13. Chapter 13
Chapter 13
Steph
I wake up to the sound of our phones screaming in tandem. “Jesus Christ, what is that?”
“I’ll go find out. It must be the storm.” Malcolm says sleepily. He rises out of the bed, where we were both in a dead sleep, and he grabs both phones, bringing mine to me.
“Category four.” He explains. “Set to make landfall in two hours.”
“Does it say where?”
“Florida. But we’ll feel it enough here.”
“Evacuations?”
“Ordered hours ago. Not us, though.”
I look at him. “See? I could have gone home.” I tease.
“Sure. But I hope that you’ve left your company to someone that can look after it as you do, lass. Because if the storm didn’t kill you, then this fever would have. Make no mistake.”
“Are you trying to say that you saved me?”
“I would hardly call what I did saving you. I brought you cough syrup and cold packs, lass.”
“Modesty suits you, Malcolm.” I say through a cough.
“And you’re still not out of the woods, Steph. Your fever hasn’t broken yet and that cough still begs for pneumonia.”
“It’ll be gone in a day or two. I told you I bounce back fast.”
“Don’t count your chickens, Steph.”
That’s when his phone rings. "It’s my cousin, Ethan." He puts it on speakerphone. “Hey, man. You okay?”
“I’m fine. Hunkered down here with Rory. He’s out cold. The lad could sleep through a hurricane...literally.”
“What’s he doing with you? Doesn’t he have a home?”
I start to cough and turn over in bed, so I don’t interrupt.
“Shit. Who the hell’s dying?” Ethan asks.
“That’s Steph. It’s been a long fucking night to say the least.”
“I’ll bet.” He scoffs. “Other than that, are you guys good?”
“Aye. We’re fine. Winds are nuts but we’ve got it under control.”
“Good. Hey, buddy. I was also calling to bring you up to speed on something.”
That’s when I close my eyes and fall asleep so fast, like I don’t care what else is going on around me. But it only lasts a minute, and then I overhear the most interesting conversation.
Malcolm
“What’s that.” I inquire.
“Rush squealed a bit about this little affair he had with Clare once upon a time.” His tone is facetious, like my brother is a filthy liar.
“What’s up.”
He laughs quickly without a trace of mirth. “Evidently it wasn’t just an affair.”
“How’s that.”
“Rory got him all tanked on my da’s scotch and he confessed that he’s been fucking her for the last three years. Since you two broke up. It’s been on and off.”
I’m not sure if I’m pissed or if I want to laugh. What an idiot. First, for dicking her all this time and lying about it, and second, for getting drunk and spilling his guts to everyone about it. Even though I already knew, I play along. “How does this affect her contract?”
Steph is lying next to me again, half listening, half dozing. I’m sure that if she was feeling better and if it wasn’t such an ungodly hour, she would be more interested. “I’ll get there in a minute.” Ethan states. “It gets worse.”
“What do you mean?”
He pauses for emphasis.
...“She’s pregnant.”
My eyes widen as my jaw hits the floor. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
“Wish I was.”
“Did Rush tell you this, too? Are you sure it’s true?”
“Like he’s going to lie about that? Why would he do that?”
My tone is facetious. “Well, in case you don’t know, my brother says some pretty stupid shit when he’s drunk. He could have been just fucking around.”
“Believe what you want to believe, Malcolm. We need a game plan.”
“And you figure calling me up at this hour is a good time to do that?”
He guffaws. “You and I have done much worse in the past. Half the ideas we’ve come up with have been at the witching hour. The only reason why you’re pushing back is because you’ve got company.”
Steph is asleep. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are parted. She has no idea what we’re talking about.
“The lass is out cold, mate. What did you have in mind?”
“I’m thinking that she’s going to play her cards strategically here, man. She’s pregnant with Rush’s bairn and we want her business? The ball is in her court. Plus, she’s going to seek retribution for your past wrongdoings if you ask me.”
I lick my lips and rise out of bed. “First, we need to confirm that the bitch is knocked up.” I tell him, walking out the door, down the hall, to try and keep quiet, although I don’t know how much good it’ll do, as the wind is roaring all over the house, like it’s going to come right through and suck us in. I have to raise my voice so I can talk over it. “Then, we need to get her to sign the contract, since she hasn’t yet. We keep quiet and play stupid, like we don’t know a fucking thing. If she’s planning on taking her vengeance, we walk. I’m not up for that shit and I don’t think that Dougall will be, either.”
“Have you met my da?” He asks facetiously. “He was the one that wanted to hire her because he’s impressed by her shrewdness.”
“Hiring her and conducting big financial business are two very different things, my friend.”
“So, why walk if she’s pregnant, hm?”
“Are you saying that it’s better to butter the bitch up? She’s going to take us for everything she can, Ethan. The woman is cunning and not trustworthy. The fact that she tried to go behind Rush’s back and try to do business with me should tell you how twisted the psycho is.”
“That’s the part that doesn’t make sense to me. Why would she do that if she knew that we would find out the truth because she’s knocked up?”
“Unless she’s planning on getting rid of it, or cornering us each, one by one. She probably knows how much us Scots love our kids and want plenty of them. She’ll bribe us to keep the fucking bairn.”
“I don’t know why my da didn’t see how much of a raging, lunatic bitch she is. Why did he ever want you to marry her is beyond me.”
I shrug. “Hey, maybe he’s going to get out of this what he wants. Maybe she’ll insist that they get married, and then they both win. Either that or he’ll see her for the raving nutjob that she is and tell her to take a hike.”
“You wanna lay a bet?”
“You wanna wager against your own da? You’re even fucking crazier than she is.” I scoff.
He laughs. “Okay, we’ll talk to my da and bring him up to speed.”
“Get a clue, Ethan. Your da already knows. He knew before you did. Before we all did. Hell, he might have even known before she did.”
“You think my da is that powerful, huh? Psychic even? That’s bullshit.”
“It doesn’t take a psychic to breech medical records, Ethan. They did it for Moira, when they found out that her da was lying about having cancer, remember?”
He’s silent. Point for me.
“But, how would he know to get into her medical records?”
“Your da leaves no stone unturned, my man. You know this. We all know this. Like I said, get a clue.”
“Alright, fuck!” He says, half humored, half frustrated. “But, you’re talking to my da. And do it before Rush sobers up, too. If he remembers anything about what he said, then he’ll be the first one on the phone, backpedaling.”
“Fine. I’ll call him right now. He’s in Scotland. It’s not the middle of the night there.”
“Good. Call me later and let me know if he blew your head off or not.”
That pisses me off. Sometimes Ethan can be a bit of a pissant. And if I know my brother Rush well enough, he’ll sleep for the day if you let him, which I’m sure Ethan will do. From the sounds of it, he’s not very impressed with my brother, and I think that a small part of him wants to see him fry. I’m not going to lie, since he’s been fucking my ex and got her knocked up, I’m not exactly running to his aid, either. And the fact that Uncle Dougall’s plan is about to be shot to shit sort of gives me a certain satisfaction. As I hang up to Ethan, I head to my own room, so I don’t wake Steph. I have no idea what is going on in her head, but I’ll find out soon enough...
Steph
Malcolm is fast asleep in his room. He put off calling his Uncle Dougall for some reason. Lord knows why. But it doesn’t matter right now. All I can think about is the conversation that I just overheard. I can’t believe that bitch would go to such extremes to hurt the Harris family. This Uncle Dougall sounds like a relentless, crazy asshole, who would risk his family to further the business, and it makes me twitch. What’s worse is that he’s setting his nephews up for a lifetime of misery, or at least he’s trying to. And this Clare bitch is going to bask in that.
...until now.
...in I come.
Me and Moira have been there for each other for a lot of things, including in our own pursuit of relationships, and in that endeavor, I’ve learned a few tricks. And so has she. But one thing I do remember is that everyone has a weakness. I just have to find Clare’s. I’ve seen some of her social media content but have so far failed to find something that will work here. I’m feeling significantly better than I was even six hours ago, and although the storm is still crazy strong outside, I’m completely oblivious to it. I find myself immune to outside circumstances when I’m properly focused. And right now, all I can think about is finding an angle to drown this bitch in her own fucking blood.
As I pull out my phone, I scroll through social media again and take a really close look. Stupidly, she has her profiles completely open, like an idiot. But as I click on photos and past posts, not just content that relates to anything to do with the Harris boys, I can see that she does have a penchant for something, and it could be used as an angle. In fact, it could really be helpful, if I’m able to dig a little deeper. And then I find something. But I’m not sure if it’s a strong enough something to really pull it off. Until I find a post from a couple of years back, that really tells the tale. I just have to wait for the right moment to execute it...
Malcolm
When I wake up, in my own bed, to the sounds of the wind, although calmer, the first thing I think of is Steph. She’s not coughing, and strangely, I find her in the kitchen, making breakfast. “I see the storm is passing.” She says as she sees me.
“Wow. You weren’t kidding.” I say to her.
“About what?” She asks, pouring freshly brewed coffee into mugs. She’s made scrambled eggs and toast, and it smells fantastic in here.
“About you bouncing back. Jesus, I thought that you’d be down for the count for at least a couple of days.” She doesn’t even sound all that congested. Her voice is a little hoarse, but it just sounds like she went to a loud concert last night or something.
“I take very good care of myself, Malcolm.” She informs. “If I’m not healthy, then neither is my business.”
“Aye. You aren’t kidding.”
As I sit at the table, she brings me my breakfast. “Thanks for last night. I know I can be a stubborn coot at times.”
“At least you were smart and stayed.” I tell her, sipping the coffee.
“Not like I had a choice.” She says, but her mouth is twitching up into a smile. “But I think it’s safe for me to go home now.”
It’s weird. I feel like with her still being a little sick, I’m afraid that she’s not going to have anyone to take care of her. “Why don’t you stay another day or two? Until you’re completely better. This way all the traffic and debris and shit is cleared, too.”
“Malcolm, you’re forgetting that I don’t have any clothes here. Besides, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself, but thanks for offering.” The way that she says it is humble and genuine, not bitchy and ungrateful.
“Fine. But I want my ugly jogging suit back.” I joke, with a playful smirk on my face.
She leans in and pats my cheek with her hand. “Why don’t you leave it with someone who appreciates it more.”
“In that case, I’ve got a couple dozen pairs of boxers for you, too.”
After a wink, she eats her breakfast, and I do, too. I check the local news, intentionally looking for more ways to make her stay, but it looks like North Carolina was affected badly only in certain parts, and none close to me or to either of our places of business. So, I have to let her go. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for the day and rest? I’m sure that you don’t feel a hundred percent yet, lass. That was a pretty nasty fever you had.” I lean forward and touch her forehead. “You still feel a little warm.”
“That’s because I’m baking in this ugly jogging suit.” She barks, smiling, bringing on a cough, but she regains control fast.
“See? You’re still not well, lass. Why don’t you stay? I can wash up your clothes and the jogging suit, and you can wear something else out of my closet. I’m sure I have something in there that can hold you off.” I’ve finally become that needy, simping wuss that I’ve always hated. And I don’t know why, because I suck at having house guests. Just ask any of my kin. I’m not saying that it stops them from visiting, whether welcome or not, but still.
“Alright, fine. But I’m not helping you clean this breakfast mess up. I made it.” She points a thumb at herself.
“Deal.” I finish my breakfast and trot to my room. When I come back to the kitchen, where Steph is calling in to her team, I have my bathrobe for her to use. Her clothes that were hanging on the drying rack are now dry, but looking like they need to be washed. She sees me and mutes the call. “What’s up?” She asks.
“Oh, no big deal, I'll just throw your clothes in the washing machine. You can throw on this robe in the meantime.” I explain, setting the robe on the chair for her to put on.
I hear what sounds like a conference call going on, and she listens on speakerphone, half paying attention to me. Surprising me, she pulls the shirt over her head, completely exposing herself to me, and then she proceeds to remove the bottoms, until she’s completely naked. Standing there stunned; I find myself frozen in place. Her eyes are on mine but almost staring through me, not at me, like she’s undressing in front of me by rote. Like I’ve already seen her naked, so what’s the big deal? And I suppose that it should be that way, but as I stand here, completely shocked, yet trying to act like I’m not, she drapes the robe over her shoulders and unmutes the call, responding to something someone says about a measurement.
Of course, what just happened was not sexual, but the image of her body is now stuck in my mind, as I walk to the washing machine with her clothes in hand. I can hear her conversing with her staff, who are working from home, and listening to her articulate her ideas is really stimulating. Me, I’m used to numbers and projections, but Steph is discussing engineering concepts. Never thought that would be turn-on, but it is. Unless my dick is just recalling the naked breasts I saw moments ago. After I turn the washing machine on, I try to think about the clean-up that I need to do outside.
...but I’m not outside for long...