Page 60 of House of Cards

Isabel is already fixing me a drink, Lulu watching me pass from her seat on one of the couches. She’s sitting stiffly, probably still tender from her play session yesterday.

“Call off the search, Rich,” Myles says, grinning broadly at me from around his cigar as he stands to pat me on the shoulder. “Our boy’s come home.”

“Just in time.” Richmond smirks up at me from his seat in front of the computer. To his credit, it’s not on purpose.

Him and Myles didn’t see eye to eye when they first began working together. Add in Rich’s addiction to coke and Myles’s love affair with scotch, and it was bound to turn physical. That’s all I care to know about the scar on Richmond’s face, the one that gives him a permanent half-smile.

They’ve been thick as thieves ever since.

Richmond spends more time with clients than I do, unless they like playing cards, but instead of suits he opts for bulky jackets, polo shirts, and slim fit jeans.

We’ve all tried to get him to stop.

He’s in an olive green bomber jacket and white polo shirt tonight.

“Grab a seat,” Rich says, pointing his chin to Myles’s now empty office chair. “Was just about to show him Zoey’s video.”

I grab the mouse from him, tugging it away before he can hit the play button.

“No point. It was a disaster.”

Richmond raises an eyebrow, tilting his head back to stare up at me. “A fun disaster, like that time we had the mud wrestling?”

I sigh, shaking my head.

Troy and I had to intervene because a party goer decided she didn’t like the way one of our girls had been looking at her boyfriend.

I threw away a perfectly good shirt after that. A spot of mud might come out with enough pre-soaking, but not if you end upon your back in an inflatable kiddie pool covered head-to-toe in the stuff.

“No,” I say. “Not the fun kind.”

“Oh,definitelythe fun kind.” Myles chuckles as he crouches over Richmond’s shoulder, his gaze switching back to the computer screen as he grabs the mouse. “Shit got fucking wild, Rich. Here, let me show?—”

“Don’t!” I dart forward, knocking the mouse from his hand.

He slowly straightens, but it’s Rich who blurts out an indignant, “The fuck’s up, Hutchinson?” Like I’ve told him to go to bed and it’s only seven.

“It was a fucking disaster.” I can barely get the words out. I’m caught between wanting to snap Richmond’s neck, or throw the fucking computer off the desk.

Anything to stop this.

Myles sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and curling a finger around his cigar. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I thought you?—“

“Doesn’t matter how messy it got,” Richmond drawls, leaning back with the kind of grin that makes me want to break his jaw. “Did she scream?”

My jaw clenches painfully tight, yet somehow I mutter a reluctant, “Yes.”

“Of course she did. They always do.” The scar on his lip makes his smile smug, and this time I’m not entirely sure it’s just happenstance. “Now stop whining. It’ll take five minutes to upload the video and type out a caption. Someone’ll pay for it.”

My mind scrambles as I try to figure out a way to prevent them airing the video.

“For a two minute video of a caning? Please.”

“First you tell one of our regulars to fuck off, now you’re being precious with your footage?” Myles says, eyes narrowing.

My heart gives a hard thump inside my chest.

What happened this morning wasn’t just unusual. It’s the first time I’veeverintervened during a scene.

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