Page 3 of Into the Dark
I feel my face contort with confusion and disbelief while her mouth keeps moving. While my blood boils hotter.
“I mean, we have a son together, Jake. Sooner or later you’ll realize how important that is, and then it’ll be us again. Just the three of us. How it’s supposed to be.” She sounds as sincere as I’ve ever heard her sound, and for a second I can only stare at her.
She has to be on something. It’s the only explanation. I have literally no idea where to even start with this. I don’t need this fucking shit. Not today. Not ever.
I take a deep breath and step in close so there’s no likelihood she’ll miss what I’m about to say. “Listen to me and listen hard, Vic, yeah, ’cause I’m not gonna say this again. That fantasy you’ve got in your head of the three of us together? That’s all it is. A fucking fantasy. It’s never going to happen. Not now, not ever, so get that idea out of your delusional, coked-up fucking mind. And with regards to Alex, you mention her again and you’ll regret it. You think about her in any capacity and you’ll regret it. You don’t know her, yeah? Nod if you hear me.”
Her whole body goes stiff, but a glimmer of something dark and violent passes over her face.
“Nod, if you hear me, Vicky.”
She nods once.
“Now get downstairs and look after my son.” I turn my back on her to continue looking for underwear.
When I go back downstairs a few minutes later I find her on the sofa, legs crossed and filing away at her nails while Caleb sings loudly along to “the happy song,” as he calls it.
“I need to meet Fred,’ I tell her as I fasten my watch. “I was going to take him with me, but since you’re here, can you stay here with him? I should only be a couple of hours at the most.”
She lifts her head up and glares at me. “Well, I can just take him home. You know, if you’re too busy for him.”
I’m not fucking doing this. “Forget it. I’ll take him with me,” I say as I look around for my phone.
She sighs loudly. “Fine. I’ll stay with him. But I’m going out later, so you’ll need to be back by five. I’m going to Kelly’s to get my nails and stuff done.”
“Oh, don’t worry. Wouldn’t dream of cutting into your pampering time, sweetheart.”
She rolls her eyes before going back to what she was doing, which now seems to be online shopping. Where the fuck is my phone? I used it half an hour ago when I called Fred. I lift up the cushions on the armchair, search by the acoustic, then look behind Cale.
“Oh, are you looking for this?”
When I turn around, Vicky’s holding up my phone, a sly smile on her face. If it weren’t fingerprint locked I’d guess she’s been reading through my messages. Pictures and declarations to and from Alex that I haven’t deleted yet. As I reach for it, she pulls it back out of my reach and glances down at the screen.
“Nope, she still hasn’t called, babe. Sorry. Looks like she’s moved on. Not meant to be, I guess.” She shrugs.
I clench my teeth together to stop me from saying something in front of Cale before stepping forward to snatch it out of her hand. “I’ll be back in an hour and half,” I say, walking over to kiss Cale on the top of the head.
“Say hi to Uncle Fred for me!” she shouts as I walk to the door.
Fred is in my office when I get there, sitting at my desk as if he owns the place. Which he doesn’t. Every brick of this place is mine.
He’s flicking absently through a newspaper while drinking something hot from one of my mugs. Black coffee, most likely. I smile at him as genuinely as I can manage, and then at Maryk seated on the couch by the window playing with his phone.
Maryk stands and nods at me politely before exiting the office quietly through the back door into the stairwell. Maryk is Fred’s sword and shield, a hulking Polish guy who speaks very little. Though whether this is because he’s not a big talker or because he doesn’t know much English I’ve never been able to figure out. He appeared one day three years ago after Nolan up and “disappeared.”
“Sorry for just making myself at home, son. That piece—Rachel, is it?—was kind enough to let me in and get me a cuppa while I waited for you,” he says, closing the paper.
Firstly, he’s not sorry, because Fred is rarely sorry about anything. And secondly, I’m not late. He just wants to let me know I’ve kept him hanging about.
“No problem. Did she offer you a drink drink?” I ask as I walk over to the fridge. After inspecting the contents, I decide I should stay sober for this, so I grab a can of Diet Coke from the back. “You want something stronger?” I turn to look at him. “Whiskey? Beer?”
“Nah, I’m good. Trying to cut down.” He pats the area around his waist.
Steph. He’s been shacked up with his twenty-three-year-old lap dancer from Talia’s for the past six months. Must be getting serious if he’s cutting down on his alcohol consumption. Whiskey has been Fred’s life force since before I knew him.
I nod and smile before closing the fridge and walking back to take a seat where Maryk just got up from. His indent is still warm as I settle into it.
“So…” I say as I pull open the can. “What’s up? Everything good?” I take a long, welcome sip from it as Fred regards me, sharp and shrewd, from behind my desk.