16. Nikos

16

NIKOS

I hate leaving Oli. The more we spend time with each other, the tighter the band holding us together gets. I fear it will break soon enough. It's going to snap and sever when I get back on that plane to New York and leave this pocket of peace behind.

It's early afternoon and the weather has taken a turn. Outside the radio station's narrow window, early spring rain is lashing against the glass. Although the room is soundproofed, every time Selina comes in and out, I catch the tell-tale rumble of thunder.

‘And that is it, ladies and gentlemen, our delicious dive into Nikos Ridge.' The presenter speak with the cadence of someone constantly high on life. It's both infectious and rather annoying. ‘Before we sign off on Radio Unlimited 404, can you give our listeners one bit of advice that you wished someone told you sooner?'

I sit in stunned silence, wanting nothing more than to leave the building, clamber back into my driver's car, and forge my path back to Oli. But alas, I have a job to do. And if Selina is going to let me enjoy my final days in London, I need to be in her good books.

‘Um…Well…'

‘Nikos Ridge may slay dragons in his personal time, but he is utterly lost for words. Is this a first? I think this is a first?'

He is a man in his mid-forties, with a balding head and tired eyes. He's dressed in something I'd imagine a teenager would wear - an over-sized basketball jersey and faded jeans. His headphones balance on his head, one ear covered and the other exposed.

Right now, I'd like nothing more than to reach over the small desk and throttle him.

‘It's called thinking before you speak, Jim. You should give it a go.'

Selina shots me a sharp eye, but I deliver my retort with a brilliant smile and a bit of a laugh so Jim, the radio DJ, can't complain. In fact, he rocks back in his chair and gives the most obnoxious laugh I've ever heard.

‘Careful, Nikos. Or was that Armin speaking through you?'

‘All I will say is, be thankful I'm not a method actor.' Otherwise I'd be using a huge-ass sword to cleave his head off.

Jim raises his hands in surrender and tells his audio listeners exactly what he's doing to create the scene. ‘Now, about that bit of advice.'

I've never been any good at being put on the spot. Hell, I don't even like being in the spotlight. But I close my eyes and imagine the question coming from another mouth - I imagine it's Oli asking me, and the answer comes quickly.

‘When life gives you honey…' I pause, smiling at the image of his face, and what I did with that face last night. ‘Lick the entire pot clean.'

The studio erupts in cheers and claps, and the show is taken off the air. The moment the red light on the ‘live' box turns off, Jim sheds the over-the-top attitude and slumps in his chair. A cigarette is in his mouth in seconds, the small space filling with the acrid smell of tobacco and smoke.

‘That'll be our cue to leave,' Selina says, pinching her nose as she guides me to the door. As we leave, she hands me back my phone. I flick the screen on, hopeful that I'll see a text from Oli telling me he had listened. He'd said he was going for a walk when we finished breakfast, and that he'd tune in. I hope he missed the rain. But my phone screen shows nothing from him. Only one missed call - from that unknown number again.

Father.

If it wasn't for Selina, I would've walked into a wall. She takes my elbow, guiding me through the shabby offices until we reach the street beyond. I hear her speak about no more engagements, and how we can spend our final five days in London in the spa. I'm sure she even mentions something about Oli's colleague Megan. But all I can think about it the missed call.

As if starring at the screen conjures my father into existence, the phone buzzes in my hand and a new unknown call fills my screen.

‘I need to take this,' I say, pulling away from Selina as she begins to climb into the car.

‘Do it inside the car,' Selina says. ‘As the Brits would say, it's pissing it down. Raining cats and mice - no, cats and dogs. Something like that.'

I haven't even noticed. But now she says it, I'm wet through. My hair is plastered to my head, my smart casual outfit of a jumper and jeans clinging to my body.

‘No, I'll just be a moment.'

There isn't room for Selina to complain as I step aside, accept the call, and hold the phone to my ear.

The first thing I hear is thunder, both above me and through the end of the phone. Father is close.

‘I thought you were ignoring me, son.'

‘I was working.' I don't know why I bother to offer an excuse. But there is something about hearing his voice that turns me into that seventeen-year-old boy all over again. The rage is the same too. Destructive, dangerous…

‘Well, haven't you been busy. It's as though everywhere I look these days, I see your face. Imagine what that's like for me. Being haunted - taunted by you. It isn't nice.'

I bite back the urge to tell him to fuck off, look the other way, pretend I don't exist just like I wish I could do. Instead, I steady my breathing and ask the question I know this call is about. ‘What do you want, father?'

‘Peace. But my money is drying up.'

‘We had a deal. I did what was asked of me. I owe you nothing more'

‘What's the price of a life, son?'

I want to vomit. I lean against the soaked wall of the radio building, making sure my back is to the car so Selina can't read my expression - my horror. ‘One point five million. Which, may I remind you, is the price you set yourself. And you have it. It's all yours.'

‘There's something called inflation.'

‘Fuck inflation.'

My father doesn't reply straight away. His breathing is uneven, heavy and rasping from years of drinking and smoking. When I inhale, I can smell him. It's like being back in the radio station, with Jim puffing on his cigarette as though his life depended on it.

‘I need more,' my father finally says.

‘That's obvious. But it's not going to happen. I have nothing else to give. In fact, I give up. Fuck this, fuck your threats, fuck - '

‘Do you know the time, son?' His question stops me in my tracks.

I look down to my wrist on instinct, but my watch isn't there. I always wear one, because I need to be able to check the time during interviews without turning on my phone. I noticed as much when I was late for Selina's pick up this morning, but I was already in the car by that point and couldn't go back into Oli's apartment to get it. ‘What does it matter?'

‘Ah, what a silly question. Here, let me tell you. It's almost half-past four in the afternoon. Nice watch, by the way. I'm sure this will fetch me some money to keep me going until you can gather another five hundred thousand for me.'

‘What?'

‘Your watch. Patek Philipe, solid gold, is that a pearl face? Must be one of a kind. You really should be more careful where you put your things, son. When you care about something, when it holds value, I really wouldn't take my eyes off it. Do you know what I mean?'

My head is reeling. I can't make sense of what he's saying, or maybe I don't want to. I can't even begin to understand how my father has got access to my watch - the watch I left at Oli's house during our night of passion.

Father has always had a way of reading my mind. ‘Check your phone.'

As he says it, the phone buzzes against my ear. I draw it back, seeing that an exposed number I don't have saved into my contacts has sent me an image. I open it, my thumb trembling. As the picture fills the screen, my knees go weak.

My watch is on the wrist of a man. My father's wrist, with an angry scar that I'd recognise anywhere - a scar I gifted him myself all those years ago. But that isn't the only thing the photo shows. The way my father is holding his wrist up to take the photo, I see a figure walking away in the distance.

‘Oli,' I breathe, drawing the phone back to my ear.

‘That's right, son. Now, need I remind you that I know and see everything. Call it ‘daddy's intuition'. So, about that five hundred thousand. I need to see it in my bank, otherwise your watch won't be the only thing I take from you.'

The world tilts on its axis. Thunder crashes ahead, followed by a spear of lightning. Selina is calling for me to get into the car, but her voice is muffled by my heartbeat. It's as if I exist in this moment, while also being in a void, watching on through a body that no longer belongs to me.

‘How did you - why would you…'

Father's laugh triggers something feral inside of me. A beast wakes, swallowing my fear and panic in a jaw full of pointed teeth, leaving only the urge to destroy. I see red, look at the wall, and smash my first into it.

‘Now, now, Nikos. Calm down. Nothing bad needs to happen if you do as I ask. Give me the money and I will disappear.'

‘You promised that last time,' I say through clenched teeth. ‘But you came running back for more like the mutt you are.'

‘Pretty boy, that Oli. You should really tell him how dangerous stairs can be… one wrong step and he'll have a nasty fall. And his house has so many of them. If I was you, I'd be very worried. Considering Mr. Cane has a nasty habit of losing his keys, I'm surprised you keep him on such a loose leash.'

‘If you fucking touch him,' I growl, no longer caring for who hears, ‘I'll - '

‘Nikos, do you really want to play this game again?'

I close my eyes and the scar on my father's arm is imprinted in the dark of my mind. No matter how I try to calm my breathing, I fail.

‘Five hundred thousand. You have my number now. Contact me when you have the funds.'

The phone call ends, and I'm left clasping the phone to my ear. I can't remove it, not knowing that my father has just threatened Oli. I don't care about the fucking watch, but Oli - how my father even knows about us is beyond me. As I lower the phone, I see the photo again, tracing my finger over the figure of Oli in the distance.

This is my fault. I've put him in danger.

You should really tell him how dangerous stairs can be… one wrong step and he'll have a nasty fall.

His warning is clear as day. And I know my father - he's a man of his word. His threat of stairs and falling is history repeating itself. He has done it before, and he would do it again.

‘Nikos, get in the damn car!'

I turn to Selina, numb to the core. All I can think about is getting to Oli and taking him somewhere safe. My father is a dangerous man - why else would I have played this fucking game with him all these years? But I'm also my father's son. An apple fallen from the same tree.

‘What was that all about?' Selina snaps as I climb in next to her on the back seat. She takes my hand and lays it on her lap, inspecting the torn skin across my knuckles. ‘Punching walls. What are you, a brute?'

‘I'm fine,' I lie, and she knows it.

There is a compartment between our seats which I lift up. A light glows inside, cool air slipping out, revealing a collection of water bottles and snacks. But it's the mini bottle of vodka that I reach for. Before Selina can snatch it away, I've unscrewed the lid and downed the entire thing.

She just stares at me, helpless. Her sadness rocks me to the core. ‘I want to help you. But I can't do that unless you tell me what's wrong. You've been cagey for months, Nikos. Years. I want to help.'

I'm onto my second bottle before the car engine starts. ‘I need to get away.'

Run away, but I can't admit that.

‘You need more than a holiday, Nikos. You need to talk, actually talk to me, or someone. Anyone. Whatever is going on, you have to share it.'

I know she's right, but the only thing I can think about is her mention of a holiday. It's what I need. I have to get away, with Oli. He isn't safe if my father knows where he lives.

How? Why? So many questions, and yet I feel like finding out the answers would destroy me.

I look Selina dead in the eye, fuelled by anxiety, adrenaline, and two shots of vodka. ‘Take me to Oli.'

She doesn't react with confusion, which proves me that she knows about us. Maybe Megan told her, perhaps I made it obvious. Then another thought comes to mind, fuelled by my paranoia.

Was Selina the one to rat me out to my dad? For the right price, would she betray me?

‘Do you think that is wise, letting Oli see you like… this?'

Tears well in my eyes. If the door to the car wasn't locked, I'd happily throw myself out. At least that way these threats could no longer hold power over me. But then who would protect Oli?

‘I need him.'

Selina chews on my statement and nods. ‘I want to be able to help you, Nikos. But I can't do that unless you want me to.'

Do you? Do you actually?

‘Please.' My entire body is shaking, my knuckles bleeding, and chest aching. I dare close my eyes in case I see Oli's body laid out at the bottom of a flight of stairs, head cracked and eyes empty of life… just like my…

My phone is in my hand, distracting me from the only thought that can undo me. I pull up the internet. In a matter of moments, all whilst Selina is looking at me, I have the website that I need before me.

‘What are you doing now, Nikos?'

‘Holiday,' I exhale, unable to form a sentence. ‘Just like you said. I'm getting away. I need a break.'

But more so, I need to get Oli away. And there is one place that I know in the world that my father would never return.

The scene of the crime that started this nightmare.

‘I'm going home.'