Hooked By Love Page 12

  Thank God he had no idea who I was. I massaged the back of my neck, trying to ease the tension steadily building in my muscles. ‘I hear you. But I think things will look up soon.’

  He stared at me with utter cynicism. ‘From your lips to God’s ears, mate. Nothing will change while money has the power … or until these criminals get what’s coming to them. It took this Cross woman to stand up for that centre in Camden. Nobody else had the guts to go up against them. I hope she gets a good lawyer to wipe the O’Neil Empire off the face of the earth.’

  I had no reason to get angry at his choice of words, I was ashamed to admit, because the insults were well founded. How could I have closed my eyes to this corruption for so long? Even though I wasn’t personally involved in dealing with the local authorities, I still shouldered some of the blame. The company was a family business and I had to accept responsibility for all aspects of its dealings. I should have done something about cleaning the company up. More importantly, I should have stepped in at the beginning and helped Amber when she needed me most. This brought to mind Craig’s defensiveness about the financial records. I was now more than adamant to find out the truth.

  During the drive home, a myriad of endeavours, contemplations, reasoning, planning and concerns filled my head, but one thought stood out above the others: Zack’s involvement with the centre. We had to talk about it and I didn’t give a damn what his attitude would present tonight. He was in my house, under my care, and for once, I wouldn’t be afraid to unsettle him. I wouldn’t back down for the sake of peace or because I hated confronting a kid who was still in mourning. I had to know what was going on inside his head and by God, he would tell me.

  Aggie had left me a pot of chicken soup on the hob and freshly baked rolls on the kitchen counter, under the cover of a red dishcloth. The amazing smell filled the whole house, reminding me of my childhood. That feeling of safety, the shelter of innocence and the freedom of no priorities or responsibilities permeated through me as the sweet smell of delicious baked goods released good memories.

  I spooned out a bowl of soup while the kettle was on. This home-cooked meal was a welcome change to the take away and leftovers I’d been indulging in during the past week, apart from the dinner with Amber a few days back. I chucked my jacket over the back of the sofa and switched on the TV. I chose a channel with a nature documentary that featured Richard Attenborough’s soothing narration because I’d learnt one thing over the years: an active but calm home automatically made for a more relaxed conversation, even if the conversation involved me prying into Zack’s secrets.

  ‘Speak of the devil,’ I said as he opened the door, racing in from the genesis of wet weather.

  ‘Who were you speaking to, then?’ Zack asked without humour. ‘The weather gods? Told them to piss all over me, did you, Uncle Josh?’

  ‘Would I do such a thing?’ I joked, but as expected, he shrugged me off and headed for the stairs.

  He skipped up the steps and I watched him glance back at me.

  ‘Oh, Zack, have you got a minute to talk?’ I asked him matter-of-factly. I didn’t want to sound like a typical parent or guardian about to confront a teenager for his wrongdoings, so I opted for the nonchalant approach.

  ‘I’m busy,’ he mumbled.

  ‘What, killing zombies? I don’t think so. Down here now.’

  I’d promised myself that I wouldn’t let him walk over me tonight.

  ‘But—’

  ‘I don’t want to hear any excuses, Zack. In the kitchen. I’m waiting,’ I said in a raised voice that held no aggression.

  I sensed his defences rise up around him like the Walls of Jericho and lock into an unshakable fortress of indifference.

  ‘This is going just great,’ I muttered to myself, getting ready for a feisty tug-of-war. Speaking to my nephew had been a grand hellish effort ever since he came to live with me.

  I pulled a couple of beers from the fridge to prepare myself for the effort of getting Zack to come downstairs. I turned to call out again but he was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the frame.

  ‘I have things to do, so can we hurry up with this,’ he said plainly.

  ‘I saw you,’ I started.

  He perked up. ‘Where?’

  ‘I saw you on television, at the centre with Amber Cross and the protestors. What were you doing there?’ I decided to just get it over with. After the day I’d had, I was way too tired to tiptoe around the fragility of a hostile youth like Zack.

  He said nothing, looking shocked that I’d brought up the centre. Visibly flustered, he ran his fingers through his hair.

  ‘Here,’ I said and passed him a beer. He was clearly taken aback by my sudden cavalier approach to discipline and rules, and that was just what I wanted. I sat down on the table edge and took a long drink of beer. ‘Zack, what were you doing at the centre?’

  He refused to answer or look me in the eye. Shifting uncomfortably, his eyes combed the floor and he put the can up to his face to occupy his lips.

  I wasn’t relenting. ‘Zack, I know what kind of people they assist there. Are you gay? You can tell me.’

  Zack’s eyes widened to my candid prying, his bottom lip trembling before he gripped it between his teeth.

  ‘Are you gay? Is that why you were there with them? Is that what’s been troubling you all this time? Because if it is, it’s no big deal to me, you know,’ I said casually, although my heart was thundering in my chest, praying he would open up to me.

  Slowly, he raised his eyes to me. ‘Yes. I’m gay. There, I’ve said it. You happy now?’

  Breakthrough! I was so overwhelmed he still trusted me that I could have thrust my fist in the air. I tried not to look pleased, knowing Zack would construe it as ridicule or smugness.

  I walked over to him and placed my hands on his shoulders. ‘Yes, Zack, I’m very happy that you feel comfortable enough to share how you feel with me. I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you recently … not just about your sexuality, but everything.’

  Zack studied my face. I wanted to pull him into my arms and hug the life out of him. He was coming back to me.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I asked as I dropped my arms to my side and stepped back to give him some space.

  He shrugged. ‘I thought you’d throw me out if you knew I was a faggot.’

  ‘Jesus, Zack, is that what you really thought? That I would hurt the person I love more than anything on this earth?’

  He sneered at me. ‘If that’s true then why are you trying to close down the only place I went to for help when there was no one else?’

  ‘Listen …’ I tried, but he was back to his old abrasive self.

  ‘No, you listen!’ He shoved the beer can against my chest and I caught it in my hand. ‘All you care about is money! Work and money! That’s all that matters to you, so don’t pretend you care about me. It’s fucking sick what you’re doing to all those people who need the centre. You’re a bigger prick than Craig and I fucking hate you!’

  I watched him shift back into a dark form of the young man he could be and my heart caved in under the sledgehammer of his attack.

  Chapter 24

  Amber

  In the backlash of my more than successful witch-hunt against Berkley-O’Neil, I sat exhausted after work. All the dirt we had on them was instilled in the public, ready to spread like a terminal disease, and it was inspiring to see how many people finally had the guts to step up and speak out on the unfairness that the property thugs had perpetrated through their unjust methods.

  Sipping some of Jen’s tea at my desk, I leant back, taking it all in. Still, I tried not to pat myself on the back too much for instigating this little revolution, because at the end of my swift and accurate cutlass was the blood of someone I cared deeply about, regardless of what I told myself or how I justified the hell I’d brought down on his company. On one hand, it wasn’t his fault that a callous and greedy group of shareholders was hand
ling the business of the company he’d inherited, but then again, he was a grown man and he had choices. I had no idea how to put my guilt at ease while enjoying my small victory.

  ‘Jen, I’m going to go home, all right? Can you hold the fort for the next thirty minutes?’ I called out to my giddy colleague, who was talking up a storm with a politically likeminded journalist who was somewhat overstaying his welcome.

  ‘Sure thing, Amber.’ She winked at me after she excused herself and hurried towards me. ‘I just need the keys and those files from you.’

  ‘What files?’ I asked, but she hushed me.

  ‘I just want to sound like we have a lot more to do tonight. He’s a bit clingy, but he’s growing on me, so who knows what’ll happen later,’ she explained in a naughty whisper that had me giggling.

  ‘Oh, the web of deceit, how intricately it can be woven,’ I teased.

  She playfully slapped my arm.

  I gave her the office keys. ‘If you lose these …’

  ‘I know, I know, you’ll stop pretending you like my tea or something. Now go home, hero. You’ve worked hard at the helm of this tank, calling the commands in this war. Go and relax for once, ’kay?’

  She was right. I deserved the break and I didn’t have to feel guilty about anything we’d achieved or the way in which I’d launched my media attack. All of it was strategy. The world wasn’t a ball of cotton wool, after all.

  ‘All right, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t stay in too late. It gets dangerous around here,’ I advised her as I pulled on my coat. I shouldered my bag and gave the young journalist a nod as I passed him.

  ‘Bye, Amber,’ Jen said and I simply waved without looking back.

  It was true. I was absolutely exhausted, and not just from the days of planning, researching and arrangements. Emotionally, I was tapped.

  When I arrived home, from my car window I could see the security gate to my block of flats was open. I exited my car and walked tentatively towards my building. A jolt of panic coursed through my body at the odd and suspicious sight in the shadow of the night.

  ‘If the O’Neils are trying to scare me,’ I sang monotonously to ease my nerves, ‘it is surely working.’

  I pulled my phone out of my coat pocket and held my finger ready to dial the police should something lunge out at me from the tall brushes near the entrance. Under the full moon behind the tides of cloud that passed over it, I scanned the area to discern any kind of motion in the communal garden. Visions of old Jack the Ripper punished my composure as I tried to convince myself I was being stupid.

  ‘You’re just being silly, Amber,’ I whispered. ‘And if there is someone, they’ll come out soon enough. Call the police. Call the—Oh Jesus!’ I cried out.

  A figure came into view, static, staring in my direction. I started to turn my body, getting ready to run, when the security light came on.

  ‘Josh?’ I frowned.

  He put up an open hand in greeting.

  With my fear of being murdered forgotten, something much worse replaced it. Oh God, he’s coming to give me a talking to. Maybe I should call the police first, just in case he’s here to take revenge.

  But he looked distraught, not aggressive. I moved towards him, still wary of his surreal presence.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m sorry to barge in like this, but …’ His words vanished as they caught in his throat. ‘I don’t know where else …’

  ‘Hey, it’s okay. Come, let’s go up to my flat. I’ll put the kettle on and make you a coffee?’ I replied, getting a strong whiff of brandy from his breath. I was still clutching my phone. I couldn’t trust him completely after what I’d done to him and his company, but I really wanted to, and my jumping heart betrayed my suppressed glee at seeing him again.

  ‘I think I need one.’ His voice was barely audible. From the way his body stooped, something weighed heavily on his mind and it made me feel terrible.

  We walked up the two flights of stairs in silence. Once inside my flat, Josh wandered aimlessly around, looking at my wall art while I made two cups of coffee. I’ve destroyed his life and he’s too nice to just come out and say so. Either that, or he’s playing the victim card to make me feel guilty while he’s actually pissed beyond words.

  I passed him his drink and said gently, ‘Let’s go and sit outside while it’s still mild.’

  He took his glass and gestured for me to lead the way. Jen had gifted me some lights for my roof terrace a few weeks ago, which I’d skilfully attached along the edge of the wall, and I switched them on one by one.

  ‘Wow, this looks lovely,’ he said as he dropped onto a wooden chair.

  ‘I’m not done yet.’ I lit three candles on the small wooden table. Josh slid off his jacket and placed it on my seat next to him like a knight of old.

  ‘I can’t sit on your coat, Josh. I’ll ruin it.’

  ‘I insist,’ he said.

  He lacked his usual playful suave confidence, further sinking the warship I’d been so proudly navigating these past few days.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked, refusing to take responsibility for my part in tearing up his life and reputation, too guilty to admit I felt really bad for what I’d done to him.

  ‘Domestic problems.’ He cast me a look with those enthralling eyes that left me weak. ‘I’m failing at everything these days.’

  Oh my God, I feel so awful! my thoughts screamed behind my caring expression.

  ‘You’re not a failure and you know it,’ I replied. ‘Look at all you’ve accomplished.’

  ‘None of that’s important compared to my nephew, who I’ve failed every day since my sister died.’

  My hand flew to my mouth. ‘Oh my God, Josh. I didn’t know.’

  He was so lost in thought he hadn’t heard me speak. ‘I feel as if I’m letting him slip through my fingers. No matter what I do, or how I approach him, he just locks me out,’ he explained, his breath-taking blue eyes looking pristine in the faint glare of the romantic light.

  ‘How old is he?’ I asked.

  ‘Sixteen,’ he replied hopefully, as if it were somehow a magic word that could unlock the boy’s behaviour to me.

  ‘Tough age,’ I said dampening his enthusiasm. ‘When did his mother die? Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

  He waved my apology away.

  ‘It’s okay. I’m here because I need to talk to someone. My sister committed suicide. My brother bullied her and my parents when they were alive. He dismissed her mostly because she fell pregnant at eighteen … and they were all so bloody perfect, you know?’ His voice broke.

  I just nodded, not about to break his train of thought.

  ‘I feel like I’m not doing enough to get him out of his shell, to show him how much I care. I was so wrapped up in my own life, travelling the world and having fun while Claire was teetering on the edge of a chair with a fucking noose around her neck.’

  My chest ached, empathetic to his bare sorrow. I placed my hand on his as tears drowned his clear eyes and fell onto his cheeks.

  ‘And now I’m abandoning Zack by throwing myself into my work instead. Some uncle, aye?’

  ‘Wait, Zack is Zack O’Neil? Of course,’ I said to myself as I remembered the handsome young man who had been hanging out with Paul recently. I’d thought he looked familiar. It all made sense where those anonymous files had come from—not that I’d say a word about it to Josh.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, almost recovered from his dread. ‘Do you know him? He was at your protest.’

  ‘Yes, I remember him. What a small world we live in.’

  Josh looked better from that small revelation, as if my knowing his nephew gave him some support that helped him carry the immense burden of his sister’s suicide and his perceived part in her fall from sanity.

  ‘I’ve spoken to him quite a few times. He’s an intelligent young man. He just seems very reserved, but most kids his age are,’ I said.

  ‘He told m
e he’s gay and that he thought I would … throw him out onto the streets because of it.’

  ‘Oh, so he did tell you.’ I took a sip of my coffee. ‘That was a big thing for him, you know. It shows he trusts you despite everything else that’s going on around you.’ I stroked his arm. Praising his ability as an uncle seemed to cheer him a little, but his eyes were tired—beautiful and weary.

  ‘I’d better go. I don’t even know why I came here.’ He pushed himself onto unsteady feet.

  I stood with him and faced him. He looked so sad. It took every ounce of control not to pull him into my arms and comfort him.

  ‘Josh, I think you should stay the night. You shouldn’t be alone,’ I said, not thinking of how it sounded like an opportunistic pick-up line.

  He simply swayed from side to side. ‘If you wouldn’t mind.’

  A few minutes later, we were lying on my bed, fully clothed. I closed my eyes as his hands caressed my hair and his warm breath tickled the hairs on my neck as he held me close. Under the same moonbeams that had scared me barely an hour ago, I lay still and listened to the heart-wrenching sound of him crying until sometime later, he finally fell asleep.

  Chapter 25

  Amber

  In the morning, the sound of Josh’s light snoring by the back of my neck awoke me. Having a man in my bed was surreal; it had been such a long time. Morning light shown through a sliver in my curtain. Josh’s hand was resting on my breast, while his face was buried in my neck. I wanted to laugh but refrained to keep from waking him up. I carefully slipped his hand off my breast to slide out from under him. I was dying for a strong cup of coffee, so I made quick work of my reluctant escape.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked as I headed toward the bedroom door on my tippy-toes.

  ‘Sorry,’ I whispered and turned. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you up.’

  ‘I wasn’t sleeping.’ He smiled mischievously.