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The grass glistened from the dew that had collected overnight. When I’d dropped Lola back to her place, I’d almost been tempted to drive right past and take her to mine. I wasn’t quite ready for her to see where I lived or to break the spell of me being a fairly normal boss. Once she saw how much wealth I’d accumulated, would she change her mind about me? She'd assumed that I was a pauper designer, just getting by on one job a month. Even when I’d tried to show her my world, she’d assumed that I'd taken out a loan.
Stifling a laugh, I sipped from my own mug of tea and turned back to my mother. The sun shone on her beautiful face, highlighting the height of her cheekbones and the rosebud of her lips. For years, she’d stayed away from men, too afraid to let them in, despite her beauty. Unfortunately, for us both, she’d been taken in by my father, a charmer with no money and no morals.
“I dreamt about him last night,” she said, scratching her elbow.
When she struggled to reach around to the back of the immobile limb, I went over and helped her, just like I had as a boy. The itch would’ve been imaginary, but the first time the doctor had told her that, she dismissed him with a few choice swearwords. Even now, after thirty years, she insisted that she could feel tingling down her right side, even though she’d had numerous tests to check whether it was phantom or not.
Sighing, I sat on the chaise longue next to her. “How did you kill him this time?”
The first time she’d told me that she’d dreamt of killing my father, my heart had skipped. Had she known that I’d also plotted his demise? It was such a recurring dream for her now, I’d become amused by her various techniques. It was part of the reason that I knew Lola was like me. Her confession of fantasizing about killing her foster father had hit close to home. And turned me on.
“I forgave him.”
My hand froze in mid-air where it had been reaching for a banana. The fruit, which sat in an expensive china bowl, remained untouched as I turned to my mother.
“Dreams do funny things to us,” I said, standing as my appetite disappeared.
The clearing of her throat made me stare at her. She shrugged her good shoulder and dropped her gaze, clearly wanting to avoid my scrutiny.
“You've forgiven him?” My voice was tight as my phone beeped.
Usually, I would distract myself with work as I spoke to my mother, but her confession had made my mind whirl. We'd been united in our hatred for my father my whole life, I couldn't have her go soft on me now.
“You haven't been to visit in weeks,” she said, waving her hand as a distraction. “Has your new girl been the reason? Even when you have high profile jobs, you make time for me.”
“Don't change the subject,” I snapped, “Have you forgiven the man who beat you to a pulp?”
Her jaw clenched and she scowled, her forehead creasing. “Don't you raise your voice to me, young man! I'm still your mother, despite the way you like to control everything.”
Taking a deep breath, I paced the rug in front of the white and gold fireplace. My insides itched as if a demon were trying to escape in an attempt to get to the woman who should've always supported me, just like I had her. She knew how hard I'd fought to stay afloat, to keep control of my temper when I'd been pushed. My teenage self had been a bastard, constantly getting into fights. That's why I'd distracted myself with drawing.
“That's it,” she said softly, “control the beasts inside. I know it's hard, my love–”
“Do you?” I interrupted, glaring at her as I came to a stop. “Do you really know what it's like to see the consequence of that day every time I see you? Even after all these years, he's in my mind, bating me.”
Folding one hand over the other, my mother lifted her head and stared me in the eyes. “Don't you dare see my weakness as his strength, that's degrading to me. I'm stronger than you realise, despite the fact that you mother me. What's got into you? You've been an expert at blocking out the trauma of that day. Has that girl got into your head?”
Rubbing a hand over my short hair, I went to the French doors and looked out again. Lola had indeed got into my head. She'd guessed that there was more to me than she knew, but I wasn’t sure I wanted her to ever see it. Those moments, alone in the woods, where I could just be me... Joe... were precious. But they were also dangerous. If she pushed past my defences, she would crack open the gates of hell and release the demons that controlled me.
“She's broken,” I whispered, remembering Lola's story about her foster father, “just like me.”
Pushing open the double doors, I stepped onto the patio and inhaled the fresh air. Shit, the idea of my mother forgiving my father had shaken me far more than I cared to admit. I was stoic for a reason. Surely I could control my emotions enough to not let my mother throw me over the edge?
My phone started to ring, breaking me out of my mood. I took it out of my blazer pocket and glanced down, hoping to see Lola's number. No, it was the club.
“Jake,” I answered, forcing myself to calm, “the meeting isn't for another hour–”
“It's not that, Joe,” my security guard interrupted me, “Someone has broken into the club and... well, you need to come and see.”
*
My heartbeat had taken up residence in my head, pounding against my skull as my chauffeurpulled up outside the club. Jumping out, I smoothed my tie as it was taken by the wind. The silk pale blue material had been gifted to me by one of the other society members. I'd been waiting for the perfect person to use it on... and now I'd found her.
“What's going on?” I snapped as I entered the club through the side door.
Jake had been waiting and stood to attention, gesturing for me to follow him. I did as he asked, focusing on his back as he led me through the greenroom and into the hallway. The red carpet was pristine, clean and plush, soft under my leather loafers as we walked through the open doors and into the club. The ex-theatre's lights were dimmed, just as I'd requested, and chairs had been set up on the stage.
“What's the problem?” I asked, frowning as I checked that everything was exactly where it usually was on meeting days.
