Heller's Girlfriend by J.D. Nixon

letting that go.
“I wouldn’t suggest you go down that path, Mr Warburton. There were
a number of witnesses to yesterday’s fracas who will swear on oath
that you were the one who attacked this young lady first by
pushing her in the chest. That you then physically assaulted her
and that she was only attempting to restore some order to the
situation when she kneed you in the ba . . . er . . .
testicles.”
    My smile at Warburton was sweet
and innocent – St Matilda the Peacemaker. His face reddened even
further with anger. I thought I saw the Select man’s mouth tremble
in suppressed amusement, before he resumed his flat, expressionless
demeanour. It was so fleeting though that I couldn’t say for sure I
hadn’t only imagined it.
    “It doesn’t matter what you
fucking think. I’m entitled to hire a security guard if I feel that
my safety will be compromised by my wife’s actions,” he snarled
back. He glared at me. “And that bitch just better keep her
distance.”
    I yawned ostentatiously when he
finished his tirade, and leaned back in my chair, stretching my
legs out in front of me. I crossed my ankles with practiced
nonchalance, laced my hands behind my head and stared at Warburton.
He clenched his fists and turned to the Select man.
    “Can you see that? She’s fucking harassing me!” he blustered. “Get her to stop it or I’m
calling the police.” We all stared at him then, until the absurdity
of his comment finally sank into his thick skull. “Are we going to
start this fucking meeting or not? I haven’t got all day to waste
like some people,” he shouted and pushed past the mediator to barge
into the negotiation room.
    Everyone reluctantly followed,
except for the Select man. I settled Patricia in the room, before
sitting down again outside in the waiting area. The Select man
remained standing for a while, his height intimidating from my
lower vantage point. I wasn’t too daunted though, as I spent most
of my days surrounded by gigantic men. Eventually he took a seat
opposite and looked at me.
    “Bick Barnes,” he said, offering
his hand.
    His manners pleasantly surprised
me. I leaned over and took his hand, shaking it firmly. “Tilly
Chalmers.”
    “Tilly? That’s an unusual
name.”
    I smiled. “I was just about to
say the same about Bick. Mine’s short for Matilda, my
great-grandmother’s name. I hate it.”
    He smiled back, and it was a
very nice smile. I suddenly had an enormous desire to make him
smile again.
    “Mine’s short for Bickley, an
old family name. The oldest son of the oldest son traditionally is
cursed with it as his first name. My father decided to revive the
tradition when he came to this country even though nobody else
cares about it any more, and it hasn’t been used for years. I
haven’t the heart to tell him the tradition won’t continue, as I
have absolutely no intention of ever having children. Especially if I have to call them Bickley.”
    I laughed. “I’m with you there.”
He didn’t need to know I’d been told that I would probably never
have children anyway. Didn’t mean that I’d wanted them in the
first place , I told myself fiercely.
    We sat in silence for a
while.
    “I’ve heard it’s good to work at Heller’s .”
    “I’ve no complaints.” I wouldn’t
talk about Heller to the competition, no matter how cute he
was.
    “I’ve heard he treats his staff
fairly and respects his clients.”
    “You could do worse. He can be a
real hardarse when he wants though.”
    “I can handle that. I just can’t
stand unethical behaviour. Do you know my boss?”
    “Big, ugly bastard.”
    Bick laughed. “You’ve met him
then.”
    I nodded. As I’ve said before, I
had no reason to be fond of Chris Kirnin, the owner of Select
Security. He was the man responsible for my lack of options about
having children.
    “I’m not sure I agree with some
of his recent business decisions. Some of our clients are very
dodgy. I’d love to abandon ship. Do you