Page 13 of Dissension

The older woman makes a soft sound of frustration. “If you bring him in-”

“Yeah, about that. It was heavily insinuated that I’ve got no choice in the matter.”

The sound of Gale drumming her finely done nails on the counter creeps through the phone, a sure sign the other woman is thinking. “Bring him in. Go with him. Any time they ask something that doesn’t seem to relate to his relationship with Paxton Brooker and the club, put a lock on it fast. All you really have to say is, ‘my client is not obligated to answer that question’. Be the worst stuck-up bitch possible; you know he likes that. Be the bad guy, Kara.”

Kara rolls her eyes, thinking of Dietrich and the way he smirks when she acts particularly awful. She’s certain he gets off on it.

Leaning back in her chair, Kara rubs her tired eyes. The words from pages swim in her vision. “Tell me this. Are they going to be trying to ask many unrelated questions, do you think? Is there…stuff I need to be worried about?” There’s no guarantee that Dieter is an angelic businessman. Kara is afraid the cops will use this time to dig into other matters she isn’t aware of, putting her client at risk.

Dieter has a large surface of attack, as it were. Too many assets. Has his hands in too many things.

“I’d like to tell you the answer is ‘no’, but I think we both know I’d be lying if I said that.”

Well, shit.Wonderful!“I feel very comforted, thanks Gale. Aren’t you in town this month? Can’t you just…handle this?”

The other woman is making a pitying sound on the other end of the phone. “My schedule is pretty booked already. I hate to tell you I told you so about Dieter, but Idid, friend. I wanted you absolutely nowhere near his account. There are things…well, there arethings. Is he being good for you, mostly? Behaving?” Now, Gale sounds like a concerned parent, not that Kara has ever had one of those.

Behaving…is an interesting term where Dietrich Bittinger is involved. Can he be a perfect gentleman?Certainly. Can he also get a little too close after snorting a line off a table, his eyes a little more interested than they should be in Kara’s face?Oh, yes indeed. Choosing to keep it relatively demure to spare Gale any nightmares, Kara says, “He’s been demanding I hire him new staff, which I’m sure you already heard about, seeing as I didn’t do it.”

Gale groans loudly, full of exasperation. “Yes.I got someone hired. We use a service for that, I’ll tell you about it sometime.”So you can do it next time,is left unsaid. Kara is so utterly unexcited about that.

Before hanging up, Gale seems to be chewing over something. “Hey. Your father has been asking about you.” Kara’s stomach drops. “He wants to know when you’ll be coming down to be with him.”

Screams from decades past echo through her skull, the feeling of being hopeless and terribly out of control falling over her. Angry, midnight eyes and a mouth that can easily swap between a charismatic smile and a vicious snarl.

“You’re a worthless parasite of a daughter,” a voice like cruelty made living.

Feeling the need to flee her own skin, Kara gets up and paces the room, clutching the phone to her ear. As she passes by the window, she sees a figure on the sidewalk staring upwards.She pauses and glances downward, realizing the man is leaning against the lamp post smoking, staring straight up at her.

Unease twists in her gut.

It’s hard to see his swarthy features for certain, he’s got a hood up. What she can see leans towards a cruel, hard face. There are tattoos lining his fingers, visible as he lifts his cigarette to his mouth again. He doesn’t move. He just keeps taking drags from his cigarette, staring up at her open window on the second floor. An intimidating stare and pose, oozing a silent violence.

He doesn’t look away. Not once.

“Fucking creeper,” Kara mutters as she pulls the curtains into place, obscuring his view into her apartment. She feels disturbed. What the hell was that about?

Screams, chains, needles, rust-filled bathtubs…

“Kara?” Gale asks carefully.

“Yeah, sorry. Just caught some weirdo trying to peer into my place.” Shaking herself out of the cold sweat that has suddenly overtaken her, Kara grits her teeth together to keep them from chattering. Her voice sounds faint as she replies, “Anyway. Next time you see him, tell him…tell Charlie…”

She doesn’t know what to say, because what the hell can she say?

“He told me that seeing you would make him feel better,” Gale continues, likely oblivious to Kara’s struggle. “He’s very sweet about it, actually. He misses you.”

I’m sure he does. I’m sure he’s so nice and charming because he thinks that’s what’s going to save him from the slammer. He’s so good at playing the innocent martyr. He’s anything but.

Strengthening her voice, Kara replies, “Tell him I’ll come as soon as I can. I have to take care of my client first, but I- I miss him. Too.” The words are like knives in her throat, slicing, ripping her apart.

She misses her father the same way one misses a blade in their gut.

Chapter 7

Sunday finds Kara roasting as she squints into the afternoon sun, hand over her eyes as she gazes out at the field, inhaling the scent of grass, listening to mallets clanking and merriment from the crowd. The people around her are dressed in their Sunday best, looking crisp and fresh as they observe the polo players race to and fro across the well-manicured field.

As always, Kara feels vaguely out of place; this is not a scene she would have found herself as a child. The idea of her parents her taking to such an event is almost laughable. They wouldn’t have…fit in…to say the least. They didn’t have the class, nor the clothes for this type of private club.

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