Authors: Theresa L. Henry
Crystal hated
these dinners her mother insisted on. Thank goodness she only had to attend
once a month. And each time she couldn’t ignore the feeling of being stuck in a
loop of déjà vu.
Seated at her
mother’s dining table, they made small talk throughout the starter of pumpkin
soup. When Gwendolyn placed the main before her, she knew her time was up.
Looking down at her plate, she saw that duck was on the menu. She hated duck and
Gwendolyn knew it. This was her mother’s way of telling her that things were
not rosy in Judge Buchanan’s land.
“After what that
young man put me through on Saturday, the least I would have expected was a
telephone call from you,” Gwendolyn broached the subject hanging over their
heads since her arrival.
“I’m sorry you
feel that way.”
“It that it,
Crystal-Grace—is that all you have to say?”
“Yes.”
“That young man
struck you in front of me. Then he went on to speak to me with such blatant
disregard that frankly, I found it staggering. And you have nothing to say
about it. Well, I want you to tell me right this minute whether you intend to
continue seeing him.”
“I don’t know.”
“What don’t you
know? Please speak in sentences that I can understand. God knows your education
cost me enough money.”
As she pushed her
food around her plate, Crystal heaved a soundless sigh. This was how it always
was between them. Gwendolyn making demands and she meeting them. This type of situation
was exactly why she had taken the first opportunity that presented itself to
move out of her childhood home.
“Well, I’m
waiting.”
Something inside
Crystal snapped. She’d had enough of Gwendolyn meddling in her life. She loved
her mother and she knew the feeling
was reciprocated
,
but they just didn’t know how to get along, let alone show their affection.
Somewhere along
the way Gwendolyn had lost her joy of life. Crystal suspected it had something
to do with her father. Her mother never spoke about him. Whenever she asked
questions about Stanley, Gwendolyn would shut down. The only thing she would
say is –
your father loved you
. Crystal always took that to mean that
Stanley didn’t love her mother.
She had also asked
the same questions of her usually open aunt. Met by the same barriers as the
ones presented by her mother, in the end, she had stopped asking.
The only
information she had was from the pieces of overheard conversations her cousins
related to her. Her father had left her mother and a short while later he had a
heart attack and died.
“Crystal, are you
deliberately trying to goad me?”
Reacting to her
mother’s voice, Crystal studied the older woman. As always, Gwendolyn was
immaculately dressed. Nothing was out of place. It was at that moment she knew
if she wasn’t careful, in twenty-five years she would become a replica of her
sophisticated but cold mother.
“No, I’m not
deliberately trying to annoy you. I just don’t have anything to tell you. I
know you don’t like Shane and you treated him badly on Saturday night. In all
honesty, I probably did as well. He hasn’t spoken to me since.”
“Well, what did
you expect? The moment he’s unmasked, he tucks his tail between his legs and
disappears. I knew that boy didn’t have a backbone. You’re better off without
him. Maybe now you will give up on this ridiculous idea of a design business
and apply your mind to that law degree I spent thousands of pounds paying for.”
Crystal had heard
it all before.
The home I’ve given you. The money I spent on your education.
The money I’ve spent dressing you, making sure you had the best of everything
.
“I know you spent
a lot of money on me and I thank you for it. I’ve always thanked you for all
that you’ve done for me. I just wonder when you’re going to accept my gratitude
and move on. Surely any parent who has the means would have done the same for
their child.”
“How dare you
attempt to reprimand
me.
I supported you because I
want the best for you, and Shane Tierney doesn’t come close. His family are
worthless and so is he. The least you could do is show some appreciation
instead of sitting in judgment of me.”
“Well, I learned
from the best, didn’t I, Mother?”
“How dare you
speak to me like
this!
”
“I guess you’re
happy now. In fact, I’m sure that Shane refusing to talk to me makes you
ecstatic. Sometimes I think my unhappiness appeals to you.”
“You will
apologize for your rudeness or leave this house!”
“I think I’ll
leave your house.”
The shock on
Gwendolyn’s face gave her no satisfaction. In fact, for a brief moment she
almost recanted her words. Then memories of the scene outside her party came
rushing back. She had to make a stand. This was her life, and if she didn’t
wrest control from her mother, she would forever live in her shadow.
Giving Gwendolyn
one last look, Crystal gathered her belongings and left.
“Call her, again!” Came the barely audible whisper.
“I’ve called her
so many times, I’m never going to forget her number.”
“Do… it…”
Every word Shane
spoke sent spasms of pain shooting through his throat. The doctors had told him
to remain as still as possible. But his agitation grew with the realization
that his friend was keeping something from him.
Frustrated that he
couldn’t get his mouth around enough words, he slammed his fist against the
bed, and immediately regretted his display of irritation. What started out as a
means of gaining Ollie’s attention, turned into a grip on the hospital bed
covers to stabilize his
pain.
“Okay, just calm
down, I’ll call her again!”
Shane’s mobile
phone along with his wallet
had been stolen
on the
night of his attack. Otherwise, he would have found a way to text or called
Crystal himself. As he was in a room with other critically ill patients, Ollie
left Shane’s bedside to make the call. When he returned, he shook his head in
the negative.
“She’s still not
answering.”
He had already
spent four days in the hospital and had heard nothing from her. His mind
repeatedly vied between two rationales as to her continued absence. One, she
was still angry with him. Or two, she had been calling him, and concluded he
was deliberately ignoring her.
Since the start of
their relationship, they had never gone this long without speaking to each
other. He was worried. Stuck in his hospital bed, Shane’s frustration continued
to grow. Throughout his jumbled thoughts at their lack of communication, he
realized there was a vital flaw in his thinking. Crystal couldn’t be
intentionally ignoring him because he had lost his phone, and she wouldn’t have
recognized Ollie’s number.
Closing his eyes,
he tried to shut out memories of his attack. As his pain ebbed, for the first
time he recalled the words he had heard just before losing consciousness. It
was a warning to keep away from Crystal. That she wasn’t for him.
Three days later
there was still no sign or word from Crystal. However, he got a visit from the
police. Informed of his attack, the doctors had refused to allow them to
question him until now.
Throughout the
interview, he could tell they knew who he was. They probably thought what had
happened to him was due to some form of retribution. But he couldn’t have cared
less about their assumptions. In the end, they had gone away dissatisfied. He’d
never trusted the police and he wasn’t about to start now. As far as he was
concerned the less they knew, the better.
After the
interview with the police, he told his nurse he was ready for a mirror. The
doctor had already confirmed that he would carry the evidence of his attack for
the rest of his life. Now, he was ready to see what that meant.
The doctor removed
the bandages, while the nurse held up the mirror. He didn’t immediately look at
the damage the blade had inflicted. For some reason, he started at the top of
his head. Due to the protective bandages and having not washed his hair in
nearly a week, his jet black locks were matted, greasy, and plastered down.
After a few
moments, his gaze traveled down his face. One of his eyes was puffy and
surrounded by unusual shades of black, yellow and green. He moved on. Knowing
that avoiding looking at the wound wasn’t going to make it disappear, he turned
his attention to his scar.
He shifted his
head to the side so the stitches were on full display. He had never seen
anything like it. A row of black sutures was interspaced from the bottom of his
left ear, along his jaw and down across his throat. His attacker had only
managed to miss his jugular vein by sheer luck, or if one believed in fate—it
just hadn’t been his time to die.
Shane wasn’t angry
at what he saw. In fact, he felt nothing. It was as though all his emotions had
disappeared and all that remained was a feeling of numbness. Seeing everything
he wanted to, he placed the mirror face down on the bed and looked at the
doctor.
“Do you have any
questions for me, Mr. Tierney?” Doctor Imran asked.
“How much longer
do I have to stay here?”
“I’m afraid you’ll
be with us for a while longer. That cut was very close to being fatal. We need
to make sure that the stitches hold and that you don’t contract an infection.
Once we’re satisfied that you’re in the clear, we can discuss your leaving us.”
Shane wanted to
swear at the doctor, her false look of sympathy and the way she dragged out her
words were driving him crazy.
“What if I just
get up and leave?”
Doctor Imran
frowned at him and he held her gaze with a stubborn unwavering look.
“Of course if that
is what you choose to do, I or my colleagues could not stop you. However, I
strongly recommend that you remain with us for a while longer, okay.”
“Will ya stop
talking about this place like anyone in their right mind would want to stay
here longer than they bloody well had
to!
”
“I understand how
upsetting this must be for you–”
“Ya don’t
understand shit about me, so why don’t ya just piss off!”
“Mr. Tierney, I
under… I can only imagine how upset you must be at seeing your injury for the
first time. However, neither my staff nor I will tolerate abusive behavior.”
That she spoke to
him as though he were a wayward child stopped him from saying anything else.
There was no point. He wasn’t angry at the hospital staff. He wasn’t even angry
at his attackers. His only emotion was a growing fury at Crystal and her
continued absence. Taking it out on the people who were helping him wasn’t
going to change his situation.
“Okay, I hear ya.”
“Good, now if
there’s nothing else I can help you with…” The doctor trailed off without
asking a question.
“Nothing.” Shane
responded tonelessly.
“We’ll speak again
later, Mr. umm…” the doctor broke off and glanced at her chart. “Mr. Tierney.
Try not to worry, I can assure you, your wound looks healthy. Just keep resting
and you should be out of here shortly.” Looking over at the nurse, doctor Imran
offered up a slight movement of her lips that
could be
interpreted
as a smile. “Nurse, umm… the nurse will replace your
dressing and I’ll see you soon. Okay?”
About to pat his
hand, he moved it out of her reach. And he was just in time to see the nurse
roll her eyes at the forgetful doctor.
Throughout the
redressing of his wound, Shane became increasingly uneasy. The nurse did
nothing overtly inappropriate. However, he was getting a vibe from her that he
didn’t like. When she stepped back after her task was completed, he breathed an
inaudible sigh of relief.
“There you go. Now
that’s all done, how about I give you a bed bath?”
“Are you fucking
joking me,” Shane raged through clenched teeth. “I’ve been bathing
meself
for the last two days!”
“Please keep your
voice down,” the attractive nurse pleaded, pulling back the curtains to see if
anyone was paying attention to his raised voice.
“If you’re that
desperate to see me dick, this ain’t ya lucky day!”
“Mr. Tierney, I’m
a professional, please remember that!”
“Well, bloody well
act like it then. Why don’t you just piss off and leave me alone instead of
trying to push your tits in me face!” By the time he finished speaking, Shane
knew his shouting had been a mistake. He could feel the pain returning. He
needed some more medication, but he wasn’t about to ask her for any. Closing
his eyes, he gritted his teeth and rode his discomfort until sleep finally
claimed him.
~~~
Oliver Sinclair
was five-feet-ten and of a slim build. He had fair hair and blue eyes, and he
went to great lengths to promote himself as the quintessential English
gentleman. The truth was, he was a sadistic spoilt bastard who would do
anything to get his way.
He came from a
wealthy old English family. The only child of privileged parents, who
throughout his formative years had pandered to his every whim. Or more aptly,
anything money could buy. By the tender age of six, his self-importance was a
part of his DNA.
His father
divorced his mother when he was seven. Out of nothing but spite, Abbott
Sinclair had refused his mother custody of him. Lisa Sinclair hadn’t put up
much of a fight to change her husband’s mind. He knew this because she’d had
the half-hearted argument in front of him.
As soon as his
mother left, his father packed him off to boarding school. Ollie remembered how
lost and alone he’d felt when he’d first been sent away. He’d pleaded with his
father to allow him to come home. But no matter how much he cried and begged,
Abbott had left him where he was.
His boarding
school hadn’t been anything like the schools portrayed on TV and film. For him
the whole experience had been a living nightmare.
One of his first
and lasting memories was when he’d refused to get into the freezing showers,
some of the older boys
had been ordered
to hold in
under the water. This meant that they’d had to go through the morning ritual
twice. They’d all had to say under the spray for fifteen minutes.
By the time they
were allowed
out, they were blue and well on their way to
hypothermia. For that, the older boys had caught him when he was alone and beat
him until he threw up.
The beatings
continued until he in turn began hurting others smaller and weaker than
himself. He used any means at his disposal to subjugate his school mate and get
his way. And before long, Ollie found that he enjoyed inflicting pain on
others.
After
being sent
away, he rarely saw either of his parents. When
in their company, they ensured he learned one lesson well, he came from
aristocracy, and he should never forget that important fact.
At first he didn’t
understand their arrogance. But as time went on he began to imitate their
actions. They were right of course. If one projected an air of superiority
others invariably believed it, and tended to react accordingly—namely with
deference.
Ollie took to his
role of wealth and advantage well. However, he made slight adjustments to the
way his parents behaved. Times had changed, and he at least acknowledged that
brilliance came from all walks of life.
His charm and good
looks usually got him what he wanted. If they failed, his money more often than
not became the deciding factor. For the first time in his adult life, with
Shane, his charm and supposed wealth failed him.
Ollie had heard of
Shane through the motoring grapevine. Everyone assured him that he was the man
to talk to regarding restoring vintage car engines. Ollie had put him to the
test.
Four Years
Earlier
Oliver Sinclair
checked his watch again. By the time the lion shaped knocker echoed against the
front door, everything was in place.
When his guest
was shown
into the sitting room, the first thing that struck
him was that Shane was much younger than he had expected. He was twenty-four
and the youth standing before him couldn’t have been long out of his teens. The
second notable point was that he was so handsome, Ollie had to fight to keep
his body under control. He had a particular weakness for dark-haired young men
and Shane seemed almost tailor made.
“Mr. Tierney, so
pleased to meet you, do come in,” Ollie greeted Shane hoping he had managed to
hide his surprise and attraction as he held out his hand in welcome.
Shane looked down
at his hand for so long Ollie thought he was going to ignore it.
“Alright?”
As greetings went,
it left a lot to
be desired
. He also realized that
that one word and the brief touch of hands was all he was going to get.
“May I offer you
tea?”
“Nah, you’re
alright.”
“But I insist.”
“What ya gonna do,
pour it down
me
throat?”
“Well of course
not but–”
“Look, mate, I
ain’t interested in any of ya tea. You can show me the car or I can just
leave.”
Things weren’t
going as he had expected and Ollie was intrigued. He had intended to portray
the lord of the manor and Shane couldn’t have been less interested.
“Please, follow
me, Mr. Tierney.” Ollie strode off not waiting to see if Shane followed because
he knew he would.
His inspection of
the car completed, Shane quoted his price for its repair. Although shocked at
the exorbitant amount, he was willing to pay it. If this youth got the old car
running, he was the person he was looking for. Not to mention, he could then go
on to sell the vehicle at a huge markup.
Years ago, Ollie’s
father had started a Formula 1 racing team. They had the means for
participation in such a money guzzling sport, but their engine composition
couldn’t match that of the other vehicles on the circuit. For that reason, his
father had pulled out. Ollie had aspirations of not just reentering the racing
world but taking it by storm.