worry.
“I wish I was, sir.”
“Fucking idiots. Those fucking idiots.”
“That's not all sir. I've got the police on the line. They want to speak to you.”
“The police have phoned here? How the fuck did they get this number?”
“That's something you'll have to ask them yourself”, the morose, matter of fact butler says.
“Why the fuck do they want to speak to me anyway? I'm on holiday for christ sake”, Buck says, defending his involvement in advance.
“They want to make sure you're not the one with the hostage, I presume. That, and I expect they might want to ask you about whether you know the person who is.”
“River hasn't called has he?” Buck says, worried he might have done.
“No, he hasn't”, the butler is happy to inform him.
“Fucking hell”, Buck says, and swings his legs around, ready to get up. “And they're on the phone now? Right now?”
“That's right”, the fully clothed staff member says.
“What an absolute fuck up”, Buck says, and gets up, a little wobblier now, after six whiskey and sodas, than he was when he first sat down. “Manuel, swim a few lengths, there's a good lad. Keep Mrs Tavern entertained”, he shouts to the pool boy, and goes inside with the longer serving of the two present members of his household staff.
With his hand covering the receiver, Buck says to the butler, “If he calls, tell him not to come here, though I doubt he'd be stupid enough to try”, before readying himself to lie to the police, as professionally as he is capable.
River locks the door calmly behind him, clicks off the TV, puts the bags on the bed, and sits down at the edge of it opposite Maddy. It's a while before either of them speak, during which time he tries to work out whether she's been calling for help or not. She looks like she's been crying, that's for sure, but whether she's been screaming, he can't be certain. He checks the handcuffs, which have definitely not been tampered with, and then goes to the window to check the parking lot. It's as empty as it was when he drove into it a few moments ago, save that mangy mutt, pissing on everything and skipping about like strays have a tendency to do. River returns to the edge of the bed.
“After we get fixed up, we'll go and eat. I got you some clothes and the brand new look I promised, how about that?” he says, holding up the wig.
“I like the way I already look”, Maddy says defensively. “There's nothing wrong with it.”
“No, I guess there ain't if you're happy to look like you're going to a funeral”, River says, trying to be funny.
“At least I don't look like a cartoon cowboy”, Maddy says.
'”Well look at you biting back, that's more like it”, River says, mock offended. “Whether you like your black dresses and Lego man haircut or not, it doesn't matter. You've got to change if you want to eat, and you do want to eat don't you?”
“Yes”, Maddy says.
“Good”, River agrees. “Because I am fucking starving. And you already know I don't like to eat alone.”
River undoes the handcuffs, and releases Maddy from the radiator. She stands up, cautiously, and rubs her wrists where the metal has been biting in. River puts his hands on her shoulders in a familiar way.
“I reckon you ought to wash up, and then you can come out here and choose how you want to dress, how does that sound?” River says, taking in the bathroom and the clothes on the bed in a sweeping gesture with his arm, as though he's working at a high class hotel, and is busy displaying the penthouse suite to a top model or musician.
“Ok”, Maddy says, weakened by hunger, and too tired and upset, to be another other than compliant.
“Towels, soap, and everything else you could possibly dream of are already in there for you Princess, no expenses spared”, River says, his hands on Maddy's shoulders guiding her towards the badly lit, box room.
Maddy enters the tiny, dirty bathroom, while River waits on the threshold, smiling at
“I wish I was, sir.”
“Fucking idiots. Those fucking idiots.”
“That's not all sir. I've got the police on the line. They want to speak to you.”
“The police have phoned here? How the fuck did they get this number?”
“That's something you'll have to ask them yourself”, the morose, matter of fact butler says.
“Why the fuck do they want to speak to me anyway? I'm on holiday for christ sake”, Buck says, defending his involvement in advance.
“They want to make sure you're not the one with the hostage, I presume. That, and I expect they might want to ask you about whether you know the person who is.”
“River hasn't called has he?” Buck says, worried he might have done.
“No, he hasn't”, the butler is happy to inform him.
“Fucking hell”, Buck says, and swings his legs around, ready to get up. “And they're on the phone now? Right now?”
“That's right”, the fully clothed staff member says.
“What an absolute fuck up”, Buck says, and gets up, a little wobblier now, after six whiskey and sodas, than he was when he first sat down. “Manuel, swim a few lengths, there's a good lad. Keep Mrs Tavern entertained”, he shouts to the pool boy, and goes inside with the longer serving of the two present members of his household staff.
With his hand covering the receiver, Buck says to the butler, “If he calls, tell him not to come here, though I doubt he'd be stupid enough to try”, before readying himself to lie to the police, as professionally as he is capable.
River locks the door calmly behind him, clicks off the TV, puts the bags on the bed, and sits down at the edge of it opposite Maddy. It's a while before either of them speak, during which time he tries to work out whether she's been calling for help or not. She looks like she's been crying, that's for sure, but whether she's been screaming, he can't be certain. He checks the handcuffs, which have definitely not been tampered with, and then goes to the window to check the parking lot. It's as empty as it was when he drove into it a few moments ago, save that mangy mutt, pissing on everything and skipping about like strays have a tendency to do. River returns to the edge of the bed.
“After we get fixed up, we'll go and eat. I got you some clothes and the brand new look I promised, how about that?” he says, holding up the wig.
“I like the way I already look”, Maddy says defensively. “There's nothing wrong with it.”
“No, I guess there ain't if you're happy to look like you're going to a funeral”, River says, trying to be funny.
“At least I don't look like a cartoon cowboy”, Maddy says.
'”Well look at you biting back, that's more like it”, River says, mock offended. “Whether you like your black dresses and Lego man haircut or not, it doesn't matter. You've got to change if you want to eat, and you do want to eat don't you?”
“Yes”, Maddy says.
“Good”, River agrees. “Because I am fucking starving. And you already know I don't like to eat alone.”
River undoes the handcuffs, and releases Maddy from the radiator. She stands up, cautiously, and rubs her wrists where the metal has been biting in. River puts his hands on her shoulders in a familiar way.
“I reckon you ought to wash up, and then you can come out here and choose how you want to dress, how does that sound?” River says, taking in the bathroom and the clothes on the bed in a sweeping gesture with his arm, as though he's working at a high class hotel, and is busy displaying the penthouse suite to a top model or musician.
“Ok”, Maddy says, weakened by hunger, and too tired and upset, to be another other than compliant.
“Towels, soap, and everything else you could possibly dream of are already in there for you Princess, no expenses spared”, River says, his hands on Maddy's shoulders guiding her towards the badly lit, box room.
Maddy enters the tiny, dirty bathroom, while River waits on the threshold, smiling at
Similar Books
