At this Una shoots a highly disgruntled look in Brian’s direction, folding her arms tightly over her chest. Clearly, she’s not happy with the radio interview idea. Brian’s look in return is bland. In person, he seems like a fairly ordinary, inoffensive old man, but there’s something nefarious beneath the surface. Something that suggests he’s not someone you’d want to get on the bad side of.

“Wow, Brian,” says Jay in a fake friendly voice. “You really don’t want this shit to get to court, do you? I’m trying to figure out how a dick could have such a gigantic pussy.”

I think every single person in the room draws in breath at the same exact moment. I bite on my lip, in all honesty, trying not to laugh. Trust Jay to say something like that in what’s supposed to be a formal, professional environment.

Dad coughs loudly. “Mr Fields, that language is highly inappropriate.” He shoots a conciliatory look at Brian Scott. “I’m sorry for my client’s behaviour.”

“I’m not sorry,” says Jay, eyeing Brian fiercely.

“No need to apologise,” says Brian to Dad with a dismissive wave. “I know what kind of white trash I’m dealing with.”

Oh, my God.

“Well, would you look at that.” Jay leans farther over the table, studying Brian closely. Then he turns to Dad. “You know what that look means, Hugh? The ever-so-slight raising of the upper lip? It shows disgust. Do I disgust you, Brian? Do you find me distasteful?”

Brian’s eyes slide past Jay before landing on Dad. “Could you control your client, Mr Brandon? He’s letting his emotions get the best of him.”

“You know what I find distasteful?” Jay goes on, eyes darkening. “Degenerate old fucks like you.”

Okay.

“Seriously,” Una exclaims. “We should not have to deal with this type of behaviour.”

“She’s right,” Jon Snow finally puts in. “Mr Fields, you need to be more respectful. This session is not about throwing barbs back and forth. We are trying to reach a conclusion satisfying to both parties.”

Jay sits back, his arms falling to his sides. I reach over and lace my fingers through his beneath the table, unable to help myself. Despite everything, I need to show him my support. He squeezes back tightly.

“Why should I be respectful when Brian’s showing me none?” Jay asks casually.

One of the solicitors speaks. “I apologise for my client’s comment. Now, if we could get back to the matter at hand.”

“I’m not talking about him calling me white trash. I could give a fuck about that. I’m talking about the way he’s looking at me.” Letting go of my hand, he leans forward again, talking to Una this time. “You know all about me, don’t you, Una? Why don’t you tell Mr Scott how I know what he thinks of me?”

“Oh, yes,” says Una, seeming pleased to have an opportunity to speak. She turns her head to Brian. “Mr Fields was raised by his uncle, Killian Fields, one of the foremost behavioural science academics in the United States. That’s where he gets his little…mind tricks from.”

She says the last part with a tone of disdain.

“Ah,” says Brian, for a brief moment looking uncomfortable before the bland expression is back in place. “Well, that’s very interesting. But I’d like to get back to business. I haven’t got all day.”

“Oh, in that case, you can scoot right along. I’ve decided I’m not interested in a settlement. I’ll see you in court,” says Jay, folding his arms. I think he might also have his middle finger ever so subtly sticking up where it rests on his arm.

Brian stares at Jay for a long moment, and Jay stares right back, his gaze never wavering. Jay has hardly paid any attention to Una since she arrived, and it makes something click into place for me. I don’t think Harris is the one Jay is targeting at all, despite all the horrible things she’s written about him.

I think his real target is Brian Scott, and I have no idea why.

Una rises from her seat and goes to link her arm through Brian’s. “Come on, let’s not waste any more of our time on his charade.” Brian nods to her and allows her to lead him to the door.

Jay chuckles harshly as he watches them leave. “Yeah, you go on ahead. The ideal fucking pair, a garbage bag and a trash can.”

I immediately put my hand to my mouth when he says it, laughter bubbling up, because Una’s black leather dress does look an awful lot like a bin bag. And the sad fact is, she probably paid more than I earn in a month for it.

Dad’s staring at Jay with disapproval, and Will is sitting sternly in his seat. I don’t think either one of them is happy with how Jay is behaving. Now I feel bad for not warning them, because I’d expected this all along.

We leave the room quietly, Jay walking behind me. When we get out onto the street, he asks, “So, lunch anyone? My treat.”

“No,” says Dad. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now. But thank you for offering.”

“Me, neither,” says Will, and they both start walking in the direction of the office, not far from our current location. I’m left standing alone with Jay, the sounds of afternoon traffic passing us by.

“Well, they aren’t happy with me,” he observes.

“Nope.” I try to suppress a grin. I shouldn’t want to smile, but there was something so hilarious about Jay mouthing off to Una and Brian. I mean, those two are probably never spoken to like that. I bet they spend half their lives having their arses licked.

Jay sticks his hands in his pockets. “Well, are you going to come to lunch with me, Watson? Come on, don’t leave me hanging.”

I glance at him, and it all becomes too much. The laughter bubbles forth, and it just won’t stop. I clutch at my belly, I’m laughing so hard.

Jay grins. “What? What are you laughing at?”

“It’s just,” I manage, followed by more laughter. “The look on Brian’s face when you called him a pussy. He really wasn’t expecting it.”

Jay throws his arm around my shoulders and leads me forward. “Yeah, yeah, I’m a funny fuck. We’re going for lunch.”

I think, but I’m not certain, that I see Una Harris and Brian Scott sitting in a fancy car by the side of the road, watching us as we walk away. I just about manage to calm myself down by the time we reach the café.

Twenty-Six

Months go by. After a couple of weeks of keeping a painful distance from me, Jay starts coming over to the house. Almost every other evening he shows up and we sit together, each of us focusing on our own tasks. He’s creating a brand-new show from scratch, which can apparently take a really long time to put together.

It seems magic and illusion doesn’t come easy. It takes dedication almost to the point of obsession. My little dressmaking business grows, and Jay even helps me set up a website. The man is a genius with computers. He also helps me with orders, packing, and doing post office runs, which kind of melts my heart.

We rarely touch, but when we do there are fireworks. Silent explosions. And all from an innocent hand on my elbow. Our arms brushing absently against each other. Sometimes he’ll gently pull my hair out of the messy ponytail it’s in and redo it for me.

I love when he runs his fingers through my hair.

I always thought that in order to have a relationship, there needed to be sex. But really, that’s not the case. I’ve grown closer to Jay without sex than I ever had when there was sex. Not that the sex lasted very long, anyway.

Still, I ache for him.

I long for the day when he’ll allow his touches to linger, to transform into something more. I patiently wait for the circus that his court case has become to be over.

The newspapers in both Ireland and the UK have caught on to the case, and in the weeks coming up to the court date, it gets a lot of attention. As the day draws near, I notice something building in Jay, a kind of electricity. The anticipation of relief for it all to be done with.