A throat being cleared pulls my head around to a dark-haired woman sitting behind a chrome and glass desk. She’s groomed, as you’d expect of a personal assistant; her dark hair is piled in a neat bun on the top of her head, the makeup she is wearing is flawless as well as the button to the neck blouse. She’s around her late twenties and looks too young for the style of clothing she’s chosen. But who am I to complain.
Her raised eyebrow tells me she knows exactly what I was doing, and that she doesn’t find it amusing in any way.
“I’m sorry,” I start with an apology. “I see Brendan is around.”
“He’s busy,” she interrupts before I can say another word.
“I have a feeling he’ll make time for me. Tell him Ramon McKenzie is here to see him.”
Her eyes widen in surprise before she pushes away from the desk. “One moment.”
She stands, her back ramrod straight, before she disappears quickly, her high heels clicking as she walks.
It reminds me of a clock counting down the seconds and it makes me wonder when I’ll get out of this place. Feeling uncomfortable, I fuss with the collar of my shirt, which feels like a noose tightening around my neck, choking me.
Hearing the door to Brendan’s office open, I quickly straighten and make sure I look relaxed before I turn to face whoever has just appeared.
It’s him—an older version of Andrew. Why am I only seeing this now? Looking closely though, Brendan has aged a lot over the years and looks to have a darkness hanging over him.
“Thought you’d be knocking on my door before long.” Brendan turns and heads back into his office.
I follow.
Closing the door behind me, I’m thrown for a loop. His office is what I expected the whole of his company offices to look like, Victorian—such a contrast to the reception area.
“You better take a seat,” Brendan offers as though he’s being forced to be polite.
“I will, thank you.” I take the seat offered and while we size each other up, I decide the direct approach is the best one to take. I open my mouth, but Brendan interrupts me before I can.
“This is an unexpected visit. It’s been what, nine years, four months since Andrew died and this is the first time you’ve visited me.”
He’s trying to rattle me, which makes me wonder what reception I would have received had I asked Jackie to make me an appointment with him. This morning, I’d decided a surprise visit would be best, and would catch him off guard.
The bitterness coming from him has lasted a long time. I’ve always wondered about the night Andrew was drinking and ended up getting behind the wheel for the last time. Was it an argument with his old man that sent him spiraling out of control?
“This isn’t a social call,” I bite out. “Why are you coming after me?”
His eyes dance away before he hides his reaction to my words.
So Michael was right.
“You do realize that if someone is injured or even worse, killed, you’ll be looking at charges—possibly murder charges. All I’ll have to do is point the finger in your direction and every aspect of your business will be picked at, including your financial records. They’ll trace every dollar you’ve spent over the past so many years. Why the hell would you risk all that you’ve built to cause trouble for me?”
I know he blames me for Andrew being gay. Apparently, if it wasn’t for me, then Andrew would have been happily married with a couple of kids. That so isn’t true, and we both know that.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sneers.
“Oh, I know good and well what I’m talking about. People talk,” I bluff, “and this is your, one and only, warning to leave McKenzie’s alone before you end up getting someone killed and losing everything when you wind up in prison. Because I’m telling you now, if someone so much as gets injured because of something you’ve planned, my family won’t stop until you are. Legally.”
I hate this. I hate that I’m sitting here threatening another businessman because I know he’s trying to shut us down for good. He surprises me that he would risk all his wealth, and that of his wife and daughter, to make me suffer for something I had no control over. When Andrew killed himself, I hadn’t seen him for over seven months. That is one of the reasons that I do feel guilty about his death. Perhaps if I’d been around, I could have seen this happening. Maybe I could have done something to prevent him getting behind the wheel that fateful night. Maybe he would have had someone to talk to about his dad but I can’t let the maybes weigh me down. In fact, I stopped thinking along those lines a long time ago because it made no difference to the outcome. Andrew had still lost his life.
Brendan still hasn’t said anything and is sitting behind his large, mahogany desk lost in thoughts of his own.
“What would happen if your family knew you were gay?” Brendan suddenly asks. What he’s leading up to I have no clue.
“My family knows that I’m gay and fully support me.”