The Hearts Series

by L.H. Cosway

  We hug tight, and as I go, I can feel him watching me the entire way to the door.

  I’ve always found mediation to be an uncomfortable process. Two opposing parties get together to try to find a solution to their disagreement, with a neutral third party hired to play the middle man between the two. It’s often a measure taken early on in an effort to save money. If an agreement can be made, then everyone can avoid the high costs of going to court.

  I knew from the start that the session organised to take place between Jay and Una Harris was going to be a tumultuous affair, and I wasn’t wrong. I was also aware that Jay wasn’t going to accept any offers from the newspaper. This was all a part of the dance for him, a part of whatever strange secrets he was keeping, and we had to go through the motions.

  The morning it’s scheduled, Dad’s in fine form, a swing in his usually stunted step. He’s been enjoying every moment of working on this case, and I think he has high hopes that a conclusion can be reached today. I don’t have it in me to shatter his optimism.

  I’m not keen on attending, but Dad insists I be there to take notes and the like. We arrive at the conference room early: me, Will, Dad, and Jay. The mediator is there waiting for us. A man named Jon Snow. Yes, I’m not joking. Jay and I both give each other a giddy look as we meet him. We both know the significance of his name. I think back to that first night Jay had moved in, when we’d had dinner and he’d teased me about my Game of Thrones T-shirt. A pang of nostalgia settles deep in my belly.

  Anyway, Jon Snow the mediator looks nothing like Jon Snow from TV. More’s the pity.

  We sit down at the long table and start to prepare for the session. Jay takes the chair beside mine, and when he sits down, his hand finds my knee, giving it a squeeze. The look I give him says, stop that. The look he gives me in return says, nope.

  His hand is still on my leg when Una Harris and what can only be described as an entourage arrives. She has at least four solicitors with her. I absently scan the generic-looking men and women in their designer suits before my gaze meets with a recognizable face. My eyes travel from that face and straight to Jay. When one of the solicitor’s mentions the man’s name, my suspicion levels hit the roof.

  Jay has some serious explaining to do.

  Among Harris’ party is Brian Scott, owner of The Daily Post. That shouldn’t be surprising. I knew there was a good chance he’d be here. What I hadn’t expected was to recognise him. He’s the old businessman Jay was staring at that night at the casino. The same man who’d left The Daily Post offices while Jay had been doing his street show, the one he stole something from.

  Jay gives my knee one last squeeze before letting go. He knows that I know. Obviously, he knew I was going to remember Mr Scott. He could have at least given me some warning, even if he wasn’t fully prepared to explain everything.

  That way my mouth wouldn’t be hanging so ridiculously open right now.

  I try to regain my composure by picking up some of the files in front of me and settling them into a very neat stack. The formal introductions are made by the mediator, and he outlines how the session is going to be run. Jay’s eyes are narrowed almost to slits as he looks at Brian, who’s sitting directly across from him on the other side of the table.

  Jesus.

  If looks could kill, Brian Scott would be gutted and chopped up into very small pieces, and those pieces would be carefully wrapped and sunk to the bottom of the ocean. I finally understand what Jessie meant when she spoke about the “white shotgun” look in Jay’s eyes. He certainly has a way of making people uncomfortable without having to move a muscle or say a word.

  I can’t understand the ferocity of his hostility toward the man. I know he owns the newspaper and everything, but it’s Una who’s been slandering him.

  Speaking of Miss Harris, my eyes meet hers very briefly from across the table. I’m not sure why she’s looking at me, but I make quick work of focusing my attention elsewhere. As I said before, the woman gives me the creeps. Today her hair is up in a French twist, her lips are red, and she’s wearing a black leather dress. I’m not joking. Altogether, the look is very femme fatale. Quite fitting for her, actually.

  The session progresses, and one of Brian Scott’s solicitors puts an offer on the table. “We’re prepared to make a once-off payment to Mr Fields in the amount of 25,000 euros to make up for any losses he might have made in his career due to the articles published. Miss Harris is also prepared to write an article retracting her claims about Mr Fields, alongside an official apology in the form of a letter. In exchange, Mr Fields will drop all legal proceedings against Miss Harris and the publication.”

  If I’m not mistaken, I think I hear Jay scoff. He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and pressing his palms together.

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “We should discuss this first,” says Dad.

  “No need. I’m not interested in their twenty-five grand or Miss Harris’ apology,” says Jay, his tone dismissive. He says “apology” like it’s a dirty word.

  Brian Scott whispers to his solicitor, and then the solicitor amends the offer. “We will increase the pay out to fifty thousand, and Miss Harris will schedule an interview on Radio One where she will make the apology over the air.”

  At this Una shoots a highly disgruntled look in Brian’s direction, folding her arms tightly over her chest. Clearly, she’s not happy with the radio interview idea. Brian’s look in return is bland. In person, he seems like a fairly ordinary, inoffensive old man, but there’s something nefarious beneath the surface. Something that suggests he’s not someone you’d want to get on the bad side of.

  “Wow, Brian,” says Jay in a fake friendly voice. “You really don’t want this shit to get to court, do you? I’m trying to figure out how a dick could have such a gigantic pussy.”

  I think every single person in the room draws in breath at the same exact moment. I bite on my lip, in all honesty, trying not to laugh. Trust Jay to say something like that in what’s supposed to be a formal, professional environment.

  Dad coughs loudly. “Mr Fields, that language is highly inappropriate.” He shoots a conciliatory look at Brian Scott. “I’m sorry for my client’s behaviour.”

  “I’m not sorry,” says Jay, eyeing Brian fiercely.

  “No need to apologise,” says Brian to Dad with a dismissive wave. “I know what kind of white trash I’m dealing with.”

  Oh, my God.

  “Well, would you look at that.” Jay leans farther over the table, studying Brian closely. Then he turns to Dad. “You know what that look means, Hugh? The ever-so-slight raising of the upper lip? It shows disgust. Do I disgust you, Brian? Do you find me distasteful?”

  Brian’s eyes slide past Jay before landing on Dad. “Could you control your client, Mr Brandon? He’s letting his emotions get the best of him.”

  “You know what I find distasteful?” Jay goes on, eyes darkening. “Degenerate old fucks like you.”

  Okay.

  “Seriously,” Una exclaims. “We should not have to deal with this type of behaviour.”

  “She’s right,” Jon Snow finally puts in. “Mr Fields, you need to be more respectful. This session is not about throwing barbs back and forth. We are trying to reach a conclusion satisfying to both parties.”

  Jay sits back, his arms falling to his sides. I reach over and lace my fingers through his beneath the table, unable to help myself. Despite everything, I need to show him my support. He squeezes back tightly.

  “Why should I be respectful when Brian’s showing me none?” Jay asks casually.

  One of the solicitors speaks. “I apologise for my client’s comment. Now, if we could get back to the matter at hand.”

  “I’m not talking about him calling me white trash. I could give a fuck about that. I’m talking about the way he’s looking at me.” Letting go of my hand, he leans forward again, talking to Una this time. “You know all about me, don’t you, Una? Why don’t you
tell Mr Scott how I know what he thinks of me?”

  “Oh, yes,” says Una, seeming pleased to have an opportunity to speak. She turns her head to Brian. “Mr Fields was raised by his uncle, Killian Fields, one of the foremost behavioural science academics in the United States. That’s where he gets his little…mind tricks from.”

  She says the last part with a tone of disdain.

  “Ah,” says Brian, for a brief moment looking uncomfortable before the bland expression is back in place. “Well, that’s very interesting. But I’d like to get back to business. I haven’t got all day.”

  “Oh, in that case, you can scoot right along. I’ve decided I’m not interested in a settlement. I’ll see you in court,” says Jay, folding his arms. I think he might also have his middle finger ever so subtly sticking up where it rests on his arm.

  Brian stares at Jay for a long moment, and Jay stares right back, his gaze never wavering. Jay has hardly paid any attention to Una since she arrived, and it makes something click into place for me. I don’t think Harris is the one Jay is targeting at all, despite all the horrible things she’s written about him.

  I think his real target is Brian Scott, and I have no idea why.

  Una rises from her seat and goes to link her arm through Brian’s. “Come on, let’s not waste any more of our time on his charade.” Brian nods to her and allows her to lead him to the door.

  Jay chuckles harshly as he watches them leave. “Yeah, you go on ahead. The ideal fucking pair, a garbage bag and a trash can.”

  I immediately put my hand to my mouth when he says it, laughter bubbling up, because Una’s black leather dress does look an awful lot like a bin bag. And the sad fact is, she probably paid more than I earn in a month for it.

  Dad’s staring at Jay with disapproval, and Will is sitting sternly in his seat. I don’t think either one of them is happy with how Jay is behaving. Now I feel bad for not warning them, because I’d expected this all along.

  We leave the room quietly, Jay walking behind me. When we get out onto the street, he asks, “So, lunch anyone? My treat.”

  “No,” says Dad. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now. But thank you for offering.”

  “Me, neither,” says Will, and they both start walking in the direction of the office, not far from our current location. I’m left standing alone with Jay, the sounds of afternoon traffic passing us by.

  “Well, they aren’t happy with me,” he observes.

  “Nope.” I try to suppress a grin. I shouldn’t want to smile, but there was something so hilarious about Jay mouthing off to Una and Brian. I mean, those two are probably never spoken to like that. I bet they spend half their lives having their arses licked.

  Jay sticks his hands in his pockets. “Well, are you going to come to lunch with me, Watson? Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

  I glance at him, and it all becomes too much. The laughter bubbles forth, and it just won’t stop. I clutch at my belly, I’m laughing so hard.

  Jay grins. “What? What are you laughing at?”

  “It’s just,” I manage, followed by more laughter. “The look on Brian’s face when you called him a pussy. He really wasn’t expecting it.”

  Jay throws his arm around my shoulders and leads me forward. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a funny fuck. We’re going for lunch.”

  I think, but I’m not certain, that I see Una Harris and Brian Scott sitting in a fancy car by the side of the road, watching us as we walk away. I just about manage to calm myself down by the time we reach the café.

  Twenty-Six

  Months go by. After a couple of weeks of keeping a painful distance from me, Jay starts coming over to the house. Almost every other evening he shows up and we sit together, each of us focusing on our own tasks. He’s creating a brand-new show from scratch, which can apparently take a really long time to put together.

  It seems magic and illusion doesn’t come easy. It takes dedication almost to the point of obsession. My little dressmaking business grows, and Jay even helps me set up a website. The man is a genius with computers. He also helps me with orders, packing, and doing post office runs, which kind of melts my heart.

  We rarely touch, but when we do there are fireworks. Silent explosions. And all from an innocent hand on my elbow. Our arms brushing absently against each other. Sometimes he’ll gently pull my hair out of the messy ponytail it’s in and redo it for me.

  I love when he runs his fingers through my hair.

  I always thought that in order to have a relationship, there needed to be sex. But really, that’s not the case. I’ve grown closer to Jay without sex than I ever had when there was sex. Not that the sex lasted very long, anyway.

  Still, I ache for him.

  I long for the day when he’ll allow his touches to linger, to transform into something more. I patiently wait for the circus that his court case has become to be over.

  The newspapers in both Ireland and the UK have caught on to the case, and in the weeks coming up to the court date, it gets a lot of attention. As the day draws near, I notice something building in Jay, a kind of electricity. The anticipation of relief for it all to be done with.

  A week before the trial, I get home late. I’d spent a couple of hours at Michelle’s house, hanging out with her and Jessie. Yes, over these past few months their sex affair has transformed into something of a permanent thing. I’m not sure if either of them ever broached the subject of having a relationship, but that’s what seems to have happened.

  They’re happy together, and I couldn’t be any more surprised by it all. I just hope the day never comes when Michelle decides she wants to go back to men.

  It’s dark out on a cold January night as I try to locate my house key in my handbag. I’m rooting away when a gloved hand slides roughly over my mouth and a strong body presses me hard against the door.

  I feel something sharp dig into my belly, just before a male voice threatens, “Scream, and I’ll cut you.”

  My heart pounds fast, sweat breaking out all over my body.

  I don’t scream. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I’m in too much shock to react at all.

  The hand covering my mouth goes to my hair, grabbing a fistful of it and pulling down hard. A strangled whimper comes out of me, but it’s barely audible. In my head, I wonder if this is the man from the park finally come to make good on his threat.

  “You’re gonna give Jay Fields a message,” the voice continues, the very sound of it grating on me.

  All I can do is nod.

  “You tell him that if he shows up at court next week, we’ll come for you again, and the next time we’ll leave a mark.”

  “We”? Is there someone else with this faceless person? I nod again, and the pressure is gone. I stand in place for several seconds, unable to turn around, but I think I can hear the click of high heels alongside the boots as they walk away. A car engine starts up somewhere nearby, and my body finally kicks into action. I turn and swiftly run out of the driveway just in time to see a black vehicle speed by. The windows aren’t tinted, and I’m not sure if my eyes are deceiving me when I see Una Harris staring at me from the passenger seat, a sick grin on her face.

  What the hell?

  It wasn’t the man from the park at all. My hands are shaky as I try to find my phone. I take it out and quickly pull up Jay’s number.

  “Watson,” he answers, his voice warm.

  “I need you,” I say, and there’s no mistaking my fear.

  “You at home?” he asks, serious now.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  I try to be quiet as I step inside, knowing Dad’s asleep upstairs. I’ve just been through one of the most frightening experiences of my life, second only to when Mum was killed, but there was barely a sound made. It all happened so quickly, without much needing to be said at all, and I can still feel the knife the faceless man had pressed into my belly.

  There’s certainly much more to Una Harr
is than meets the eye, because the woman I saw just now was definitely no stranger to seeing people scared out of their wits, to threatening them to get what she wants.

  On unsteady legs, I close the front door and walk into the kitchen, turning on the light and sitting down at the table. I don’t know how much time passes when the door opens again, and Jay strides in with purpose. He sees me sitting there, white as a ghost, and instantly he’s kneeling before me, taking my hands in his.

  “Watson, what happened?” he asks, looking like he wants to hurt someone.

  “I…somebody attacked me as I was coming home. They had a knife.”

  His eyes go darker than I’ve ever seen them before, his grip tightening. “What? Are you hurt? Did you get a look at their face?” His hands start to move over my body, looking for injuries that aren’t there.

  Una Harris’ sadistic grin flashes in my mind, and my heart pounds. I’m just about to tell Jay about how the man threatened to hurt me if he shows up in court next week. But I look into his eyes and suddenly realise that I can’t do it. I can’t tell him. If I do, then all these months working toward the trial will be for nothing. He won’t be able to clear his name and might never be able to get his career back on track.

  I won’t do it.

  Somehow knowing that Una Harris would go to the lengths of getting some thug to threaten me with bodily harm makes me more determined to see her get what she deserves.

  “They didn’t hurt me. I think they were just trying to scare me.” I pause, thinking on my feet. “They tried to grab my handbag, but then a neighbour’s car drove by, and they ran. I’m okay now.” Lying to him feels awful, but, as Jay once told me, necessary evils are everywhere in this world.

  He pulls me into his embrace. “Jesus. You shouldn’t be coming home this late on your own. Next time, you make sure someone is with you. Or hell, call me, and I’ll escort you home personally.”

  He’s too flustered to read me, which is a good thing, because if he did, he’d see I was lying through my teeth. Something in my chest clenches at the fact that me being in danger has made him this way. He’s just always so on. I’ve rarely seen anything escape him. Until now.