by J P Sayle
“If you’re trying to distract me, Manny, it won’t work.” Her use of his pet name had a smile tilt his plush lips as she gave him a knowing smirk. “Sooooo, what are we going to do about your feelings for Christina?”
Brody
“Chief, the boss has just rung down to say the meeting has been brought forward, and you’re needed up in the conference room, like now.”
Ellie’s soft, lyrical voice floated through the open doorway. Brody gave Ellie a fleeting nod of acknowledgement.
With a concerted effort, he pulled his thoughts away from the horrors in the files in front of him. He stacked the documents he’d been reading into a pile. The weight of responsibility was already suffocating him. The knowing what was coming didn’t make it any easier.
He stood, feeling ten years older. The squeaking chair had a loud huff greet his ears as he picked up his uniform jacket, checking for creases before slipping it over his shoulders. The navy jacket fit like a glove, so much so he always felt it was going to choke him when he did the buttons up to his neck.
“Stop your huffing. I don’t need a new chair, Ellie. This one has at least several more years in it yet.” They’d been skirting this subject for months. His old, battered leather chair had character as far as he could see, whereas Ellie thought it was only fit for one thing, the tip.
A chuckle escaped at the muttered response. He picked up the files, tucking them under his arm, and strode past his personal assistant.
“And no, that chair is as sturdy as they come. I won’t be falling on my backside any time soon.” Brody flicked his finger down Ellie’s cute upturned button nose, humour dancing in his eyes. Ellie never failed to lift his mood.
A big belly laugh roared out at the fierce mutinous scowl Ellie wore and how ridiculous he looked trying to be antagonistic. His PA stood five foot four, bordered on skinny, and probably weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet. His eccentric clothing always reminded Brody of one of those tiny dogs that posh owners liked to dress up. Not that he had the courage to voice that.
Ellie’s dress sense bordered on bizarre. Today’s ensemble consisted of tight bright blue flowered trousers, with a navy blue-and-pinked-striped jumper tucked in to show off his skinny frame. Styled silver-blond hair made it appear Ellie was wearing a hat on the back of his head. The shock of blue hair that was his fringe was styled up and away from his gorgeous face, giving him a distinct look of a smurf. Again, Brody was not brave enough to mention that out loud, well, not if he wanted to survive the day.
Ellie’s silver eyes rolled to the ceiling at Brody’s antics. As he strode past, Brody’s massive shoulders shook with laughter, making Ellie grin at his retreating back. He was pleased he’d finally managed to remove the look of sadness that seemed to hang around Brody since he’d returned from his holiday. There was something off about him, and as yet Ellie hadn’t been able to wheedle it out of him, which for them was unusual.
He gave a silent sigh and strolled back to his overflowing desk, diving back into the maelstrom that had started the minute Brody returned to work. He gave a fleeting thought of suggesting drinks after work when his phone rang. He shrugged off his worry for now, reaching for the phone.
Brody felt the disquiet from the last seven days—not that he was counting—dim a little under the genuine laughter Ellie never failed to draw from him. Brody still thanked his lucky stars for their chance meeting. His earlier thought about Ellie’s behaviour brought back the night they’d met.
He’d been leaning against the bar in Pulse. His intelligent grey-green eyes taking in everything around him as he sipped dreadful warm beer the bartender had the cheek to charge him ten quid for. The urge to ring Aaden and insist he get his backside down there immediately had his hand slide into his light grey form-fitting trousers. Then he remembered, he’d said he’d be incommunicado.
He sighed.
Aaden wouldn’t answer him so what was the point wasting time. Brody reined in his growing anger at being stood up. He’d done it too many times to Aaden, cancelling at the last minute because something work related scuppered his personal plans. He just wished he’d received Aaden’s text before he’d dragged his arse to this, from what he could see, dingy club.
His gaze flicked over the packed room. The large warehouse conversion offered little to see. A long bar covered one wall, allowing patrons to not spend three hours queuing for a drink, and as far as Brody could see, that was the best thing about the place. The remaining space had a few scattered high tables that looked as if they’d seen better days. The wooden dance floor took up the whole of the middle of the room and was crowded. The colourful strobe lights cast an eerie glow over the withering bodies dancing to the pulsing music. The sound was so loud it bounced off the large walls, distorting the songs. The bass overrode everything and thundered through his body.
Brody felt his teeth rattle in his head. He grumbled, wondering how he’d forgotten how noisy it could be when he’d agreed to meet Aaden in a club.
He rubbed at his ruffled dark hair, considering leaving when one of the strobe lights lit up the corner of the dance floor nearest to him. A silver-blond head caught Brody’s attention, and he stepped forward without thinking. For a moment he thought Aaden had sent Nick. Only as he moved closer, he realised the guy was too thin.
Brody growled low in his throat, marching forward through the throng of bodies, his gaze narrowed on the scene in front of him. The slight blond guy, dressed in a flamboyant pink organza ruffled shirt and tight-fitting brown jeans, was pushed towards the dark corner by a large ugly fucker and his friend, who looked like a bulldog chewing a wasp. The glint of fear he witnessed as he drew closer had him fully prepared to wade in on the two large fuckers. He lost his footing, and his mouth hung open when the little spitfire drop-kicked the biggest arsehole to the floor before he could blink. His friend, seemingly wanting no part of what was happening, disappeared into the crowded dance floor.
Brody shook his head, grinning. He let the surprise go, hauling the guy on the floor up just as the bouncer arrived. He explained what he’d witnessed, happily helping the bouncer decant the arsehole out of the club.
Brody dusted his hands down his trousers, turning back to the petite blond, who’d followed him. The bouncer shut the doors, giving a nod of thanks before he walked off.
Brody couldn’t help but smile at the little urchin when he offered his tiny hand and a big grin.
“Hi, I’m Ellie.” His twinkling eyes gleamed with mirth, lighting his cherub face.
Taking the offered hand, Brody shouted over the bass, “Hi, I’m Brody.”
Brody’s eyes narrowed at the strength in Ellie’s grip. He gave Ellie a sweeping glance, noticing his small frame was deceiving. There was power in Ellie’s wiry body and what he’d considered skinny, he could see now was lean muscle. If he’d been attracted to smaller guys, then Brody was sure he’d have pursued Ellie.
He laughed, feeling a little insulted when Ellie barely gave him the once-over.
That showed me.
Somehow over the course of the evening Ellie declared they’d be friends. Brody couldn’t find it in him to disagree, enjoying himself immensely. Ellie’s comical humour turned what potentially could have been a crap night into fun.
Brody rubbed at his whiskered chin. A chance meeting gave him not only a good friend, but also a great employee. Ellie’s work ethic had proven how right he’d been to offer him the post of PA, after receiving a promotion.
Yeah, he’d been criticised many times over the last two years by senior colleagues because of Ellie’s uniqueness. He shrugged it off, not giving a rat’s arse what anyone else thought about Ellie. Hell, he was more than qualified for the position and could run circles around all the other PAs in the building. He was intelligent, hardworking, loyal, and above all else could organise the chaos that at times was his office when there was a big case.
Brody strode down the busy corridor, nodding at the fresh-faced officers roaming around. He’d once been l
ike them, all eager to be given the chance to work on the big cases. Make a name for them while working towards a promotion. A promotion that takes over your life, leaving you with nothing but heartache and nightmares. What is that they say? Be careful what you wish for.
Brody clamped his lips together, forcing his negative thoughts away with effort. He didn’t want to take his shitty attitude into what was already going to be an impossibly hard meeting. The case that came across his desk, on his return, removed any remaining happiness he might have felt moments ago. He even considered running for the door screaming louder than any of the celebrities on the hit show “I’m a celebrity get me out of here.”
His gut dipped, his apprehension at being left to take over this new case of child sex exploitation had him struggling to swallow the disgust the pictures in the file caused.
He gripped the file tighter, hurrying down the beige-walled corridor, along the godawful beige carpet. His world in beige, when had he started to resent it? This latest big case was not helping the cause.
He wasn’t convinced that was the only thing making him question his choices.
No. Stop right now.
He cursed silently when his head wouldn’t listen to sense.
Was it before I saw Nick in the Isle of Man and all that came after it, or was it before that?
The shutter he’d slammed down on thoughts of Nick and his witch pried open. An uneasy feeling slid up his neck, tightening the muscles when past memories he’d forgotten surfaced. A cold sweat broke over his brow.
He swiped at his forehead.
Brody was no closer to finding answers than he’d been the thousands of other times he’d questioned himself and the newfound discoveries.
The last text he’d received from Aaden sprung into his mind. It had been clear: get his arse in gear and get back where he belonged. The unspoken part, with Nick, stood between them all. He couldn’t go there, not when his head was still so screwed up.
His train of thought went straight to where he didn’t want it to go. As with every other time, the whole Christina debacle sat there, forward and centre. It didn’t let him forget for an instant what she’d said or done to him.
“Brody, what the heck, man? I’ve been calling your name for the last few minutes. All that partying on holiday must have made you deaf.”
Brody winced at the booming voice, glancing over his shoulder. Brody blanked his face, watching his colleague, Steve, huff and puff his way towards him. His large bulk swayed as he hurried to catch up with him.
Brody held back his disgust—barely—when one of the buttons on the white shirt covering Steve’s massive belly popped open. It revealed a large patch of white blubbery skin that resembled a piece of tripe.
He shuddered.
The belly held his gaze captive for another second before he could drag his eyes away. He wasn’t against a guy having a bit of extra timbre around their middle. No, not at all. What he detested was when someone blatantly didn’t look after themselves. Steve was a lazy sod and avoided moving as little as possible. If he could get you to do the heavy work, then he would. Brody had caught Ellie gossiping with Steve’s PA about how he wouldn’t even bend to pick something he had dropped on the floor, calling the assistant to do it for him.
Brody gave his stomach another glance, stepping aside to let an officer pass. He wondered if Steve had asked his assistant to help because he couldn’t bend over. Over the last two years, his girth had grown to epic proportions and nearly reached his knees. Brody had even tried to discuss his concerns with Steve about his eating and drinking habits. Brody snorted, recalling Steve’s response to his offer to help him get fitter. The fucker thought he was hitting on him. He was a nice enough guy and a little older than Brody, but laziness was a real turn-off, no matter how nice the guy was.
Brody gave Steve his attention. His sweaty face shone in the overhead lights, displaying a grey pallor that was better suited to a corpse. Fuck, he’s a heart attack waiting to happen.
Brody slowed his pace. The last thing he wanted was to perform CPR on Steve if he happened to collapse in front of him. He got to the boardroom door, holding it open. He bent down and whispered into Steve’s ear about his shirt situation. He didn’t miss the look of lust Steve gave him as he laid his hand on his jacket-clad arm, squeezing in gratitude.
Oh, Christ!
He untangled his arm from Steve’s grip, brushing off the blatant invitation issued in those watery red-rimmed eyes, desperately attempting to keep the “fuck no” look off his face. Brody stalked to a vacant chair by the large bank of windows on the far side of the room. He placed the files he held onto the large, scratched oval table. He offered several nods to the other men filing into the room while making his way to the coffee machine. The conference room offered this one amenity. If you didn’t like coffee, then you were stuffed.
The large room, much like the hall, was beige, walls and carpet getting the same treatment. There was a large mahogany table that accommodated forty people easily, and black leather chairs surrounding it, that were as old as the hills. Cracked and worn, they offered little comfort when you had to sit for several hours on flat cushions.
A large projector and screen filled the wall next to the door, and he noted weren’t switched on. He assumed the files held all the information they needed, and a little part of him was relieved they’d decided not to display any of the pictures he’d seen.
He wandered back to his chair, coffee in hand. He gave the dismal sky a look of disgust. He hated winter. The icy rain and subzero temperatures added to the misery. It felt as if someone had turned the controls up on his fridge freezer and opened the doors wide for several months.
He gave an internal sigh when his gaze landed on Steve’s simpering smile as the chair he’d picked next to his groaned in distress when he plonked himself down.
Brody forced his shoulders not to hunch and took his seat. He tucked his hands in his lap after he’d taken three big gulps of the scolding hot, bitter coffee. He was unsure if the caffeine was a good pick when his already anxious stomach started to dance to a merry tune.
He jerked.
His eyes moved to the head of the table when the lead officer spoke and the noise died down.
“I see that we’re all here, so shall we begin?”
All eyes turned to the senior officer, standing at the head of the large mahogany table.
Brody exhaled, settling into the chair. His mind wandered as the guy’s monotonous tone bored him senseless. He knew there would be important information he should probably listen to, yet he couldn’t find it in him to muster the enthusiasm. His hands twitched in his lap when he heard his name mentioned, knowing he could have predicted what was coming.
Fuck, I had predicted it.
The worst cases were always allocated to him. For a while he’d thought it had to do with the fact that he was gay and that it was the uniforms way of trying to get him out. Bury him under all the worst cases so he’d leave. Ellie told him in no uncertain terms that it had fuck all to do with that. It was, he felt, more to do with Brody’s compassionate nature and how Brody wanted to give justice to all those who somehow struggled to find it.
Ellie had made him laugh uncontrollably at the time, especially when he’d said he was a knight in shining armour, rescuing those who needed it.
Brody glanced around the table at his colleagues, chewing on his lower lip, struggling to contain the ire that was building inside him. He’d never felt less like a white knight right at this moment with the images of abused children still filling his head. No, he felt like a failure for wanting to be somewhere else. Anywhere but here, so he didn’t have to deal with other people’s grief, other people’s heinous crimes. He just wanted to be in a place where he could focus on being happy again. The thought wedged its way past what he’d always felt he should do for others, and pried open the box where he kept his own wants hidden.
He couldn’t keep still when the idea that maybe the sp
ell that had been cast so long ago had kept him from being happy. That Christina’s meddling had changed the course of his life.
Brody’s fingers fumbled at his neck with the buttons. Buttons, which were trying to cut off his air supply. He struggled to breathe, pretty much the same way Nick had when Christina had spilt her secrets. His mind wouldn’t stop. It replayed her words as he fought to draw in a deep enough breath to fill his lungs and stop the black spots firing into his eye sockets, blinding him.
He sucked in a deep inhale when the buttons popped open. He tugged at his collar with trembling hands. His heart thundered in his ears. He eyed the coffee in front of him, too scared to attempt to lift it to wet his dry mouth. The need for fresh air drove him to push away from the table, uncaring of the several sharp looks he received when he all but ran for the door.
His chest heaved as he raced down the beige corridor, heading to the bathroom. He slammed through the door, not waiting to see if anyone followed. He sprinted into the empty stall as his stomach rebelled, emptying the contents all over the toilet and the white-tiled floor. He retched silently for several minutes. The only sound was the vomit hitting the bottom of the toilet while his stomach emptied.
Brody’s clammy hands held on to the grey stall walls. He levered himself up to standing. He tugged several pieces of loo roll from the holder on the wall, wiping his mouth and watering eyes. He swiped at the toilet half-heartedly, throwing the soiled paper down the loo. He flushed, doing his best to ignore the remaining mess on the floor. Needing a moment, he staggered to the sink on shaky legs, rinsing his mouth and splashing cold water over his face.
He gripped the porcelain sink, raising his eyes to the mirror in front of him. Water dripped off his whiskered chin onto his pristine jacket. Hollow eyes stared back at him. Brody’s arms slumped. Two whole weeks of avoiding had done nothing but give him dark circles under his eyes. The weight he’d lost was evident in his haggard features. His usually healthy appetite had been replaced with that of a mouse. Though he was sure what he’d been nibbling at would have left even a mouse hungry.