Twice Over

Chapter 146 - Derisive

derisive
adjective
1. expressing contempt or ridicule

Realising sitting here in my staff room while I had a whole opening night party going on, I realised that I needed to get moving again. I hid the expensive earrings at the bottom of my go-bag in the office under Ms Murr's desk, then went back out and checked the kitchen again to see if they needed any further help. The head chef kicked me out as I was getting in his way, cheeky man. So I was left to go and mingle with the guests once again.

Exiting the staff only area of the coffee house, I quickly passed by the corner that my Dad and Joe Anginelli were sitting in with all their old business contacts and cronies talking about business and changing the future shape of the city.

I made it almost half way across the venue towards the entrance when I heard the most nasty, derisive words spoken nearby, dripping with sarcasm and destain, effecting my senses like nails down a blackboard, causing me to shudder. Something was wrong.

"Oh look what the ally cat puked up and dragged in. Patricia, its bad enough that you waft your stench in my city still, but you go and prostitute yourself..."

Turning I found the most disgusting of all ex-husbands in the history of ex-husbands – Mr Matthew Channing with his tailored suit and slicked back hair. He was cornering my beautiful personal assistant Patricia up against the end of the servery with two of his beefed up sidekicks standing at his back.

Patricia's face was an emotionally free mask of indifference, until he started belching lies about her now deceased baby son. Her masked cracked a little and she took a deep breath. I've never seen anyone say such horrid things, not in my last life, not even in the mental hospital. It was a revolting and appalling thing to say.

Then the scumbag stopped yelling at her when she quick-punched him hard in the face and I knew my dear friend was mad, absolutely livid and in a heap of trouble.

Before he straightened up from the punch, I was moving as fast as I could and arrived between her and her dirtbag of an ex, and took a hold of her hand behind my back. Now both of us were cornered before the end of the coffee house servery with a dangerous madman shouting obscenities at our faces.

Quickly I realised I was standing before a very powerful, very influential and very angry much bigger, older man whose face was turning red and black as he spewed profanities and expletives before us, pointing past me at Patricia Palmer, the ex-wife that he abused, extorted, and tried to murder. His words should not to be repeated in polite society. I swallowed the fear-induced saliva in my mouth and waited with ringing ears for the jackarse to calm down—if he calmed down. This is probably the stupidest thing I've ever done... this week.

He just didn't stop. I don't know if it was seeing Patricia again after months apart, he just seemed to flip out, forget himself and his surroundings, tried to verbally lay into both of us, right then and there. It was awful and I was already shaking, trembling as I held Patricia's hand behind my back as I stood in front of her. She had tried to pull me aside, but I wouldn't let her. She was my friend, my business associate, my employee and my responsibility. I needed to stand before her, keep her behind me and keep her safe.

I noticed the whole venue looking on in shocked silence, some with phone cameras pointing our way. Others moving away from the confrontation. And then there was Wallace.

"That's enough, Matt." He didn't shout as much as he spoke with his dragon aura authority, permeating the whole venue with his command. Matthew Channing seemed to choke on his spit and splutter, turning even more red than he already was. He turned to find Wallace striding over urgently not stopping until he pulled me into his arms and Patricia behind the both of us.