partner, so you should be there.”

Mia looks up at me, no longer mad. “That’s so cute. I love it that you guys are working together. Did this happen today?”

“Yes,” I say.

“It was meant to be,” William says, staring down at me, a small smile at the edge of his mouth. He still looks a little sad, but at least that’s better than desperately depressed, the way I found him earlier today. Was that just today that I found him wallowing in pain and sadness? Wow. What a difference a day can make.

“Awww, you guys are so cute.” Rachel is resting her hands under her chin and staring up at us with goo-goo eyes. “You’d better invite me to the wedding. I totally set you guys up.”

Talk about awkward. Gah! I have no idea what to say to that.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” William says, holding my hand and pulling me from the table.

“Hey! What about our lunch!” Mia yells. “You’re supposed to pay for it!”

“Yes, you have to suck it!” Rachel says way too loudly, trying and failing to mimic a British accent.

I laugh as I jump in front of William and run to the door. “Come on before we get stuck with that bill!”

“Naughty girl,” he says, laughing behind me.

“That’s how you like it,” I say, knowing it’s the truth. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do. William likes me no matter what.

CHAPTER EIGHT

William

I HAD CONVINCED MYSELF THAT I would never enter this building again, for as long as I lived. That declaration lasted all of five days.

I would have thought I was a more determined man than this, but circumstances being what they are, I can hardly refuse to come now. My father. Pimping himself out for the good of the family. It’s too bloody awful to be believed.

I nod at the woman in reception, not stopping to ask permission to enter or share my reasons for being there. Her expression shows shock and fear, but I don’t let it dissuade me from my goal. I must confront my father and convince him to retreat from his suicide mission. Nothing is worth even part of a man’s life tied to that viper. Not even one day of it.

Jennifer walks behind me, reluctant but strong. I am beside myself with pride that I have her as my partner in work and in life. After I’ve convinced my father of his folly, my new mission shall be to convince her that she belongs with me on a more permanent basis. And the first thing I shall do as her companion is to find us a new flat. The tower block we’re in now is entirely too small with walls too thin. I plan for us to make a lot of noise, and I’d like to keep that part of our relationship more private than is possible in her place.

“What if he goes ballistic?” Jennifer asks. The distance between us grows ever larger as we approach my old office. My father can be heard shouting behind the door already and we’re still several cubicles away.

“He most certainly will go ballistic, but it shan’t interfere with what we’re here to accomplish.”

“Which is what?” she asks.

“Get his head back on straight.”

I admit to being a little nervous as I place my knuckles to the door and rap two times. Breathing out a long sigh does nothing to aid me. Standing before my father in a confrontational situation is one of my least favorite things in the world.

“Who’s there?!” comes a frustrated voice from within.

I take the handle and push the door open. “It’s me, Father. I’ve come to discuss business.”

Several steps into the office, and I’m already regretting my decision to come. My father stands next to my leather chair and Edward is an armchair across the desk from him, slouched down low. I’ve seen this same scene played out many times in my past. Usually I come into these situations to fend for my brother. Today I’m not sure who I’m championing, myself, my father, or our family whole.

“Gordon Bennett, it’s a family reunion,” Edward exclaims, before going back to watching my father.

“Come to beg for your job back?” my father asks.

When Jennifer enters, his expression moves from spiteful to surprised. “Who’s this?” he asks.

“Father, this is Jennifer Moorehouse, the Moorehouse in Stratford & Moorehouse Investments. In other words, my business partner.” I hold out my arm, asking her silently to move forward into the room. She doesn’t disappoint.

“Mr. Stratford, it’s so nice to meet you,” she says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All of it terrible, I’m sure,” he says, taking her hand in a firm greeting.

“No, not at all.” She smiles and her dimples come out to charm everyone in the room.

I can see them having their effect, too. My father’s hard edges soften, his face taking on a look I often saw when my mother was around. It makes me homesick for earlier years.

They drop their handshake and my father blows some of his breath out in a huff. He nods slowly, taking in the view of the three of us standing and sitting before him. I’d give ten pounds sterling to know what he’s thinking right now. Perhaps twenty.

“So, you’ve started your own firm, is that it?” He sounds old when he says it, as if he’s suddenly aged in the last thirty seconds. It’s the first sign of vulnerability I can remember seeing in him. It makes me feel sad and perhaps a bit guilty.

“Yes, I have,” I say, my tone thankfully not belying my precarious emotional state. “Jennifer is my partner and we’ve opened an office not far from here. It’s temporary.”

“You could have used an office here,” my father says. “I would have been happy to help you start things up.”

I blink several times to be sure I’m truly looking at the real Frank Stratford.

“I find that a bit hard to believe,” I manage to say with an even tone.

“Why? I’ve always supported you, in everything you do.”

My attempts to control my temper are not going well. “Perhaps it’s the fact that you terminated my employment that causes me to be doubtful of that assertion.”

My father waves me off. “That was just a tiff. I fully expected you to come back after you got over your little temper tantrum.”

Edward laughs and looks over his shoulder at Jennifer. “Did you see him having one of those? He’s world-famous for his tantrums. Not very pretty, are they?”

“I call it a pity party, but yes, I saw it,” Jennifer says. “It was kind of cute, actually.”

“Cute?
Cute?
” I look at her like she’s gone mad, which obviously she has. “That wasn’t cute. It was disgusting. The worst version of me that ever was or ever will be. I’m not a fan of the pity party and I regret my participation in it.” I glare at my brother. “And you can go straight to hell, Edward.”

“If that’s your worst, then you have nothing to fear from me,” Jennifer says, turning towards me, I’m sure for the sole purpose of tempting me with her jubbly bubbly bits. When she shrugs, they move up and down with the movement, and it takes all of my will power to keep from holding them in my hands and giving them a good massage.

“First he tells me to suck it, then he tells me to go to hell,” Edward says. “I don’t know why I even bother.” He shakes his head.

I’d feel bad over it if he wasn’t smiling so enthusiastically. This is entertainment for him, the bloody plonker.

“What’s done is done,” my father says. “Edward’s at the helm now and he’s off to Scotland to straighten out some inconsistencies in the books over there.”

“And you’re doing what, may I ask?” Tapping my toe on the ground. “Giving yourself up for the family name?”

“Giving myself up?” My father looks to my brother. “What’s he talking about?”

“Ingrid,” Edward says.

My father closes his eyes for a brief moment and then stares at me. “Son, Ingrid is none of your concern any longer. Just leave it.”

“Leave it? Hell no, I’m not going to leave it. You can’t be with her, Father, she’ll eat your heart for breakfast and dine on your liver at noon the same day.”

He laughs. “That’ll be the day.”

“Don’t underestimate her, Mr. Stratford,” Jennifer says. “She’s very persistent and devious.”

My father barks out a laugh. “And why do you think I agreed to our arrangement?”

“You can’t be serious!” I say, disgusted by the very idea of that woman being anywhere near my DNA.

“Of course I can.” My father tones his voice down considerably before continuing. “Listen, son … I’m sixty-five years old now. I need someone younger to help me liven things up a bit. Ingrid’s perfect for that.”

“Perfect? The only thing she’s perfect for is blackmail and manipulation, and maybe lion food as well.”

“I can handle her.” My father rubs his hands together. “I’m actually looking forward to the challenge.”

I hold back the urge to vomit.

“He knows what he’s doing,” Edward says with a casual wave of his hand. “Let him play. It’s none of our business anyway.”

I round on my brother. “You sure your casual dismissal has nothing to do with the fact that he’s keeping you from the nick?” Edward is begging for a punch-up.

Edward turns round and sits up straighter. “Unlike you, I know when I’m brown bread and need a little helping hand. And I’m not too proud to take it, either. We tried our way and it didn’t work. Now we try it his way. If you’d get off your high horse for a single second, you might be able to see what’s going on down here at street level, but you can’t do that can you? Always got to be strutting around, being the head piece, knowing everything there is to know.”

My lady is standing next to me so I can’t very well give him the action he’s asking for, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit around and let him do the foxtrot on my back.

“Oh, right. So instead of being responsible and driven towards success, I should spend the day playing handball and chasing skirts, is that it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Edward asks, getting to his feet.

“Well, I don’t know,” I say with exaggerated humor, “maybe it means you should take a look in the mirror, see what’s staring back at you, brother.”

“All right, that’s enough!” yells my father, taking all of us aback. “Edward, sit down and shut your bloody hole! William, tell me whatever else it is you have to say and then get out! I’m too busy for this nonsense!”

The room becomes utterly silent. I fancy I can hear my eyelids sliding shut and open as I blink them rapidly.

Jennifer steps in, her tone completely controlled, soothing even. “William and I were hoping we could count on your support as we start our business together. And we were also just a little worried about you, but now that we see you have things handled, we’re good on that issue.”