Ill Conceived Plans

Smiling as the ship goes down

The PR put the back of his hand over his eyes and groaned dramatically.

"What a nightmare, what a fucking nightmare," he sighed.

"What the HELL were you thinking, sure you made a mistake, those happen but bugger me Dane, both Anna and Tennant offered you ways out and instead you stumbled over your words and flushed your whole career down the toilet – oh god – and mine – you're my number one client, people only know me because of you."

The air turned blue then, decidedly blue – a deep navy – as Mark let out a string of curses. Dane looked at his friend wide-eyed. He'd only ever heard Mark swear once or twice in all the time he'd known him and that was since they were at university together – him, Mark and Sarah. He was actually going to ask Sarah if Mark could be Lysander's godfather if she wanted to do the whole religion thing, but that wasn't a conversation he was going to have with either of them now. 

If placid Mark was this pissed, Dane didn't want to go home.

"Maybe we should go for coffee – calm down a bit – talk about strategies," Dane offered putting a soothing hand on his friend's shoulder.

Mark looked at him and smiled, it was a smile that reached almost Machiavellian levels of evil.

"Oh no, you are one of my best friends I love you like a brother but right now I don't like you very much, Dane Hilditch, right now I wish bad things would happen to you and so I'm doing the most evil thing I can do– I'm sending you home to your peed off, hormonal wife," he answered narrowing his eyes.

"She's not my wife," Dane sighed.

"Only in the eyes of the law, we both know she's always had your balls in her hands and right now that's the last place I'd want them if I were you!"

"You're evil," he sighed.

Mark smiled demonically. 

Dane was almost glad when they dropped him off at his office so he could "go into damage control". 

He asked the driver to take a round-about route back to Sarah's, scared that paps would follow him – and if he was honest he was also buying a bit more time. The paps would no doubt be camped out at his place so a call to his assistant Paul had him beefing up security at both places as well as putting things in place for Sarah and the baby if they wanted to leave the house. Then he organised for Paul to get some more clothes. He couldn't go home, he and Sarah lived too near each other and Paul would be spotted and followed, so he had to rely on what the younger man, with his slightly purple hair and docs, could buy him.

It would be interesting but living in hipster clothes for the next month was the least of his worries.

His next call was to his management in the US who naturally wanted him over there for crisis talks. But he couldn't leave, even if Sarah kicked him out on the streets (and there was a big chance she would) he couldn't leave her or the baby. A compromise was reached and representatives would fly in as soon as they could get flights.

He was a dead man.

He finished his call and slumped against the backseat of the town car looking out the window; he was almost home – approaching from a completely different direction to normal, but almost there.

Dane took a deep breath as the car cruised into a parking spot just outside Sarah's house.

"Good luck Dane and congratulations," Rob his regular driver offered as he alighted the vehicle.

"Thank you – I think I'm going to need it," he said as he mounted the stairs wearily.

"You'd better believe it," Rob muttered as he saw Dane use the keys to let himself in – well at least she wasn't standing at the door with the rolling pin.