Page 39 of The Payback Plan
‘You should get out anyway,’ Paige mused, breaking into the mental telepathy between him and the hamster. ‘Stay indoors much longer you’ll be paler than Casper.’
Looking at the frigid jade of the ocean, Oliver figured the only thing he was at real risk of was freezing his bollocks off but at least outside he’d be free from the judgement of an obese hamster and a woman who was looking at him like he was a complete wastrel.
‘Fine,’ he huffed. ‘But only for some damn peace and quiet.’
She smiled triumphantly, completely unconcerned by his annoyance. ‘Whatever works.’
7
Ten minutes later, hunched into his jacket with a beanie pulled low, Oliver found himself on the beach, an excited Casper racing ahead like it was the first time he’d ever seen sand. He’d only got ten paces when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Paige.
Nope. More fucking hamster bullshit.
Here is your latest from HAMSTER FACTS! Did you know hamsters are highly trainable? They especially love the challenge of a maze. It has even been reported that a Siberian hamster in Sitka, Alaska, called Bear, knows how to recognise letters! Comment YES! if you think hamsters are truly a-maze-ing! Standard charges apply.
What the…recognise letters? Go home, hamster weirdo, you’re drunk. The Hamster Facts person had clearly lost the plot.
Although, if it was true, maybe he could train Pavarotti to write the bloody book!
Shoving the phone and his hand back into his pocket, Oliver trudged along the beach. It wasn’t windy but it was still bitingly cold, the chilly air burning his lungs. The ocean was still a frosty jade, making his testicles retract just looking at it, but it was calm, lapping at the beach with a tiny little frill of foam as it curled in to kiss the sand.
A frill that Casper was currently barking at, chasing the water as it ebbed, running away from it as it pushed forward again to terminate in another little curl of foam. A flock of seagulls landed nearby, their yellow beaks a bright splash against the dull background and Casper forgot all about chasing waves, taking off after them, announcing his imminent arrival with an excited bark, causing them to scatter.
It unleashed a memory from when he was a kid and he used to come to the beach house for his summer holidays. He must have been four or five, eating fish and chips on the beach with his dad. He remembered his father wore a pair of Speedos, his athletic frame a deep nut brown from his tanning salon addiction. Oliver had felt very special with practically everyone on the beach whispering and pointing at them because of his dad. Because they loved his dad. Which he totally understood because he loved his dad too.
A gull had swooped down and stolen a chip right out of his hand and Oliver had cried. More from the shock of it than the loss of the chip. His father had laughed initially but when Oliver had continued crying, he’d clearly been embarrassed by his son’s emotional display, quipping to people nearby, ‘Anybody’d think the kid had lost the part of Hamlet to anAmerican.’
There’d been general laughter and he’d even signed an autograph and he may have only been young but Oliver could still remember realising that he wasn’t the centre of his father’s world.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Oliver navigated to his notes app and tapped the microphone and started to talk. ‘I loved my father but nowhere near as much as he loved himself.’
And then he couldn’t stop talking.
* * *
After almost an hour had passed and Oliver hadn’t returned, Paige, who’d been sitting at the table attending to some urgent work that had landed, stopped what she was doing and opened the door to the deck. Frigid air slapped her in the face as she crossed to the railing, her eyes squinting as she identified the man and dog at the far end of the beach trudging back in her direction. Casper was giddily running about, alternating between chasing waves and chasing gulls.
Oliver was holding his phone close to his mouth whichwasmoving and she smiled.
Was he making headway on the book? Or possibly leaving her a disgruntled voice mail about catching his death out on the beach. If it was the former she was going to be smug AF and planned to mention her brilliance as much as possible. If it was the latter, she’d delight in sending it to the Just Desserts WhatsApp chat.
Slipping back into the house, she resumed her work until she heard him enter via the downstairs door twenty minutes later. She could hear him talking to Casper and Paige smiled to herself again. She’d been doing that a lot where Oliver was concerned but seriously, for a man who’d professed to neither liking nor wanting a dog and a hamster, he seemed quite smitten with both of them.
‘Hey,’ Oliver greeted as he approached from behind.
As if she hadn’t been spying on him from the deck, Paige turned, placing her arm along the back of the chair. ‘Hey.’
He was pulling his beanie off, his dirty blond hair totally dishevelled and yet somehow disarmingly attractive in his faded jeans and chunky cable knit jumper. Had it been her letting her curls free from prolonged enclosure in a beanie, she’d have looked like she’d stuck her fingers in an electrical socket but no, Oliver bloody Prendergast looked like he’d just stepped out of the pages of an Old Spice commercial.
His cheeks were pink and his eyes bright and he didn’t seem remotely cranky about the soggy dog beside him tracking sandy footprints across the pristine floorboards.
‘You look pleased with yourself.’
He just nodded and smiled and somehow that had more of an effect on her than if he’d raved effusively. ‘It was productive?’
‘It was very productive.’
