Chapter 21

By the time Tuesday came, Scott had managed to pack Debbie off to Essex once more. His father had finally given in to all her demands and a cruise had been booked.

Thankfully, normality was resuming. Yet work felt hollow after the investigation. Elliott had all but got away with it.

Scott caught his reflection in the gent's toilet mirror. His new Dolce and Gabbana shirt was almost worth the mortification his mother had brought to his door that weekend. She'd liked Prin though. That really meant something to Scott.

The door opened. He grinned when he saw who it was.

"Hello, handsome."

"I followed you in," Prin replied. "I wanted to say, you look gorgeous in that shirt."

Scott quickly pecked him on the lips. "You can take it off later if you like."

"I like. Your place or mine?"

They had spent Saturday and Sunday night together following an afternoon shopping trip. Scott had given the whole of the previous evening to Debbie. It was the least he could do. It hadn't stopped him missing Prin's arms around him.

Scott was rushing headlong into this and he wouldn't have it any other way. He'd never been one for taking it steady. Where was the fun in that?

"Yours. I'm missing that sofa."

"It misses you too."

"Until later then, lover," Scott said, risking another kiss. Prin didn't want their relationship getting out until the Brammin situation had been fully dealt with. Scott could understand that.

He went out into the main office. As usual it was busy. If they carried on recruiting like this, they would have to find bigger premises.

"Not in the work toilets, Scott," Eddie said as Scott passed his desk. "Haven't you any decorum?"

"Button it," Scott replied. "He was admiring my new shirt."

"Of course. My mistake."

Scott stuck his tongue out and carried on toward his desk. He didn't mind the ribbing from Eddie and Tyler. He was the last person to complain after the amount he dished out. Let them enjoy their false sense of security. Revenge would be swift and painful.

"Scott."

Carla stood in the doorway of one of the meeting rooms. To Scott's horror, he glimpsed Richard sitting inside.

Oh fuck.

"Yeah?"

"A word."

Sheila glanced up at him. "Uh-oh," she said. "I hope you're not in trouble."

She wanted nothing more. He and Sheila were polar opposites. She took great pleasure when Scott found himself in trouble. Which was more often than even he thought fair.

"Oh, act your wage, Sheila," Scott fired back. "This has nothing to do with you."

He'd seen that phrase on an Instagram meme and had been dying to use it. He was glad he'd waited.

"Just trying to be supportive."

He ignored her and went into the meeting room. Carla flashed him a wary but friendly look as he passed her.

"Good morning, Richard," Scott said, sitting and smiling.

"Don't give me that," Richard replied. "I believe you're in charge of the witch hunt against my boy."

Even for Richard Brammin, calling CCTV footage a witch hunt was a stretch. Scott wasn't going to dignify that with a response. Instead, he watched Carla take a seat.

"I'll bring you up to speed, Scott," Carla said. "Elliott is not admitting to anything."

How could he possibly deny it?

"He told me he'd promised to help with moving some stock," Richard cut in. "Have you any evidence he's made money from it?"

Oh, Richard. I expected better from you.

Scott met his stare. Richard appeared ready to rip Scott's head off. He could what he liked. Scott wouldn't be intimidated. He had long since learnt how to stand up for himself.

"I have a witness to say he was booking a holiday with a friend."

"Hardly damning stuff."

"A friend he told to pay for it and he would give him cash."

Richard opened his mouth to say something, then stopped.

"Why would your son want to pay in cash, Richard?" Scott continued.

"Don't you dare question me. Who do you think you are?"

Scott puffed his chest out. "Carla asked me to identify who had been stealing stock. I believe I have. Of course, we should probably hand all this over to the police. They can investigate Elliott's phone and emails."

"And I'll sue you for slander."

"It's only slander if it's not true," Scott fired in response. "How confident are you?"

"Okay, that's enough," Carla said. "Richard, let's not fuck about here. Elliott took that stock. You know it and I know it. What's left to decide is how we handle this. He's not coming back. That's a given."

Richard trembled with rage. He reminded Scott of an angry little boy caught out one too many times.

"I will ask Elliott to leave on one condition," Richard said, eventually.

Scott was amazed. Who the fuck did he think he was to give conditions?

"Go on," Carla said.

"I want to know who the whistleblower is."

"Never going to happen," Scott answered. "I don't have the energy for a bullying investigation on top of everything else."

Richard slammed his hand down on the table. "You jumped up little?—"

"Careful, Richard," Carla said, silencing him.

Scott shook inside. He certainly wouldn't let this playground bully see the effect he'd had on him. No wonder his son was a piece of shit. The apple never fell far from the tree.

"I'm not going to tell you who reported Elliott," Scott said. "You should be grateful they came to me. Although why we're hushing it up is anyone's guess."

Richard curled his hand into a fist. For a second, Scott feared he might have to dodge a punch.

"I spoke to Alistair," Carla said. "It's his decision to keep things internal."

Alistair Webb was the chief executive. A very absent one who had a penchant for holidays. However, he did lower himself to get involved in the running of Pleasure Seekers from time to time.

The boys club strikes again. A quick round of golf and Richard's got it all sewn up.

Scott smirked. "What a surprise."

If Richard had expected him to be intimidated by this, he was dealing with the wrong man. Gary and Debbie had instilled in their children the importance of the truth. They might be rough diamonds but they had never lied or cheated to get to where they were.

"Are you going to go against him?" Richard asked.

"Obviously not," Scott replied. "Elliott never returning should be fine. If people put two and two together, what am I supposed to do?"

He would tell Charlotte to spread it like hot butter. Richard had no idea who he was dealing with.

"And the whistleblower?" Richard asked.

"Remains anonymous," Carla replied. "If Alistair doesn't like that, tell him to call me."

Richard's icy glare fell on Scott. "I will be watching. You'll give yourself away in the end. You have a mouth the size of the English Channel."

"Forget it," Scott replied. "You can't intimidate me. I speak to everyone. That's my job."

Although inside, unease swirled through him. He and Prin wouldn't remain a secret forever. Brighton was a city, albeit not a very big one. They would be spotted together at some point. It might not be a smoking gun but it would certainly raise suspicion. Especially as Prin barely spoke to anyone about anything other than work.

"Someone has a vendetta against my son," Richard snarled. "I can't believe you expect me to just give that up. Elliott had a future here."

"A vendetta? Do me a favour," Scott replied. "He was stealing from the company. People like you think you can get away with anything. It's as if you live in a parallel universe."

Richard got to his feet. "You've made a stupid enemy of me, young man. Like I said, you're underestimating me. I'll smoke them out in the end."

Scott too stood. "Maybe if you focused on why your son thinks it's okay to steal and lie to get what he wants instead of going after someone who did the decent thing?—"

"Decent thing? You're fucking deranged. They're a fucking snitch."

"Don't be so childish. Prin was only?—"

He'd gone too far. Scott stared wildly at Carla. She simply shook her head. To Scott's dismay, Richard looked like the cat who'd got the cream.

"Prin, eh? Well, well, well. The quiet mouse squeaked, did it?"

Scott had his head between his legs. He focused on his breathing. A technique he'd learnt during his yoga phase but was not working right at that moment. His heart raced like a drum machine. Even his lips were tingling. Was this what a panic attack was like?

Why the fuck did I do that?

The door to the men's changing rooms opened. Scott both hoped and dreaded it being Prin. It wasn't.

"Are you okay?" Barry asked, sitting down next to Scott. "I saw you come down here like you had the devil himself after you."

Sweat was pouring down Scott's back and soaking into his new shirt. Even that was being ruined by his stupidity.

"Oh fuck, Barry," Scott replied and burst into tears.

Barry put his arm around him. "Hey come on now."

Scott swallowed down the sheer terror gripping him. "I let slip to Richard that Prin was the whistleblower."

Barry let his arm drop. "Oh fuck, indeed."

"I need to go and warn Prin," Scott said.

The fact he'd run away was not going to go in his favour. If everything wasn't completely fucked now anyway.

"He's gone on his lunch," Barry said. "I passed him when I came in from mine."

Scott calmed a little. That bought him some time at least.

"What am I going to do?" he wailed.

"First you're going to get yourself together," Barry said, sternly. "Then you'll call him and explain what's happening. He can decide if he wants to come back into the office."

"Good idea," Scott said. "Okay. I can do that."

He tried to slow his breathing down.

"Any better?" Barry asked after a moment.

Scott nodded.

"What a pair we are," Barry continued. "This love business is hard bloody work."

Scott frowned. "Are things not rosy in your garden either?"

He genuinely had no idea what a lover's tiff would be like between Barry and Amanda. As for the making up, no one needed that mental image. At that moment, Scott would take any diversion on offer for a few moments of respite.

"I'm in the doghouse," Barry replied. "Amanda wanted to go to a fantasy film con in Bognor Regis."

Scott stifled a giggle. Of course that would be Amanda, the film buff's, idea of a perfect weekend away. Maybe she got frisky after meeting an Ewok like Carla's husband.

"What's wrong with that?"

"I wouldn't dress up as Gandalf. Now she's not speaking to me. I'm not sure if we're even on anymore."

Barry's eyes welled with tears. Scott nudged him with his shoulder. "We're both battered from the battlefield of love."

Except Barry had every chance of making it up to Amanda. As the initial shock of what he'd done subsided, Scott knew he'd ruined everything with Prin.