|
CHAPTER 17 “Nigel!” The Englishman glanced up from his position of peering over Sydney’s shoulder, while she sat at her desk going over a fax that a friend had sent them. He glanced at Sydney, who nodded, and then he moved to the outer office. “Rose?” Rose was flushed and excited as she hurried over to him with three other girls that Nigel recognized from Sydney’s classes. It seemed Professor Fox’s students had decided to take Rose under their wing, which he was grateful for. Rose caught both of his hands in hers, a habit she had developed from the first day they had met. She seemed to enjoy touching him, but it took him some time to adjust. “May I go mon frère?” she pleaded, breathlessly. “I have never been to such a thing! May I go?” He stared at her, puzzled. “Go where?” “A party! There is to be a party and I am invited! Oh, please may I go?” “A party? What kind of party?” Her enthusiasm was amusing and he couldn’t resist a little teasing. “A tea party?” Rose flushed and the other girls giggled. “It’s a frat party, Mr. B,” Maggie, a petite brunette who was one of Sydney’s best students, advised. “Sigma Ki are having a start of school get together and it’s open to everyone.” “That is a boy’s house,” Rose interrupted. “They are Greek.” Nigel smirked. “Yes, I’m aware of that, but only the fraternity name is Greek, I don’t think the boys are.” “May I go?” Nigel glanced over at Sydney appeared in his peripheral vision and leaned against the doorway of her office, amused. “I don’t know, Rose,” he said. “Isn’t it a school night?” Rose’s face fell. “Yes, it is.” “Rose!” Nigel grinned at how easily she was dissuaded. “I’m teasing. You don’t need my permission to go out with your friends.” He was just delighted that she finally had someone else to hang out with, they curbed her loneliness when he had to be away. Candace, one of the most popular girls in school, because of her golden hair and blue eyes piped up. “I told you he wouldn’t care, Rosie.” She shot Nigel a flirtatious look. “Mr. Bailey is a sweetheart. He knows how it is to be young, hip and…” She wet her lips, deliberately. “Sought after. Right, Mr. Bailey.” Nigel flushed and automatically glanced back at Sydney, who raised her eyebrow and smirked at him, amused. “I wanted to ask, just the same,” Rose stated. “I will not be home to make dinner.” “I can feed myself,” Nigel assured, quickly, fearing the women would automatically assume he was keeping his sister as a domestic slave and think he was some sort of chauvinist. “I was doing so long before you came and I can manage quite well.” He patted one of her hands between both of his. “You go along and have fun. Do you need some extra money?” “No, I have some.” “Okay, well have fun, but remember what we talked about.” He’d been concerned about her adapting to school in America. There was a vast difference between American university and an elite French boarding academy. Even at a respectable school like Trinity, there was underage drinking, theft and peer pressure. He had attended university in London, but still found the life at Trinity overwhelming when he had first arrived. He just wasn’t used to the brazen behaviour of the women, or the brutish, juvenile behaviour of the young men that attended the school. He had approached Sydney a few days ago and requested she help him discuss the issues with Rose, before she started classes. Sydney readily agreed to offer a female’s point of view. Rose listened dutifully, but seemed unconcerned, claiming that she was not as naive as they thought her. Nigel felt better for the talk, regardless. “I will.” Rose kissed and hugged him, then turned to the other girls. “Is he not the best brother?” “Sure is,” the third girl, Li, agreed. “The only way I’d get money out of my brother is through an insurance policy after his death, and he’d probably even fight me for that!” The other girls laughed. “Rose,” Sydney said, stepping forward. “Why don’t you take my jacket? The temperature is supposed to drop tonight.” Rose shook her head. She had hardly spoken to Sydney after the barbecue, several weeks ago, until she came by the other night to talk about school. Rose understood that she would have to tolerate the American, for Nigel’s sake, and in all honestly, the more she spoke with Sydney, the more she liked her. “I’ll be okay.” “You should take it, Rose,” Nigel agreed as he walked over and retrieved Sydney’s leather jacket, hanging on the hook by the door, retrieved her keys from the pocket then handed the jacket to Rose. “Just in case.” She nodded and accepted the coat. “If you insist.” She offered Sydney a small smile. “Thank you, Professor.” She started off with two of the girls as Nigel caught Maggie’s arm. “Margaret…” he began. “Don’t worry, Mr. B. I’ll keep an eye on her.” She grinned. “Make sure no one gives her anything toxic.” Nigel smiled relieved. “I’d appreciate that. It isn’t that I don’t trust her, I…” “Hey, no worries.” Maggie patted his shoulder. “It’s cool. I’ll take good care of her, promise.” “Thank you.” Maggie hurried to catch up with her friends as Nigel leaned against his desk. Sydney joined him. “It isn’t easy, is it?” “What?” he asked. “Wanting to protect her, but not wanting to crowd her, worried if every decision you make is the right one?” He sighed, heavily and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d rather be sacrificed by an Egyptian Goddess.” “You’re doing fine, Nigel.” “I hope so.” “Considering the circumstances and the fact that her father is a mad man, her brother tried to kill us and you still hardly know her, I think you’re handling it remarkably well.” “Thanks, Syd.” He stared down at the floor, as if he suddenly spotted something interesting. “What are your plans for the evening?” “Thought I’d go home, have a good work out, run a hot bath, and then flop in front of the TV for a late night movie.” She sighed. “You?” “Nothing so adventurous. I was considering going out for a steak.” He shot her a sly look. “Pity you’re so busy or I’d ask you to join me.” “Are you buying?” “Of course.” “The bath can wait.” “Excellent!” Nigel tossed her the keys he had retrieved from her jacket. “I pay, you drive.” Sydney caught the keys, grinning. “Who could resist such an offer?” she asked as she grabbed her purse from her office and locked it up. “I know just the place, too, best steak on the North side.” “Syd! Podge!” Preston Bailey greeted as he entered the Ancient Studies office. “Glad I caught you.” “What the blazes are you doing here?” Nigel demanded, annoyed. “I’m here to oversee the transfer of a few pieces that the London Museum is lending to the Boston Museum for a special exhibit,” Preston advised as he walked over and took Sydney’s hand, kissing her knuckles. “Syd, you get more beautiful every time I see you, how is it possible?” Sydney smiled, flattered. “Thank you, Preston.” “I was hoping we could catch up, if you’re not too busy?” “Well, we are busy,” Nigel retorted, glaring at his brother and Sydney. “We’re on our way to dinner.” “Brilliant!” Preston declared. “My treat then. Where are we going?” “A steak house, just off I-40.” “Perfect, I haven’t had a good steak in ages.” He offered his arm to Sydney, who hesitantly accepted. “Coming Podge?” Nigel had to bite down on his retort as he watched Preston and Sydney walk out of the office and leave him to lock up. He cursed his brother under his breath as he turned off the lights and secured the door. He remained sullen and silent as Sydney drove to the steakhouse, not that it was noticed as Preston never shut up. He considered pleading a headache and having Sydney drop him off at home, but he wouldn’t give his brother the satisfaction. They arrived and were seated at a table, where Preston promptly ordered a nice bottle of wine. Nigel ordered a beer, just to be spiteful. After the meal that seemed never to end, and several more chapters of ‘Preston the Wonderful’ Preston asked Sydney to dance. This was almost the last straw for Nigel. It was bad enough to have to listen to his brother, but watching Sydney in Preston’s arms was excruciating. He wanted to order another beer, but he knew he would have to drive Sydney home as she’d already had three glasses of wine. He sipped his coffee and glared at Sydney and Preston as they danced. That’s right, Sydney, he thought maliciously, cosy up to him, play it to the hilt, laugh at his stupid jokes that aren’t even funny. He gritted his teeth and grabbed a breadstick, almost crushing it in his hands. Preston always did this; he always had to move in on something that belonged to Nigel. He always had to ruin everything. Nigel wanted to kill him. He was startled by that last thought and the breadstick dropped from his hands onto the floor. He hadn’t meant that. He didn’t want to kill Preston! He glanced at the pair again, Sydney laughing and Preston moving even closer to her, if that was possible. His hands curled into fists as a rage of jealousy seared through him. Normally, he could control his feelings about Sydney, he knew she dated other men, but with Preston, it was different. He couldn’t allow himself to think of Preston and Sydney together. It enraged him, made him want to kill. Max’s words came back to him in a flash. ‘She would have been my wife if not for Ross. She should have been mine, but my brother was determined that I not have anything good in my life. He ruined my chance of living a good and decent life.’ Nigel dropped his head into his hands, distraught. The similarities were there, there was no doubt. Ross Bailey destroyed Roger Bailey through competition and vindictiveness, was that what Preston was doing to him? Was his brother trying to destroy everything he loved and could he allow that? ‘She loved me, first! She would have married me, but Ross convinced her I was no good. She looked down on me, she held me in contempt because I wasn’t as good as my brother.’ Would Preston convince Sydney of the same things? Would she start to look at him as others saw him, a bumbling, emotionally scarred idiot who was far out of his element? What would happen if Sydney lost faith in him? Would they no longer be partners? Would she even trust him anymore? Preston could do that, he always had the upper hand, was better at everything. Of course Sydney would go for a better man, but where would that leave him? Alone, that’s where. Alone in a world without Sydney. ‘But who had the last laugh, hey? Who had them scrambling like dogs after a bone? Me! I did, and they deserved every bit of suffering they got.’ Yes! There were things about her precious Preston that Sydney didn’t know, secret things that could be revealed. Nigel had enough clout now, after working with Sydney, to ruin Preston. He could get him fired, he could hack into his bank records and make him penniless, he could…Nigel’s head shot up, appalled at his own thoughts. ‘I saw her first! I loved her first, but Ross stole her from me. He ruined everything. I tried to be like him. I tried to be good, patient, and successful, but she neglected me. She hurt me first!’ He recalled his reply to Max’s words. ‘Sydney’s happiness will always be my first priority, whether it’s with me or another man, her happiness, her well being is most important. Whatever makes her life complete is what I will do for her. That’s love, Max, true love, unparalleled and unconditional. You were just a petulant, obsessive child throwing a tantrum at not having his way!’ He dropped his head again. Oh God! What was wrong with him? Why was he having these thoughts? Was the monster in his genes finally ready to emerge? He couldn’t let that happen. He would not make the choices that Mason had made. He could not hurt Sydney or Preston. “Nigel?” He looked up into the concerned eyes of Sydney Fox, they had returned from the dance floor. “Are you okay?” she asked. “You are looking a little green, Podge,” Preston agreed as he held Sydney’s chair for her. “I…I just need some air,” Nigel said and quickly rose. “I’ll be fine.” He hurried away from the table and headed for the front doors, but turned and walked into the bathrooms, instead. He managed to get inside, just as his dinner decided to make s second appearance. Several minutes later, he leaned against the wall of the stall and tried to get his bearings. What was wrong with him? Why was he behaving so irrationally? Why couldn’t he get himself under control? “Podge? Are you in here?” Oh God! Not him! Make him go away, please just go away. “Come out come out, wherever you are?” Preston called, cheerfully. “Come on, old man, which one are you in?” “Bugger off!” Nigel yelled, as he slowly rose to his feet and managed to step out of the stall. Preston grinned. “Really, Nigel. No need to be rude.” Nigel glared at him and moved to the sinks to rinse out his mouth and wash his hands. “I’m not in the mood, Preston.” “Mood for what? Come on, then. You’ve got Sydney all in a tether after your tantrum. I told her you couldn’t hold your liquor and…” Preston was startled when he was suddenly grabbed by the lapels of his jacket and thrust up against the bathroom wall. “Are you taking a piss at me?” Nigel growled. “Because I’ve had just about enough of you, for one night, Preston.” Preston stammered, aghast to see his little brother turn violent. “N…Now Podge…” His words were cut off as he was slammed harder against the wall and the breath was knocked out of him. “My. Name. Is. Nigel! Not, Podge, not old man, not bro, Nigel!” “I…I know your name…” “Stay away from me, stay away from Sydney. Do you hear me? I don’t want you to ever come here again, do you understand?” “What the devil’s come over you? I’m your brother not…” Preston suddenly found it hard to answer with Nigel’s hands at his throat, cutting off his air supply. “Nig…can’t…breathe!” Nigel released him, appalled and Preston slid down the wall to the floor, gasping. What had he done? He’d attacked his own brother! “I…I’m sorry.” Preston glared at him, but there was concern in his eyes, as well. “What is wrong with you?” Nigel shook his head and started backing away. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t…I’m sorry. Take…take Syd home, will you? Just, take her home.” Preston scrambled to his feet as Nigel reached the door. “Wait! Nigel, where are you going?” he called, but Nigel was already gone. “Nigel!” Sydney called as she pounded on his apartment door, several hours later. “Nigel, open up!” “He may not be home, Syd,” Preston offered. “Where the hell else would he be?” “Perhaps, he walked home and hasn’t returned yet. He did say he wanted some air.” “Twenty miles?” She hammered on the door again. “Nigel! It’s Sydney!” “Perhaps, he’s asleep?” She glared at him. No matter what was going on, Nigel had trained himself to respond to her voice, no matter how deeply asleep he was; their survival depended on it. She leaned over the railing to look at the front balcony and decided that it was too far to jump. She returned to the side door and knocked again. “Why isn’t he answering?” When Preston had returned from the washrooms, they ordered desert and he regaled her with another funny story. Several more glasses of wine later, she finally noticed that Nigel had not returned from getting air. It was then that Preston reported Nigel had left and had requested that he drive her home. Sydney was stunned, confused and very angry, both at Preston for not telling her sooner and at herself for not noticing how long Nigel had been gone. She’s demanded to know if Nigel was ill, or if they’d had an argument, but Preston was reluctant to give her a straight answer. She finally insisted that the Englishman drive her over to Nigel’s house so that she could check on him. She turned on Preston, suddenly. “What did you say to him?” she demanded. “You must have said something to make him leave. You’re always picking on him.” “I am not always picking on him!” Preston denied, hotly. “What did you say? Tell me?” “I didn’t say anything, honestly! He…he just seemed out of sorts and requested that I drive you home, which is exactly what I have been trying to do, so may we go now?” Sydney ignored him and turned back to hammer harder on Nigel’s door. It had taken them the better part of an hour to get here, because of an accident on the highway and it had been almost an hour before she even noticed that Nigel was gone. Preston was an annoyance to Nigel, but she found him entertaining. Now, she paid for her intercession. “Maybe he didn’t come home,” Preston suggested. “He may have stopped at a local pub for a drink, or he could just be walking around somewhere. He always walks when he broods, has done since he was a child. Why, I remember one time…” “Preston! If you don’t shut up, I swear to God I will toss you over this railing!” Preston took an anxious step backwards. “No need to be rude, Sydney. I’m trying to help.” “Why didn’t you stop him from leaving, then?” “Nigel is a grown man!” Preston insisted, omitting the fact that he had been afraid to go after Nigel, afraid his little brother might really hurt him if he did. He had never seen Nigel so furious, so violent and it had scared him. “Once Podge sets his mind to something, there’s no reasoning with him.” He didn’t tell Sydney of the attack, fearing she would blame him and that would put him in a bad light. He could admit, after he’d recovered from the shock of seeing Nigel enraged, that he had been pushing his brother’s buttons all evening. However, he had always done that and Nigel never became physical over it. Sydney disagreed with Preston’s assessment of his brother. She could always get Nigel to see reason, well except in his dealings with Mason. Mason. She scowled and wondered if something had triggered Nigel to react so badly. Had Mason shown up, or called him? Had Nigel received a cryptic message from the man that had turned his life upside down? She recalled how ill Nigel had looked when she and Preston had returned from their dance, how shaky and pale. Mason could certainly have caused that reaction. A new wave of concerns flooded her and she started pounding on the door again. “Nigel? Rose?” What if Mason had come back and kidnapped Nigel? What if he left to keep her safe? She paused and leaned her ear against the door. Was that a noise inside? A small moan, maybe. She knocked once more, gently this time. “Nigel?” she called, softly. “Please open the door. I need to know that you’re okay.” Silence. “There you have it,” Preston decided. “If he was in there he surely would have responded to that, Syd.” She stood there, her hand and ear flat against the door, as if trying to sense what lay beyond, then she turned to Preston. “Give me your credit card.” “Sorry?” “My purse is in the car. Give me your credit card.” Preston pulled out his wallet and handed her his Visa card. “What are you going to do?” Sydney turned and slid the card between the doorframe and the plunger. “Sydney! You’re not breaking in?” “Shut up, Preston!” she hissed, annoyed that the door wasn’t opening. She tried to concentrate, but between her anxiety and the amount of alcohol in her system, she was having trouble. Nigel was surprisingly better at this than she, of course, she usually used her knife. “Can I help you?” Sydney and Preston spun towards the steps and found themselves looking down the barrel of a shotgun held by an older woman, dressed in a blue robe and sporting a long silver braid down her back. Preston’s hands shot into the air. “Don’t shoot!” His hurried reaction caused him to stumble back against Sydney. She pushed him away, with a look of disgust, and then tried to smile at the woman. “You must be Miss. Stansbury…” “Who I must be doesn’t change the amount of trouble you’re in young lady. Breaking and entering is against the law.” Preston took a step forward. “You misunderstand. I’m Nigel’s brother, Preston Bailey, and we…” He stepped back and raised his hands higher as she levelled the gun at him. “Do you understand the concept of a hair trigger, Mr. Bailey?” Miss Stansbury asked. “Well, I have one, and I’m not in the mood for any more tom foolery.” “Please, Miss. Stansbury,” Sydney began as she slipped Preston’s credit card into her pocket. “I’m Sydney Fox. I work with Nigel and…” “I don’t care if you’re Saint Jude, himself. It’s after midnight and you’re trespassing on private property.” Sydney didn’t appreciate the Scottish woman’s lack of hospitality. Nigel had said his landlady was delightful, she couldn’t see anything of the sort in the armed grisly bear that face them now. “Look, I’m a friend and I’m worried about Nigel. We went out to dinner and he left early. I just wanted to make sure he was okay.” “Ever hear of a telephone?” “He isn’t answering his phone.” “Nor is he answering his door, so either he is not at home or he doesn’t want to talk to you, Ms. Fox.” She waved the shotgun at them. “I suggest you and Tiny Tim move along.” “He’s my friend and I’m not leaving until I know he’s okay.” “I don’t know where you learned the concept of friendship, young lady, but it does not entail breaking into a ‘friend’s apartment.” Sydney started at her, frustrated. “I’m worried about him!” Miss Stansbury paused, considering Sydney’s distress. “What time did he leave you?” “A little before ten,” Preston offered helpfully and glared at the look that Sydney tossed him. “Ten O’clock?” Miss Stansbury frowned. “That was over two hours ago and you’re only now thinking to check on him?” Sydney flushed, guiltily. “We were held up.” And distracted, she admitted, silently. “Well, it seems to me an open and shut case of too little too late.” Miss Stansbury stepped up on the landing and moved to the side, waving the gun at them. “I believe it is time for all burglars, even the good intentioned, to be in bed. I don’t want to have to call the sheriff.” “We should go, Syd,” Preston encouraged as he edged around the armed landlady to get to the stairs. “We’ll call Nigel tomorrow. I’m sure he’s fine, really.” Sydney tried to stare the old woman down, but Miss Standbury met her gaze without flinching and returned it with an intimidation that would not be squashed. For a moment, the fear and alcohol she had consumed had Sydney considering taking the woman out. “The good book says there is a time for everything in this world, Ms. Fox,” Miss Stansbury advised, quietly. “Are you sure you want that time to be now?” Sydney caught something in the older woman’s eyes, a flicker of sympathy. She knew something. Finally, she backed down. The old goat had spunk. “I just want to know he’s okay,” she muttered.” “I’ll be sure to ask him, if I see him.” Sydney started down the stairs with Preston, waving off his attempts to guide her. She wasn’t so drunk that she couldn’t navigate a set of stairs by herself. She paused at the bottom and glanced up at Miss. Stansbury, looking like a determined pioneer woman ready to protect her homestead and family from outlaws. She sighed and followed Preston. Miss. Stansbury waited until Sydney and Preston had climbed into the vehicle and had driven away, before she lowered her weapon. She lightly rapped on the apartment door. “You can come out now. They’ve gone.” She had seen Nigel arrive home earlier. Nigel released the locks and slowly opened the door. His hair was dishevelled, as if he had been constantly running his fingers through it, and he held a half empty bottle of whisky in his hand. “Sorry they disturbed you.” “Damn, lad. You look like hell.” Nigel had no reply. “So, that was your Sydney?” He nodded. “I like her, she has loyalty and spirit.” Miss Stansbury smirked. “That muppet really your brother?” “Yes.” “No wonder you ran off.” She cradled the shotgun in the crook of her left arm, as if it belonged there, and reached for the bottle of whisky. She took a swig and winced, handing it back. “That rotgut will do you no good.” She turned and headed down the stairs. “I’ve a thirty year old bottle of Scotch that will do us better.” She paused to look back at him, still standing in the doorway. “Coming or not?” Nigel hesitated only a moment longer, before closing the door and following her downstairs.
|