18 - "Are you threatening me?"

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

"He's an alright guy from what I know."

It had been easier than I had thought to get an appointment with Marcus Wainwright. A fake appointment, nonetheless. But he didn't need to know that just yet.

I'd spoken to him briefly over the phone, interested in getting my 'tax return'. He'd seemed pleasant enough, but I could hear the edge in his voice. The authority was clearly there.

I didn't know Marcus very well, but from what I did know, he was extremely rich. One of the only accountants in our town and on the Yacht Club committee. Who fucking knew why a yacht club needed a committee but plenty of things in New River didn't make sense.

He was the type of man I had only ever heard of. Not someone who tended to hang out around town in New River. There were a few people in this town who I didn't know well. Some people who distanced themselves from the tourist life.

Marcus Wainwright was one of those people.

I'd probably met him once or twice before in my entire life. My parents had never been able to pay for an accountant. Ryan was the only person I knew who had parents who used him. Other than people like Rhys Laderman, of course.

"Maybe you don't know him then," I remark.

Ryan had offered to drive me today and I knew he'd be offended if I turned him down. I knew he'd think that I was choosing Rhys over him again too and I wasn't in the mood for one of his lectures.

Honestly, it felt different this time. When I went to the bank, it wasn't about talking to someone who could be linked to my mum, in the flesh. But this was. And I was scared. Scared that he might even be my dad.

"My parents haven't ever had a problem with him. He's always been trustworthy."

"A liar begins with making falsehood appear like a truth, and ends with making truth itself appear like falsehood."

"Was that—"

"Shakespeare," I nod, winding down my window.

"Who knew you were paying attention in English class."

"Shut up," I grumble, trying to hold in my smile.

We turn down the main road and pull up at the lights. I spot Rhys skating past on his board. He doesn't notice me at first, his attention focused straight ahead. His hair blows in the wind, almost angelically. I curse him for looking good no matter what he does.

When he sees me, his fingers move to his forehead to salute me, a smirk playing on his lips. I throw him my middle finger before winding my window closed.

"You still talking to him?"

I jump at the sound of Ryan's voice, feeling like I've been caught ogling something I shouldn't.

"No. Not since the last party," I lie. Ryan didn't need to know about the conversation Rhys and I had shared at the surf shop the other day. Some secrets weren't worth telling.

"Good," Ryan nods. "You've finally come to your senses."

"Don't start this," I groan. "Why does it feel like all our conversations revolve around Rhys now?"

Ryan falls silent, clearly unable to think of a reasonable explanation. I raise an eyebrow in satisfaction.

"Can we talk about something else?" I ask.

"Sure," he smiles, accelerating as the light turns green. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Literally anything that won't cause us to fight," I smile. "Fucking over that."

"Me too," he agrees. "The past is the past, right? It doesn't matter anymore."

I look away from Ryan, hoping he won't notice my soured expression. "Yeah. The past."

We roll down the main street, turning down the street towards the accountancy.

Ryan pulls up out the front, turning off the engine. We sit in silence for a moment as I work up the courage to tell him something.

"You don't want me coming inside, do you?" he asks, practically reading my mind.

I unbuckle my seatbelt slowly, turning to him. "It's not personal, Ry. I just...I want to do this on my own. If he's my— my father, then I just want to hear what he has to say alone."

"So Rhys was allowed to go to the bank with you but—"

"Ryan," I whisper, placing a hand on his bicep. "This isn't a competition between you and him. This is about my mother's life. Don't make this about you again."

His jaw ticks. He closes his eyes and sighs, rubbing his forehead. "You're right. Just go. I'll wait here for you."

"You don't have to do that," I shake my head. "I could be there for a while."

"I'll see you when you come out," he gives me a lopsided grin, reaching over to unlock my door for me.

His blonde hair tickles my forehead as he leans across my body, stretching over to reach. He pushes it open, leaning back in his seat.

"Good luck, Ceeks."

I give him my most reassuring smile, before turning away and walking up towards the front entrance.

Unlike the time at the bank, I get in to see Marcus straight away.

He's a clean-cut guy, someone who resembles the stereotypical Real Estate agent. Fake smile, fake charm. His suit fits perfectly and he gives me one of those dazzling smiles, showing off his perfectly white veneers.

"I must say, you're definitely must youngest client thus far," he places his hands clasped together in front of him. "What is it I can do for you today, Miss—" he looks down at a sheet of paper, "—Cora Cadigan?"

Prick. We'd introduced ourselves five minutes before this conversation and already he was acting as if I was below him. Just some stupid teenager.

This is what I hated about the obvious gap between New River residents. Marcus was the type of person who had a membership with the yacht club, who played golf in those stupid checkered trousers and attended the annual New River charity gala.

He thought he was so cool. A middle-aged, rich, somewhat recluse man who thought he was better than me. I already hated the man and I hardly knew him.

"I just wanted to discuss..."

Okay, so I didn't actually have a well thought out plan. When Marcus had answered on the second ring, I'd barely thought of what to say to him before he started to speak.

"To discuss?" He prompts, waving his hand towards and empty chair for me to have a seat.

"The idea on..." my gaze wonders round the room, looking for something to fucking talk about.

What did accountants even do besides help you with tax returns and budgeting?

My eyes stop on a poster plastered on the side wall, next to the big open window that overlooked the street. I can see Ryan in his truck, phone in hand as he intently focuses on it. No doubt playing fucking flappy bird.

"Debt," I suddenly blurt, turning back to meet Marcus's gaze. "I'm here to speak about debt."

Fuck. Get it together.

I could feel the perspiration gathering on my hands. Usually I wouldn't get so nervous around someone, but this someone could possibly be my biological father. That was bound to make me nervous.

"How excessive is your debt?" Marcus questions, leaning back in his chair as he sits opposite me, a desk between us.

I watch as he reaches for a notebook behind him, clicking a pen as he picks it up and opens to a fresh page.

"Um. Quiet excessive," I say, eye briefly turning to watch Ryan again.

A part of me regretted making him sit in the car. At least if he was here I could have some moral support.

"Figures?"

"Sorry?" I frown.

Was he saying he figured I'd be in excessive debt? How dare—

"Figures. As in how much debt are we talking?" He raises an eyebrow.

I notice the humorous glint in his eye. I fist my palms on the desk, trying to remain calm.

"Oh," I breath. "$10,000?"

He nods, beginning to write notes. "And you've been having trouble budgeting to pay this back?"

What the fuck was I doing? Was fake small talk even necessary?

I had to pay this man for every hour of his time and I wasn't exactly made of money.

Might as well get to the point.

"Actually," I grit out, keeping my resolve in check. "I was just genuinely curious about why you liked to buy the most expensive brand of chewing gum available."

He frowns, leaning back in his chair. "I'm sorry. I don't think I understand."

"From New River supermarket? The chewing gum?" I cock my head to the side, watching him carefully. "The one you bought the week of Zeila Cadigan's disappearance? Ringing any bells?"

Cutting straight to the bullshit was usually my speciality. Today, it may have taken some time to work up to it but at least I was finally there.

"I'm sorry. Zeila Cadigan? What—"

"You see, Mr Wainwright," I sit forward in my chair, leaning against the desk. "My mother went missing five years ago. In her handbag, the police found a gum wrapper. Only, it wasn't vegan friendly and definitely wouldn't appeal to my mum."

"I'm not following," he frowns.

"The week she went missing, you happened to buy the same gum that was found in her handbag. I have proof," I withdraw the CCTV picture of him from my shorts.

I unfold it on the table, spreading out the creases. I push it towards him, waiting for a reaction.

The lines in his forehead deepen as he continues to frown. "What exactly are you inferring here?"

"Did you know my mother?" I ask. "Are you my father?"

Unexpectedly, Marcus begins to laugh. He watches me carefully, sliding the piece of paper back to me.

"Oh, Miss Cadigan. I'm sorry that your mother slept around but I can assure you that I am not—"

"Excuse me?" I blanch.

"If you're suggesting that you don't know who your father is, then I'm sorry to tell you but that is not my problem. If your mother didn't know either, well..."

I stand up suddenly, anger radiating off me in waves. "I don't like what you're inferring here. My mother was not a whore!"

"Your words, not mine," he says, nonchalantly.

I lean over the desk, placing my palms flat against it. "Listen here, asshole. I don't believe you. You're keeping something from me."

It had been that flicker of recognition when I'd mentioned mums name that had given it away. The fact he had lied made it even more obvious to me.

"First of all, do you seriously think that just because I happened to supposedly buy gum the week your mother disappeared, that I know something? I'm sorry, but that is just preposterous."

Doubt starts to creep in, the thought that maybe it was just a coincidence. But I knew my gut, and I needed to start listening to it when something didn't feel right.

"Now," Marcus grunts, "I think it would be best for you to leave before I call security. You've already wasted enough of my time."

He shuts the notebook in front of him, clicking his pen with a grunt as he stands from the desk, looming over it in order to make me run in fear.

"Was it you sending my mum the money each month?" I rebuke. "Were you trying to keep her quiet about something?"

"I'm sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but I never met Zeila Cadigan. I wouldn't know her from a bar of soap."

"This is New River, Mr Wainwright," I glare, "everyone knows at least something about each other."

He shurgs, "I tend not to associate myself with those of the improvised society."

It takes all the strength within me not to run at him, slamming my fist into his face. Instead, I clench my fists at my side, steam practically coming out my ears.

"I think it's best if you leave now," he smiles. "Have a great day."

He walks past me, opening the door for my exit. I go to storm past him but he grabs my wrist, pulling me close.

His nose is inches from my face as he stares down at me. "Be careful who you cross in this town, my dear. You're starting to piss off a lot of people."

My stomach drops and I can feel myself beginning to shake. "Are you threatening me?"

He drops my arm, fixing his blazer jacket. He wipes off an imaginary piece of fluff, staring at me coldly.

"Goodbye now, Cora," he closes the door in my face before I can react.

It takes me a moment to find the strength to move from the close door, my nose almost pressed against it. I almost barge back in, wanting to scream at him, but from the look I was getting from the lady at the front desk, it told me it wouldn't be wise.

I walk numbly back outside, the sun instantly blinding me. I can't find the energy to reach up and shield my face as I walk towards Ry's car.

He pops open the door for me, concern evident in his expression. "That was no more than an hour. How'd it go?"

"I...um..."

"Ceeks? Are you good?"

Be careful who you cross in this town, my dear.

"I don't—"

You're starting to piss off a lot of people.

And suddenly, all the strength in me seems to leave my body. I begin to cry, wishing that I could just have a hug from my mum.

I tried to be mature. I tried to be more than just a scared seventeen year old girl missing her mother. But sometimes it was hard. Sometimes, I was just too exhausted to care.

"Oh, shit. Ceeks," Ryan runs around to my side of the car, wrapping me in a tight hug.

Despite everything, Ryan made me feel safe. Our friendship was rocky at best, but all I needed was for him to be here right now. I wasn't sure if I could stand up on my own.

"It's going to be okay," he reassures me. "Whatever has happened, we'll get through it together."

I grip the back of his t-shirt with my fists, squeezing my eyes shut as I lean against his chest.

"I'm scared," I say, hoarsely.

"I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispers. "You know I'll always be here no matter what."

I didn't get to see the softer side of Ryan enough. But when I did, I knew to cherish it and to hold on tight.

He kisses my hair, tightening his grip around my shoulders. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

I nod, knowing that anywhere was better than here. But I still didn't feel safe. Marcus's words ring in my ears and I shiver, wondering what they meant.

Some people in this town knew something about mum's disappearance. Some people in this town were hiding the truth.

I wasn't going to give up until I knew what happened that day five years ago. Even if it fucking killed me.

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net