Hot Revenge Box Set 4

The key...
I dream about that fucking key.
It hangs on its nail. When she’s here and the light’s on full, the tarnished brass a dull yellow: winking golden-green when it’s just
me and the lighting’s reduced. The camera light blinks reflections from it:
On... Off... On... Off...
Occasionally I find myself staring at it, counting the blinks... 27... 28... 29...
It’s not as if there’s anything better to do. When a blinking light is the highlight of the entertainment...
933... 934... 935...
Christ!
Am I so reduced that I can reach 1,000 without even realising I was getting there?
Think of something else...
What?
Something good...
A good memory...
Mitch...
When I first knew you...
...
She dances for me... Kicking off her heels, in her bare feet, she dances.
She wears a dress in teal-green silk, which rustles and whispers as she moves. And her long hair is a cloud of red around her as
she sways and shimmies to the music, her green eyes shining.

She reaches for me, her long pale arms outstretched, and laughing for sheer joy. Taking her in my arms, one hand at her
shoulder, the other nested at the base of her spine, we dance smoothly and slowly to the quiet, easy music.
So close to me, she smells of that perfume she wears. It rises from within the silk like a drug, and like a drugged man, I stoop to
lift her and to carry her to the bed...
It all went wrong... so quickly... so soon after that...
All my fault...
You ran from me for years...
And then...
Miracle...
You gave yourself to me...
Her hands on my chest once more, “You want this?”
“Mitch, I’ve never wanted anything else.”
...
...
Oh, God...
I had it...
I had it... I’d gotten there. After a fucking lifetime, I’d gotten there...
...
The people I hurt.
The lives I ruined...
Mitch...

Jenny...
Who would have guessed justice would come from such a place?
*****
Richard
“Mind if I join you?”
Michael turns, a mug cradled in his hands, steaming in the chill morning air, matching the one in my own. “Not at all.” He shuffles
up, making room for me on the terrace wall.
I sit, looking down the sweep of the mountain. “Amazing view isn’t it.”
“Yeah... I never get tired of looking at it. Especially this time of the day, when the day warms and the mist rises...”
He’s right. Below us, over the lake, the rising sun slants silver fingers through curling fronds of mist. As we watch, it billows and
rises, like the breathing of some great animal.
Michael continues... “...They used to call it ‘The Breath of the Dragon’. It’s easy to see why.”
“It is indeed.”
Michael jerks his chin back over his shoulder. “How is it inside?”
“The same. Charlotte and Elizabeth are sitting with Mitch; trying to stay cheerful; trying to bring her out of herself...”
“... and not succeeding?”
“No... She pastes a smile onto her face when she knows anyone is looking at her, but the moment she thinks she’s alone, she
just sits, staring into nothing, stroking her stomach.”
Michael nods, sucking air between his teeth. “Yeah... That’s how I see it too.” He shakes his head. “She’s so unhappy. Who
would have ever believed Lawrence Klempner would be mourned like this?”
“I don’t think even he would have.”

Michael huffs and nods. “True.” He sucks at his mug, swallows and lets out air. “What we need is something new. Something to
break the pattern.”
“Something to stop Mitch wondering if she’s been widowed before she was even married?”
“That’s it exactly.”
“Any suggestions?”
He swings his head. “Not a clue. I mean, two new babies in the house and another on the way... If that’s not a distraction, what
is?”
“You’ve got me there.”
From somewhere beyond the house comes the rumble of a car engine, then the squeak of brakes. Michael cocks his head,
listening. “Visitors? At this hour? Who...”
The doorbell rings.
We sit, both semi-looking over our shoulders, back into the house. A minute later, James pops his head out of the door. “We
have visitors!” He’s grinning broadly. “You’d better come inside.”
*****
“Kirstie! Ryan! Were we expecting you?” I throw arms around the tall, elegant woman, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Then I shake hands with Ryan.
“Sorry to turn up at your door so early,” he says, “But we were bursting to share the news and to ask you...”
“Stop right there,” says Kirstie. “I’m the one who gets to ask.”
“Ask what?” Mitch is quiet, pale-faced, but showing a glimmer of interest.
“Sit down, the pair of you,” says James. “Join us for breakfast and give us your news.” He too is eyeing Mitch.
He exchanges glances with me, then Michael. “Kirstie, Ryan... Tea or coffee? Mitch... more peppermint?”
*****

“We’ve set the day for the wedding,” says Kirstie. “You’re all invited of course.” She reaches into her bag, producing a handful of
lavender envelopes. “We’ve brought your invitations. We do hope you’ll all come.”
“Of course we will. Congratulations, Kirstie.” James stands, tugging her up from her chair with him and smacking a kiss onto her
forehead. Then turning... “And you, Ryan, of course.”
He sits back, his voice dry, lips twitching. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just the groom. I know who will be the centre of attention for
this one.” His eyes crinkle.
Elizabeth pipes up. “Who are you having as bridesmaids, Kirstie? Your sisters?”
“No, my sister didn’t want to do it. She’s a bit shy, you know. I... was hoping you and Charlotte would be bridesmaids for me.”
Charlotte beams. “I’d love to. We both would, wouldn’t we Beth?”
“Of course we would.”
“And the other thing is,” says Kirstie, “I was hoping.. well... James... Michael... Would you agree to be ushers? Um... Mr
Haswell...” She bites her lip. “... I’d like to ask you too.” Then holding up her hands, speaking quickly... “But of course I realise...
If you don’t want to, it’s quite...”
I cut her off. “I’d be honoured to, Kirstie. I’ll pencil the date in my diary.”
Michael gives her arm a squeeze. “Me too. I’d love to help.”
“There’s one last thing,” says Kirstie. “Mitch... you’re so good at design and decorations and things like that. I was wondering,
would you help me with all that. I thought... maybe... my dress?”
Mitch smiles. For the first time in weeks, she really smiles. And when she speaks, there’s that throaty sultry tone that has been
missing for so long. “I’d love to help, Kirstie. Of course I would.”
“So...” Michael rips open his envelope. “When’s the wedding of the year to be?”
James is already tapping into his phone. “I’ll put it on my calendar now.”
“We’re having a Christmas wedding,” says Kirstie. “We’ve booked the Church for December twenty-ninth.”
*****