I straighten right up, fold my arms against my chest. ‘This should be interesting.’
I light a smoke, hold out the packet to the Mayor. He declines. ‘I’m afraid you can’t smoke in here.’
‘And yet I am.’ I blow out smoke circles into the frosty air. ‘Go on. What could you give that I’d want?’
He smiles. It’s arrogant, self-assured. He angles back in his chair. ‘Money. Fifty thousand pounds, in fact.’
I start laughing, cigarette in mouth. It’s an automatic thing, a kind of knee-jerk reaction.
This guy’s fucking oblivious to the extent of my wealth.
Christian gets offended by my reaction. ‘I’m offering you a truly wonderful opportunity. The sort of opportunity that a man like you ought to be extremely grateful for.’
‘It’s true what they say about politicians. You’ve got no idea about the people. I don’t want or need your money.’
‘I know about your past, Shepherd.’
I feel those words like a death punch to the head. I was a child when I went to prison. My criminal record is kept under protection.
If I was angry before, I’m angrier now. The world won’t let a man change. All the years and all the jobs and all the damn things I’ve done to clear the past . . . it’s never good enough. Done like my stupid psyche profile said — snapped back into the world of crime like someone with my aversions to authority is expected to do. And here’s the Mayor, like he thinks I’m on a lovely vacation and am enjoying the blood, sweat and tears of being in this shithole.
‘I wonder,’ he says, ‘what would the people you work for think about that?’
My mouth is practically watering at the thought of ripping off this wanker’s smug face. I’m my own boss. It’s not like his threat could harm my career. But nobody fucking threatens me.
‘Yeah? What would Amy think about her father being friends with a teenage girl?’
His eyes blaze. ‘I never laid a finger on her. Your mother wanted me to, though.’
I pause for a couple of heartbeats. The delicate grasp I keep in check of my control weakens.
‘What do you want?’ My words are drawn out slowly.
‘Leave Greystone and stay away from my daughter. I don’t trust why you’re back here. But I know it has everything to do with her.’
He unlocks his desk drawer and extracts a banded pile of banknotes. ‘Just before I see you drive away, and you wave goodbye, I’m going to give you this.’ He lays them on the desktop. ‘It is all here for the taking, Shepherd. Everything you need to begin a new life without delay.’
Is this the reason Amy didn’t want me to reunite with her father? I know that’s wishful thinking. It’s an easier pill to swallow than the idea that Amy fucking doubts me.
I stub out my cigarette in the Mayor’s antique ink-pot. I pick up the money. It’s a lot of money. Closely bound, with perfect edges, neat, clean, new. Someone made a special visit to the bank for this. I smile at Christian Earhart. The Mayor shows me every single one of his long teeth in return.
‘Christian, I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for your generosity. But I can’t leave Greystone. Call it unfinished business.’
His grin drops right off his face. ‘If you’re holding out for more, Shepherd —’
‘You should quit there.’ I slam the money down on the desk, smile. ‘You should know, Christian, your daughter is worth more than all the money in the world.’
Christian’s eyes bulge out of his head, like an electrocuted frog. ‘Don’t be foolish. I’m doing this to protect us all. Do you understand me?’
He looks pained.
I’m not going there . . . I won’t ever fucking go there.
Some secrets should never be opened.
I take a long slow look at the Mayor, realise what I feel is ill at ease. It’s an unnatural feeling for me, being so keyed up. I don’t fucking like it. Even so, I can’t seem to shake it off.
‘You won’t get another offer, Shepherd. I’d advise you to take the money.’
I fold my arms across my chest and blow my hair out of my eyes. ‘And no doubt that would be sound advice. But if it’s all the same, I’ll leave it.’
‘Men like you never change,’ he says. His voice is oiled and crawling. ‘It’s only a matter of time until you step out of line and go back to prison.’
I hold up my empty hands. ‘Well, it’s been great gassin’ with you, Mayor of Greystone. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around. Oh, don’t worry . . . ’ My smile is wicked. ‘ . . . I’ll be sure to make an appointment with Frisky out there to come visit you — you know, to ask your permission for your daughter’s hand in marriage.’
I’ve never seen a man turn red so fast. He looks like a big tomato ready to explode.
I leave town hall, tread slowly back to my Aston Martin. The anger of the righteous man courses through me, dangerously electric. I look down at my right hand. I’ve been clenching it so hard that the nail of my index finger cuts into the nail bed of the thumb. I draw my thumb to my mouth, suck at the blood. It tastes electric, metallic.
I know things will be bad now, but I still feel triumphant. And a kind of release, a beautiful release, from a tension I hadn’t realised had been as bad as it clearly had.
It won’t last. I know that. Till the day I deal with finding the identity of my father, it’ll always be there, coiling ever
