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Push(102)

By:Claire Wallis


“You’ll be even more sorry when Ricky comes back asking for more money. Because he will do that, you know. He’ll be back for more.” I am livid, and my voice is crackling with sarcasm aimed right at David’s stupidity.

“No, he won’t. I made it completely clear to him that if he ever contacts you or me again, I will shoot him in the goddamned head.” He says it with so much force that I can’t help but believe him.

I am furious that David did all this behind my back and that he let my dickhead of a brother blackmail him out of forty grand. How could he be so stupid?

“You were never going to tell me about this, were you?” I say bitterly.

“No. I didn’t want you involved. I should have deleted those phone calls, and I am mad as hell at myself for not. But I did all of it to protect you, Emma. And I would do it again.”

I sit down at one of the chairs around my little table. We are quiet for a long time.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this last night when I asked you?” I sound calmer now, even though inside I am still seething.

“Because I needed time to think,” he answers.

“You were going to lie to me about it, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but again, I was only trying to protect you. But then tonight, when you mentioned the earlier phone calls, I knew you wouldn’t settle for the lie I had conjured to cover my ass.”

“I want you to leave now, David. I want you to go home.”

I watch his chest fill up with air. When he exhales, his head snaps around, and his eyes meet mine. His face looks worn. He stares at me for a few minutes without moving.

“I mean it, David,” I say. “I need some time to think about this. Just give me till Wednesday. You have poker tomorrow night anyway.” His expression drops even farther, and his eyes close for a brief second. “Just let me breathe, David. Give me till Wednesday. Please,” I add.

“Okay,” he says, standing up and wiping his palms down the front of his thighs. “But all this is over, Emma. I just wanted you to stop hurting.” He walks to the door and puts his hand on the knob. “Call me if you need anything, and I’ll be here in a heartbeat. You know that.”

Part of me doesn’t want him to go. Part of me wants to say thank you and tell him that what he did was the craziest and most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me. But the rest of me is angry that he risked so much to get Michael out of my life.

“Can I pay you back for the new window?” I ask as he is walking out the door.

“No fucking way,” he says. And then the door closes quietly behind him.

* * *

By the next morning I feel better. After David left last night, I tried hard not to think about the whole situation. I tried to distract myself by making a decent dinner, ironing some work clothes, and paying some bills. It worked until I went to sleep. It was then that thoughts of David’s idiocy rocketed around in my head. What a fool he was to use his own cell phone to make those calls. I’m left hoping that Evan’s confession will be enough to keep the police from digging further into Michael’s death. Even though David wasn’t involved in Evan’s eventual attack, he could still go to jail for merely discussing the idea with Ricky. It terrifies me to know that the only thing stopping Ricky from taking the details of David’s offer straight to the police is a threat from David. I hope it’s a big enough reason for Ricky to keep his fucking mouth shut.

I spend Tuesday morning at work trying once again to distract myself. But no matter how deeply I immerse myself in my design work, my thoughts continue to drip back to David and last night. I won’t see him all day, and I’m left wondering if I’ll wake up tomorrow morning with him in my bed, smelling of whisky and smoke and money.

Just before I leave my desk for lunch, Matt peeks his head around the corner of my cubicle. He was in meetings all morning, so it’s the first time I’ve seen him all day.

“Hey, Emma,” he says, looking guarded. “Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask you if everything is okay. Did you and David manage to figure everything out last night?”

“Yeah, we’re okay,” I say, trying to muster a small smile. He doesn’t look convinced.

“Okay, well, I know it’s none of my business, but I just got a text from David asking me to check in on you and make sure you’re all right. It made me wonder why he just didn’t text you directly.”

I sigh and roll my eyes. “He thinks I’m still mad at him. Which I am. But don’t worry about it. I’m not nearly as angry as I was yesterday, and it’s not for the same reason. I asked him to give me some space for a day or two.”