by JD Nixon
The next morning was a repeat of the previous day. I met Patricia at her hotel and we waited for Corella in the foyer before being whisked away, somehow managing to survive her scary driving to arrive unscathed at the mediation centre. The nervous mediator was waiting for us once more, not looking particularly thrilled at that moment with his choice of employment. We sat in the dreary waiting room, with varying levels of patience, for Mr Warburton to show up again.
His strident voice floated down the hall before him, but it had a different tenor. I believed I could detect a note of victory, rather than the angst at being late that dominated his voice the previous day. The reason for his smugness soon became apparent, and I gave him a point for strategy.
Preceding him into the room was his own security officer, a tall, broad-shouldered man in his late twenties with thick, wavy black hair and eyes so dark blue in colour they almost appeared black. The first thing I noticed was that he was very attractive; the second was that he was wearing the dark blue trousers and pale blue buttoned shirt of Heller’s bitter rival business, Select Security.
We sized each other up in an instant and he nodded at me curtly, a professional courtesy I hadn’t expected from a Select staffer, given the hostile relationship between the two businesses.
I nodded back, equally brusque.
Warburton said in an overloud voice while pointing at me aggressively, “That’s her! You make sure she stays away from me.” Then to me in a nasty tone, “He’ll crack your fucking head open if you come anywhere near me again.”
The Select man rolled his eyes behind his client’s back, and I took an immediate liking to him.
Warburton then turned his words of wisdom on Patricia. “I’m thinking of getting a restraining order against you for setting that bitch on me yesterday, Tricia.”
Corella wasn’t letting that go. “I wouldn’t suggest you go down that path, Mr Warburton. There were a number of witnesses to yesterday’s fracas who will swear on oath that you were the one who attacked this young lady first by pushing her in the chest. That you then physically assaulted her and that she was only attempting to restore some order to the situation when she kneed you in the ba . . . er . . . testicles.”
My smile at Warburton was sweet and innocent – St Matilda the Peacemaker. His face reddened even further with anger. I thought I saw the Select man’s mouth tremble in suppressed amusement, before he resumed his flat, expressionless demeanour. It was so fleeting though that I couldn’t say for sure I hadn’t only imagined it.
“It doesn’t matter what you fucking think. I’m entitled to hire a security guard if I feel that my safety will be compromised by my wife’s actions,” he snarled back. He glared at me. “And that bitch just better keep her distance.”
I yawned ostentatiously when he finished his tirade, and leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs out in front of me. I crossed my ankles with practiced nonchalance, laced my hands behind my head and stared at Warburton. He clenched his fists and turned to the Select man.
“Can you see that? She’s fucking harassing me!” he blustered. “Get her to stop it or I’m calling the police.” We all stared at him then, until the absurdity of his comment finally sank into his thick skull. “Are we going to start this fucking meeting or not? I haven’t got all day to waste like some people,” he shouted and pushed past the mediator to barge into the negotiation room.
Everyone reluctantly followed, except for the Select man. I settled Patricia in the room, before sitting down again outside in the waiting area. The Select man remained standing for a while, his height intimidating from my lower vantage point. I wasn’t too daunted though, as I spent most of my days surrounded by gigantic men. Eventually he took a seat opposite and looked at me.
“Bick Barnes,” he said, offering his hand.
His manners pleasantly surprised me. I leaned over and took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Tilly Chalmers.”
“Tilly? That’s an unusual name.”
I smiled. “I was just about to say the same about Bick. Mine’s short for Matilda, my great-grandmother’s name. I hate it.”
He smiled back, and it was a very nice smile. I suddenly had an enormous desire to make him smile again.
“Mine’s short for Bickley, an old family name. The oldest son of the oldest son traditionally is cursed with it as his first name. My father decided to revive the tradition when he came to this country even though nobody else cares about it any more, and it hasn’t been used for years. I haven’t the heart to tell him the tradition won’t continue, as I have absolutely no intention of ever having children. Especially if I have to call them Bickley.”
I laughed. “I’m with you there.” He didn’t need to know I’d been told that I would probably never have children anyway. Didn’t mean that I’d wanted them in the first place, I told myself fiercely.
We sat in silence for a while.
“I’ve heard it’s good to work at Heller’s.”
“I’ve no complaints.” I wouldn’t talk about Heller to the competition, no matter how cute he was.
“I’ve heard he treats his staff fairly and respects his clients.”
“You could do worse. He can be a real hardarse when he wants though.”
“I can handle that. I just can’t stand unethical behaviour. Do you know my boss?”
“Big, ugly bastard.”
Bick laughed. “You’ve met him then.”
I nodded. As I’ve said before, I had no reason to be fond of Chris Kirnin, the owner of Select Security. He was the man responsible for my lack of options about having children.
“I’m not sure I agree with some of his recent business decisions. Some of our clients are very dodgy. I’d love to abandon ship. Do you know if Heller is hiring at the moment?”
“I’ll ask him. Give me your phone number and I’ll let you know. He’s always looking out for good men.”
“Thanks, Tilly. I really appreciate that.” He smiled again. I had to remind myself that I had a boyfriend and had no cause to be so impressed by a good-looking man with a cute smile and beautiful eyes.
He pulled out a Select business card from his wallet and wrote his mobile number on the back. I searched through my pockets for a Heller’s card and wrote my name and number on the back and handed it to him. Another smile. I wondered if he knew its effect on women. He appeared to be naturally friendly, but you could never be sure with men.
“The Heller’s uniform is so much cooler than Select’s,” he admitted grudgingly. “I’m sick of looking like a cop wannabe.” It was true. His uniform’s similarity to a police uniform was no mistake, his boss obviously trying to force an aura of instant authority on his staff. I was surprised Select hadn’t been sued by the cops for copyright infringement.
I laughed. “How incredibly shallow of you, Bick. That sounds like something I’d say!”
Another smile from him and another silence, although I was aware that he glanced over at me a few times. Abruptly, the door to the mediation room crashed open and Warburton stormed out to take a phone call. We both half-rose from our seats.
“No, you look!” he shouted into the receiver. “I told that dickhead that if he didn’t accept my fucking offer by last Friday then I was taking it off the table. So you can tell him to shove his counteroffer up his arse. I’m no longer fucking interested. Do you understand or are you completely stupid? No? Good!”
He stamped back into the room, slamming the door, not even sparing us a glance. We sat down again.
“Your client’s a real charmer, isn’t he?” I commented.
“A veritable prince amongst men,” Bick replied dryly. “Did you really knee him in the balls yesterday?”
“Yeah, but he deserved it. The jerk was groping my boobs.”
He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “I wish I’d been here to see that! He’s really pissed off at you. I think he was hoping you’d have another go at him, so he could ask me to beat you up.”
I looked him up
and down. “I hope not. I wouldn’t like to tangle with you. You’d have me for breakfast.”
“I think I might enjoy tangling with you actually, Tilly Chalmers.” Another smile. A bit shyer this time?
I smiled back. “Are you flirting with me, Bickley Barnes?”
“I’m trying to, but obviously not doing a very subtle job.”
“I have a boyfriend.”
“That’s okay. He’s not here and I promise I won’t tell him.”
I shook my head, smiling. “You guys.”
He shook his head in mock-contrition. “Us guys.”
My phone rang and I answered. It was Heller, of course.
“Everything all right, Matilda?”
“So far, so good. He’s been mouthing off a bit, but hasn’t laid a hand on me yet.”
“Good.”
“Something interesting though,” and I smiled at Bick. “He’s hired a Select man to protect himself from me.” And I’m sure that even Bick could hear Heller’s shout of laughter ringing down the line. I had to hold the phone from my ear momentarily.
“It’s not funny, Heller,” I said crankily, and turned around so Bick couldn’t hear any more of the conversation. “He’s serious. He’s scared of me. He wants to bait me so this guy beats me up. And he’s big.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. I’m going to come over to check on you.”
“No! Don’t you dare! Everything’s okay,” I whispered furiously.
“Matilda.”
“I said, don’t you dare. You never go and check on any of the men, so don’t even start thinking you’re going check on me!”
He exhaled heavily, his familiar, long-suffering sigh noisy in my ear. “Calm down please, Matilda. Ring me the second the job’s finished for the day. And if anything happens, ring me. Promise.”
“I promise.” I paused and became sweeter instantly. “Thank you, Heller.”
He sighed again. “Matilda. You drive me crazy sometimes.”
“Only sometimes? I’m disappointed in myself.”
He laughed softly. “I’ll see you later. Take care.”
We hung up. I turned back to Bick, who’d been listening in on my conversation with a deplorable lack of manners that would have shamed his mother.
“Heller would appreciate it if you didn’t beat me up,” I smiled.
“Well, I can’t promise anything,” he teased. “I’ll try not to, but only if you promise not to beat me up. I’m a little concerned for the safety of my family jewels.”
I giggled. “Agreed.” I leaned forward and held my hand out again and he shook it, sealing the deal.
We didn’t get to say another word as the door to the negotiation room slammed back and Warburton stormed out again. This time though, his insults were hurled over his shoulder at Patricia. His lawyer, clearly appalled by whatever had just occurred, followed him meekly. Warburton stopped and turned to berate Patricia some more.
“I never knew you were such a gold-digging harpy, Tricia. Why don’t you just drain the fucking blood out of my body too? Would that be enough for you, you greedy bitch? And all just because I fucked a few little sluts while we were married! We all know the reason for that, don’t we, Tricia? You’ve always been so fucking frigid, if everybody wants to know the truth, and wouldn’t open your legs unless there were diamonds involved. Just because of that, you think I should hand over half – can you believe it Gerry, fucking half – of my wealth. Money that I’ve earned myself with my own hard work! Half of that should go to a fucking frigid rich bitch who spends her life shopping and playing tennis and couldn’t even suck my dick once a year on my birthday without gagging. And that’s what they call fucking justice in this country, Gerry!”
Patricia was in tears, still standing in the negotiation room, clutching onto the back of her chair as if barely able to support herself. Warburton took what I thought to be a hostile step back towards her, his fists clenched in anger. Not wanting to take him on again, afraid that he would set Bick onto me, I immediately sprang to my feet. My intention was to move past him into the room to protect and support Patricia to her car and get her away from his abusive tirade. I can only presume that he took my approach to be threatening to him personally, otherwise I can’t explain why, as I walked towards him, he attacked me again without any provocation or warning.
He butted me backwards so hard that I stumbled and fell over my chair, knocking it aside and sprawling against the wall, my arms and legs everywhere. Seriously pissed off, I launched myself upwards and rushed towards him, aiming to force him against the wall again, and if necessary, repeat the knee-meeting-groin scenario from yesterday. It was one of my only moves, to be honest.
He had other ideas though and came towards me with fists swinging, deciding to take all of his aggression for the day out on me. He slogged me with his clenched fist across my jaw, flinging my head sideways, making me stagger and fall. Oh God, the pain! I could hear the screams and shouts of shock from the others.
I stabilised myself as soon as the world stopped spinning around me, hauling myself to my feet with the help of Corella, only too conscious of the incredible pain in my jaw.
“Control your client!” Corella screamed at Bick as she assisted me to a chair. He shook his head, as if he’d been in a daze, and stepped over to Warburton, facing him warily.
“That’s enough, Mr Warburton. Things have gone too far,” he asserted in the calm, authoritative voice that we were all taught as security officers. Warburton stared at him blankly, as if Bick had spoken to him in an unfamiliar language. Clarity slowly returned and he stared at the Select man, his upper lip curling in a sneer.
“What the fuck? I hired you to protect me from her!”
“That’s enough,” repeated Bick firmly. “Best if you leave now.”
“Didn’t you see her? The bitch came at me! She was trying to attack me! I was only defending myself.”
“She didn’t touch you, Mr Warburton,” Bick said flatly. “You assaulted her and we all saw it. Best if you leave now before the situation becomes any worse.”
“Un-fucking-believable!” Warburton kicked out at a chair so that it skidded across the brown vinyl, crashing into another. “I’m the victim here, not that bitch!”
Looking back on it, I probably shouldn’t have said anything at that point, maintaining my injured dignity. But, well, I’ll be the first to admit that prudence has never been one of my strong points.
“You need some help,” I suggested nastily, holding my jaw. “You have real anger management problems.”
“Fuck you!”
“See what I mean.”
He charged at me, head down. Chaos erupted in the room. Corella and I, with hurried inelegance, scrabbled out of his way in different directions, while Patricia was a mess, collapsed onto a chair, bawling her eyes out. The mediator had long-scrammed, hopefully not to call the police. Gerry was sitting on a chair, his hand over his eyes, probably rueing ever taking on the case.
Bick showed his mettle confronting the angry man, no longer bothering with polite requests to leave. He ran up from behind, throwing his arms around Warburton’s arms and chest in a bear hug of a tackle, stopping him in his tracks. Warburton thrashed around in his arms with the strength of a man infected with fury.
“Hey! You can just settle down,” instructed Bick, his huge arms straining with the effort of controlling the angry man.
I rushed over to help subdue him and between us, we managed to press him up against the wall in an uncomfortable hold, his arms behind his back, his face crushed against the splotchy paintwork.
“Settle down,” suggested Bick again.
Suddenly the fight left Warburton and his limbs relaxed in our hold. “I’m settled,” he said in a muffled voice. “Let me go. You’re hurting me.”
Bick and I exchanged a glance. I shook my head. I didn’t trust him.
“We’re not sure about that, Mr Warburton,” Bick said.
“Please.”
“Okay, this is what we’re going to do. My colleague here is going to release you and I’ll see if you behave after that.”
Bick nodded at me and I let go of Warburton and stepped away from the reach of his fists, but still close enough to help if needed.
Warburton remained calm and Bick slowly released him from his hold as well.
Not making any eye contact with any of us, Warburton silently adjusted his clothes and smoothed down his hair, his face returning to a more normal colour.
Corella walked up to him. “You have been behaving like a maniac. You have personally threatened Mrs Warburton and attacked this young lady two days in a row. I will be advising Mrs Warburton to take out a restraining order against you and to cease these negotiations immediately. Then we’ll just take the whole thing to court. Is that what you want?” she spoke angrily.
“No,” Warburton protested weakly, probably adding up the costs in his head. “Just please, keep this bitch . . . this person away from me. I’ll come back tomorrow and I’ll behave. I promise.” And Gerry and Bick helped him from the room.
Bick threw me an apologetic glance backwards. I had no time to respond before I put my arm around Patricia’s waist and, with the help of her lawyer, assisted her back to her car. I stayed with her for a while that night and we shared dinner again. She hadn’t wanted me to stay the night with her, clinging to her last remnant of independence, but it was obvious that she was terrified. So I sat with her as she heavily self-medicated with wine again, talking endlessly about the day’s events.
Once more I offered to stay with her, but she saw me to the door, insisting that after some sleep, she would no longer be afraid.
Chapter 7
After leaving, I wearily rang Heller to beg a ride back home. He arrived quickly and I flopped against the front passenger seat, closing my eyes. He looked at me with grim eyes and ran his hand gently over my jaw, which was already starting to bruise.
“What happened?”
“The jerk belted me. Took me by surprise. He was so angry. It was frightening. Thank God Bick was there, or he might have hurt me even more.”
