“You really want to start digging into the ethics of this situation? I don’t know if that would be wise for any of us, Ray.”
He growled into the phone for another minute. When he faced me again, he was not a happy camper. “Some sort of settlement might be reached if I was assured that video would never again be seen. It would also involve you keeping your mouth shut about anything to do with my family.”
“I also want a reference reflecting my prior work history as opposed to today’s unfortunate events.”
“All right.”
I tipped my chin. Accepted. “I’d also prefer it if your son chose not to press assault charges.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” With a frown, Ray looked to his wife, not Chris. Big surprise who held the reins in that marriage. Not. His wife was a Harpy Queen of Darkness if I’d ever seen one. The chances of me not getting a criminal record tonight were slim.
At any rate, the Delaney’s had oodles more money than me if it came down to duking it out in court with regards to my emotional distress, et cetera. Best just not to go there. Doubtless, Ray would destroy my reputation any other way he could. The doors of CDA’s social elite would be closed to me now. They’d trash talk me all over town and I’d probably never find work.
However this went down, CDA and I were done. A pity, I’d liked it here. The town had a nice vibe and it was neither too big nor too small. What with the lake and the hills, the town was insanely beautiful. For me, it’d been just right.
Oh, well.
There was always my possible looming stint in jail for punching Chris to look forward to. I should try to be positive. Perhaps I’d just get community service or something, a fine. I wonder if I’d be deemed a flight risk and locked up regardless.
God, when I actually started thinking it over, my options were terrifying. The skin on my arms goose pimpled despite the warm evening air. One small tiny miniscule part of me even regretted punching Chris.
No. Never. I’d reclaimed what little remained of my pride by walloping the douche. My hand throbbed in agreement. Sometimes, violence and mayhem just were the answer.
CHAPTER SIX
“Oh good,” said Vaughan in a dry voice. “You found tequila.”
He and Officer Andy stood by the dining table. Both staring down at me with disapproving eyes. Little did they know how ridiculous and pompous they appeared. People, so blah. Especially men.
“Yeah, turns out we didn’t have to go next door after all.” I smiled. “There was some hiding at the back of your pantry.”
“Was there?”
“Hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
“You know, I was thinking about all those celebrity mugshots you see in the magazines where they’re a hot mess,” I said from my seat on the floor in the corner of the kitchen. “And it occurred to me that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me to really go all out there and experience the moment to its fullest.”
“Really?” he drawled.
“Absolutely. Life is short, Vaughan.” I grinned. “And short or not, I intend to get one.”
“One what?”
“One life. Just the one. I’m not greedy.”
“Right.” The dude did not look convinced. Gosh, I liked him. He was so pretty. He and his cock were the highlights of my day. After a few more drinks? I might even tell him in great rambling detail. What fun. Wonder if he’d let me take a picture for my wallet. Of his face, of course.
“I’ll replace the booze,” I said. “I promise.”
“I’m more worried about your liver than the booze.” He walked over, liberating the bottle from my hand and taking a sniff of the stuff. “Surprised it’s still drinkable. My sister left it here years ago. It was cheap shit then, can’t imagine it’s improved.”
“It’s a little rough on the palate.”
“And you’re drinking straight from the bottle? Classy.”
“I didn’t want to put you out by dirtying a glass.”
“Kind of you.” He took a slug and winced, screwing his whole face up. “Christ, Lydia.”
I sputtered out a laugh. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s fucking awful.”
“The first few mouthfuls were the hardest, it’s true. But after that, the lining of your throat goes numb. Or it’s burned away,” I hastily amended. “I’m not really sure which.”
With a dubious look, Vaughan handed me back the bottle. Then he took up position standing beside me, legs crossed at the ankle, leaning his hip against the kitchen counter. Despite all of the people invading his house in their wedding finery, he’d remained relaxed. Bare feet, skin a couple of shades paler than his arms. Loose threads hanging from the bottoms of his old blue jeans.
For not the first time, I wondered about him and his dramas. If possible, I should help. God knows, he’d more than earned any and all assistance. Few people would have been so understanding.