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Fitz's brother.
Awkwardly enough, also known as Fitz.
"Harry!" (my) Fitz said, giving her brother a light shove out of the way as she moved toward me. She looked shaken, but her voice evened out as she added over her shoulder, "Callum, it's only Harry."
She walked straight into my arms, burying her head in my shoulder as she hugged me tightly.
"He thought you were coming for him," she murmured.
"Who was coming for what?" I asked, thoroughly confused though filled with relief as I embraced her. "What's going on?"
Callum sank onto the couch, removing the ice pack from his face to reveal an eye partially shut. Fitz's brother wasn't a fighter – if I had to guess based on the sorry state of his appearance, I'd say he was attacked.
Briony lurked in the kitchen, preparing a salad for herself but quite obviously eavesdropping without shame.
"I didn't know he was coming," Fitz explained. "He rang me up only a few minutes ago asking for directions and then he was stumbling in and bleeding all over the place."
She released me from her embrace, though she kept an arm around my back and leaned into me as we faced her younger brother, who was dabbing the pad of his finger to his broken lip and wincing in pain.
"Callum?" I asked, expecting an explanation of some sort. He was younger than Fitz by two years, and neither of us had seen him since Christmas. He had been away away at school in Leicester. At least, that was where he was supposed to be.
He cracked a rather pathetic smile, offering a slight wave as he relaxed into the couch and nursed his shoulder, which suddenly appeared to cause him pain. "Hi, buddy. How are ya?"
A rather chummy question given the circumstances.
"Bloody brilliant," I said, my frown deepening. "Care to enlighten us as to what's going on?"
He shrugged. "Just passing through.
Thought I'd pay my big sister a visit. What's new with you? How's the job?"
Perplexed by his nonchalance, I looked to Fitz for answers. Her hand slid from my waist as she approached her brother on the couch, giving him a nudge as she sat beside him.
"Callum. Tell him," she urged.
He hesitated, hissing before he stated, "I might owe a guy some money."
My expression darkened. "Who?"
He shrugged again. "Just a guy. You wouldn't know him."
"Money for what?"
Callum was even more reluctant to reply, making a few noncommittal sounds before saying, "... long story, mate."
I had an uneasy suspicion as to why the money was owed, and from Callum's beat-up face, he was in a bad spot. Fitz had told me that he'd gotten into a bit of trouble when they were younger, and most of that stemmed from the fact that, because he was the youngest of three in the Fitzpatrick clan, he assumed he'd be overlooked. I knew he enjoyed walking on the wild side, but I also knew that, like Fitz, he was a financially struggling student who had to work his way through uni, which left less time for troublemaking.
As I tried to process all that was happening, I recalled that the door to the flat had been left open in the flurry.
"Wait," I said, gathering my wits, "someone's coming for you? Are they coming... like... now?"
Callum contemplated this, eventually saying, "I think I got him off my tail once I made it to the city."
"You think?"
"He's sort of a crafty bloke."
"Oh, God," I mumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose and exhaling in exasperation. "Well, we can't stay here. We should go to my flat, and in the morning, we'll decide what to do."
"We can't all pile into your flat. Not all four of us," Fitz said, glancing over her shoulder at Briony. "Callum, do you really think he'd know to come here?"
"No, no, I'm safe in here," Callum assured her, looking at me with a nod. "It's if I leave that there could be a potential... situation." He must have noticed my clenched jaw and my worried glance in Fitz's direction, because he was quick to add, "For me, though. Not for you lot."
I didn't necessarily agree that we were safe, and Callum's laissez-faire attitude made me nervous rather than relaxed. But maybe he was right – if he hadn't been spotted on his way to Fitz's, it was best to keep him where he was until the whole thing was properly sorted.
"Right," I said, turning on my heels and heading down the hallway. "Well, just to be sure, I'm going to shut and lock the door, if that's all right with everyone."
I peeked out of the door, glancing up and down the corridor. With no signs of life, I closed the door and used every lock.
"I'm ringing Dad," Fitz was saying as I re-entered the common area.
"You're fucking not," Callum replied, snatching her mobile from her hand before she could make the call. "You owe me."
"Let it go," Fitz said, climbing on the couch to reach the mobile, which Callum held high above his head and out of her grasp. She wrapped an arm around his neck to hold him in place, sending curse words shooting from his mouth as pain seared his injured shoulder, while she jumped for her mobile. "That was two summers ago and I wasn't endangering anybody's life, including my own!" I frowned in confusion.
Briony, somewhat amused, stepped into the room with her salad.
"What did you do, June?" she asked, taking a forkful of lettuce in her mouth.
Callum cried out in pain, forced to let go of the mobile when the pain in his shoulder became too much. Fitz smirked in triumph, but the smile didn't last long.
"So I walk into her room, and she's— AH!"
He was interrupted mid-sentence as Fitz grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked him down on the couch, forcing him to stay put.
"I don't care if you're already injured – if you say one more word, you'll know real pain," Fitz said, pointing a threatening finger. She hopped down from the couch, never letting her eyes leave him.
"That fucking hurt!"
I ran a hand through my hair, waiting for the altercation to blow over. When it came to sibling antics, I could never tell if it was friendly or lethal. With the Fitzpatricks, one never really knew – but it was best to leave them be rather than to be sucked into it.
"When you're in my house, you shut your mouth and do what I say," Fitz said matter-of-factly, as if she was on a playdate in kindergarten.
Callum had the same thought, arguing, "I'm not five, Junie, you can't do this anymore!"
"I don't care. I won't tell Dad as long as you don't act like a shit. That's the deal."
"How am I supposed to know what the line is between 'normal person' and 'shit'?"
"I suggest you figure it out quickly. Otherwise, you're going straight home. I'm not kidding. I'll ring Dad, and he'll be here by midnight."
Callum's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he looked to Briony in disbelief, searching for sympathy.
"Bossy as all fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. When his eyes settled on me, he asked, "How do you put up with it, Harry?"
*
"Fitz!" I called, poking my head out of the bathroom.
Callum's head popped up from where he lay on the couch. "Yeah?"
"Not you," I said, brushing him off. I waited for a moment, and when I received no response, I tried again. "June!"
"What?" she said, emerging from her bedroom while tugging down her shirt. She'd changed into pajamas.
"Where's my toothbrush?"
"Oh. You haven't slept here in a while." She squeezed past me and retrieved it from a drawer, placing it in my open palm.
"You get your brother out of here," I said, feigning seriousness as she left me in the bathroom. "I won't be made to call you June like some chump off the street."
She shot me a grin over her shoulder.
After she'd cleaned up Callum's face as best she could and fetched some blankets to make a bed for him on the couch, Fitz joined me in her bedroom and shut the door. From where I'd collapsed on the bed, exhausted, I watched her at her closet as she decided on an outfit for work the next day.
"So what is it that you owe Callum for?" I asked, shoving a pillow under my neck to support my head.
"Mm... about a million things," she replied, hand on her hip and head in her closet. "Just a game we play. You know, 'I owe you,' 'you owe me'. We've been doing it since we were kids."
"You and your games," I mumbled, and she flashed me another grin. "You were talking about something specific out there."
"Oh," she said with a short laugh, pulling out a dress on a hanger and throwing it over a chair. "It's stupid. It was the summer before the last year of uni and my parents were gone for the weekend. Callum went out and I had friends over to drink."
I frowned in confusion. "So what? That's not exactly incriminating."
She whirled around, another confession on the tip of her tongue. "Well, no. Not on its own. But Callum did come home early and did barge into my bedroom to catch me about to go down on a boy."
Freezing, I glared at her.
She shrugged in innocence. "What? You asked."
"Yeah, well," I grumbled.
"Yeah, well, what?" She giggled, climbing on the bed and crawling over to me. "You didn't even like me then."
"I liked you as a friend."
That earned a laugh from her. "Not quite the same, bunny. Anyway, I haven't seen the boy since then, if you're wondering, and you wouldn't have cared if I'd told you when we got back to school that year."
"Maybe not," I agreed as she flopped down on my chest, "but even then, I wouldn't have appreciated the mental image."
Her eyes shone with amusement. "Hmm. This might shock you, but I actually don't make every decision by asking myself if Harry would appreciate the mental image." She poked me in the side. "Besides, let's not pretend that you weren't out on the exact same night engaging in even raunchier activity with some loosely-moralled bird."
My jaw dropped in offense, but I caught myself quickly, retorting, "I was pretending it was you the whole time."
When my straight face weakened and broke into a grin, Fitz barked with laughter. She reached for another pillow and hit me with it before it setting it aside.
"What a liar you are," she whispered, eyes gleaming. Even so, she craned her neck to kiss me softly.
"You really haven't run into that bloke again?" I asked as she pulled away.
My question inspired another devious grin as she shook her head. "Why? Is my Harry jealous for once?"
Maintaining a straight face, I shook my head, but the bright smile on her face caused the corners of my lips to quirk.
"Hey," she said suddenly, changing the subject, "we never did get to enjoy that bath tonight."
"I can't believe you did that. I can't believe Beckett saw you like that." At the memory, I guffawed with laughter. "What am I supposed to do at work tomorrow?"
A blush crept up her cheeks. She buried her head in my chest, embarrassed, and mumbled, "I had good intentions."
"I know." I wrapped my arms around her.
"Why do you think I rushed over here? Practically had to kick ol' Becky in the arse to get him out of my car."
She pouted. "Then my stupid kid brother had to show up."
"Yep," I said, nodding in surrender. "Oh, the things I would be doing to you right now if not for that..."
She rested her chin on my chest, arching an eyebrow. "What would you be doing?"
As nonchalant as possible, I replied, "I'd show you, but you'd be screaming with pleasure... and we can't wake the little one out there."
She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Please."
With a smirk, I added, "You are the vocal one."
I was joking, but still she narrowed her eyes. "Oh, really?"
"Mm hmm." I gave her a shit-eating grin.
"Hmm." Fitz considered this for a moment. "All right, then. Good."
And then she was moving down my body, unbuckling my belt at my hips.
"What are you doing?"
"I didn't deliver on the bath," she said, unbuttoning my pants, "but you were expecting some action tonight. And you are staying over to protect me and my brother from vengeful drug lords." She grinned. "I figure that's worth a sexual favour."
"I appreciate that," I said, quick to grab her wrist before her hand slid into my pants, "but he's right outside."
Fitz shrugged, batting her eyelashes. "Shouldn't be a problem for you, O Quiet One."
And maybe I had been heavily relying on action, as Fitz had suggested, because as soon as I stopped fighting her and she took me in her mouth, I couldn't have pushed her away even if I'd wanted to. Which I didn't.
*
Something horrible happened.
On the weekend, Claire stayed the night with Niall and Muffy drove to the city the next day to meet her. At least, that was what she claimed – but when I ended up dragged to brunch with the two sisters and Niall, I had a feeling that her visit to town had something to do with me, too. Perhaps I'd ignored enough of her calls and emails to warrant a face-to-face visit.
But that wasn't the horrible thing that happened.
No, it occurred as we were being led to our table on the patio of the crowded restaurant. Claire clung to Niall's hand while Muffy and I trailed behind.
"Sorry," said the server, in reference to the lack of chairs at our table. She surveyed the crowded patio for extras, but none were available. "I'll be one minute," she said to me before racing off. "I'll find chairs for you and your girlfriend."
...
I stared.
I blinked.
Muffy laughed, leaning forward to touch the server's hand as if to thank her. "Bless your heart," she gushed. "I'm his stepmother." When the server apologized, Muffy patted her belly. "Actually, I've got his little brother or sister right in here."
...
I stared.
I blinked.
Too fucking weird.
*
I'd excused myself from the table to answer Fitz's call – she was still with her brother and couldn't make it for another hour or so. When I returned to the patio at the back of the restaurant, Niall was up from his seat and kissing Claire goodbye. He pecked Muffy on the cheek and waved them off, and I waited to be approached at the patio doors.
"You said you would hang around," I said.
"I did. For brunch," he clarified. "But I've got plans."
"What plans?"
"I'm meeting Finley."
I stared blankly.
Niall hesitated in expectation of my response. When I said nothing, he added, "You know, the girl across the hall—"
"I know who Finley is," I snapped, lightly swatting him across the head. "Why are you meeting her?"
Niall's eyes lit up in excitement. "We're making that film we talked about, you know? Like an ad. Then we're handing it out to all the venues that turned us down, and I'm thinking that within a week, they'll—"
"Us?" I interrupted.
"What?"
"Us?"
He paused, readjusting his snapback. "Well, Finley."
"You said us." Grinning, I clapped a hand on his shoulder. "What did you mean by that?"
I knew exactly what he meant by 'us', but I wanted to hear it from his own lips. Maybe Fitz had done them a service after all with her gentle meddling.
"Look, Harry," Niall said with a short laugh, "this is sort of between Finley and I... I know you don't like to be left out, but you haven't taken a lot of interest in her—"
"Shut up. Never mind."
No miracle had happened here – perhaps to Niall, she was still just Finley, the irritating American who'd come close to destroying his equipment more than once.
"All right. So listen, can I borrow some quid?"
My eyes narrowed. "What?"
"For the film. We're not half-assing this; it's gotta be good."
When I realized he wasn't joking, I sighed heavily. "How much do you need?"
"Just, like... probably... seven-fifty."
...
"Seven hundred and fifty pounds?!"
"Shh!" he hissed, raising his hands to silence me and glancing in apology at the table closest to us.
"What kind of bloody film are you making?!"
"The girl needs a job!" Niall argued, keeping his voice down and staring straight into my eyes. "She's gotta pay rent, bunny."
"That's a lot of money for a damn video!"
"I have a lot of ideas!" Niall insisted. It was his turn to put a hand on my shoulder, leaning in close. "Look, you don't know what it's like for her. She comes all the way over from America with her fucking prick of a boyfriend who turns out to be... well, a fucking prick. They break up, he kicks her out, she doesn't even have enough to fly back home. She's all alone, mate. Music is all she has. I know it's a lot to ask for upfront, but I'll pay you back. Next paycheck. Honest."
Pay you back. If I knew what pay you back meant – and I did – I'd never see that money again.
"I'll give you half," I said, giving him a look when he opened his mouth to argue. "Half," I repeated, pointing a threatening finger at him. "You're a film genius; cut down on your expenses and come up with something good from that."
It was obvious that he was itching to argue, but he thought better of it. "Fine." He made a move to leave, looking over his shoulder when he paused in the doorway. "Oh – one more thing."
"What?"
"Can you cover me for rent this month?"
I glared.
Niall shrugged. "What? I'd take care of it myself, but I need that money for... a project."
So transparent, that fickle flatmate of mine. Even so, I had to admit that I hadn't seen that shine in his eyes in a long time – he was excited about Finley's video. I couldn't take that away from him.
I sighed in defeat, nodding my head.
"Thanks, mate," he breathed, stepping forward to wrap me in a hug that I refused to return.
"Niall, what are you doing?"
"What do you mean?" he asked as he pulled away.
"With Finley. Are you into her?"
"Pft. No," he said with a scoff. "In fact, she pisses me right off."
"Then why are you helping her?"
"Because I can do this. I can get her work." He thought about this for a moment or two, continuing with a serious expression, "I like feeling useful. You've got a fancy office job, Harry – you wouldn't know what it's like to feel stuck. Like you're not contributing anything to anyone, not making a difference. I want to do this because I know I can."
Didn't know what it was like to feel stuck? Stuck was almost my entire life summed in a word.
I saw in Niall's eyes that there was more, but I didn't press him.
"What about Claire?"
"What about her?"
"Is she upset that you're spending all this time with another girl?"
He shrugged with a frown. "So what if she is? We're not a couple."
"You're pretty much a couple."
"Bold-faced lie."
I rolled my eyes, keeping my voice calm. "You should break it off with her, Niall. If you want someone else—"
"Hey, hey. We're not even dating."
"—or if you're not in it for real, you should break it off."
"Why?"
I heaved another sigh. "Because I know what it's like to be led on. It fucking blows, mate." It seemed long ago and far away, but there had been a time and place when Fitz had strung me along, and I, with my growing feelings for her, hadn't been able to say no and protect my heart. "I know you don't mean to hurt her, but if you go off to somebody else – especially when you're hooking up with her – it's gonna kill her."
Niall considered this, understanding where I was coming from. He gave me a look of sympathy. Eventually, he checked his watch and patted me on the shoulder one last time. "I gotta go. See you at home."
I nodded him off. He took two steps before he spun around, one last thought bothering him.
"Don't tell her, okay? About you lending me the money."
"Claire?"
"No, Fin—yeah, Claire," he said. "Just don't tell anyone."
"Fine," I said with a grin. "I won't tell Finley."
He opened his mouth to correct me but thought better of it, simply shaking his head in annoyance before leaving for good.
I would have been more than happy to leave shortly after Niall, but Muffy had other plans. And while nothing screamed "living hell" to me more than baby shopping, her wide, pleading eyes bore into me until my heart bled.
So shopping was what we did, Muffy and Claire and I. They had the time of their lives while I stood by the register and bothered the blushing young cashier with small talk.
Our next stop was Adelaide Street, where Muffy's favourite baby shop was located. She walked beside me for a couple of blocks, glorifying me for carrying her purchases for her as if I was next in line to be canonized.
And then:
"Do you think June is happy, Harry?"
...
"What?" I asked, turning my head to look at her for the first time during the walk. My brows were set in a deep frown.
Muffy wasn't bothered by my sudden interest in the conversation. "I worry about her, you know. From time to time when we speak, she seems quite low. Do you think her jobs frustrate her?"
When I realized we were speaking of jobs, my frown lessened and my shoulders sagged – but not by much.
"Yeah. They do frustrate her. She's not meant for that."
"What do you think she'd like to do?"
I shrugged.
Muffy pressed on, "If you had to pick."
Though I was reluctant to reply, I eventually answered, "Something where she could be with people. Talk to them, and feel like she's helping them."
Muffy pondered this for a moment or two. "You should suggest something to her."
My frown was back, coupled with cynicism. "Suggest what?"
"Something more suited to who she is, whatever you think that might be."
I could only chuckle, rolling my eyes at her naivety. "She wouldn't like that."
"Why not? Nobody knows her better than you. She trusts you. You've already got your career sorted – now she needs your help with hers."
It wasn't the first time someone urged me to talk to Fitz about her job. Strange that those two people were my father and his wife. Nonetheless, it served to remind me that no matter how happy we were together, Fitz would never be entirely satisfied without work she found meaningful.
And I wanted that for her – maybe even more than she did.
Muffy and I didn't continue our discussion for long. She and Claire spent a long while on Adelaide, and the baby shopping was getting to me. Eventually, I offered to sit with their purchases outside a coffee shop while they browsed another few shops.
That was where Fitz met me, lowering her sunglasses over her nose as she approached, jaw unhinged at the sight of the bags.
"Son of a wealthy bitch," she breathed in awe, "how much did you buy?!"
She slid next to me on the bench and kissed my cheek before examining the mountain of baby supplies.
"I didn't buy a thing," I said, offended to be associated with the sisters' baby fever. "Muffy, however, bought the whole fucking shop and then some."
Fitz peeked her head inside several of the bags, finally blowing her hair out of her face and sitting back on the bench.
"That's a lot of crap," she said.
I nodded, unimpressed.
She shook her head in disbelief, turning to me. "You're going to be mad at me for this... but Harry, this is exactly why this baby needs you. If you don't step in to keep it grounded, it's going to be so rottenly spoiled and entitled and unaware, not to mention – Misty! Hi!"
Fitz stood as soon as she noticed the sisters approaching, cutting herself off mid-sentence to plaster a smile on her face. Muffy ran forward to embrace her like the jolly good friends they were.
And I sat there staring at the millions of bags dedicated to a person who wasn't yet alive, wondering if Fitz was right and another Beckett Arsenault was in the making.
*
The Fitzpatrick clan was a middle class family and always had been. When it came to postsecondary education, Fitz's parents could only take their children so far before they had to provide for themselves. As for (my) Fitz, she got a job at a sandwich joint on campus to pay her way. I'd always admired that about her – she didn't think twice about it; she got a job and kept it without resentment of other students (for example, myself) who were already provided for. Her parents had raised a good kid, and from what she'd told me, her older brother had followed the same formula.
Callum, (also known as Fitz), also needed a source of income to make it through, but he was fired from the campus pub when he dropped all of his classes as it was a job reserved for students.
(And also, he admitted, because he was frequently caught taking shots with patrons during his shifts).
But he wouldn't go back home to Derbyshire and face the music, and he needed money as quickly as possible to avoid eviction. So he met a guy. A drug dealer sort of guy. He explained his financial situation but assured him that he'd be coming into money soon enough, and he promised to be a loyal customer if only he was offered a discount on his purchases.
He entered into this sort of contract with seven dealers.
Then he turned right around and sold the substances himself at inflated prices.
Having just been in school himself, he had the student connection, which was almost like a brand new market open to him and him alone. During exam season, even the purest students were looking for study aids to help them sleep or stay awake or focus. So as not to arouse suspicion from the large quantities he was purchasing at a discounted price, Callum made friends with even more dealers until he had a network of close to twenty. His clientele continued to expand. He was operating a smooth, smooth business and raking in more than enough to support himself, a combination of buyer smarts and salesmanship.
In essence, he was a fine businessman who'd probably make my father proud, underground market and all.
In all honesty, it sounded like a scheme (my) Fitz would cook up, albeit riskier, more complex, and more self-serving. With that said, it was no wonder he hadn't entirely succeeded. Callum would have been still buying and selling in Leicester if it weren't for several of the dealers receiving their stock from the same drug lord. Their most loyal customer was bound to come up in conversation at some point, and he did. The next time Callum made a purchase, he was followed from a distance. Watched. And once they figured out how much he was making from scamming them... he was in for it.
Which was how he ended up bloodied and bruised at Fitz's flat, with nowhere to run and thousands of pounds owed – which he could no longer afford, after paying off months of backed-up rent, credit card bills, tuition, and, I suspected, a few frivolous purchases here and there.
It was also why I felt the need to sit with them at the table in Fitz's flat as they pored over academic options online – the two of them scheming together could have killed us all, and I felt it was my responsibility to intervene before it went that far.
"No wonder you hated your classes," Fitz said as she read off the screen. "Philosophy sounds horrendously boring and nonsensical."
From the look Callum gave her, one would have thought she'd just told him she was Christ reincarnated.
"Shows how much you know," he said, slumping in his chair and readjusting the sling that held his aching shoulder. "Philosophy is literally the most sensical thing in the world."
"Brilliant point, especially considering sensical isn't even a word," Fitz retorted. She added under her breath, "Idiot."
"I was being dry," he said, lightly rubbing the bruise on his cheek and wincing in pain. His eye was still swollen shut; his upper lip scabbed over. "You don't even know what Philosophy entails. What did you study in uni again? Cosmetology?"
Fitz gave him quite the stink eye. "Shut up. I'm trying to help you, moron."
"I don't need your help." Callum tried to grab the laptop from her, but she held it firmly on the table.
"Oh, really? Explain to me again why you're here."
"I don't need your help with classes," he specified. "I'm not even going back to school."
"Um, yes. You are." Fitz knocked on his head.
"Um, no," he replied just as childishly.
"Fine." She picked up her mobile. "Then I'm telling Dad."
Callum was quick to snatch the device out of her hand, sliding it across the tiled floor into the common area, where Briony was practicing yoga.
"You are such a child!" Fitz cried through gritted teeth. She made a move to swat him, but he caught her arm and held it, and the two of them struggled with one another.
I blinked.
"All right," I said, clearing my throat and leaning forward to interject. "Whether or not Philosophy is... sensical," – I looked carefully from Fitz to Callum, who had paused their wrestling match to stare at me – "the objective here was to explore other academic options."
"Look," Callum said, shrugging Fitz off of him once and for all, "I'm not good at school. I don't care enough, you know? And I think I've proven that I can do well enough without it."
Fitz barked with laughter, but I held up my hand to stop her before she spat out a retort.
"Callum, I won't dignify your absurd claim with a response," was my calm reply, still holding up my hand to Fitz, "but I think you're onto something. You know how to talk to people. Obviously you know a thing or two about persuasion, and you know how to sell yourself to a customer. Maybe there's a more practical and applicable area of study for you."
Callum nodded in agreement. "So you're saying I should be a prostitute."
I blinked. "Nnnn... no," I said slowly.
"A pimp," he tried again.
I looked at Fitz, lost for words. She rolled her eyes at her brother's idiocy.
"Okay," I said, ignoring his most recent suggestion. I leaned forward over the table, making gestures with my hands to keep his attention. "What I'm thinking is: you'd make a good businessman. Trust me. I know a little about business."
My mobile vibrated in my pocket.
"I completely agree," Callum said with a smile. I nodded in satisfaction until he continued, "A pimp runs a business. A drug dealer runs a business. I'm good at that. And next time, I won't get caught."
My smile faded. "Let's focus on staying within the confines of the law for now. Fitz, why don't you look up business courses at Callum's school? Marketing, sales, economics. As for me, I have a call."
I excused myself from the table and answered my mobile, planning to sit on the couch as I spoke. When I realized that I'd be watching Briony perform a series of suggestively sexual poses in the middle of the floor, I swiftly turned around and made my way to the kitchen.
"Hello?"
"Harry. Hi. It's your father."
Don't be silly, Dad. The unimpressed tone of voice gave you away.
"Oh. Hi," I said, lowering my voice. "How are you?"
I anticipated chastising – in fact, I was surprised it had taken him so long to get around to it. I'd been rude to his wife on more than one occasion, and I was finally about to pay for it.
"Fine, fine. How's work?"
"Fine." I held my breath as I waited for him to lay into me.
"Are you looking at a busy week?"
"Yeah," I answered, wondering why he was so interested, "but I'll manage."
"Good. I'd like you to come to a gala on Thursday."
"A what?"
"A charity gala. It's an informal attire event in Stoke and I think it would be a fantastic opportunity for you to network."
"Network?" I paused. "But I already have a job."
"As a junior analyst, you realize. That's a starting point – not a career. Are you happy with what you have now?"
"Nnnn... no. I mean, yes, but—"
"No, because you haven't achieved what you're capable of yet. You should always be networking, never satisfied, always learning. Always trying harder."
It was strange that I actually wished we could talk about the dinner. My behaviour toward his wife. The pregnancy.
Anything but business.
But my father was cold and impersonal, through and through.
"I'll have my secretary email you the details," he said after a lull. "Misty would like you to join us for coffee beforehand, but I told her you may not leave work so early."
"Well, I'm not quite sure if June will be free that evening," I answered.
I glanced over my shoulder to see if she was listening, but Fitz was busy slapping her brother to attention – he'd let his wandering eyes stray hungrily to Briony and her yoga.
"You can come without her," my father suggested, too quickly to be considered sincere. "This is for you, Harry."
I hesitated, grinding my teeth as I gulped. "She can't come?" I asked, my voice low.
Chattering was heard on the other end of the line. My father mumbled a reply to the feminine voice – Muffy.
Then he returned with, "If you feel it's necessary, she can accompany you. But understand that this is a business opportunity, Harry – not a date."
I nearly bit my tongue to avoid pointing out that he was bringing his wife, who wasn't exactly the most professional woman I'd encountered.
"Fine," I managed to say. After a moment of silence, I added, "I'll bring her."
My father's sigh was brisk, but evident.
After we said our goodbyes and I stuffed my mobile back in my pocket, it felt like I should be breathing a sigh of relief. But no relief came – in fact, the weight on my shoulders was only heavier.
"You should look into Media and Communication," Fitz was saying as I approached, intently focused on the screen as she scrolled down. "Callum, listen: future career opportunities include Marketing Executive, Social Media Associate, or" – she raised her eyes to gauge his interest, only to find him staring at Briony – "professional" – she knocked his bicep with her fist – "femme-stalking"– another slam – "pervert."
"Ow!" Callum said, looking to me for support as I took my seat.
"Listen," Fitz hissed, pointing to her ears. "I'm trying to help you."
"Well, I don't want to go into Media."
"Then tell me what you want to take!"
"I don't want to go back to school, Junie! I don't need it!"
With similar groans of exasperation, Callum turned back to inspecting Briony's nicely shaped rear end while Fitz looked to me.
"What do you think?" she asked, rife with frustration.
I contemplated for a few moments before a smile graced my features. "I think you should take a course. Or two, or three. Something you really like."
She frowned as if the notion was absurd. "What would I take?"
I shrugged, offering lightly, "I'll help you look."
She shook her head, still acting like she didn't quite believe me, but as she returned to the screen, I caught the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.