Rating: NC: 17 - This story contains consensual sex between a man and a woman. If this offends you, is illegal where you live or you are under 18, go somewhere else.
Disclaimer: The characters of John Lawless and Alan Snow belong to South Pacific Pictures. The use of those characters in this story is not intended as copyright infringement. The rest of the characters in this story are from my previous Lawless stories or my imagination and are copyrighted by me.
Author's Note: While this story is not a direct sequel to Lawless, the NZ Tele-film, it is somewhat of a sequel to the series of stories I've written and it does contain characters from and references to those previous stories. While it is not necessary to have read them to follow this, it will probably add to the reader's enjoyment if they are read first.
Kelly clung to John. She rested her head against his muscled shoulder and closed her eyes. Now that they were finally alone, now that all the emergency personnel and the cops were gone and all that remained was a dark stain on her carpet, the strain of trying to hold it together crashed down on her. The adrenaline rush was fading, leaving a wired kinetic fear, exhaustion and an odd mental urgency. Her wrists and ankles hurt, her head still throbbed and beneath the overt show of strength was a frightened woman. As she tightened her arms around her lover, she felt the heat of his body surround her like a warm blanket. His breath tickled her neck and the soft fuzz of his goatee brushed her ear as his lips gently kissed her cheek. His arms tightened around her and she felt an overwhelming warmth flow over her. She yearned to let go, to give way, to drown in his embrace. More than anything she wanted to dump all her turbulent emotions on him and let him take charge. It was a desire so contrary to her nature, so foreign that she was astonished by it. To willingly abdicate control to anyone, to even want to, was a sign of something so powerful that it scared her almost more than the thought of dying had.
Despite her declaration of love, despite his previous declarations, it was all too new. There was still so much unknown between them. She had yet to truly process the events of the night, to step back from the experience and know how she really felt. Her life and home had been invaded by specters from John's past and she still needed to deal with the ghosts. HIS ghosts.
She also still had to tell him about the pictures. They presently reposed in her bureau, beneath her underwear, in the envelope Claire had originally kept them in. After Snow had stabbed Claire, as the woman lay on the floor waiting for the EMT's and bleeding to death, Kelly had gathered the pictures. She'd pawed through Claire's tote bag and found several more, put them in the envelope and hidden them away.
Snow had helped her. He had tried to get Claire to tell him where the negatives and the films were, but Claire was too far-gone and too bitter to answer. Snow had gone through Claire's tote bag as well, but he claimed to have found nothing else.
Kelly knew John had to be told, but how and when? She knew he wasn't going to like it and especially wouldn't like it that Snow knew. She couldn't help that. Snow HAD saved her life. Despite what John thought, Snow had seemed repentant and prepared to make amends. He claimed to be sorry for all he'd put John through. But more than that, Snow appeared sorry for the loss of a friend. He was dying, and from what he had told Kelly, he was doing it alone. Suddenly it was all too much. Kelly shivered and clung even tighter to John.
John held the trembling woman. He'd been thrilled to hear her say she loved him, but . . . she had been through a horrendous experience and that kind of thing always intensified emotions. Although he had longed to hear those words, he wasn't sure he could trust them yet. And he sensed there was more she HADN'T told him. Still, now wasn't the time to push her. Kelly was a strong woman, with the kind of inner fortitude that could handle almost anything, but what she had been through that night . . . watching someone die in addition to physical trauma, that took it out of you. He was sure it would take time for her to heal, for her to feel safe again.
He stroked her hair as she shuddered in his arms. He was exhausted, but guessed she was probably too wired to sleep. "Kelly," he whispered his voice full of emotion.
"It's been a hell of a night," she mumbled.
'You don't know the half of it,' he thought. How was he ever going to tell her that he had to spend the next day not only taking her to the cops, but also with Shay and Eric and the cops as well. He pulled back and studied her face. He touched her cheek gently and murmured, "You look exhausted. You're probably sore, too. Let me help you to bed."
She grinned suddenly and retorted with bravado, "Don't you think about anything but getting me in the sack?"
He smiled; glad she still had her sense of humor. "No, but I meant you could use some sleep."
"I know what you meant," she teased. Then she paused and added slightly embarrassed, "But John, this whole thing, well it did kinda make me randy."
He laughed softly. "Death can do that sometimes. Did the doctor say you had a concuss and you shouldn't sleep?"
"I feel all right, but very scungy. Maybe a bath."
"I'll go then," he muttered.
"If you do, who'll wash my back?" Then she swallowed and added, "John, seriously, if you could stay, I'd rather NOT be alone."
"No worries, I'll stay. Only . . . Kelly, I have an appointment at eleven and you and I have to see the cops tomorrow too."
She nodded and touched his face lightly. "I never asked. How did the dance go?"
John shrugged. "The dance went fine, but . . . there was some trouble after. Now's probably not the best time to go into it."
Her eyes widened. "What happened? Is Eric okay?"
He touched her face reassuringly. "Everyone is fine. I'll tell you later. Right now you need to get out of those clothes and . . ."
"Into your arms?" she interrupted.
"Into the tub," he insisted.
"You're no fun," she complained. "No fun at all."
He pulled her close for a moment and kissed the top of her head. "Kel, when I thought I'd lost you . . . Right now, I just want you to be all right, eh?"
"John," she whispered. "I . . . now that you're here . . ." she took a deep breath. "The tub it is."
She took his hand and led him into her bedroom. John was still astonished at the way it looked. It was spartan, almost cold as if she didn't spend much time there. The room was painted white and furnished with the bare necessities. There was a large queen size bed with no foot or headboard. A pastel blue and purple duvet with three matching throw pillows covered it. Two small nightstands flanked either side of the bed. White ginger jar lamps gave the room a soft glow. Across from the bed was a large bureau. All the furniture was pale ash. The room wasn't feminine or masculine, it was neutral like a display in a store and it puzzled him. Kelly was very feminine, and yet . . . unlike most women, she didn't display that attribute in her bedroom. There were no photos, no stuffed animals and no sign of her personality at all. It had surprised the hell out of him when she'd shown him around the house the first time he was there, but he hadn't said anything. He wondered if it was because of her Catholic upbringing, but didn't like to pry.
"That the bath?" he asked as he gestured toward a closed door.
She nodded and began stripping off her clothes.
He grinned at her lack of modesty and then pushed in the door. To his surprise what she lacked in decoration and luxury in the bedroom she more than made up for in the bath. There was a huge pink marble sunken tub separate from the shower. A pink tile backwash set with candles surrounded it. There were two steps up to get in the tub and it was large enough for two people. On the tile surround, in addition to the rainbow of candles, there was an extensive selection of bath salts, powders and gels. It was one of the most sybaritic indulgences John had ever seen. There was also a double sink with more pink marble and shiny white porcelain. A heated towel rack held pink towels. Despite the over abundance of the color pink, the room wasn't overly feminine, just very, very luxurious. John shook his head in wonder, turned on the taps, poured in some bubble bath and watched the tub begin to fill.
"That tub is big enough for two, you know," she remarked. "Join me?"
He smiled. "Not just now. Get in before you catch cold."
She brushed past him and climbed into the rapidly filling tub. He watched her. Kelly's lithe athletic body slid into the water. Even at rest, her body had the fine tuned posture and muscle tone of an athlete. John stared at her full breasts and noticed her nipples were hard. They looked like ripe fruit and he wanted to taste them. A wave of desire like a soft breeze wafted over him over him.
He sat on the toilet seat and observed her relax. Her eyes were now closed and he could almost see some of the tension ease out of her body. He could also see, as she lay her hands on the side of the tub, where her wrists were bruised from being bound. A wave of guilt threatened to overwhelm him. This would never have happened to her if not for him. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled in an undertone. Then when she appeared not to hear him, he added in a louder voice, "You are so beautiful."
She opened her eyes and smiled. "You too! But you'd look better with no clothes on."
He laughed softly. "Don't you think of anything else?"
She shrugged. "Apparently not."
He smiled. The bubbles now covered her completely so he rose and turned off the taps.
"You can't wash my back very easily from out there," she commented dryly.
"You still trying to get me naked, eh?"
She laughed. "Can't blame a girl for trying, can you?"
He laughed with her. Then bowing to the inevitable, he began to remove his clothes. He unbuttoned his shirt as Kelly watched. He took it off and hung it on a hook on the back of the door. He slipped out of his shoes and sat down on the toilet to take off his socks. Then he stood, unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers.
As Kelly watched him undress, she was again awed by the perfection of his body. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat anywhere. He was muscle and sinew, bone and skin; all of him was firm, sculpted and pretty. She knew how hard he worked to keep himself that fit. Had even seen him at it and still it amazed her. As he finished undressing, she watched his stomach muscles ripple and his biceps flex. She licked her lips as John slid the black trousers over his hips and thighs. Then he slipped off his black briefs. A cat-like smile appeared as she noticed his state of arousal.
John grinned at her scrutiny and carefully joined her in the tub. He slid in and then moved behind her. She leaned back against him for a moment, feeling his hot hard body and sighed with contentment. Then she turned to face him. "Hi," she said.
"Hi, yourself," he muttered in reply. His eyes dropped down to the marks on her wrists and guilt again threatened to overwhelm him. She appeared to be fine, and yet, he knew he could have lost her. Knew that things could have been so much worse.
Kelly gazed into his eyes, reading the guilt in them, then murmured, "Not your fault." She reached up, pulled his face to hers and kissed him. Her kiss was full of a hundred different emotions, passion and hunger, fear and desperation, love and affection.
John slid his arms around her, pulling her closer as he returned her kiss. He ran his hands over her back, delighting in the feel of her soft damp skin.
She pulled back for a moment and stared at him, her eyes wide, her mouth open.
"What?" he asked.
She shook her head as if she didn't know the answer then caressed his muscled arms and shoulders.
He smiled and asked, "Where's the soap? Someone wanted their back washed."
She laughed and teased, "That was just a ruse to get you in here."
He laughed with her. "Too bad. I'm gonna do it anyway. Can't say I'm not a bloke of my word."
She giggled and turned, then leaned against his body again. He slipped his arms around her holding her gently. Her back pressed against his chest, her firm butt against his groin. She sighed and relaxed luxuriating in the silky scented hot water and in the feel of his hard body on hers. "Hmm," she murmured softly.
"Hmmm, yourself," he whispered in her ear. His hands caressed the span of her waist then moved slowly up to cup her breasts.
She pressed her butt more tightly against him feeling his shaft throb with excitement. Then she felt his soft lips caress the back of her neck while his hands gently kneaded her breasts. She moaned his name and ran her hands along his legs.
His mouth made a leisurely journey along the back of her neck and shoulders, kissing each inch of delicate sensitive skin. Kelly was moaning and wriggling in front of him by the time he was done. "John," she whispered, "I'm going to turn around. I think you've washed my back long enough."
"Barely started," he murmured his voice husky with passion.
She wriggled around anyway and looked at him. The depth of emotion she saw in his eyes astonished her. She touched his face and murmured, "You really do care, don't you?"
Now his expression changed to one of shock. "Of course I do. Why would you think . . . I told you I love you. Why would I say that if it wasn't true?"
She smiled sadly. "Come on, John. You know most blokes would say ANYTHING to get a girl into bed."
"I'm not like that."
"So you said. I guess I'm beginning to believe it."
"You can trust me," he promised.
"Can I?" she echoed.
His eyes bored into hers as he insisted, "Yes, Kelly, you CAN trust me. I'm not perfect, far from it, but I won't ever deliberately hurt you."
She didn't know what to say, so she kissed him. Despite her admission to him earlier, she was still a bit unclear about this love between them. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him with all the emotion she was feeling.
John pulled her tightly against him returning her kiss with a matching passion. He sensed there was more going on with Kelly than just the night's events, but he let it go. Right now, she needed physical reassurance and he was more than happy to oblige.
They kissed for a long time, so long, that the bubbles melted and the water turned cold. Still, the heat of their bodies was enough to keep them warm. Finally, John pulled back and whispered, "To bed?"
Kelly laughed. "You know I hate . . ."
"Middle class beds," he finished for her. "But all the same . . ."
Kelly smiled and pulled the plug on the tub. Then she stood up and climbed out. She offered John a hand, then laughed as they both recognized the familiarity of the gesture.
John wrapped her in a towel and dried her slowly and sensuously, making the simple activity into yet another dance of foreplay. Then Kelly dried him.
They went into the bedroom and Kelly turned down the duvet. She slid on to the bed and opened her arms in invitation. John stood there staring for a moment and then he joined her. He kissed her lightly on the lips and then began to move his hands tenderly over her body. They were both more than aroused, but still, neither wanted to hurry. There was a sweetness to the slow tango, a symphony of eroticism to the anticipation.
John grasped her hand and kissed the bruises on her wrist tenderly. He raised his eyes to study her face. He blamed himself for this, for putting her in danger. Yet, she didn't seem to blame him at all. He released her wrist, bent his head and began to suckle at her breasts while she stroked his forehead. Her fingers were pruny and tickled.
Kelly moaned his name as he licked and sucked those now hardened peaks. Her pelvis arched up with excitement demanding attention.
John slid his hands over her body touching her nether lips lightly. She sighed and pressed against his questing fingers. He released her nipple and kissed his way down her belly, down to the juncture between her thighs. She spread her legs in anticipation and smiled.
John kissed her legs open wider and then began to taste her sweetness. She sighed his name and arched into his face. He tickled and teased her throbbing bud until she was moaning and humping his face. Then he sucked it and she came her body spasming around him. He pulled back to breathe and then kissed his way up her body.
She reached for his erection and guided it in. He pushed deeply into her and she wrapped her legs around him.
He propped himself on his arms and studied her face. Her eyes were half-closed and glazed with pleasure. Her mouth was open and her breathing was fast and labored. It felt so good with her, so right. It was different from Marla or even Caro. Different than it had been with anyone else. It wasn't just the laughter, although he supposed that was part of it. Something just felt so . . . right, which was as close as he could get in his analysis about making love with her. He was buried as deeply inside her as he could get and it felt as if not only his body was within her, but his soul too.
She smiled and then she pulled his chest against her. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, "I do love you."
"Kelly," he sighed. He began to glide slowly in and out, their bodies languidly moving together toward completion. They stared into each other's eyes as their bodies moved in synchronous motion, the friction increasing, the pleasure intensifying. Without words, without gestures, with only emotion, they moved together, pelvis to pelvis, heart to heart, grinding back and forth until as one they came in a sweaty tangled heap. John's head collapsed on her breasts as she stroked the damp hair on his forehead. Their hearts raced together and then slowed together. Their breathing was erratic and then regular. The couple, both exhausted by the emotions of the night, fell asleep, still joined, still one.
Kelly lay sleeping her breath whispered on John's neck. He studied her in the soft morning light as if he'd never seen her before. Her thick black eyelashes lay dark against her pale skin hiding her sparkling green eyes. Her full lips were parted; he could see the tip of her tongue pink and delicate.
With her coloring and freckles, she looked like an Irish lass fresh off the boat, sweet, innocent and young. Her skin glowed with health. Her red hair was scattered over the white pillowcase, silkily luminous. Her muscled arms were flung across his body. Despite having made love to her, he still wanted her just as much as before, maybe even more so.
She stirred and muttered something, then her hands clenched and she moaned. Her expression turned frightened and John became sure she was having a nightmare. He began to gently caress the soft skin of her cheek and he whispered her name.
She shook for a moment as if trying to fight off his touch and then her eyes popped open. "John?" she mumbled.
"Right here," he replied as he stroked her hair. "Bad dream?"
She shivered as if she was cold. "Last night . . . I . . . That wasn't a dream, was it? Someone did die."
He kissed her forehead. "Kelly, I'm so sorry about this. I wish . . ."
"Shh . . ." she whispered. "Not your fault. Not. Hold me and it will all go away."
He gathered her into his arms and held her tightly, stroking her head and arms like he would a frightened child. He knew that despite her wishes it wouldn't just all go away. At some point reality would set in and then . . .
She pressed against him. His skin felt hot, his embrace was a safe haven. She slid her arms around him, over his firm muscled body, the touch meant to be reassuring as to the solidity of his presence.
She could feel his hard shaft against her thigh and suddenly she wanted to feel him inside her. She slid a hand between them and gently stroked his erection.
He groaned, but stayed still, not sure if she knew what she was doing.
"John," she whispered urgently, "make love to me."
It was all the encouragement he needed. He kissed her forehead, her eyes and her nose then gently grazed her lips with his. His hands traced the curves of her body tenderly, caressing the places he loved. She moaned his name and slid a hand up to touch his face.
She traced his lips with her index finger and then clung to him. "I was so afraid," she whispered. "So afraid I'd die before I could tell you how I felt."
"Kelly," he murmured. "You're safe now, as safe as I can make you. I'm sorry my past got in the way."
"It's not your fault." She pressed against him. "Just love me."
"With pleasure." His hands explored her body delicately and then when he sensed her arousal was equal to his, he glided inside her. He stroked her slowly, reveling in the feel of her body beneath him and in the joy of their joining. He stared into her luminous eyes and drowned in the sea of emotion there.
She held him tight, her arms enfolded him, her pelvis pressed to his. She murmured his name over and over again, a wealth of emotion pouring out of her body and soul. He moaned her name like a prayer and thrust hard inside her, feeling her muscles contract and spasm around him. Her face was beautiful as she came, her eyes wide and loving. She pulled his head tight to her breasts and stroked the hair on his forehead.
They lay there for a long time, lost in the joy of the love, ignoring for the moment all the other things between them that still needed to be said.
Over coffee and toast, John explained what had happened at Shay's the previous night. Kelly took it all in and then acknowledged, "I'm so sorry, John. How awful for Eric and for you and Shay as well. That poor kid. Of course you have to take care of it. I understand. But . . . you will at least be able to go over to Avondale with me?"
He nodded. "I thought I'd drop you, then run home for some fresh clothes. I'm not sure how long things will take with them. I should be able to be back for dinner though."
Kelly smiled and suggested, "Just ring and let me know if there's a problem. And you might think about keeping a few things over here . . . just in case."
He thought about that, then a brilliant smile complete with dimples appeared. "Sounds like a good plan."
After John dropped Kelly off at Susan Ellis' office, he drove home and took another quick shower. He changed into jeans and a T-shirt and drove over to Shay's. He wasn't quite sure what to expect when he arrived. When he'd left Shay and Eric were talking, but . . .
He knocked tentatively on the door of the flat. Shay opened it eagerly. She looked tinier than usual. She wore a demure blue dress but even the high-buttoned collar couldn't disguise her ample breasts. Her long brown hair fell loosely around her face. She looked tired, careworn, and her lovely brown eyes were red rimmed and had purple splotches under them. She'd attempted to hide her lack of sleep and her obvious emotional perturbation with makeup, but had only succeeded in making it more apparent. Eric was nowhere to be seen.
"John," she said quietly. She noticed his searching glance. "He's in his room. Can we talk for a moment first?"
John nodded and sat down on the sofa. "How did things go after I left?"
She shrugged unhappily. "Not well, but it's to be expected. He's very angry with me. And hurt. He feels completely betrayed and lied to. Which to be fair, he was. Still, he isn't quite as angry at you."
John heard the anguish her voice. He could see the depth of her pain and it touched him. "I'm sorry, Shay. I wish . . ."
"I know you do," she interrupted. "We'll just have to work it out. Still, he is here and that's a good thing." She paused and studied him for a moment. "How are you? You look as if you didn't sleep."
"I'm fine," he muttered. He wasn't about to explain. It would only hurt her.
She looked as if she didn't believe him, but wisely let it go. "What happens now?" she asked.
"The three of us will go file the complaint and then I thought maybe we'd go someplace and have a feed. Let Eric ask the questions he must have. Let him see that the three of us can be a family of sorts if he wants it."
"John, you don't owe me anything," she mumbled. "If you're doing this to . . . assuage your guilt, then stop it."
"I'm doing this for him. AND for me. Shay, I can't say I feel guilty, because I don't. What I do feel is responsible. I love him. I want him to have that, if he wants it. And I do care about you. Just not in the way you want."
Tears sprang to her eyes. "I'm sorry, John. I just . . . do what you need to do. I won't stand in your way."
"Shay, he loves you. He'll get over this. It's just gonna take some time." He paused and then asked, "Shall I get him?"
She nodded as she tried to bring her turbulent emotions under control. Now matter how hard she tried, her traitorous heart had a mind of its own. Even just seeing John hurt.
John rose from the sofa and went down the hall with a sigh. He knocked on Eric's door.
"What do you want?" the boy snapped.
"It's . . . John," he announced.
"John?" Eric flung open the door. The boy's hair was damp from a shower and curled at the ends. His brown eyes were full of emotion and his lower lip seemed to be trembling. He stood tall, nearly as tall as his father and like John; he wore blue jeans and a T-shirt. Despite his emotional turbulence, the resemblance between boy and man, father and son was striking.
"How are you?" John asked awkwardly. He had no idea how to handle this. He wanted to say so many things, do so many things, but he was afraid to push Eric.
Eric stared at him. John could see the brief moment of warmth that they'd shared the previous night was forgotten.
"How would you feel if your life got turned upside down?" the boy snorted sullenly.
"I'm sorry, Eric. I really am," John apologized. "I know this is difficult for you, but it's not easy for your Mum or me either." John paused and saw the confusion in his son's eyes. His heart nearly turned over though when he realized that Eric still wore the Manaia. "Are you ready to go?"
Eric nodded and brushed past him down the hall. John followed more slowly. When he reached the lounge, Shay was also waiting. She stood almost hunched over, her hands twisting a small blue purse awkwardly. Eric was staring at the door, his body posture defensive and taut. The tension between mother and son filled the room.
"Shall we go? We can take my car," John suggested. "I thought after we finished at the station, we'd go have a feed. If that's okay with you, Eric."
"Yeah. I have some questions."
"I thought you might," John remarked dryly.
The three left the flat in silence. It wasn't a long drive to Auckland Central station, but because of the strain between Shay and Eric, it felt interminable.
It took them two hours to file the complaint and sign their statements. Phil's hearing would be the following week and only John and Shay need attend. The gun had been purchased illegally and that was the most serious charge. It meant some jail time for Phil. Shay was afraid this would make Phil even more bitter and angry, but John told her it was out of their hands. He assured her he had ways of handling things. He planned to have a little chat with Phil.
Finally, they left the station. Eric had been quiet throughout the entire experience, clearly unhappy with his first taste of the criminal justice system. As they got in the car Eric asked, "Is he going away for a long time?"
John admitted, "I dunno. Gun charges are serious, he could."
"Is there anything . . . I mean . . . I know he isn't my dad, but . . ."
"But you still care about him," John acknowledged softly. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you."
John drove them to Mission Bay Park. It was a nice day and he thought that maybe a pleasant atmosphere with distractions would help. He suggested they eat at Mecca on the Promenade and Shay readily agreed. Eric went along, his face pinched and white.
Mecca had a cheerful decor and a large menu full of the kind of things even an angry teenager would like. The café was crowded with families, dating couples and happy laughing people.
Despite the light-hearted ambience, the silence at their table was deafening. The three of them studied their menus and when the waiter returned, they ordered.
Shay sat nervously perched on the edge of her chair. Her hands lay on the table clenching and unclenching. John doubted she was even aware she was doing it. Her shoulders were hunched and every inch of her screamed with fear and desperation.
Eric sat straight up, his back rigid, his eyes darting nervously about the room. His head never moved, but his eyes took in their surroundings observing everyone and everything but his parents.
Finally, John, unable to handle the silence suggested, "Eric, I know how tough this is. I know you must have a million questions. Talk to us."
The boy snapped his head around to glare at John. "She told me her side last night."
John winced at the tone of voice; there was anger, hurt and disappointment. He thought for long moment before he finally spoke, then he answered as honestly as he could. "I don't have a side, Eric. Not really. I was nineteen. I was involved with another woman in addition to your Mum. Although I didn't realize it at the time, I was trying to use your Mum to get over her, but it didn't work. I was young and stupid and I treated your Mum very badly. I lied to her and I dumped her. I didn't know I'd gotten her pregnant. If I had, I think I would have done the right thing and married her. When you and I first met, all I wanted to do was help you, because I saw so much of the kid I'd been in you. I had no idea how much truth there was in that recognition. After I did find out you were my son, my first instinct was to tell you the truth. But your Mum convinced me, and rightly so, that we had to wait to tell you. And we WERE going to tell you. Would have told you last night, if Phil hadn't done it first. I make no excuses for what I did when I was nineteen. There are none. But everything I've done that concerns you, from before I found out until now, I am proud of. I think you're terrific and I'm ecstatic to be your father."
"How could you not know?" Eric sneered, his eyes frankly disbelieving.
John felt his face flush. "As I recall, there was only one time we didn't use protection. I wasn't completely irresponsible, but that time, things got out of control and . . ." John paused, swallowed and then he conceded, "I was a dickhead. It happened. I'd been drinking, I'd gotten your Mum to drink and I let my dick think instead of my brain. After that, I WAS more careful. To be honest, I forgot that we hadn't used protection that one time. What do you want me to say? Eric, if I HAD known I would have done the right thing. Least I think I would have."
Eric turned on Shay. "So why didn't you tell him?"
Shay sighed. This was going to be even more painful than she had anticipated. Still she owed them both the most honest answer she could give, no matter how distressing it was. "I was in love with him and he didn't love me back. I didn't want to use you to trap him into marriage, because I thought that would make him hate me and hate you. I wanted him to love me for me, but . . . I'm sorry, Eric. I know now I should have told him, given him a choice, but I thought . . . I thought it was a wrong choice. Phil WAS different then. He was kind, thoughtful and he loved me so much. I honestly thought it could work."
"Why didn't you love her?" Eric asked in a very small voice. The implication was clear to John, love me, love my Mum.
John took a deep breath. "I dunno. I dunno why you love or don't love anyone. I cared about her then and I care about her now. But I was young, self-involved and confused. I was a different person then than I am now. Your Mum is a special lady, but it just isn't . . . It doesn't change how I feel about you. How I would have felt about you then or how I feel about you now."
"But you can't know that. Maybe if you gave it a chance," Eric suggested eagerly. "I know you think she's pretty."
"Eric," Shay insisted gently, "John and I are NOT going to get together. Not ever. So forget that."
John took a deep breath and added, "Eric, this isn't about your Mum and me. We've made our peace with the past. This is about you and us, the three of us, working this out. I know I missed a lot of years. I know you missed a lot of years having a father. I know you suffered from Phil's . . . neglect. I can't do anything about that. But I can make the future better. I want us to . . . spend time together. Time as father and son if you're willing."
"So you don't want to train me anymore?"
"Of course I do. I still plan to coach too. I'm hoping . . . you have a grandmother you've never met and some Maori relatives as well. I'd like you to know them and for them to know you."
Eric looked at him for a long moment. "You want me to meet your Mum?"
John nodded. "Your Nana. And your great grandmother, Mama Abba, an incredible woman and some great aunts and uncles. I want to share you with all of them."
"Share me?" Eric echoed.
"You're the greatest gift I've ever received," John explained slowly. "You're my son and I love you. I'm proud of you. I want you to know where you came from."
"What about . . ." Eric paused, glanced at his Mum and then asked, "Kelly?"
"What about her?"
"Does she know?"
"Yes, she does."
"You told her before you told me?" Eric snapped his voice again angry.
John sighed. "You know how much you hate lies? Well, she's exactly the same. She guessed and I lied to her. Because of the investigation, I had to explain everything, including about you. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."
"This changes everything," Eric mused thoughtfully. "I mean, the kids at school, what about . . ."
John glanced at Shay and she shook her head. "Eric, we haven't gotten that far yet. No one else need ever know, not unless you want them to. Legally, Phil's still your father. It's his name on the birth certificate."
"But you said . . ."
John swallowed hard. "I would be MORE than happy, I'd be honored to look into having that corrected. If you wanted to take my name, I'd see what we could do about that too. I am NOT ashamed of you. I would be proud to tell the world you're my son. But . . . it's up to you. You can tell me what you want and we can go from there."
Shay watched her son's face as he absorbed John's words. A look of shock, surprise and then pleasure crossed Eric's expressive face. He smiled and when the dimples so like his father's appeared her heart turned over.
"I dunno what I want," Eric revealed slowly. "But it's nice to know that . . . that you care about that. I need to think . . ."
John nodded. "I know it's a lot. Like I said last night, it's going to be a learning experience. But I'm here and I'm NOT going away. I'll always be here for you. Whenever and however you need me."
"Thank you . . . John," the boy acknowledged.
"You're welcome."
The conversation shifted after that to less serious, but no less weighty matters such as the All-Blacks chances in their next match. By the time the meal was finished, the three of them had reached an uneasy peace.
As John drove them home, he felt like some progress had been made. He saw them to the door and asked, "So, Eric, are we still on for training Monday?"
"Sure. And then maybe after . . ."
"Dinner or something?"
"That'd be cool."
"Bewdy," John remarked gratefully. "I'll see you then." He stood for a moment uncertainly, wanting to hug his son, but Eric turned and followed Shay into the flat. Well, John could wait, if he had to, it was too much to hope that his son's emotions would move as swiftly as his had. He turned and left for home.
'Secrets,' Kelly thought. She knew secrets were the best way to ruin a relationship, the quickest way to destroy trust and yet . . . some things were impossible to explain. Some secrets weren't secrets at all really, but just facts one wasn't comfortable sharing yet. All the same, John disliked secrets, she knew that. Knew he viewed them as dangerous enemies, akin to the worst kind of crime. Still, when was there a good time to share things of an unpleasant, not to mention unsavory nature?
She studied John's peacefully sleeping form. He'd been emotionally exhausted when he'd finally arrived for dinner. She'd taken one look at him and known that telling him about the pictures that night was a bad idea. Instead she'd made him relax on the sofa, given him wine and affection and fed him his dinner as if he were a child. John had been highly amused at her version of tender loving care, which had included not only cutting his meat and feeding it to him, but a back rub as well. Of course, the back rub had lead to other things, including John's version of TLC. By the time they crawled into bed, John had been so exhausted; he'd fallen asleep immediately.
Now his beautiful face was at rest, his eyes closed, his killer eyelashes resting softly against his honey colored skin. His lush mouth was pursed in sleep, as if he were a male sleeping beauty just waiting for her to wake him with a kiss. She was highly tempted. He liked sleeping nude and his body was aroused. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. She sighed and slipped out of bed without waking him.
Kelly went to the bureau and pulled out the envelope of pictures. She had to tell him. He had to know. There would be an explosion she was sure. She'd seen what the sight of Snow in her home had done to him. Seen how he'd reacted to the thought of owing Snow anything. What would he do when he realized that Snow was also a keeper of this secret? She sighed again and slid the envelope back in the bureau.
Despite her resolve to talk to John about the pictures, Kelly's nerve failed her. When John woke, she found she couldn't ruin his lovely mood. He was full of hope over the situation with Eric, full of joy at their relationship and she couldn't bear the thought of upsetting him. Instead, she kept silent, willing him not to notice her preoccupation, loving him until he was almost exhausted again. When he left her, so she could go to church and her parents', he was still in a good mood. At church, she prayed for guidance and forgiveness.
John's phone rang very late Sunday night. It was Gavin McCloud with an urgent request that John meet him at John's office at nine the next morning. John agreed. When the criminal lawyer arrived, he looked tired. McCloud was a tall handsome man in his late forties who carried himself like an athlete. He was a bachelor and his reputation with the ladies was extensive. McCloud favored custom-made silk suits and Italian leather shoes. He had his thick dark hair styled at the most exclusive salon and his nails manicured. He was a vain man, though not arrogant and it showed in his appearance. That morning Gavin's usually impeccable look seemed off, as if he was under a great deal of stress.
After they shook hands and were seated Gavin acknowledged, "John, thanks for seeing me on such short notice."
Well that was almost unheard of, John thought Gavin must be in some serious shit. "No worries," John muttered. "What can I do for you?"
Gavin looked almost embarrassed. "I've been stupid. Not the first time, but . . ." He paused and let the words trail off.
John tried to wait him out, but after five minutes of uncomfortable silence finally suggested, "Gavin, you're going to have to tell me. I can't guess."
The lawyer shook his head. "I took on a case that I probably shouldn't have. As you know, I do primarily criminal work, not civil. However . . . are you at all familiar with the Cretin case? It made all the papers; I'm representing Teri Martin.
John thought for moment. "Teri Martin?" he echoed. "She worked for Cretin, didn't she? They accused her of stealing proprietary information and selling it to a competitor?"
Gavin nodded. "Yes, that's her. She insisted she was innocent and after looking at the evidence, I was inclined to agree with her. So I took her on. We go to court in a few weeks."
"And the problem is?"
"I've . . . shit . . . do you have any idea how embarrassing this is?"
"You got personally involved," John guessed. "And now maybe, you aren't so sure she's innocent."
Gavin sighed. "Yes. I want you to look into it for me. It seemed so open and shut but . . ."
"But what?"
Gavin's face flushed. "I was in her flat and . . . I was looking for a pen and paper to write something down. I pushed some papers aside on her desk and . . ." He paused as his flush deepened. "I found something. A check stub. It was from McCann-Erickson."
"Who?"
"McCann-Erickson is the parent company of Conco, the competitor she was accused of selling the information to."
"Did you ask her about it?"
He shook his head. "No. I didn't want . . . There's probably a completely innocent explanation, but . . ."
"Gavin," John asked slowly, "what exactly do you want me to do?"
"I want you to go over the evidence. See if you can suss out what happened. Find the real culprit."
"Not to put to fine a point on it, but what if it turns out to be her?"
"I need to know. If it is her, I can always get her to settle. This is financial crime, not criminal in the usual sense. She'll have to pay a very hefty settlement and I'd look damned unprofessional to my partners, but . . ." he shrugged.
"Why me?"
"I used our usual investigators when I first took on the case and they didn't find anything. I don't want to use them again. Besides, I trust you. If anyone can keep me out of it, you can."
John laughed. "Yeah, I can see where you might not want your partners to know. How deep are you in?"
"All the way. Last night before I found the check stub I asked her to marry me and she said yes."
John whistled. "The most eligible bachelor in Auckland no longer eligible? That IS news."
Gavin shrugged. "Apparently, I'm down for the count," he remarked dryly. "So if you could start this now, I'd greatly appreciate it."
"Your timing is good. I CAN start now. I'll need the files."
"They're in my car."
"Pretty sure I'd say yes, weren't ya?"
Gavin shrugged. "No reason for you not to especially since you know I can more than afford to pay your fee and a hefty bonus if you do this fast." He paused and added, "If she is innocent, well, if anyone understands what it's like to be wrongly accused of something, you do."
Four hours later John had been through the files. He had to agree with Gavin, the case against Teri Martin WAS thin and almost completely circumstantial. The facts were simple. Cretin was an advertising agency, one of the new ones that had seemingly sprung up overnight to service the growing telecommunications and e-commerce industries. They specialized in cutting edge creative and old-fashioned media.
Teri Martin had joined them at start-up, coming from McCann-Erickson to run their media department. On the surface, at least, it looked as if she was the only one who could have done what she was accused of doing.
Cretin had taken on MTD Telecommunications, a new player in the mobile phone business. MTD had significant financial backing and a ten million-dollar ad budget. MTD had given Cretin the assignment on the strength of their creative presentation and because of Teri's reputation.
Five months later everything looked good to go. The TV spots, all ten of them at a cost of two point five million were finished and approved. The radio spots at a cost of one million were finished and approved. The print ads at a cost of a half million were finished and approved. The media blitz at a cost of five million was ready. Then all hell broke loose.
Two days before MTD's spots were to begin airing, new spots for Breakdown Mobile, a competitor, appeared, using almost the exact same creative. Everyone freaked. Then Cretin contacted A. C. Nielsen and discovered that the media schedule purchased by Breakdown's agency was an exact duplicate to the one Cretin had purchased for MTD.
It couldn't be a coincidence. While there are only so many things to purchase, every media buyer has their own quirks and no one would ever make the exact same buy, unless they had prior knowledge. Add to that the creative and the only answer was that someone had leaked MTD's plans and research. According to Cretin, that person HAD to be Teri. Only she wasn't the only one with access. There were three partners in the firm and any one of them could have done it as well. There was no proof that Teri had done it, but it's hard to prove a negative. There was no proof that any of the partners had done it either and no one from Breakdown or their agency, Conco was talking.
Cretin had fired Teri, sued her for damages and been forced to redo everything for MTD at no charge. Teri's former agency seemed barely able to keep its head above water; what saved it was the liability insurance.
John had a brief bio of the three partners. Cole Hamilton, Gail Markham and William Flieder. All three had worked together at SquaredOff and been hot shots. All three had felt stifled and so they had taken their savings and at least one client apiece and started Cretin. Cole was the front man, salesman extradorinare. Gail was the research maven and Flieder was creative. What they had lacked was a media expert, which was where Teri came in. She had worked with Gail years before.
As far as John could tell, no one profited from the crime and there was no point to it. He wanted to talk to Teri to get an idea of why and how it could have been done.
He called Gavin and asked Gavin to arrange a meeting with Teri. Gavin told John he'd call him back and when he did, he said that he had arranged things and to tell Teri part of the truth, that John was looking for evidence to support her story.
John drove to her flat. She lived in Quay West, a high-rise near Sky Tower and the water. Very posh and expensive. There was a doorman dressed in fancy livery who insisted on announcing John to his tenant, despite the fact that John assured him he was expected. After Teri approved him, he took an elegant elevator up to the tenth floor.
John wasn't sure what he was expecting, but if this woman had hooked Gavin, she HAD to be special. So when an average size, average looking woman opened the door, John assumed she was a flatmate. He was astonished to discover he was wrong.
Teri Martin wore black trousers and a white blouse. She had straight brown hair; brown eyes and wore thick horn-rimmed glasses. Her facial features were plain but pleasant. John had seen more than a few pictures in the tabloids of Gavin with beauty queens, so discovering that a woman he would have assumed Gavin would never have looked at twice, had stolen the lawyer's heart was astounding. Until she began to talk. Her voice was rich and beautiful, and her mind, John soon realized, was sharp, intelligent and as lightning fast as Gavin's was.
She suggested they sit on the balcony to chat, it being a lovely day. She excused herself as John settled into a chair and then returned with some beer and pretzels.
John knew instinctively that he could never get away with lying to her, so he mostly told her the truth. Then he picked her brain. Teri's commentary on her former colleagues was sardonic and pithy. She had a knack, same as Gavin of boiling things down to salient facts.
After some short clipped sentences and a few well-chosen words from Teri, John formed a strong mental image of each of the players.
Gail Markham was a fussbudget, a stereotypical old maid who wore sexy clothing. She was a whiz at research and exceedingly protective of her turf. She had few friends among the staff, but Teri, who probably knew her best, suspected hidden depths.
Flieder was gay, flamboyantly so, and very in your face about it. He was also a genius. He took the research that Gail did and turned it into the perfect creative. He was young and irresponsible, but was so good at what he did that he got away with it.
Cole was an enigma. A three-piece suit with a mind like a sewer. He got along with everyone, a knack essential for his job. He was a great salesman; he could always find common ground. He was good-looking and single, heterosexual, although he kept his private life VERY private.
Of the three partners, she had no idea who had done it or why it had been done. She only knew that she hadn't done it. As far as she knew, they had all sunk everything they had into the business and getting MTD was their ticket to the big time. She couldn't conceive of any way it made sense for any of them to do this. Or for wanting their own agency to fail. She was baffled. As to how the theft was accomplished, Teri explained that it was really very simple.
"Honestly, John," she insisted in her melodious voice, "it would have been easy for any of us. We all had access to the research, the creative and the media schedules. It's not as if it's a high tech business where things are locked in a safe. No one in advertising ever thinks about things like this. Most agencies are so cock sure they do it better than anyone else that it would never occur to them to steal. Oh, the research is a bit more protected and the creative storyboards, but the rest? It would be child's play to make copies of it. In all my years of media, this has never happened before."
"Never?"
She shook her head. "Never. It's just NOT done."
"Except," he pointed out softly, "it WAS done."
"I know." She shook her head again and then shrugged. "I really don't understand it and I don't know what Gavin expects you to find either. The first investigators did a thorough job of it."
He shrugged not willing to give Gavin away. "So what have you been doing in the three months since it happened?"
"Besides driving myself crackers wondering why this happened to me?" He nodded. "No one in the industry will touch me. Although it's supposed to be innocent until proven guilty, it doesn't seem to work that way. I've been looking at my options."
"No freelance work at all?" he inquired.
She shook her head. "I'm not . . . employable at the moment." She paused and added. "But I did have some stock and some savings. And Gavin, he's been great. If we win, we can sue Cretin for damages and we will. He's . . ."
"He told me about your relationship. I guess congratulations are in order."
"You think so?" she remarked dryly. She cocked her head and added, "We'll see. Gavin's a very . . . set in his ways bloke. I'm not so sure that the wedding will actually come off."
"If you don't mind my saying, I DO think it will. Gavin's not the type to make idle promises, especially not about marriage."
She laughed. "I expect he's gotten somewhat carried away in his new role as a white knight. He doesn't get that many innocent clients."
Now John laughed. "Well, there was me."
"He'd hardly feel the need to ride to YOUR rescue. Still . . ." She paused again and eyed him speculatively. "Do you think you can do anything?"
John shrugged. "I dunno. But I'll try. Any thoughts on where I should start?"
"The money," she stated firmly. "The only thing I can think of that might be an answer. The money involved was enormous. If MTD had been successful, it could have cost Breakdown a fortune. In addition, the money spent on research and creative was about five million dollars. Most of it, unlike media expenditures, completely untraceable."
"Explain."
She leaned forward. "Media expenditures are cash for product. When you buy airtime or print ads, you buy something tangible and get paperwork proving it. Research though, well some of it you purchase from other companies, but a lot of it you do yourself. There's no exchange of money for product with a bill attached. And creative, well there are some traceable costs, such as payment for spokespeople, but . . . what value do you put on an idea? Or a scribble on a plasterboard? We charge for the creative process, but how do you really? I once knew a copywriter who was so good she could create five TV spots in twenty minutes. What's a fair rate of exchange for that? She was paid thirty thousand a year and the agency charged the client fifty thousand per idea. So you see, most of that five million isn't traceable."
John's jaw dropped. "How the bloody hell do they get away with it?"
Teri laughed. "Same way you do. They provide a service that someone needs. You charge $250 a day, right? You're selling your brains and know how just as much as the facts you collect. If someone wants something badly enough, they'll pay for it."
"Still, I do have to account for my time and such."
"So do they. It's called billable hours. But who's to say if it takes one hour or ten to write an advert? In any case, John, that's my suggestion. Look at the finances, not only of the company, but the personal finances as well."
John nodded. He could see he had his work cut out for him.
While John was hard at work on Gavin's case, Kelly was trying to suss out what to do about the bloody pictures when the decision was made for her.
"There's a . . . man to see you," Fran, the receptionist announced as she strode into Kelly's office.
Kelly looked up from her desk. "Who is he?"
She shook her head. "Wouldn't say. Just that he had to see you and that it was important. He looks as if he's been in a fight."
"Short? Kind of weasely looking?" Fran nodded.
'Snow,' Kelly thought. 'What the bloody hell does he want?'
"Send him in," Kelly directed. Fran nodded, left and then returned with Snow in tow.
Kelly thought the former Detective Senior Sergeant looked awful as he strolled into her office. Though dressed in a brown suit, the suit hung on him, making him look gaunt and emaciated. His face was the color of chalk except where Claire had left her marks. He still bore a remarkable resemblance to a ferret, albeit a very ill one.
Kelly rose, shut the door for privacy and then asked, "What are you doing here?" Her tone was gruffer than she had intended. Seeing him made her feel disloyal to John.
It was almost as if he'd read her mind. "I won't take much of your time. I'm sure John has convinced you I'm the devil incarnate. It's not true, but by his lights, I reckon it was once. In any case, that's not why I'm here. I know he'll never . . . forgive or forget . . . but I . . . does he know about the pictures?"
"You don't waste any time do you? No. I haven't managed to tell him yet. He won't like it and he especially won't like that you know."
Snow nodded. "I expect that's true. Ms. Callahan . . ."
"Kelly," she interrupted. "You saved my life. I do think that puts us on a first name basis."
"Kelly, I want to help. Don't tell him yet. I think I have a lead on where Claire Johns was living and where the negatives might be. I'd like to see if I can get them back for you."
"There are films too, somewheres," she mumbled. She studied Snow, he seemed sincere, but . . . "Alan, you know him. The longer I wait to tell him, the angrier he's going to be. He's really going to hate being in your debt as well."
"That's just it," Snow explained eagerly. "If I find the films and negatives, we can burn them. He need never know."
"You mean never tell him?" Snow nodded. Kelly pondered this then mused softly, "I don't know if I can do that. If John ever found out that I'd gone behind his back that way . . . he'd never forgive me."
"I understand your concern. But no matter what, he's going to be angry. And he won't let it alone. He'll go after the films and negatives himself. If I can do this for him . . . for you . . . please, Kelly. Hold off for a few days; let me have some time to try to make amends. If I don't find them . . . no harm done. If I do, you can decide then what you want to do."
"How do I know I can trust you?" she asked bluntly. "What proof do I have that you won't use them to ruin him?"
Snow shook his head. "I suppose I deserve that. You have no reason to trust me and every reason not to, except this . . . I did save your life. You know it and so do I, despite what John believes. I am sorry for what I did to him and Sonya. I'm dying so you could say retribution has already been taken. I have no friends, no wife and no family. John was like a son to me, the son I never had and I regret that loss deeply. Especially now. I have nothing left, but if I do this, then perhaps, in some small measure, I can find absolution."
"He won't thank you."
"As I said, he need never know. All I want is the satisfaction of knowing I did it."
Kelly nodded and then thought for a long moment. "Three days. I'll wait three more days and then, no matter what, I have to tell him."
"Thank you," Snow said as he rose from the chair. "I really want to help."
"I think I believe you, but . . ."
"I understand. Some things are very hard to believe, but to quote Lewis Carroll, you should try and believe six impossible things before breakfast."
Kelly smiled. "I'd never have taken you for a fan of Alice."
"I had a lot of time to read in prison."
Monday's practice went all right, although John could tell Eric was having a difficult time adjusting to the shift in their relationship. Instead of behaving as if nothing had changed, his son was awkward. The other boys noticed, but not knowing what to make of it, ignored it.
The workout went a bit better, but things were still touchy. Eric clearly had more questions or comments he wanted to make, so John rushed things along to get them to dinner. When they were finally at the fish and chips shop, he demanded, "Ok, Eric, let's have it. What's on your mind?"
Eric tried to shrug it off, then gave John a rueful grin. "Sorry. I don't quite . . . it's weird. I mean, I know that you're . . . but everyone else thinks . . . You don't act any different," he accused almost angrily.
"Did you really expect me to?" John remarked dryly. "Eric, I've known for a while and I've had time to adjust. I decided I wasn't going to treat you any different when we're around other people. And the other blokes, well, if I WERE to treat you different, they might not understand or like it, eh? It's taken you a while to stop fighting with them and to stop trying to kill Kevin on a daily basis. If I were to show you any kind of favoritism . . ."
"You think they might get mad?"
"Well, you ARE the best halfback. You've earned first fifteen, but if they knew you were my son, they might think . . ."
"So you're protecting me?" Eric snorted as if he didn't believe him.
John ignored the attempt at sarcasm and answered seriously, "Until you're sure what you want, I think it's best to behave as if nothing has changed. If you decide you want to acknowledge our relationship, then I might have to stop coaching. But we'd still do the boxing, eh?"
Eric studied him for a moment. "You're a good coach. The bloke who subbed for you, when you went to the States, he didn't do such a good job."
John had to work hard to keep the disappointment off his face and out of his voice. "So you're saying you'd rather have a coach than a Dad?"
Eric's face flushed. "John, I don't . . . What does that mean to you?"
"Being a father?" Eric nodded. John paused and considered things carefully before he spoke. "I guess it means a lot of things. Being friends like we have been. Getting closer, perhaps talking about stuff we haven't talked about before. Maybe having some say in your life decisions, like school and such. But mostly, Eric, it means that you know I'm here. That you can come to me, if you need me. I didn't have a Dad, so I don't have a lot to go on, and I know you're a bit old for me to be teaching you things, but . . . What does it mean to you?"
"I don't rightly know," Eric confessed. "I liked the way things were before."
"They can stay that way, but they can also be better. We have a lot we can offer each other. Have you thought about the future?"
"The future?" Eric repeated.
"You know, University, a career, life after secondary school."
Eric shrugged. "Not really."
"Well, as your Mum knows," John explained slowly, "I've been putting money away if you want to go to University. So if you choose to do it, you can."
"That's . . . thank you."
"You're welcome." John paused and the suggested tentatively, "And I thought, perhaps, over the holidays, you might like to come down to Lower Hutt with me for a few days. Maybe meet your Nana."
"Your Mum?"
John nodded. "I haven't told her yet, but I know she'll be thrilled to meet you."
"You think so?" John nodded. "She won't be mad?"
"Why would she be mad? I'm sure she'll think you're a gift like I do."
"Cause, you know, no one told her before."
"Well, she'll probably be a bit unhappy, but mostly she'll be chuffed."
Eric sighed. "John, I dunno if I'm ready for that. I mean, my Mum's folks, they don't really . . . they send gifts and such for holidays and birthdays, but they've never been . . ."
"You're not close?"
Eric shrugged. "Mum said they're very old-fashioned. I guess they were . . . embarrassed. No one in their family ever got divorced before. Anyway, Mum said they're nice people, but we don't see them much."
His son had been isolated from almost anyone who could have given him love and support except his Mum. It was such an eerily similar life pattern that it made John's skin prickle. "It doesn't have to be that way anymore, Eric. You have me now and my Mum and some other relatives if you want them."
Eric smiled and acknowledged, "Thank you . . . John. I . . . it means a lot, but . . . where does Mum fit in all this?"
"She's part of this family too. And we can be a family, if you want. Maybe not the traditional kind, but still a family."
"A family," Eric echoed. "What about . . . Kelly?"
John swallowed. "She's part of my life too. A big part. But . . . I don't want to hurt your Mum, but Kelly's my . . . well . . . I'm with her. And she's . . . it's up to you. She's a good woman."
"She's pretty," Eric mumbled. "Do you think she's prettier than my Mum?"
John sighed. "It's different, Eric. I know you think I gave your Mum a raw deal and I did. There's no getting around it. But . . . I care what happens to her and I care about her. It's just not the same. There are other girls in your class, right? Maybe even ones that like you that you don't like that way. Well . . . that's how it is with your Mum and I."
Eric shrugged. "Mum really cares about you. She's . . ."
"I know. But I don't . . . I'm sorry. I really am. I wish I could give you the family you want, I really do. But I can't. Still, there can be a family, if you want one." John paused and then asked, "Did you see Linda today?"
Eric flushed. "Yeah. I was thinking of asking her out for Saturday. Maybe go to a flick or something. We had a choice time at the dance, before . . ."
"That'd be good," John suggested. "She likes you."
"I like her too. She's . . . nice."
John smiled. "Take it slow, okay?"
Eric's flush deepened and then he smiled. "I will. I'm . . . anyways, I guess I'll ask her."
The next day, Tuesday, John ran the financials of all three Cretin partners duplicating the work Gavin's original detectives had done. He found nothing new. The bank records of all three partners, at least on the surface, looked clean. There was no influx of cash to any of them. In fact, he noticed just the opposite. All three of them had large cash disbursements from their accounts. Nothing they couldn't afford and nothing out of the ordinary.
He'd also managed to get a look at Cretin's corporate financials. The company looked to be in good shape before the MTD debacle and not so good shape now. And yet . . . for all that they were supposedly out five million, the company was still healthy.
He'd even done Teri's records, looking for something to show why she'd received a check from McCann-Erickson. There wasn't anything untoward there either. Gavin said the check was for $5,000, not nearly large enough to risk the present fallout. John wanted to ask her, he felt she would tell him the truth, but Gavin said no, not yet.
John sighed. This wasn't getting him anywhere. He knew Gavin was in a hurry and he had to suss out a way to get an opening. He decided that maybe he was looking at things the wrong way. The original investigators had concentrated on Cretin and found nothing. He'd now found the same nothing. He decided to look at Conco instead. If they had purchased the info from someone at Cretin, then someone at Conco had to pay out the bribe.
He started with the company financials. On paper, Conco looked good. Solid. It had been in business quite a bit longer than Cretin had, although a year before it had experienced a major change. The same multi-national that Teri had once worked for, McCann-Erickson, had purchased it. They apparently had a hands-off policy until the MTD/Breakdown situation and now they were playing a more active role. They kept an overseer on staff, but the base management was the same. With a little digging, John had the names of the players who would have been in similar positions to the ones at Cretin.
He studied the dossier he had created. There was Giles Cavendar, Cole's counterpart, Rick Flay, William Flieder's counterpart and Thea Tibaldi, Teri's counterpart, who also doubled as Gail's counterpart. Next, he ran their financials. They all looked clean; no one had any large cash disbursements to their accounts at all. No one anywhere looked dirty. It was most frustrating. John decided he needed to have another chat with Teri.
They met at a pub in Parnell. It was modern, flash, had ferns and charged twice the norm for a beer. John preferred dark wood and a casual atmosphere, anything else reminded him too much of Marla and her friends. Still, this was where Teri had wanted to go. Once they were there, he discovered why.
"That's Thea," she murmured as she pointed at a statuesque brunette.
John's eyes were drawn to the woman. She wore a well-cut expensive black business suit and had shapely legs, which were crossed displaying trim ankles. She was laughing and tossing a fall of long wavy dark hair. Her hands were gesturing expansively and her nails were varnished gold.
Teri noticed his gaze and then added with amusement in her voice, "Not that you care, but with her are Giles and Rick. Giles is the flash bloke in the tan suit and Rick's in the check."
John felt his face flush. He HAD been looking at Thea with more than a passing interest and now quickly glanced at the men. Then he turned back to Teri.
She smiled knowingly and added, "This is just up the street from agency row."
"Agency row?" John repeated.
Teri laughed. "Like every other industry, there's a cadre of companies in a seven block radius. So there's a local we all end up at. Advertising is really a very small community. We all know one another. Friendly rivals and such."
"And you're not a pariah?" he asked curiously.
She laughed softly. "I am, but since I know I didn't do anything wrong, I reckon it might make the real culprit feel guilty to see me. If they have a conscience, that is. Besides, this is the best way for you to see the players in their natural habitat."
"Natural habitat?"
"With a drink in their hand. Ad people work hard and play hard, just like everyone else who has to earn a living. Major difference? Language and clothes." She laughed bitterly. "Honestly, John, you look at them like they're another species altogether. Funny, Gavin says you were an undercover cop. Think you'd be used to judging by other than appearance."
He shrugged. "It's not that. It's just the whole business itself. It seems . . ."
"Frivolous? Valueless? A waste of time? Selling people things they don't need at a cost that's ridiculous. It's all of that, but it can be other things as well. I'm sure there are those that think the same of what you do."
He grinned. She'd nailed him with that one. "Well, I do help people."
"Do you?" she echoed. "Yes, I suppose you do. And so can advertising. It can be one of the most effective mediums for getting a message across. Granted usually we ARE selling junk, but occasionally you get to do something good and that makes it worthwhile."
"You love it."
"I did . . . I do . . . and yet, I'm not sure I miss it. I've been at it for twenty years. That's a long time to do anything. Maybe I'm ready for a change."
"What will you do?"
"I don't know yet. Maybe I'll just . . ."
"Who's that?" John interrupted as a tall blond dressed in black leather glanced at their table. The woman wore a revealing low cut leather vest and a short skirt. Her legs were encased in fishnet stockings and the in-your-face sexuality she exuded was jarring against the backdrop of business suits. She grimaced her over-made-up face at Teri and then pointedly turned away.
"That's Gail. She's quite sure I'm guilty and never misses an opportunity to shove it in my face."
"She doesn't look at all how I pictured her."
"Appearances again. I told you she dresses sexy. That's her compensation for a librarian type career. Researchers are generally only slightly higher on the agency totem pole than media."
"Why's that?"
Teri laughed. "I keep forgetting you know nothing about that world. Let's see if I can give you a crash course in agency politics. Creative is the god, king of the hill, top of the food chain. Creative wins awards and makes reputations. A hot creative shop and staff can make or break an agency. Do you remember the 1984 Apple Computer commercial?"
"The one where the girl in red shorts swings a hammer?"
She nodded. "That's the one. That piece of creative MADE Chiat Day. Before that, they were just another California agency. It's probably the most famous TV spot ever made, directed by Ridley Scott, in fact. And the amazing thing? That spot almost never aired, the client didn't like it, but they'd already bought the airtime, so it aired exactly once and only once, in the Super Bowl. But it was SO amazing that every news operation in the world carried it AS news. Strong creative like that is priceless and every agency in the world wants to produce it. So good creatives are treated like the crème de la crème."
She paused and then continued, "Next in the pecking order is the account group. These are basically salesmen. They suck up to clients and keep them happy. They're also responsible for bringing in new business. They have big expense accounts and travel a lot. A good rainmaker is worth his or her weight in gold. Then comes the network department; their job is to analyze TV programs to determine what will succeed and what will fail. Then research. They do many things, analyze trends, focus groups, demographic studies and the like. A good researcher, like Gail, can take stacks of statistics and help creative find their focus."
John's eyes were beginning to glaze over. "I'm not sure I understand," he mumbled.
Teri paused, thought for a moment and then explained slowly, "Okay, You're a mobile phone company. Brand new. You have no image, no name, nothing. How do you position yourself? What markets do you target? Research can help determine that. For example, one thing Gail found was that girls 12-24 are heavily mobile users, but no other company had targeted them. That gave us a hole to fill and a creative direction. That's what good research can do, make everything more effective. Last on the food chain is media."
She took a sip of wine and then went on, "Buying airtime and print ads is considered the lowest of the low and yet . . . the fifteen percent is an appreciable amount of money. Fifteen percent of five million is $750,000. It pays a LOT of bills. But it's not glamorous and it's hard work, so media buyers get little respect."
"Why?"
She laughed. "In some ways media is the most important and least important component. As I've already explained, good creative will stand on its own, but it does need to be seen or heard. A media schedule can be right on target, but if the creative is bad or the product doesn't work, it will fail. So despite how important the media can be, it's still not considered . . . important. And unlike creative, there are ways to make media accountable, such as ratings, so it's blamed when ad campaigns fail. In other words, it's that poor second cousin who always ends up with the ugly bridesmaid's dress."
John laughed. "So why do it? If it gets no respect and the money is bad . . ."
Teri smiled. "I never said it didn't pay well. Sometimes it can. It did for me. And it can be enjoyable. I liked the job, actually. In any case, that's the short version of life in an ad agency. Does it help any?"
John was silent for a long moment and then he mused, "I dunno. Could someone get so angry over being passed over that they'd do this to get even?"
"Well," Teri mused, "One of the buyers could have gotten their hands on all the media, but I don't see how they could have gotten at the creative. That's the sticking point. While it may not be locked up, it's also not as accessible."
John sighed. "I'm running out of places to look. Do you think anyone would talk to me?"
Teri looked him up and down. "Not as a PI, but any woman here would be thrilled to chat you up."
John felt his face flush. "That's not exactly what I meant."
She laughed. "I know, but your best bet is to try Gail or Thea especially AFTER they've had a few. They're both notorious for picking up strangers."
"Charming. What about the blokes? Any way to get to them?"
She shrugged. "William frequents some gay bars and Cole, well, he's into the society set. He likes to hang with the upper crust." She paused. "You could pass if you put on a suit."
John grinned. "Got just the thing. So how did you get hooked up with Gavin?"
She smiled. "Cole introduced us a long time ago. When I found I needed a lawyer, I thought of him. Cole and Gavin went to University together."
John nodded. He glanced around the room and saw that Teri's assessment of Gail and Thea's behavior seemed spot on. They were both now at the bar chatting with blokes. He'd have to come back another time and try his luck.
Kelly finished her workout quickly. John was on a case and between that and his time with Eric, she hadn't seen him since Sunday morning. She'd given Snow until Wednesday to either find the pictures or give it up. That meant come hell or high water she would tell John on Friday. She wasn't looking forward to it. Now, she hurried into the steam room hoping to avoid her lover. She felt guilty and disloyal and didn't like it. They had made so much progress in their relationship and John seemed to be exactly what he claimed. Yet . . . part of her was still afraid. Not only of how he would react when he learned about what Claire had done, but about Snow's part in this. And there was that other matter as well. Still, THAT wasn't a secret exactly, more like some info she wasn't ready to share. She didn't think he'd be angry, but . . .
"Mum, can we talk?"
Shay studied her son. Eric still looked mulish, but at least he wasn't sulking around sullen and quiet. And he'd asked, almost politely instead of demanding. That seemed to be a step forward. Despite the way he'd behaved when they'd been with John, at home, alone, things continued to be strained. He had run out of ways to express his anger verbally, so he walked around in silence, barely speaking to her. When he looked at her, she could still see the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. She didn't know how to fix it, beyond repeating how sorry she was. And that was getting old. Her heart broke each time he turned away from her. It seemed as if each day a higher wall rose between them, despite the love she knew was there. She could only hope that John was right and that time would heal the wounds.
"Of course, Eric," she replied. She patted the sofa next to her and requested, "What would you like to discuss?"
Eric stayed where he was in the middle of the room. "John."
She swallowed. "What about him?"
"He asked me to go to Lower Hutt with him during the holidays for a few days to meet his Mum."
"What did you say?" She mentally cursed John for not discussing this with her first.
"I said I'd think about it. But . . . what about . . . I mean, I'd be leaving you alone, wouldn't I?"
"Well, I don't see that as a problem, really. I am a grown woman."
"I hear you crying every night," he blurted out. "I know it's 'cause of me. I'm sorry, Mum."
"Oh, Eric," she mumbled. "It's not 'cause of you. It's 'cause I was stupid and because I can't have what I want."
"You still love him, dontcha?"
Shay felt the tears start to well in her eyes. "I do. I don't know why, really. I hardly knew him then and I hardly know him now. But my heart won't let go."
"I'm sorry, Mum. If it hadn't of been for me . . ."
"Don't say that. Not ever. I wouldn't trade you for John, not even if he loved me. Eric, I love you. I always have and I always will. You are the most precious thing in my life. I'm sorry I made such a bloody mess of everything, but honestly, if there was a choice between him and you, I'd choose you every time."
"I like him, Mum. I do. But it's too weird to think of him as my dad. I don't know how to act around him anymore."
"Does he act different than he did?"
He shook his head. "No, he's the same, except . . . I get the feeling he's waiting for something. Something I'm not quite . . . ready for, I guess."
"He does love you, Eric. I know he does. All he wants is what's best for you. You don't need to worry about that. You take your time sussing things out. John will be here."
"That's what he says."
"Trust him. Believe him." She paused and then asked, "You gonna go?"
Eric shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. I was thinking about his life . . . I've never even seen where he lives."
"Where he lives?" she repeated.
"His flat."
"He has a house."
"A real house?" She nodded. "You been there?"
She nodded again.
"Is it nice?"
"Yes. Eric, are you thinking . . ." she swallowed hard. "Are you asking if you can go and live with him?"
Eric's face flushed. "I dunno. I . . ."
"Did he ask you?"
Eric shook his head. "No. I just thought, I dunno what I thought. Anyways . . ."
Wednesday, the clock ticked, but never seemed to move. Kelly found it hard to concentrate on her work while she waited for word from Snow. She'd heard nothing and time was running out. She'd spoken to John briefly on the telephone, but neither liked communicating that way. His case wasn't going well, but they were still on for Friday. She sighed and wished Snow would at least ring her. At five minutes to five, there was a tentative knock on her office door. She looked up from some papers to see Snow standing there with a large package.
"Come in," she requested.
Diffidently he entered, then shut the door. He walked to her desk and handed her the brown paper wrapped box.
"Is this . . ." she began.
Snow dropped into a chair as if exhausted. "It is. I believe all of it. More photos, negatives and films."
"Where? How?"
Snow looked at her with a wry smile on his lips. "Do you really want to know?"
Kelly was silent for a long time before she finally answered, "Yes. I do."
Snow sighed. "Very well. Claire was living in Wellington before she came up here. I found her old address and broke in. No one down there knew she was dead. She had them in a box in her closet. I took them."
Kelly studied him. "You're lying."
He shrugged. "Kelly, it's better if I don't tell you."
"John will want to know."
Snow shook his head. "No, he won't."
"Are you saying . . . just what DID you have to do to get them?"
Snow thought of the old man lying dead in the Wellington flat, a victim of greed and bitterness. When Snow had gone through Claire's bag, he'd found her address in Auckland. From there, he'd discovered where she'd been living in Wellington. He'd taken the train down and visited her flat. Nothing there, but twenty messages on an answering machine from her ex-husband, Clive Johns.
Since Claire didn't have the films and negatives in her Auckland or her Wellington flat, he wondered if she'd trusted her ex-husband enough to leave them with him. So he'd paid the old man a visit. He'd pretended to be a friend of Claire's, there to get her things. What he'd gotten, at first, was a story.
Clive moaned about the path his life had taken. How that prick Lawless had gotten him convicted and sent to jail. While there, Claire had divorced him and taken everything. For many years he'd lost track of her, then suddenly about a month before, she'd shown up, full of piss and vinegar, hungry for revenge. She told him she'd found that bastard Lawless and wanted to know if he still had the films. Reluctantly, because even then he could never refuse her anything, he'd given her some prints and kept the rest, loath to give up his last weapon, his last piece of his ex-wife.
Snow wanted the films, negatives and anything else Johns had, but Clive was unwilling to give them up. Especially after Snow let slip that Claire was dead. A fight ensued between the two old men and Snow had prevailed, because despite his precarious health, he'd felt he had no alternative but to win. It had been an accident really. Johns had hit his head on a table while running away, Snow hadn't meant to kill him. Still, Clive Johns was now as dead as his ex-wife was, again by Snow's hand. This time Snow wasn't willing to take responsibility. He was careful not to leave any clues for the Wellington cops. It came in handy being a former Detective Senior Sergeant. He searched the flat, boxed up the booty and wiped his prints off everything. Then he took the TV and all the cash as well. It would appear when he was found, that the old man had died as a result of a break-in. And so he had. "Kelly," Snow murmured slowly, "It's irrelevant. I have them. All of them. No one can use them to embarrass John."
She studied his face. The marks Claire had left behind were turning all shades of the rainbow. Snow looked bad too, as if this had taken most of the strength he had left. Suddenly, she knew that he was nearing the end of his life. "How long do you have left?"
Snow shrugged. "Not long. Painkillers are starting not to work. Pretty soon, they'll get stronger and all I'll do is take them until it's time to go to hospital."
"I'm sorry," she condoled. "Very sorry. Is there anything . . ."
"Be smart about this. Don't tell John where you got them. Don't tell John at all. Just burn them and move on."
She shook her head. "I can't do that. If he ever found out, he would . . . I can't keep secrets from him. He hates that, more than he hates anything else. He lived too long with secrets and lies."
"My fault again. You know I was the one who convinced him to go undercover?" She nodded. "I kept him there too long. I was so bloody focused on being an inspector, on moving up in the ranks; I ignored the trouble he was in. Ignored ALL the warning signs. If I had pulled him out sooner . . ."
"Alan," she insisted gently, "life is full of ifs. You can't go back, only ahead. John's fine and he seems to have made his peace with the past."
"Not where I'm concerned," he remarked dryly.
"No, not there, but . . ."
"What will you do?"
"I don't know yet. I'm seeing him Friday night. I'll tell him then, but . . . do you have a number where . . . just in case . . ."
Snow laughed bitterly. "He won't want to thank me."
"Maybe not. But . . . Alan, I'll . . . see what I can do. And I DO thank you."
He took it as a dismissal. He rose from the chair and as he turned to go acknowledged, "I'm glad John found you. He's a lucky man."
"I hope he still thinks so, after . . . " she muttered in an undertone to his departing back. "I really bloody hope so."
John put on his gray suit and pulled back his hair. Then he stared at himself in the mirror. He looked different enough that maybe Gail and Thea wouldn't recognize him. He was going to try to scrape acquaintance that night. He'd conferred with Gavin who told him that Cretin had made a settlement offer. If John couldn't find something soon, Gavin was tempted to have Teri take it, just to avoid the legal wrangling.
John slowly entered the pub and glanced around. In his gray suit, he fit in far better than he had the day before. When he'd met Teri there, he'd been in jeans and a T-shirt and very few people had given him more than a cursory glance. Now that he looked more like "one of them," he drew far more attention.
As he walked down the bar, he saw the group from Conco sitting at a table. Thea was talking, gesturing expansively, her long nails glittering in the bar light. Her dark hair was swept up off her face and he could see large sparkling diamonds flashing in her ears. Her profile was elegant and classic, her makeup understated, she was highly animated and her cheeks were flushed. She looked attractive and happy.
He moved to the bar and realized that no one from Cretin was there. He ordered a beer, then swiveled on his stool to watch his only target. He studied the group. Thea appeared to be telling Rick and Giles a story. The two men were paying rapt attention. The three seemed natural and comfortable together, completely relaxed and at ease.
Suddenly, at an almost imperceptible gesture from Giles, Thea turned and caught John staring. She looked him up and down, a speculative glint in her eyes and then she smiled.
He smiled back and raised his glass in a salute.
She whispered something to her partners, they laughed and then she picked up her drink and sashayed over to the bar. She sidled up to him and challenged, "Haven't seen you around before."
He stared at her. "Know everyone who comes in here, do ya?"
She laughed softly and her eyes twinkled. She batted thick eyelashes and murmured seductively, "The pretty ones, anyway."
He grinned. "Buy you a new one?"
She laughed and slid on to the empty stool next to him.
"Bewdy," he said. He got the bartenders attention and heard Thea request a vodka martini straight up.
"Strong drink," he remarked.
"I can handle it."
"Not saying you can't," he mumbled. Her leg was now pressed to his, a sure sign she was interested.
"I like strong," she murmured huskily. "Also hard."
He pretended he hadn't heard although he could feel his face begin to get warm and he was sure he was probably flushing. "So whatcha do when you're not here?" he asked.
"Advertising. How about you?"
He waved his hands airily. "Oh, this and that."
"This and that?" she echoed seductively. "I LIKE this and that."
He grinned. "I'll bet you do. I'm Johnny, by the by, Johnny Wilson."
"Thea."
"Thea?" he repeated, rolling her name off his tongue. "Interesting name."
"Short for Theodora. My parents wanted a boy."
"Didn't get one though, did they?"
"No, I'm ALL woman."
John laughed self-consciously. He could feel her hand crawling up his leg. "I can see that."
"You like women, Johnny?"
"What do you think?"
Her hand snaked up his leg and moved to his crotch. Her touch was arousing him; despite what he thought was his lack of interest.
She grinned as she felt his arousal and then whispered, "I can feel that you do. Want to come home with me?"
"You don't waste any time, do ya?" he asked curiously.
She laughed and stroked his burgeoning erection. "Life's short and a hard man is good to find."
John smiled as if he was interested and amused, but he was mentally cursing the situation. No way was he going to have sex with her, despite the attraction. He'd had no idea she'd come on so strong. "Thea," he chided as he picked her hand up and removed it from his crotch. "I'm an old-fashioned bloke. I never do it on the first date."
"Well, since we haven't HAD a first date, that shouldn't be a problem, should it?"
"How about we HAVE a date? I'd be chuffed to buy you dinner."
"Now?"
"Why not? I don't have anything else on."
"I bet you look great without anything on," she teased.
He laughed self-consciously. "Want to?"
She sucked down the rest of her martini and nodded. "Dinner it is." She paused and said, "I'll be right back." She slid off the stool, went over to where her partners still sat, picked up a small black purse and a large black briefcase and then returned to him at the bar. "I'm ready to have a go."
John rose and asked, "Any kind of food you particularly fancy?"
She leered at him. "Besides you? I guess I'll settle for Italian."
"You don't quit, do ya?"
"Not when I see something I want."
"And do you always get what you want?"
She laughed. "About eighty percent of the time."
"What happens the other twenty?"
"Their loss. Usually they're wankers anyway."
"How do you know I'm not a wanker?"
"In that suit? I know Armani when I see it."
John laughed. There was an Italian restaurant three doors down and they walked. Once they were settled in a booth, John suggested wine, but Thea stuck with martinis. He ended up having beer. After they ordered, he asked her about herself. The alcohol had loosened not only her libido, but also her tongue. By the time they got to dessert, John had the story of her life. If there was one thing he'd learned over his professional life, it was that most people loved to talk about themselves. Especially if they had a good listener. All it took was to pay attention and exhibit interest and even the most closed-mouthed person would open up. It also helped if they wanted something and Thea DID want something. Him. Though they sat across from each other, she still managed to make her intentions known. She'd kicked off her high heels and her feet had been all over him.
Still, by the time dinner was finished, Thea was drunk and John was sure he could handle her, deflect her lust and maybe learn what he was after. After he paid the check, she invited him home with her again. This time, he agreed and since he was still sober, he offered to drive. She agreed.
Interestingly enough, she too lived in Quay West, same as Teri, but her flat was on the eighteenth floor. It was bigger and had a better view. John was a little worried that she might get too playful once he got her there, but his fears were unfounded. They entered; she kicked off her shoes and plopped down on a leather sofa. "Want something to drink?" she slurred.
He shook his head. "I should go. Got an early start tomorrow."
"Men . . . you're all alike. Games . . . so many games."
He studied her for a moment. "Someone run a game on ya?"
She shrugged. "You think you know what men want. Think if you give it to them, you can keep from being hurt. Then . . . you're all a bunch of wankers."
"Sounds like someone took advantage."
She laughed. "Advantage? You could say that. Course it ended up backfiring, once I realized . . ." she paused and studied him. "You're real pretty, Johnny. Real pretty. Don't you fancy me?"
He felt his face flush, suddenly loath to hurt her. "Course I do, but I don't take advantage of women who . . . um . . ."
"Drink too much? You saying if I was sober you'd get naked with me?"
He grinned sheepishly. "It's very tempting. Anyways, you gave me your number."
"You won't call," she insisted sadly. "No one ever does. They take what they want and then . . . cut me dead."
"Thea . . . I . . . " the truth of that statement made him very uncomfortable, because he knew he wouldn't call.
"Get out," she snapped, suddenly angry. "Just go."
He looked at her one last time; her face was twisted into a grimace on the edge of a crying jag and he was loath to do as she asked. Yet . . . he couldn't stay and he couldn't call her, though there was a part of him that wanted to. He realized with a shock that it was her neediness that attracted him. A quality that Kelly didn't exhibit. He sighed, turned on his heel and left, not liking himself very much and feeling as if he'd accomplished nothing.
Thursday morning John had a sit-down with Gavin and went over everything. It took ten minutes. They were both frustrated and worried. John was convinced of Teri's innocence and he'd discovered where the check had come from. She'd owned stock in McCann-Erickson; Conco's parent company and she'd sold it. That was where the check stub came from. Gavin was relieved, but still wanted the truth. He decided to try to string Cretin along for a while and keep John on it. John asked for an introduction to Cole and the three men had lunch together.
They met at Cole's club. It was full of well-dressed men and no women. It was elegant and haughty, clearly an exclusive place. John hated it on sight. Cole wore what had to have been a custom-made silk suit. It was shiny and slick, tailored perfectly to flatter him. Like Gavin, he had his hair professionally styled and his nails manicured. Cole wore his clothes like another skin. John would have bet money that despite the posh accent and expensive tailoring, he WASN'T to the manor born and that Cole had worked long and hard to achieve his present persona.
Gavin introduced John as an associate there to take notes on the potential settlement. John had worn his black suit and had his hair pulled back. He'd left off his earring and he sat in a supplicant's position. He said little, simply watched, posed the occasional question and took notes. Although there was nothing in the conversation or Cole's manner to make his skin prickle, John instinctively disliked the man. He felt Teri's assessment of her former boss was right on the money. Slick as a baby's bottom and twice as slippery, a real piece of work.
After the meal, Gavin and John returned to Gavin's office. "Well?" the lawyer asked.
"If he was someone I'd met back when I was on the job, I'd say he was a crim. He's as wrong as wrong can be, Gavin. Just a high class thug in expensive clothes with a posh accent."
Gavin laughed. "If it had been the other way, if Cretin had beaten Conco on the air, I'd have bet the cottage on Coromandel that Cole was responsible. But the way things stand . . ."
It hit John like a bolt of lightening. "What did you just say?"
"I'd have bet the cottage . . ."
"No. Before that," John interrupted.
"If Conco had been the one ripped off by Cretin . . . " Gavin paused. "Are you thinking . . . Would that even be possible?"
"Maybe we got it backward," John suggested excitedly. "I'll talk to Teri. She'll know if it's possible."
"You're a bloody genius."
John laughed. "Maybe. Let's see if it's possible before you go celebrating."
John met with Teri at her flat. He laid out his new hypothesis and then waited to see her response. She thought for a long time before she answered. "They would all, all three, have had to be in on it. Cole, Billy and Gail. One of them alone couldn't have done it. Gail would have been doing research. Billy likes to think he's such a genius and he'd NOT like trading on someone else's work. And someone would have had to order the TV and radio buyers to do what they did. I don't see how . . ."
John's enthusiasm dampened. "So it's NOT possible then?"
She shrugged. "Yes, I suppose it is. But I just don't see how, unless . . ." she paused. "You think Cole somehow got everything from Conco and then fed it to Cretin?" John nodded.
She was silent again, her brow furrowed as she tried to work it out. "Well, he could have gotten the research and fed that to Gail. Even replaced some of her findings with theirs. Billy would take that and make the creative, but I find it hard to believe Billy went for it. He's so cocky, he thinks no one can do it better."
"But couldn't Cole have made him think it was his own idea?"
She pondered that. "Well, if Cole made it a point to like certain directions AND to tell Billy that the client liked certain things, then maybe.
"As to the media schedules, were they exact duplicates?"
"Yes."
"Then I guess there's no way, eh?"
"Well," Teri mused, "maybe there is. Maybe it's half a dozen of one and six of the other."
John studied her. "Explain."
"Maybe Cole got the research which led us to form the same conclusions. Then helped guide Billy to what turned out to be the same creative. The media, maybe that DID come from us. Our buyers are twice as good as theirs are. Maybe Cole made a trade," she mused.
"Would that be possible? And why do it?"
"I dunno. It doesn't make sense any way you look at it. No sense at all. If Cole did this, he took a huge risk. Not only in stealing, but in selling the schedules."
"Who would he have worked with?"
"At Conco?" John nodded. "Thea. She's always had a soft spot for Cole."
"Thea," John echoed. Teri nodded. John thought about Thea's parting words. They COULD be taken to mean something other than a sexual game. "I met her," he mumbled.
Teri gave him a searching glance. "Did ya? Take her to bed?"
John felt his face flush. "Nah. But I did take her to dinner. She's . . ."
Teri eyed him, "Vulnerable? Needy?"
"Yes. Maybe Cole did take advantage of her."
"She's definitely the weak link, if it happened this way."
John nodded. He still had Thea's number, he guessed he'd have to call her after all.
After practice on Thursday, John explained to Eric that he needed to work and requested they skip the workout and go straight to eat. Eric agreed with considerably more enthusiasm than John expected. Over fish and chips, his son was animated, asking about the case. John didn't tell him much; instead, he tried to guess what was going on with the teen. Finally, when he couldn't figure it out, he asked, "You're in a good mood. What's up?"
Eric flushed. "Well, Linda agreed to go out on Saturday."
John smiled. "That's nice. Where ya gonna take her?"
"I thought maybe a flick and for something after, only . . ."
"A little short of cash? No worries. I can help you there."
"Thanks, John. Mum would do it, only . . ."
"You don't like to ask?" John remarked dryly. "Believe me, I know how that is. How are things between you?"
Eric shrugged. "Well . . . um . . . it's . . ."
"Things still strained?"
Eric nodded. "Every time I look at her, I just get so mad. Not," he added quickly, "cause I hate the idea, just cause, well, she lied. And for so long. And cause I feel like I was . . . cheated."
John nodded. "I know this is tough on you. But she loves you and she did what she thought best. She's really sorry too. If she could take it back, she would."
"I know. But she can't. Sometimes I think . . . where do you live?"
"Where do I live?" John repeated.
"Mum says you have a house. A real house," Eric mused his voice awed. "We've only ever lived in flats."
John thought carefully before he spoke. "I'm not far from you. It's a small house, but it does have two bedrooms."
"It does?" Eric echoed eagerly.
John wondered what was coming next and then knew. He waited for Eric to say it.
"John, I've been thinking about things. About you wanting us to get closer, about meeting your Mum. I have a hard time thinking of you as anything other than my coach, cause well, I only see you when . . . I was thinking . . . maybe . . ."
John swallowed hard. This was unexpected, but . . . "Eric, are you asking what I think you're asking?"
"Well, you said you wanted to spend time with me, time as . . . father and son. I thought, maybe . . ."
"Have you talked to you Mum about this?"
"A little."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing, really. John, I . . . "
"Are things that bad there?"
He shook his head. "Not, it's not that. Honest. I just . . . I don't feel like I know you. Not really. And all our time is . . . well . . . scheduled like lessons. It's not like we . . ."
"You think if you stayed with me for a bit it would be more family like?" Eric nodded. "It's fine with me, BUT I need to talk to your Mum. Make sure it's really okay with her. And then I'd need a few days to get things ready. Did you have a time table?"
"Well, I was thinking, next week, the holidays start. That might be a good time, cause no practice or anything. You know, so the blokes wouldn't know."
John nodded. "I'll talk to your Mum tomorrow. Eric, are you sure about this?"
His son nodded. "Yeah. I think it might be easier for me to see you as a . . . dad, instead of just . . . John."
The way he phrased it made John smile. "Fair enough. You know, though, I'll still have to work and well, I also spend some time with Kelly too."
Eric nodded. "I know. But if she's part of your life, then she's probably going to be part of mine too."
"Thank you," John acknowledged gratefully. "Thank you for that."
Eric grinned. "I already know the facts of life."
John felt his face flush. Was his son insinuating . . . no way was he going to make love with Kelly if Eric was around the house. They'd have to work something out that's all.
John had already called Thea earlier in the day and arranged a meeting. After dropping Eric, he went home, changed into some khakis and a Henley and drove to a different pub where he'd arranged to meet her.
She was waiting for him. He found her at the bar working on a martini. She eyed him and remarked, "Your call was a surprise."
"Thea," he began, then he stopped. He ordered a beer and commented, "You're a beautiful woman."
"A non-sequitor if I ever heard one," she mumbled.
"I guess I'm just trying to work you out."
"You could best work me out in the bedroom," she retorted.
John forced a laugh. "You're smart, funny and gorgeous. So . . . why hasn't someone snapped you up?"
"You forgot to add ambitious and career oriented," she added bitterly.
"You saying that's why? 'Cause you aren't interested in a relationship?"
Now she laughed. "I have a knack for picking the wrong bloke. I've perfected the art."
John studied her face. He could see the vulnerability and hurt, the long pattern of self-inflicted betrayals etched in the tiny lines around her mouth and eyes. "Maybe it's the wrong bloke who picks you."
Her eyes widened. "That's a nice way of looking at it. So tell me, Johnny, are you a wrong bloke, too?"
He tried to smile reassuringly. He hated this part of the job. It was one thing to lie and betray someone who was criminal, but he was convinced that whatever Thea had done, she had not done it out of malice. Or at least, not at first. She was a victim too, maybe not like Teri, but a victim all the same. First, of her own emotions and then of circumstances. "I dunno," he answered finally. "It depends, I guess, on what you expect."
"On what I expect?" she echoed uncertainly. "I expect nothing. And that's usually what I get."
"Maybe that's the problem," he suggested gently. "Maybe you SHOULD expect something."
She looked at him as if she'd never seen anyone like him before. "You're a strange one. Refusing to shag me when you had a free shot. Buying me dinner and then calling me for a date. What’s your game, Johnny?"
"I don't have a game," he muttered uncomfortably.
"No game?" she repeated. "Then what do you want?"
"Why do I have to want something? Can't I just like you?"
"Like me?" she echoed in a very small voice. "Why?"
He could see, suddenly, that all of her vulnerability came from a deep insecurity. Her come-ons stemmed from the one place she felt secure, sex. "I told you, you're smart, funny and gorgeous. What's not to like?"
She shook her head. "Where were you five years ago? Back then, maybe . . ." she paused. "Johnny, you seem like a nice sincere bloke. Maybe you even are. But whatever you're thinking, forget it. I am not the woman for you."
He knew that. He'd already found the woman for him, but a part of him wanted to help her anyway. "Thea, you don't have to work so hard to push me away."
She laughed. "Are you a mind reader too? No one gets close. Cause that leads to . . ."
"Being hurt. Yeah, I got that part. I can see you've had your share of it. I don't aim to hurt you, not on purpose anyway."
"You could kill me with those eyes," she muttered.
"Thea, do you want to talk about it? Tell me what that other bloke did to ya? Maybe if you explained I'd understand what not to do."
She shrugged and demurred, "Maybe later. Right now, I think another drink is in order. And maybe you'll share some of your life with me."
"Whatcha mean?"
"The other night . . . I did ALL the talking. You hardly said a word. You know everything about me, but I haven't a clue about you. So . . . spill it."
John studied her face. Her eyes were more calculating than he expected and despite how intoxicated she had become the previous night, she clearly had excellent recall. "Not much to tell really. Whatcha want to know?"
"What you do for starters. You never did say."
"Lots of things. You might say I'm an independent contractor."
She laughed. "That tells me as much as this and that did." She paused, "Are you into something criminal?"
He grinned sheepishly. "No. Can't say I never was, but I'm legit now. Everything legal and aboveboard."
"So what do you . . . contract for?"
"You could say I'm a troubleshooter. I suss out how to fix problems for people."
"What kind of problems?"
"All kinds." He gazed into her eyes and asked, "Got something you need fixed?"
She gulped and whispered, "No. Not exactly."
"You don't sound so sure."
"I'm . . . sure . . . I think." She looked at him, then her eyes again grew calculating. "There must be some money in it. That suit you had on the other night . . ."
He smiled. "I do okay."
"So you . . . fix things," she mused. "Like with your hands?" she flirted.
He threw up his hands in mock dismay. "You back to that again?"
"Sorry," she apologized ruefully. "Reflex action."
He laughed. "I like you, Thea. I do. And I think you're pretty. But I like to make the first move, eh?"
"So that means you don't think I'm repulsive?"
"Not in the least. Now about your problem?"
"Let me think on it," she muttered. She finished her martini with a gulp and then ordered another.
John deflected the conversation away from him and let her stew over things. After her third drink, she began to get playful again, touching his leg and arm. As she finished her fourth she again invited him home with her and he agreed, if he could drive.
This time when she plopped on her sofa, he joined her. He kept a distance between them however. It was then he realized that she'd left her briefcase in his car. He said nothing about it, wondering if she'd notice. She didn't, but then she seemed to have much more pressing matters on her mind.
She sat on the couch and stared at him for a long time. Finally, she asked, "These problems you fix . . . how do you fix them?"
"Depends on what the problem is. If it's a nosy neighbor, an obnoxious ex, some kind of stalker, I usually just . . . scare em. If it's more complicated . . ."
"So basically, you're saying you're muscle for hire?"
He grinned. "Well, I can solve other kinds of problems, too, but . . . seems to me, maybe you got someone you want . . . knocked around a bit?"
"Thought you said you were legit?"
"I am. A bar fight isn't illegal. Neither is defending yourself if attacked."
"You mean you set people up to hit you and then . . ."
His grin widened. "When called on I can be quite the hoon."
She laughed. "A hoon, eh? Where'd you say you were from? Not Auckland, that's for bloody sure."
"Wellington way. Anyways, you got a problem I can help you with?"
She nodded. "I think I do. I thought I'd fixed it, but . . ."
"This the wanker who hurt you so bad?" She nodded and then seemed to drift away. "What did he do?" John prompted.
"He stole something from me. And I thought I'd gotten him back. Gotten even, but it hasn't worked out quite like . . ."
"So what you want? You want me to get in a fight with him? Make him sorry?"
She nodded. "He's not really big, though he does work out. But you could take him, easy."
John nodded. "What's his name?"
"Cole. Cole Hamilton."
Inwardly John felt vindicated. "What did he steal? Do I need to get it back?"
She shook her head. "You can't."
"Why not? If it's money or jewels, there are ways."
"No. It wasn't anything like that. It wasn't even my heart," she added with a sad laugh. "Cause we all know I don't have one." Then suddenly she began to cry.
'Shit,' John thought. "Thea, I'm sure you do have a heart, else why would you be crying?"
"Stuff it," she muttered. "It's my bloody ego. You're the prettiest man I've ever seen and you won't touch me. He touched me all right, but only until he got what he wanted. Then he dumped me. Now . . . damn . . ." her tears turned to sobs.
John felt like he had no choice. He gathered her into his arms and held her. She lay her head on his shoulder and sobbed for a good ten minutes. When she finally raised her tear stained face she muttered, "Christ, I can't believe you're still here. Who in their right mind would want to bother with a neurotic mess like me?'
He touched her cheek gently brushing some tears away. "You're not so bad."
"Compared to what?" she retorted. "And I've ruined your shirt."
"No worries. Thea, why don't you go wash your face and then when you come back we'll try and sort this out."
She cocked her head and looked at him quizzically. Then she did as instructed. When she returned fifteen minutes later she had not only washed her face, but also changed into sweats. John thought she actually looked more attractive without the paint and fancy clothes.
"You're a saint to still be here. But I've been thinking. I don't really want you to hurt Cole. It would make me too much like him."
He made a decision then. "Thea, sit down. We need to talk. I have a way to fix this, but I need to tell you a story first."
"A story?"
He nodded. "Yes. You stop me if I get something wrong, eh?"
"Stop you?" she echoed. He nodded. She sat and instructed, "Okay. Tell me."
"Once upon a time a lovely vulnerable Princess worked for a company called Conco. She was smart and ambitious, but lonely. One day, she met the Prince of Cretin and she was smitten. The Prince pretended interest and one night agreed to grace the Princess' abode with his presence. He brought her there in his carriage where the Princess left her most precious belonging, her briefcase, in her haste to be with the Prince. The Prince wasn't a very nice bloke and before returning the article went through it. He found treasure there and he made copies of it. He continued to see the Princess, always managing to borrow her briefcase before returning it."
He was watching her carefully as he continued. "After a few weeks, the Princess began to get suspicious, but she was still so smitten she didn't do anything. Then one night, the Prince left HIS briefcase at her abode. Being curious, she went through it and began to learn the truth. She felt hurt and betrayed by what she learned and discovered some treasure in the Prince's case. She took it from him, thinking they were even. Then she confronted him about it. He tried to bluster his way out, but it didn't work. The relationship ended, but the Princess still had what she'd stolen, so she thought they were even. But it didn't work, did it?"
Thea had turned pale and looked as if she would cry again. "Who the bloody hell are you?"
He took a deep breath. "My name is John Lawless and I'm a private investigator. I was hired by Teri Martin's lawyer to find out what happened. And I think I have."
"Bloody hell. You have some nerve, don't you? Acting all nice and sincere. Coming in here and then pulling this scam on me."
"Thea, I admit I wasn't completely honest with you, but you can't say I exactly lied either. And I didn't take advantage when I could have. I was just doing my job."
"Your job? Some job. You're as bad as Cole."
"Am I?" John echoed. "What did I take from you?"
She stared at him and all the fight seemed to go out of her as her eyes once again welled up with tears. "I'm for it now, aren't I?"
John smiled reassuringly. "Maybe not. I have an idea. If you'll help me, then maybe, just maybe, you could get what you want."
Friday morning they met in Gavin's conference room ostensibly to hammer out the details of a settlement. When John had informed Gavin of the facts and what he wanted to do, Gavin chucked a fit. Then after, he realized John's idea would probably work. They set up video cameras to get it all on tape. All the principals from Conco were there and so were John and Teri.
Gavin let Cole repeat his offer, if Teri would give them her word that nothing would be said, they would settle for fifty thousand and for her to never work again. This was where John took over.
"I think you have this all a bit wrong," John insisted. "I think you'll be paying Ms. Martin to keep her mouth shut AND you'll publicly apologize to her."
"Who are you?" Gail asked.
"John Lawless. A P.I. Gavin hired to look into things. I found something very interesting. You're quite sure that only Teri could have done this, yet you have no evidence that she did. That's because she didn't."
"She didn't?" Gail murmured. "But who else could have?"
"That's the trick, isn't it?" John muttered with a smile. "Well, the answer is that Mr. Hamilton did it, part of it anyway."
"You're crackers," Cole spat. "Why would I do anything like this?"
The door opened and Thea Tibaldi entered. "Because you could and because you thought you could get away with it."
"Thea?" Gail exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Trying to straighten out a mess I should have fixed a long time ago."
"Thea, I don't know what you're talking about," Cole refuted in a soft voice. "It's good to see you."
She snorted. "Cut the bullshit, Cole. I'm tired of letting someone else get blamed for something you and I did. The truth is coming out now, no matter what it costs me."
"Thea, you don't want to do this."
"Actually, I do. I've already spoken to my partners about it and they know the truth. I've lost my job, but at least I have my self-respect back." She took a deep breath. "Cole got his hands on my briefcase and stole the research and creative. He and I had an affair and for the two months it was going on, he kept borrowing my case and what was in it. When I finally figured it out, I borrowed HIS case one night and found the media schedules. To get even, I took them. Only I didn't get even and Teri got caught in the crossfire." She turned to Teri, "I’m so sorry about all this. I was a fool."
Teri rose from her chair and went to the woman. "Thea, I . . . I know how difficult things can be. I can't say I'm thrilled to have gone through all this, but I'm glad that you've come forward now."
"That's much more gracious than I deserve. Thank you."
Teri moved back to the table and sat down. "Cole, you owe me. So here's what you're going to do."
John watched as Teri negotiated her own settlement with Cretin in a manner that clearly did Gavin proud. He saw his lawyer's face as his fiancée worked out the financial arrangements and knew the wedding would indeed come off. Gavin had found a match in Teri.
Thea stood in the doorway watching and then slid out. John followed her. "Thank you," he said softly.
"You're welcome. I suppose in a way I should thank you. For the first time in my life, I've actually done something for someone else, not for me. You're quite the bloke, Mr. Lawless. I don't suppose . . ."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Thea. You really are beautiful and smart and I am attracted, but I'm in a relationship. I'm sorry that I wasn't honest with you from the beginning, but . . ."
She laughed softly. "The decent ones are always taken. I should have known. No worries. But if you're ever free . . ."
"Thanks," he muttered uncomfortably. "Can I see you home?"
She shook her head. "No. Think I'll take a walk and try to plan my future. I'm out of a job and I doubt anyone will hire me, so I think it's time to review my options."
"Good luck." He paused and then dug in his pocket. "Here's my card. Call me if you need any help or even if you just want to talk. I would like to know what happens to you."
She smiled, then kissed him on the cheek. "You're a nice bloke, John. Take care." Then she vanished out the door.
John stood there watching for a moment, then returned to the conference room.
John arranged to meet Shay at the pub she used to work at. She was now working fulltime at Farmer's, but she'd claimed to have shopping to do and the pub was most convenient for her. The truth was, she couldn't handle seeing John in her flat anymore.
When he arrived at four o'clock she looked sad and tired when he found her at the bar. She had a beer in front of her and a couple of shopping bags at her feet. Because she was so tiny, she looked like a waif sitting there and John felt his heart move with tenderness. He knew this wasn't going to be easy for either of them, but it would be especially hard on her.
"Gidday," she said softly when he slid on to the stool next to her.
"Gidday," he replied. "How are you?"
She shrugged. "He asked you?"
He could see how much it hurt her. "Yes, he did. He said he thought it might make it easier for him and I to develop a father son relationship. Shay, I would love him to stay with me for a bit, but only if it's all right with you. I told you once, I don't want to take him away and I don't. If this is going to hurt you too much or make things tougher on you, then I'll tell him no."
She studied him. John wanted this, she could see that. He wanted his son so badly and yet, he was willing to forgo it, to even be the bad guy, to save her feelings. "What I want is irrelevant," she demurred softly. "All that matters is what's best for Eric. It's the ONLY thing that matters."
"Shay, I . . . it wouldn't be forever, only for a few weeks during the holidays. And some of that time, the three of us could spend together too. I really would like to take him to meet my Mum. And maybe up north to meet Mama Abba and the rest of the iwi. It could be good for him I think, to know he's not alone anymore, that he has an extended family if he wants them. Relatives who love him and a place to belong. He's been alone with you for so long. You did your best and I know you love him, but he needs more."
She sighed. "I know. My folks haven't been . . . well, they never liked you that much and they loved Phil. They blamed the divorce on me. I could never get them to understand any of it. In their minds, once married you stay married. John, I'll miss him like crazy, but if this is what he wants, then maybe it's for the best."
"I promise, Shay, it won't be forever. He'll miss you once he's gone. I know how much he loves you, even if right now, he's not behaving that way. I think he's just . . . overwhelmed by the enormity of it. And the newness. I expect my charms will wear off rather quickly."
She laughed at his words. "Well, I suppose he thinks it will be a big adventure living with a P.I. Until he finds out that you're just like everyone else. John, he won't be in any danger will he?"
John thought about what Kelly had just gone through and found himself lying to her. "I doubt it. I don't bring my work home with me. I'm not working a major case, just some corporate stuff. The holidays are usually quiet."
"Okay then, I think we should give Eric what he wants."
John let out a sigh of relief. "I have some things I'll need to get. My house isn't equipped for a teenage boy."
"Well, he is thirteen, it's not like he's a baby. You don't have to buy electrical socket plugs or anything," she remarked amused in spite of herself.
He laughed. "I realize that, but . . . I don't usually have much food around, I don't have any video games or such. I thought I might try and make the guestroom look like a place he'd like to stay."
Shay laughed. "John, all you need is a TV and a sports schedule. He'll be happy to sit and watch the rugby with you."
John grinned and then they worked out the details. At ten to five, he excused himself and although he was supposed to meet Kelly at her home at seven, he was so excited, he drove to her office, hoping to catch her there. He was successful. She was about to leave when he knocked on her office door.
"What are you doing here?" she asked.
John was grinning from ear to ear as if he'd just won the lottery. "I need your help. I know we were supposed to have dinner, but I have some news."
"You're not canceling are you?" she asked nervously. She HAD to tell him before she lost her nerve.
"Nope. But I need you to go shopping with me. I have some things I need to buy and I figure you'll know what they should be."
"Sounds very intriguing. What's going on?"
"Well," John revealed with a brilliant smile, "Eric has asked to come live with me for a bit and Shay agreed. I need to get stuff for the guestroom and I dunno what else. I want to make the house a place he'd like living. Not that it's going to be permanent or anything, but if he likes staying with me, then maybe he'll come over more often."
Kelly sucked in her breath. She could see how good this would be for John, how happy it made him, but . . . it was going to change everything. "John," she forced herself to say, "that's wonderful news. I'm so happy for you. When is this going to happen?"
"Next week. The holidays. Kelly, he ASKED to come. It means he really . . . he wants this."
Kelly rushed to John and threw her arms around him in a hug. "John," she whispered. She knew how much this meant to him, could see how eager and joyful it made him. "That's wonderful. I knew he'd come around. Who wouldn't love you?"
He touched her face gently. "Kelly, will you help me?"
"Of course I will," she mumbled into his neck. "Then after, we can still have dinner, right?"
He raised her face from his neck and searched her eyes. There was something in her voice that worried him. "Of course we'll have dinner. But only if you let me have my favorite meal."
"Your favorite meal?" she echoed.
He brushed her lips lightly with his and murmured, "You. Only if you'll let me have YOU for dinner."
She laughed and hugged him tighter. "I think I can arrange that!"
"Bewdy. So where do we start?"
"Are you going to put him in the guestroom?" He nodded. "Okay then, Farmer's for starters. We'll need to decorate that room for a teenage boy. Bedding and a few other things should do it."
He nodded. "Shall we go?"
"Sooner we start, sooner we finish, sooner we can . . . eat."
He smiled full out, the dimples appeared and Kelly felt her heart melt. She hugged him once more and then released him.
They had a choice time picking out decorations for Eric's room. John found some All-Blacks bedding and some posters. He even bought a Playstation 2 at an outrageous price along with some games. When Kelly pointed out, in an amused voice, that he was spending a bloody fortune, he told her about solving the case and the huge check Gavin had given him. His fee plus a twenty thousand dollar bonus due to the size of Teri's settlement. Kelly was properly impressed.
After Farmer's they picked up a pizza and went to her house. She had planned to make a romantic meal with soft lights and candles, to ply John with an expensive bottle or two of wine to ease her way into telling him about the pictures, but he had other plans.
He was the happiest she had ever seen him. Almost giddy, drunk with excitement and anticipation. He was so filled with joy at the thought of his son wanting him that he had given no thought to what else it meant. It was lovely to watch his expressive face glow with delight, but her practical mind heard all the warning bells he was ignoring.
When they took the pizza into the kitchen, John dropped it on the table. Then he pulled her into an embrace and whispered, "Want to?"
She couldn't help but giggle. She loved doing it in the kitchen and he knew it. She grinned at his beautiful smiling face and slid her arms around his neck in answer.
He smiled and then took her face in his hands. He kissed her lightly and then the passion between them began to crackle and spark. She moaned and pressed against him, her hands sliding down his back to pull his shirt out of his jeans. She slid her hands under the fabric and caressed the firm muscles in his back. His kiss turned hot and hard, his mouth began to devour hers, his lips pressed tight.
She pressed against him and felt his body respond. His hands left her face, moved over her arms, then he was reaching for the snaps on the back of her dress.
She groaned and pulled her mouth from his, kissing his cheek and then his neck.
His hot tongue and mouth were now on HER neck, his hands getting her dress undone. His lips moved lower, his tongue tickled her cleavage, his goatee brushed against her skin. She held on as he explored her, her hands stroked his hair and the muscles in his arms.
He kissed and licked her throat, neck and cleavage, then unsnapped her bra. He paused long enough to get her dress and undergarments off then stared at her naked body. He smiled happily and exclaimed, "Dinner!"
She laughed and retorted, "I want mine first!" Quickly she pulled his shirt over his head and then bent her head to kiss his shoulders. Her hands explored his pecs, her fingers tangling in the soft/coarse hair on his chest. She slid one hand down and stroked him through his jeans. He was hard as rock already.
"Kelly," he whispered as he felt her hand on him. He groaned when she unsnapped and then unzipped his jeans. He helped her slide the denim and his briefs down and now they were both naked.
He pulled her tight against him, feeling the heat of her warm body. He ran his hands over the curves of her back and buttocks. She arched against him and moaned his name, her firm breasts rubbing against his chest.
"You're so furry," she murmured. "Did I ever tell you how much I love that?"
He laughed. "You'd have hated when I was undercover then. Had to shave it off. So the wire wouldn't pull it off."
She ran her hands over his chest and then down to his erection. "I'm glad we didn't meet then." She grasped his shaft gently and stroked him. "I love your body. It's beautiful, hard and furry."
"And you're soft and wet," he teased as his fingers found her opening. Her curls were damp.
She laughed. "Silly bloke. Of course I am. You're a walking turn-on. Touch me and I turn into a puddle."
He laughed. "Seems only fair. All I have to do is think of you for a minute and I'm ready."
She laughed harder. "We're a pair, aren't we? So in lust you'd think we were teenagers."
"It's not just . . ." he said quickly.
She interrupted, "I KNOW that. Not for me either, although," she continued as she released his erection, wriggled out of his grasp and dropped to her knees, "lust isn't a bad thing."
He grinned as he felt her move between his thighs. He looked down at her and her red hair was spread across his groin as she bent her head. He closed his eyes as he felt her warm breath on him. Her tongue began to tease the tip of his shaft and then she slid her mouth along the length, licking and nibbling. Finally, after what seemed an eternity of tiny wet lingering kisses, an agony of anticipation and teasing, she took him into her hot mouth.
She grazed the head with her teeth, teasing him some more and then finally began to suck lightly. He groaned from the pressure. Her mouth felt hot, wet and wonderful. She danced over his cock, sucking, licking, bringing him pleasure and close to the brink. He loved her mouth on him, she was so enthusiastic about it and he could tell, she not only enjoyed it, but it turned her on too. It wasn't fair, but in his mind, he couldn't help the comparison to Marla. In some ways, Kelly was very like her, yet in this, she was . . . herself. He never thought of Caro, that was too painful, but Marla still wandered into his mind at odd moments. Then he began to lose coherent thought, because Kelly was moving on him, sucking and sliding her mouth, creating more friction and one of her hands was kneading his balls.
"That feels so good," he murmured. "I love you, Kelly," he panted right before he felt his balls tighten and he came in her mouth. He felt that orgasm like a powerful smack in the nuts. Her mouth kept sucking, as if she could take all of him inside her. Not just his come, but the essence of him. He felt himself begin to shudder as her mouth kept on sucking, trying to drain him dry. Finally, she released him and looked up.
She smiled and licked her lips. "Very tasty. But I want seconds."
"Give me a few minutes, would ya?" he panted with a delighted smile. "I'm only human."
She grinned. "Ya sure about that? Cause you definitely have the body of a god. I LOVE worshipping at your altar."
He laughed and lifted her up. He pulled her tight and whispered, "You don't get seconds yet anyways. Leastwise not until AFTER I've had my taste."
She giggled into his neck. "John, I do love you. I don't know how or why, cause we still barely know each other, but I do."
He searched her eyes. "I'm glad, Kelly. Cause I've never known . . . things with you are so . . . shit. I just don't have the words."
His eyes told her everything she needed to know. They were open and loving, honest and so full of emotion it was breathtaking. "You don't need words. Show me."
He smiled and touched her face, then gently kissed her lips, sweet and soft, touches like velvet, like satin, like silk. His mouth and tongue moved over her skin, lighting an inferno inside her. When he began to suckle at her breast, she held his head and felt her body shudder with a mini orgasm. As his hot mouth and tongue moved lower, she trembled.
When he dived inside her, loving her with his tongue, she began to come and come and couldn't stop. Her entire body was suffused with an emotional and physical pleasure, a sexual release that was primal and primitive, yet felt more natural than anything she'd ever felt before. She knew in her soul that for the rest of her life she would love and need this man. No matter what happened between them from this day forward, nothing could change that. She would always have this one perfect moment and that would always be enough. And no one could take that away. She said his name as a hope and a prayer as a question and an answer. As everything.
Her voice made him stop and look up at her. Her face had a look of . . . amazing grace . . . her body was trembling and shuddering from her multiple orgasms, her skin was flushed and her eyes were gazing at him in wonder and awe. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened, he only knew that it was miraculous.
"John," she murmured huskily, "I think you've recovered. Time for seconds."
He glanced down and saw she was right. "This time we BOTH have seconds," he insisted. He rose from the floor, looked around and then picked her up and set her on the counter.
She spread her legs and reached for him. He moved forward and let her guide his shaft inside her wetness.
She wrapped her legs around him and then her arms and pressed her pelvis to his.
He glided slowly in and out as he watched her face. That look, whatever it portended, was still in her eyes. It made his heart race and his breathing ragged. It made him feel powerful and weak, confident and terrified. He gripped her tightly and kept gliding deeper and deeper inside her.
She moaned and moved with him, arching against him, her breasts shimmying on her chest, the nipples hard. Her eyes never left his, her mouth opened and her tongue came out, then she bit her lip and he felt her muscles clench and spasm around him. He began to stroke her just a little faster as her orgasm subsided and then faster still as his own need for release grew. She pushed against him, continuing to draw him deeper and deeper inside her, until the moment he fell into her eyes and found her soul. He had a breathtaking moment of unity as he felt his body reach a place it had never gone before.
He began to come, her muscles contracting around him, her breathing loud and erratic, his own the same. Their bodies spasmed together, they clung to each other as they trembled, holding tight to that moment and each other. After a long time, Kelly teased, "It's a damn good thing I like cold pizza for breakfast."
John laughed, withdrew from her and then picked her up off the counter. "I'm taking you to bed. No arguments."
"You won't get one from me, not tonight."
"Good, cause I want thirds!"
Saturday morning, after John left, Kelly took the box of pictures, negatives and films to her backyard. She opened her barbie, took off the grill, opened the box and dumped the contents inside it. She squirted lighter fluid over everything and lit it. She stood there watching it burn until it was only ashes. There was no reason to tell John, no reason at all.
The End