“And who the fuck are you?” retorted Richard, pointing at him, still swaying. He grabbed his glass and slumped down in his chair. Mike’s eyes continued to bulge.
I struggled to hide my own feelings. I was geared up to expect most things. The confrontation had been played out in dozens of ways in my head already. I didn’t expect to see Richard in this dishevelled state, drunk and covered in bruises. Mike and I pushed further into the room, standing together at the other side of the desk. Richard was now only inches from me. He swigged from his glass, his eyes fixed on mine, glazed as they were.
“So are you a ghost Victoria?” he asked, sneering.
“Yes, and I’m here to haunt the fuck out of you, you piece of shit,” I said, hovering forwards. Rage bubbled suddenly inside me again. All that he had done to me; framing me, the water boarding, all that went on up the mountain, how he abandoned me to die.
Fucker!
He let out a forced chuckle.
“So who’s your friend?” he said, gesturing a finger towards Mike.
“It doesn’t matter who he is, he knows all about you and what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?” he said, slamming his drink down, “What I’ve done? Wasn’t it you that robbed me? Fucking nerve. I bet this is the same little bastard who did it too.”
I said nothing.
He laughed again, this time more naturally, “Ahh, so I’m right. Enjoy going through my boxer’s drawer?” he spat, his eyes blazing at Mike, “Does it feel good to rob newlyweds? Or were we just a couple of old queers to you?”
“Don’t try all that shite,” said Mike, staying in control of himself. “There was no need to do what you did to Vicky. No fucking need. Did she deserve to die for you losing a few pictures and stereos?”
I leaned off the desk and turned away for a moment.
Richard rolled his shoulders. “Not necessarily. Things just worked out that way. But by God, you two are far from innocent.”
“I’ll accept that,” I said, stepping back towards the desk and resting a hand casually on it. “But why do all of that to me then? You’re the one who killed Ivan, not me.”
“Well you drove him to it!” he said sharply. His hands were fidgeting, he’d finished his drink and he looked like a bag of nerves. I noted the remnants of a line of powder on the desk beside his glass too.
“I saved you Vicky,” he continued, “I saved you! I stopped Ivan for you. So after that, well… I could do whatever I wanted with you.”
“You’re a fucking psycho,” cut in Mike.
“You didn’t own me Richard, that’s not how it works. I didn’t ask for Ivan coming around to wring my neck either.”
“Ah yes, but you did drive him to it. He knew you had stolen from him – twice. He could tell what had happened between us. He intuited that I’d fucked you.”
“What the fuck?” reacted Mike sourly, instinctively.
Then he looked at me, questioning, hurt.
“Oh, this is precious,” crowed Richard. “The boyfriend didn’t know.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I volleyed back.
Shit. Why say that – you’re making it worse.
Mike continued to look between us, confused.
I turned to face him, lowering my voice, conscious of Richard’s hateful expression in between us.
“It just happened one time – before the wedding. I’d had a few drinks – it was a mistake. It was a one-time drunken thing.” I shrugged, tried to make light of it. Mike closed his mouth, he must have realised he had been making a full O with it.
“Just a mistake?” Richard broke in with mock horror, “Now that isn’t very nice. I thought one day we would walk into the sunset together, maybe you would turn me full hetero.”
Then he gave a cruel chuckle.
How had I got him so wrong?
Mike and I both tried to compose ourselves, focus on what we were here for.
“Were we still together?” Mike asked quietly.
“I don’t think so, no… I mean no – we definitely weren’t,” I said, giving him a look to get back on point.
“Okay,” Mike said, touching my hand before returning to eyeballing Richard.
“You haven’t asked how I ended up back home Richard,” I stated, taking back control of the conversation.
“No,” he said simply, waving a hand absently. He licked a finger and pressed it onto some of the loose powder on the table, before rubbing it around his gums.
“Your friends are all dead,” I said evenly.
I smiled and enjoyed waiting on his response.
His eyes narrowed, darted off, the settled back on me, “Is that so?”
“Yeah it is,” I said, my face hardening.
Mike moved back and forth between his heels. He was struggling to stay on the leash.
“There was a mention on their local news. I saw it on Google earlier. They announced that a body had been found up by the volcano. I guess I thought it was you,” he said, licking his lips.
“Well it wasn’t me was it?”
“No.”
“The three of them are all dead. Gone.”
He stopped rubbing at his gums and placed both his palms on the table, looking down at them as if he didn’t recognise them as his own.
“Well I guess I should have done the job my fucking self then shouldn’t I?” he said suddenly, a twinkle in his eye and a cruelty in his voice.
“Fuck this,” burst out Mike, pulling out his gun and aiming it at Richard.
“Mike…” I shouted, raising my hands to calm him. He ignored me. Richard bolted upright, genuine fear etched on his face. Then he slumped a little and tried again to look nonchalant.
“We’re not here to fuck about”, Mike declared, his voice steady, “Vicky killed your mates and we’ll kill you too if we need to.”
Richard considered this, as if selecting a fine wine from a bistro’s list. He turned to me.
