The Family Firm

Chapter 24

Katie's brows knitted at the fist pounding on her door. She had been sleeping in—though she supposed it wasn't sleeping in if she did it every day—and recovering from a night of heavy drinking, so the last thing she was expecting was company. More so because Maggie had been with her and Lord knew she wouldn't have gotten out of bed after a party like that even if the Queen herself showed up at her door step.

Figuring it must be bloody important—or at least, it had better have been—she lifted herself from her mattress and tucked her messy, chin-length hair behind her ears as she made her way for the door.

Yanking it open, she was immediately annoyed to see none other than Junior standing there ahead of her.

'Well, good morning, ducky! All right, are you Kate?' He was smiling big, and she turned up her face in annoyance. She did like him, really, but these days he was a large source of aggravation for her. She wasn't sure if it was the way he acted, the natty way he dressed, or the memories associated with him. They lingered on her mind like the metallic scent of blood. Just lingered.

She didn't respond at first, but as she turned and headed inside the gaff, he followed along like a loyal dog behind her. 'What do you want, Junior?'

'Come round to see you,' he answered casually, peeling off his sunglasses and tucking them into the pocket of his smart black suit jacket. He looked around her flat a bit before joining her further in the kitchen, where she was putting on a kettle. 'You need help around here? This place looks like a tip.'

Katie pressed her lips together into a thin line. 'Look, if you've come to criticise me, you can fuck right off back home. I don't need this from you of all people.'

He was genuinely surprised by her grumpy attitude, and he stepped forward slightly, raising a hand in defence. 'I'm only taking the mickey, Kate, you know me. I'm just looking out for you. I care about you.'

Katie didn't respond. Keeping her back to him, she set about putting the kettle on the electric cook top and grabbing two mismatched mugs from the cupboard. Junior watched her do this, the fluid way she moved, even stiff with aggravation as she was, and admired her. He hadn't been lying; he did care about her, and he had for years. Katie intrigued and inspired him; he loved her attitude and her ferocious temper, he loved everything about her. Freddie had told him to take care of her years ago, but now he wasn't doing it for his uncle's sake, but because she was special to him. She was one in a million.

If only she could see that.

'Look...' he began after a moment, much more serious now. 'Me mum's been asking about you, wondering how you been. She wants you to come over for tea. So, I popped over to see if you would, but...not because she told me or anything. Katie, I really like ya.'

'Well don't.' The words came so quickly from her mouth, she even surprised herself. A lump formed in her throat she forced herself to swallow, wishing the water would heat faster so she could fix her tea and calm her nerves.

Junior wasn't taking that for an answer, however, and strode forward. 'I know you don't like noffink sentimental, but it's true. I've liked you for as long as I can remember. I mean, you know I don't come over here for the fucking charity, right? I think you're fit, Katie. I mean—beautiful, like.'

Before she could react, he planted his lips firmly against hers, and she remained frozen in place, even as he moved his kisses down her jawline, to her neck. 'Stop it...' she whispered, but he wasn't listening, and so she pushed firmly on his chest. 'I said, stop it.'

He took a step back and looked at her as if she'd grown a third eyeball. 'What, you don't like me?'

'It isn't that.'

'Because, for fuck's sake, Katie, if you don't like me, you're giving me really fucking mixed signals here, like...'

Katie squeezed her eyes shut before the tears she felt welling in them could fall. She never cried, and she certainly didn't want to in front of Freddie Evans Jr for fuck's sake. As if she needed to seem any weaker in his eyes.

It took her a few moments before she could open them and look at him, consciously steadying her breath. 'Every time I look at you, Junior...I see me mum. Every time. I can't stop thinking about it, like. If I weren't there with you...y'know, that day, then...'

Junior's expression softened, and he sucked in a breath before nodding a few times. 'Right.'

'It's not your fault, Junior,' she insisted. 'It's mine, it's me, I mean...'

'No, no, I get that. I mean, it's been only, what, six years, but I get that.' He seemed as if he was about to leave, but then, as sure as an Evans, an argument bubbled in his mind and he turned around to point an accusing index finger at her. 'It hurts too much to shag me, but not take me money, right? Do you know how fucked that is, Katie? You do see the irony in that, right?'

The guilt was crushing her heart like a pair of fucking gas grips, and she physically clutched her chest, as if the gesture would somehow alleviate the pain. 'I know, Junior, I...'

'But you'll still take it anyway, right?' Junior narrowed his eyes at her, and she felt the sting of his gaze. 'God, you are a right bitch.'

The word made Katie's temper flare, and her guilt turned to anger. 'So you'll only pay me if you can get a shag out of it? I'm not a...'

'What, a brass, like your mum?' Junior knew the accusation hurt; he had wanted it to.

A beat or so later, the tension between them thick as a trifle, his expression fell and he sighed. It wasn't worth the fight, and his temper had already dissipated. 'I'll still give you money because you're me best mate. But by your own fucked-up logic, that don't make you any less of a cunt fer taking it.'

Only after she heard the door slam behind him and his heavy footfalls disappear down the stairs did Katie allow herself to burst into tears and pound her fists into the counter. Who the fuck did he think he was, showing up in her drum and calling her a bitch, a cunt, telling her how to feel? Who did that? If he really fucking cared about her, he wouldn't care about the money!

Deep down, she knew he didn't. She also knew that he'd stay true to his word and continue helping her out, even if he knew the supposed effort was "fruitless" as far as for any sexual benefit, or whatever he wanted. But that only made her feel guilty, as if she needed any more on her fucking conscience. She felt so guilty she couldn't even be angry at him, knew he was only frustrated at her, and she was frustrated herself at the fact that she did, in fact, like him.

Maybe it was unfair of her to take the money. Maybe she should shut him out of her life entirely. Maybe she should have never agreed to meet with him those six years ago for ice creams and a bit of fun on the construction site.

With fat tears rolling down her cheeks, she sank against the counter with her head in her hands, and was left alone with her thoughts and the slight whistling of the ready tea kettle.