The Ditches

Chapter Nine

The car speeds from the airport, a full day of travel behind us. It weaves around the other vehicles like we're in a secret race with every other fucker on the road. We join a motorway and Stav, our driver, edges the car in the outer-most lane, only inches from the car in front.

"Get out of the fucking way you shit faced bastard!" Stav shouts as he flashes his headlights. The car moves and we rush forwards. "I'm telling you—" he glances round to Hara and I "—some people drive like they haven't got a fucking clue. Don't they know they've got to share the road with everyone else?"

"What absolute dicks," I say, overflowing with sarcasm.

Stav shakes his head. "You have no idea. I was on a job once ..." and he continues, without pause. Droning on and on. Bragging like there's no tomorrow.

I glance to Hara; she grips the door handle, and her ashen face is a few shades paler. We exchange smiles and Hara rolls her eyes, seemingly as irritated at Stav's constant chatter as I.

He's talking about fights, now, and I interject some well-timed ahhs, and oh fucks. I'm no stranger to telling people to shut the fuck up when they're pissing me off, but right now, the more people who like me, hopefully means the less who are willing to kill me.

The car's tyres crunch over gravel as we roll to a standstill outside the open doors to Whyan's mansion. I have mixed feelings about returning here, but it's certainly better than Hilly's sordid hotel.

Stav springs from the car and walks the walk carrying, not wheeling, our bags inside.

Hara wobbles out of the car. "I promised myself I'd never get in a car with him again," she whispers as we step under the arched door. "I just don't have the stomach for it, thought I was going to puke all over the seats."

I pull a face. "Yuck," I say with a smirk and our feet echo as we step into the foyer.

Hara laughs. "Oh, you'd still love me." She frowns. "I don't mean love ... I know you don't love me. I mean you'd still like me ... as a friend. Just the normal usual amount that friends like each other."

My mouth opens a little and I shake my head. "Shut the fuck up." I sigh.

"Ramet. Hara!" Whyan shouts, as he jogs down the stairs with Tonan in his arms. He kisses Hara on the cheek and shakes my hand. "You have made me very happy. Hara why don't you spend some time with my grandson whilst I talk with Ramet?"

His grandson. His. Whyan's choice of words are intentional and impeccable. Hara's role as mother is disregarded in favour of Whyan. It's a subtle dig, a gentle grab at power and I wonder if Hara's notices for if she does, she makes no acknowledgement of the word choice.

"Hi Tonan," Hara smiles and gently takes him from her father.

"You did it," Whyan says as we walk into a room off the foyer. An office, with an abundance of heavy-set men. Oh, this is not the welcome I wanted.

The sun misses the window set behind a long wooden desk and the room is bathed in shadow. I walk deeper in, when all I want is to turn tail. Whyan stops by the window, and I stop too, in the middle of the room. Okay, let's just try and be sensible.

There's a wall of books to my right and I briefly wonder if this is where Hara nabbed her steamy novel. It's not, of course, but I sort of wish it was. It would be a funny thought to imagine Whyan locked up in here, turning the pages whilst his body vibrates with desire. His belt unbuckled and his hand going ten to the dozen on his dick. A laugh slips out, fucks sake, Ramet, I said be sensible.

Whyan turns sharply and points to the chair. Oh, we're off to a great start.

I sit down and sigh. "What did I do wrong?"