Heller's Girlfriend (8 page)

After about twenty minutes, we
were still waiting. The mediator popped his head around the door,
enquiring politely at least five times whether the other party had
arrived yet, checking his watch with subdued annoyance. Patricia
grew increasingly anxious, clutching and twisting her hands, while
Corella paced the floor with building impatience.

Eventually we heard a strident
voice in the distance, becoming closer and louder. Patricia
stiffened next to me, and I knew her estranged husband was finally
on his way. He burst into the room with a flood of profanity and
reeking of bad mood, yelling at someone walking behind him.

“I told that cocksucking
assistant of yours that the meeting was at ten-thirty.
Ten-thirty,
Gerry! Not fucking eleven! Now we’re late and I
hate being late. You know that, Gerry. It puts me at a disadvantage
before anyone’s even opened their fucking mouths.”

He stopped suddenly and eyed the
three of us. I gave him a deliberate once-over, sizing him up. He
was mid-height and meaty, with sandy, blow-dried hair. He’d been
attractive about ten years ago, but good living had made him soft
and paunchy, his face ruddy with temper. He stared at me with pale,
protuberant blue eyes, his face reddening even further. He glanced
back at his lawyer, who shrugged in ignorance.

“Tricia, who the fuck is this
person?” he asked, taking a step towards us. I jumped to my feet
immediately, taller than him, and stepped towards him.

“I’d appreciate it if you could
keep your distance from Mrs Warburton, please sir,” I said firmly,
but politely.

It was as if my words flicked a
switch in his brain. He clenched his fists and almost snarled at
his wife.

“What the
fuck
, Tricia? A
bodyguard? What the fuck did you think I was going to do to you
today? Hurt you? I would never do that. I love you.”

He stepped closer to us. I
pushed Patricia behind me protectively.

“What about all the times you
did
hurt me, Gary?” Patricia shrieked at him in fear from
behind my back.

I stepped closer to him, bulking
myself up as much as possible. “I’m telling you again, sir, to step
back from Mrs Warburton.”

“Get away from her!” screeched
Corella.

“Gary,” warned his lawyer,
grabbing him by the arm.

He shook off his arm furiously.
“Fuck off, Gerry! I’m just trying to talk to my wife without this
dyke and you wallet-sucking lawyers getting in the way.”

He moved nearer to us. I was now
officially annoyed.

“Last warning, sir. Back away
from Mrs Warburton right now,” I stepped closer to him, almost
butting up against the obnoxious jerk.

“Tricia, I can’t believe you’ve
done this, you stupid bitch.”

“
Gary!
” remonstrated his
lawyer, genuinely shocked.

“
Mr Warburton!
”
simultaneously objected Corella in mock-outrage, but unable to hide
the triumphant tone in her voice. She had dollar signs in her eyes
now. The settlement would certainly be more favourable towards her
client after this blatant show of poor behaviour, witnessed not
only by both lawyers, but also by the mediator who’d poked his head
out from the negotiation room in fearful curiosity at the
racket.

Warburton regarded me with
unattractive bellicosity and calculatingly took another step
forward, his chest pushing against mine.

I knew his type – he was nothing
but a bully, simmering with hate, needing to subject and humiliate
anyone less powerful than him to boost his own self-importance. The
kind of man who thinks women were born to serve. Well, he was sure
messing with the wrong woman today. I crossed my arms and stepped
forward myself, pressing him backwards with my elbows, shooting
daggers at him.

“I wouldn’t recommend that you
take one more step forward, sir,” I warned coldly, ready to rip off
his balls and serve them to him on a platter, lightly sauteed with
butter and garlic chives. I sincerely hoped I was conveying that
particular thought with my eyes.

“Don’t you tell me what to do,”
he seethed, so angry he was hissing, spittle foaming the corners of
his mouth. “If I want to talk to my wife, I fucking well will, and
no poxy, big-titted twat is going to stop me.”

He was really beginning to get
up my nose,
especially
with that comment about my boobs. I
stepped forward, bulldozing him backwards again, our eyes locked in
combat. But I hadn’t fully appreciated the man’s short fuse.

Without any warning, he launched
onto me, shoving me backwards with his strong hands on my chest,
his face an unhealthy red. I heard the general clamour of dismay
and protest from the others as I stumbled, tripping over my own
boots, taken by surprise.

Fortunately I managed to quickly
regain my balance, completely focussed on him.

I advanced on him again, pushing
him away from Patricia with my palms on his chest. We struggled
together for a while, pointlessly lumbering back and forth, both
grunting with exertion and repeatedly gaining ground, only to cede
it again a few moments later. It wasn’t quite an even battle – he
had the distinct advantages of weight and bulk on his side, while I
was left to fend with the crumbs of my superior height and
(possibly) training.

I could almost hear Heller’s
accented voice in my ear, cautioning politeness and restraint as
I’d been taught. But my blossoming anger began to override more
sensible emotions. I knew that Heller wouldn’t be pleased about how
quickly matters had escalated, but the fact was that Warburton
obviously had come to the meeting cruising for a fight, and I’d
merely been the one to give him a trigger. If it hadn’t been my
presence, it would have been something else that set him off. Even
so, I’d probably find myself in major trouble with Heller later on,
berated for my lack of professionalism. But to be honest, that was
a situation with which I was awfully familiar, so I didn’t sweat
over it.

After a great deal of straining
effort, I managed to prise Warburton’s hands off my chest, not
appreciating the physical contact. Not to mention that he hadn’t
seemed averse to slipping his hands a little lower on occasion,
touching my boobs as we grappled together. That didn’t improve my
mood much either. My boobs were not public property.

I mustered up all my strength
and thrust forward, gaining the advantage for a few precious
moments. I forced him up against the wall, keeping my body tight
against his, pushing one forearm hard across his throat to pin his
head back, my other hand painfully gripping a fistful of his
thinning hair. He spluttered with the pressure on his windpipe. I
leaned right into his ear, pressing my body up against his, so near
him that I could feel he was becoming aroused by the altercation
and the close contact.
Ugh!
My sympathy for Patricia only
grew if this was how the man she married liked to get his rocks
off. I wondered briefly what she’d been through with him.

I hissed in his ear. “That was a
really stupid move. Threatening your soon-to-be ex-wife in front of
her lawyer – a woman who crushes men’s nuts with her teeth. You are
a stupid man, aren’t you?”

He struggled furiously, trying
to push me off him. I compressed down harder on his throat with my
forearm until he moaned with pain.

“You’re a stupid man, aren’t
you?” I whispered viciously again.

He unexpectedly responded, not
by agreeing with me, which was what I’d obviously wanted, but by
latching his hands onto my boobs, squeezing them mercilessly. I
couldn’t afford to miss a beat though, not willing to give him an
inch of leeway. If I didn’t instruct him about the rules of play
now, the rest of my time on this job was going to be a nightmare.
He would believe he could behave however he wished and treat
Patricia with as much disrespect as possible. So, despite the
revolting feel of his hands on my body and the pain he was causing,
I didn’t flinch. Instead, I bestowed an equal amount of tender
loving care on him by brutally kneeing him in the balls.

He whimpered, tears flooding his
eyes. He released my boobs. I still had my arm across his neck and
I pushed down even harder until he gagged.

“Don’t you
ever
touch me
again. You understand, you dumb prick?” He nodded, hatred burning
in his eyes. “Now you will apologise to Patricia and the mediator
for your bad manners. Understand? Yes?”

He nodded, not able to
articulate anything except a choking noise.

I took my arm away, glared at
him with disgust and calmly resumed my seat next to a trembling
Patricia. My stomach roiled, and I gulped in a few deep breaths and
swallowed hard a few times to keep the bile down. My boobs ached
and I wouldn’t be surprised to find finger-sized bruises on them
this evening.

Warburton brushed himself down,
rubbed his throat, and tried to assume some dignity.

“Patricia, Mediator, I apologise
for my behaviour,” he said, turning from his tremulous wife to the
anxious man poking his head around the negotiation room doorway
again.

That done, no matter how
insincerely, all parties proceeded to troop into the room,
Warburton cutting me a dirty look as he did. I gave him the mental
finger. The scathing glance he threw back made me think he was
telepathic.

I didn’t hold out much hope for
a positive outcome for anyone today.

Chapter 6

I sat in the waiting room for
the rest of the day, yawning quietly to myself. Security work could
be so butt-numbingly dull sometimes. My only diversion was a brief
break for lunch, which Patricia, Corella and I took out in the
sunshine in a park across the road. Patricia was very quiet and
subdued, barely even nibbling on her sandwich. Corella spent the
entire time divided between gobbling her food, shouting into her
mobile and snapping out orders about the afternoon session to
Patricia.

When they reconvened, I passed
the time unsuccessfully trying
not
to think about that scene
with Heller the other night. I wished I’d handled it all better,
but there was something about sleeping with him that just –

I didn’t get to finish
articulating that critically important point to myself when the
doors to the negotiation room were flung back angrily, and Gary
stormed out, his lawyer hot on his heels. I jumped to my feet,
bracing myself for more action, heart pounding. But he only glared
at me, muttering, “Fucking bitch,” before leaving, and I wasn’t
sure if he meant me, Corella or Patricia, or maybe all three of us,
cursed generically. Gerry chased after him begging him to be more
temperate in future meetings.

I smiled to myself. Obviously,
things didn’t go the bastard’s way.

Patricia and her lawyer came out
next, Corella looking extremely pleased with the outcome. They were
followed by the mediator who seemed almost on the point of tears,
stressed beyond endurance. And this was only the first day of
mediation.

I walked the two ladies to the
car, particularly observant in the carpark, almost expecting
Warburton to be lurking in some darkening shadow, waiting to
pounce. But of course he wasn’t. After another hair-raising drive
with Corella, Patricia and I were thankfully safely deposited back
at the hotel. Corella farewelled us, promising to pick us up again
at the same time tomorrow.

“Do you want me to stay with you
tonight?” I asked Patricia as I escorted her to her room. “It’s no
bother.”

“No, I’ll be fine,” she insisted
quietly. “But I’d like it if you stayed for dinner. Otherwise I’ll
be alone.”

She sounded so pathetic as she
spoke that of course I agreed. I didn’t want to dine in public in
my uniform and she wasn’t keen on eating out either, so she ordered
room service. We settled down with a bottle of wine and a couple of
delicious meals, although I noticed that once again she barely
pecked at the food. She made up for it by drinking the wine
generously. After downing a glass and pouring herself another, she
became more talkative.

“This will be hard for you to
believe, but Gary was so charming when I first met him. He
completely won me over with his smooth tongue. My family weren’t
keen on him at all. He wasn’t in our social class, but that’s what
attracted me, I suppose. He was a lot rougher than the men I
normally met, and I guess I thought I could play Pygmalion with
him. I thought he was a diamond in the rough, but of course I was
wrong. He’s always been an aggressive person.”

She took a huge gulp of wine,
finishing the second glass, which she’d only just poured.

“I thought his anger towards me
was justified for a long time. Maybe I wasn’t such a good cook or
housewife or . . .” she blushed, “good in bed. I hadn’t been with
anyone else before him. Perhaps I didn’t measure up to his
standards.” She poured herself another glass of wine. I had barely
touched my meagre quarter-glass. The bottle was emptying
rapidly.

“I blamed myself all the time
for not being perfect. Not pretty enough, not thin enough, not
smart enough. I was rich enough though, so I guess that saved me
from his fists. But I still felt the sting of his slaps often
enough.” She laughed, but it was a sad sound. “And then to find out
he was cheating. Not just once, but frequently, ever since we were
married. I blamed myself for that too. He was sexually very
experienced when we married, I wasn’t. I came to believe that sex
was supposed to be as rough and fast as what I usually had with
him. I didn’t know any better, but I knew I didn’t like it that
way. It wasn’t romantic at all. It was painful – he hurt me. When
he was in one of his moods, he didn’t care a scrap if I wanted to
have sex or not; he just took what he wanted, when he wanted. I
finally had to escape. Now, of course, I understand that he’d been
raping me for years and I didn’t even realise. I just thought that
was how all husbands behaved. I’m so stupid.”