Chapter 17 #3
‘Stuart, before you sold the game to Constant Sources, did you try to sell it to anyone else? Did you try to license it to anyone? Did you give anyone access to the source code?’
‘I, er, no. Why do you ask that?’
‘Well, it looks like someone is trying to register the game, or an identical knock-off, at least, as their own.’
‘Scarlett, I swear I never sold the game to anyone. Well, not before Gregory.’
‘Could the source code have been reverse-engineered?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s encrypted but I guess there are ways and means.’
‘Did anyone else help you make the game?’
‘No. It’s mine. Just mine.’
‘It’s Constant Sources’ game now.’
‘Sure. I mean it was mine.’
I pull the stool closest to mine out from under the bench. ‘Sit down here for a second. My lawyers in China and the US said you were slow to get the information to them that they needed to file intellectual property applications. Why?’
‘I know, they emailed me a couple of times but I was busy here. When I get into something, it just takes over me; it’s like a part of me. I find it difficult to concentrate on other stuff.’
‘Stuart, not giving them the information on time has allowed somebody else to file an application before us and that’s a big problem.’
‘I didn’t realise. I’m sorry. But Gregory doesn’t want to use the game anyway, right? He just wants to make sure it’s off the market so it doesn’t compete with Jail Run. So does it matter if someone else filed?’
Is he playing dumb?
‘Well, yes, Stuart. There’s no point in him taking Black Diamonds off the market by buying it from you if someone else puts the game on the market, is there?’
‘I get it. So have I messed it up for him?’
Taking a deep breath, I stand from my stool. ‘I hope not.’
‘Hey, you’re engaged?’ he asks, clocking the obscene ring on my finger.
‘Erm, yes.’
‘To Gregory, right?’
‘H-how did you know that?’
He shrugs. ‘Guess I could just tell by the way you are together.’
Are we that obvious? I think of the one time that Stuart has seen us together. Full business mode in the negotiation meeting. In fact, in business mode and sour with each other.
‘You must have good intuition.’
‘He’s lucky.’
I feel my brows furrow. ‘Thanks. Listen, Stuart, it would be helpful if you could be more responsive with the lawyers from now on, okay? And please come and talk to me if you remember anything, anyone who might have approached you to buy or license the game, anyone who might try to pass off the game as their own. You can speak to me any time. I’ll be here full-time from Monday; you can pop in to my office whenever you like. ’
His smile reaches his eyes, the brown pools shining. ‘Thanks, Scarlett. I will do. It’s nice to know someone else in London. It can be a bit… ah…’
‘Lonely sometimes?’
He shrugs.
‘Any time, Stuart, just pop up.’
‘Scarlett, can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’
‘Is Gregory pissed with me?’
‘No. Not yet. Just try to stay on top of your emails, okay?’
He nods and jumps down from his stool.
I watch him leave with a feeling like something just isn’t quite right.
* * *
After following up with the lawyers in China and the US and asking Richard to expedite the Black Diamonds filings in the UK and Europe, my first day back turned into a long and tiresome one.
The last thing I needed was a call from the Real Estate team at my firm to tell me my dad’s house sale is set to complete a week on Friday.
I call Sandy as Jackson drives me back to the Shard, having already dropped Gregory home around six.
I’ve arranged for a moving company to take care of the contents of the house but they need me to give them directions: what’s staying, what’s trash, what’s for charity, where boxes should be delivered if they’re kept.
Sandy agrees to help and I gratefully accept.
I can’t do it alone. My dad was a hoarder and as much as he pretended he wasn’t by putting all of my childhood keepsakes, toys and clothes in the loft, I’ve always known they’re there.
The thought of having to go through them now, as if they’re nothing, throwing them away or marking them to be delivered to charity, that’s hard enough.
I couldn’t let someone else go through our life and box it up, designate it as useless or ‘to be binned’; those are our memories.
They’re all we have left and the only person who can share that and really understand the piece of my father hidden behind each item is Sandy.
Jackson drops me and heads off to Lara’s house to be with Sandy. It’s still strange to me sometimes that my only mother figure now lives with and works for my mother-in-law-to-be. Weird.
The lift rises to the sixty-fourth floor and dings to announce my destination in the clouds. I’m struck by a chill through my veins when I catch sight of the apartment door ajar. It stops me in my tracks, reminding me of that night. My body tenses as someone’s fingers grip the side of the door.
Fear cripples my body and threatens to choke me. I’m frozen, trying to think of anything I can use as a weapon and wishing I wasn’t alone.
‘Scarlett, perfect timing! How are you, peaches? How was your holiday?’
Amy springs from the apartment and envelopes me in her arms as my lungs fill against her silver bubble coat. I hadn’t realised how much I’m still affected by this apartment and the events of the night I murdered Kevin Pearson.
‘Amy, hi. I’m well, thank you. How are you?’
‘Fine. Fine. I have to get home, the hubby is working night shift, but I’m glad I caught you.
You’ll have to tell me all about the Caribbean next time.
I’d love to go. Oh and the engagement. I want to hear all about the one and only time that man will ever be on his knees.
’ Her words should make me happy but I know that’s not the only time Gregory was on his knees.
In my head, I see him in Dubai, begging for my forgiveness after telling me about his past. ‘Now, hurry up and get inside; I’ve left you a little something.
My way of saying congratulations to you both. ’
‘Oh, gosh, Amy, you shouldn’t have.’
‘You don’t know what it is yet,’ she sings, bouncing forward to hit the button on the wall and keep the lift doors from closing, her blonde ponytail swinging. ‘Go on. Go on.’
As she skips into the lift, my heart rate returns to normal.
I close the door behind me in the apartment and ditch my bags on the rosewood flooring, trying to push dark thoughts from my mind.
Gregory walks down the staircase into the lounge, rustling a towel over his freshly showered hair, his black T-shirt displaying the muscles of his lean chest above his indigo low-rise jeans.
Laid-back Gregory. My heart rate begins to rise again, this time in a good way.
‘Hey.’ He drops his lips to my brow. ‘You look tired.’
I shrug, feeling defeated by my day. ‘Just life.’
‘Well, just life, Amy has gone all out and made us a three-course congratulations meal. She’s set the table, too. Do you want to grab a shower first or are you good to go?’
‘I’ll shower. But do you know what I’d love?’
He wraps his towel around my neck and pulls me towards him. ‘What?’
‘If we ate on the sofa, watched trash TV and snuggled.’
‘If that’s what the lady wants, that’s what the lady shall have.
’ He bites the tip of my nose then clips my arse cheeks with his towel so I move upstairs to shower.
When I come back down, I’m dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized white shirt, my damp hair towel-dried.
Gregory has shuffled the sofa to be directly facing the large flat screen and lit two candles on the coffee table.
Two wine glasses are filled with a chilled white of some variety and two small plates host goat cheese and roasted vegetable salad.
He sits up from his position laid out on the sofa and hands me the remote, which I use to stream one of Amanda’s new recs. I sit down and pull my knees up to my chest, resting sideways against Gregory. ‘This is exactly the medicine for today.’
He strokes my hair from my brow. ‘Rough day?’
‘Oh, you know, handed my notice in, found out the registration of my client’s new software is going to shit, been told to clear out my dad’s home. Regular day I’d say.’
‘When do you have to clear out the house?’
‘This weekend. Sandy’s going to help me.’
‘I can help, too.’
I hug my knees tighter as I ask, ‘Would you be offended if I asked you not to?’
His jaw rolls and I can see his mind working in overdrive. ‘Not if that’s what you want.’
I really don’t want to get into my dad’s things being too personal for a stranger.
There’s no way of saying that so he’ll understand.
More than that, I can’t tell him about the part of me that doesn’t want him there because it doesn’t feel right.
My dad was murdered and he was alone when he died.
That’s something I’m still coming to terms with.
I’ve accepted, most days, that helping Gregory take over Pearson’s company was at least something I did for the right reasons.
But I’m not ready to put side by side my dad’s death and the role that the man I love played in my dad being taken before his time.
The way Gregory fusses, shuffling on the sofa, adjusting the volume of the TV and dimming the lights in the room, sipping his wine and handing me my plate without meeting my eye, all tells me he’s not okay with the idea.
He knows how my mind works, he knows my thoughts, but voicing them won’t help either of us.
So I accept my plate and remark on the romcom we’re watching until Gregory’s shoulders relax and he lifts one knee onto the sofa, pulling my feet across his straight leg.
‘Are you ready for main?’ he asks, taking my empty plate from my lap.
‘I can get it. What are we having?’
‘No, Amy has left strict instructions as to how I pan fry our duck and heat through her special plum sauce.’
I follow him to the breakfast bar with our wine glasses. ‘What makes it so special?’
After discarding our plates in the dishwasher, he shrugs. ‘Amy made it?’ he says with a short laugh. He’s back.
We eat duck then Amy’s Special Chocolate Orange Cheesecake: special because Amy made it.
I’m stuffed to the point of waddling by the time we’re done.
‘I can’t remember when I last ate like that,’ I say, placing my empty dessert plate on the coffee table then leaning back to hold my triplet belly.
‘I feel like a female Bruce Bogtrotter.’
‘Bruce who now?’
‘Bogtrotter. From Matilda. You have seen Matilda? Come on!’
Leaning across him, I grab his phone from the opposite arm of the sofa and google Bruce, chocolate cake all around his mouth, a sadistic grin on his face.
Gregory takes the phone from me and holds it next to my face. ‘Jesus, you’re right. Such a likeness. You’re just a chubby boy trapped in a skinny-lady body.’
‘Hey,’ I protest, slapping his arm with a giggle. ‘You just ate what I did.’
‘Yes, and I’m about six inches taller than you and twice as wide as you. Plus, I fill up from my nose.’
‘Huh?’
He scrunches his face. ‘I fill up from my nose.’
‘Does that really make sense to you?’
‘Sure. You fill your nose first, so your stomach doesn’t get as full.’
‘Poor baby. It’s toes. You fill up from your toes.’
He leans his head to one side, turning the words in his mind. ‘Maybe that makes more sense.’
We watch the rest of the movie curled around each other on the sofa, my feet tucked between his legs, his arm wrapped around my waist. Sometime later, I feel him lift me from the sofa and carry me to bed.