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The Tied Man (The Tied Man #1) Page 62
Author: Tabitha McGowan

He was halfway down his second cigarette the next time he spoke.  ‘Fuckin’ thirteen.’

‘I know.’

‘The filthy, filthy bastards.  You’re a kid, y’know?  Even if you’re starting to look like a man, you still think like a kid, and you fuckin’ hurt like one.’  He finally glanced up at me.  ‘Worst thing is, they know it even when they say they don’t.  ‘Cos deep down, that’s the real fun.  God, the poor little shit.’

There was nothing I could say.  No reassurance, no platitude about things not being as bad as they seemed, or turning out all right in the end.  Somewhere beyond Finn’s reach, a boy was starting out on the same bleak journey that he had made.

He drained his mug.  ‘I’ll leave you to it.’

‘You can stay, you know.  You’re not exactly causing a riot.’

‘Nah.  I’m not good at the moment.  Not... straight.  Need to try and get my head together.’

With nothing left to say, I walked silently to where he sat and let my hand rest lightly on his left shoulder and waited for him to flinch away.  Instead, he brought his cold right hand up to cover mine, before softly resting his cheek against it with a barely perceptible sigh. Then he left my studio without looking back.

*****

It was gone five when Henry gave his meek little tap at the door.  I was cleaning each brush in turn, meticulously removing any trace of paint in readiness for the next day’s session, and taking scant comfort in the routine and monotony.

‘Hi.  Feeling any better?’ I asked.

‘Well, I’m no longer doing my best impression of Our Lady of Sorrows.  Thank you so much for putting up with my ridiculous nonsense before.’

‘Any time.’  I blinked hard, feeling the grit of fatigue in my eyes.  It had been a long day.   ‘I don’t suppose you want a quick bourbon?  I’m just clearing up now.’

‘To be truthful, I’d love to.’  Henry gave a regretful glance at the bottle on the dresser.  ‘But Blaine has requested that you call into her office for a catch-up meeting as soon as you’re done for the day.  I’m sorry.’

Chapter Fifteen

Lilith

My considerate hostess was just pouring out two delicate porcelain cups of Darjeeling when I arrived.  Brilliant summer light streamed into the room and reflected off primrose-painted walls that only served to intensify the brightness,  like being called to a conference on the surface of the Sun.  I flopped down onto the divan with the bad grace of a teenager.

Even after washing my face in cold water I still felt crumpled and bemused, whilst she sat at her desk as tranquil as a mother superior.  I waited for the usual banal niceties.

Instead, she went straight on the attack.  ‘I see that you Finn have become rather close friends.’

‘A side effect of proximity,’ I shrugged, immediately on my guard at the mention of his name.

‘There’s no need to be so defensive.  I think it’s rather lovely that you’ve become his newfound haven  – Henry informs me that you’re even willing to deal with him at his most unpredictable.’

It was no surprise that any of this had got back to her; Henry was as trapped as any of us, but hearing Finn discussed in this dispassionate way made me feel sick.

Blaine continued.  ‘In truth I’m grateful that you seem to be breaking through that sullen little wall he’d developed of late, and I’m sure his clients feel the same,’ she said with honeyed sincerity.  ‘I’d draw the line at you fucking him without my permission, but other than that, any time spent with you seems to be making him human again.  So thank you.’

She was loving every moment.  Like a cat snapping a mouse’s legs one by one instead of simply despatching it, she intended to play with me for as long as it amused her to do so, and I could say or do nothing in response until I discovered a motive beyond wanton cruelty.

‘Shall I tell you a little more about how I found Finn, while you drink your tea?’ she enquired.  ‘Perhaps it might provide a little context for the rest of our conversation.’

I didn’t even bother to reply.  Just sat back with my saucer balanced on my knee and waited for the story.

‘You should know that my family has dealt with the Irish for centuries – we owned land over there, and my Great Grandfather was a Colonel in the Black and Tans.  In my opinion, they’re a people entirely suited to this kind of employment.

Unfortunately, there’s often a coarseness there, but I don’t need to tell you that;  you see it in Coyle.  Finn, on the other hand…’

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