Page 62 of Dirty Shots

He set to work grating cheese and chopping ham, heated oil in a frying pan, and started to cook.

Smoke alarms went off, the oil too hot. He danced around, flapping a tea-towel around the incessantly beeping thing, while she put her hand to her mouth and laughed.

Finally, it stopped.

Anya grinned. “I take it breakfast is ready?”

They ate sitting across from one another, self-consciously eating while snatching glances of each other.

He couldn’t put aside the thoughts of Anya crying, or the way she’d wanted to fuck to stop her from thinking. Though she smiled, he still sensed the sadness she held inside of her. He hadn’t even dared ask what she was thinking about the exhibition that was due to open in only a few days.

“Anya,” he started, nerves roiling in his stomach, “I think I should go and try to talk with your father again.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because this thing needs to be smoothed out. I love you and I want to see you happy, and right now I know you’re not.”

She glanced down at her now almost empty plate. “It won’t do any good. You’ll only stir up more trouble.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I knew what his reaction was going to be the first time, but I didn’t trust my instincts. I let myself and everyone else convince me it was going to be okay, and that he might surprise me. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t going to be the case. I think the same thing now.”

“The thing is, Anya, this isn’t just about you. He’s going to try to ruin the exhibition, assuming it goes ahead at all.”

Anya nodded. “I know he will. He won’t take this lying down.”

“So I have to go talk to him,” he insisted. “What hotel are your parents staying at?”

She named a five star hotel not far from where they’d attempted their meal the previous night.

“Okay, I’ll go and talk to him today.”

For once Anya didn’t argue with him.

He set about clearing away the dishes. Anya sat silently, but she was sad and worried, not sulking. He wanted so badly to make her feel better, and the only way he could do so was by making her father see sense.

He kissed her on the head. “I’m going to get dressed. You hang out here until I get back, okay? Make yourself at home.”

“Shouldn’t I come with you?”

“Maybe it would be best for us to be able to talk man to man. It’ll be harder for him to be objective if you’re with me.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay, Eric.”

He reached out and touched beneath her chin, lifting her eyes to his. “I know this is hard for you right now, but it will work out in the end. I promise.”

He hoped it was a promise he’d be able to keep.

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