Page 144 of Red Flag
Nix rolled his eyes, placing the coffee before his mum. She nodded a thanks and cradled the mug, dragging it close to her.
“He gives me plenty,” I offered.
“See,Maman? Plenty.” He bent to kiss me on the cheek.
She watched us, head slightly cocked to the side. “I’m not in the habit ofsugarcoatingthings. Do you want my thoughts?”
“She hasn’t been on any socials,” Nix told her, a hand on my shoulder. “Hasn’t read many articles either.”
“I’d like to hear your thoughts,” I said. I might have gone into hiding for a couple of days, but I’d struggled to not log in and see everything.
“To summarise, spoke to someone about all of this — this drama — and you can definitely get a book deal. Fucker’s dead now, isn’t he?”
I flinched.
“I won’t speakwellof the dead if they didn’tlive well,” she clarified. “Fucker’s dead. So, no trial will go ahead, but we can still sue those who are using your name. It’s illegal, isn’t it?”
“I mean… it is against their code of practice to publish anything that could lead to the identification of a sexual assault victim,” I explained. “But they were clever in posting my name only when it came to me being his publicist who apparently had brought the information forward.”
“And did you? Bring it to them?”
I looked up at Nix.
“To protect me,” he answered with a sigh, pain in his expression as he swallowed again.
“Protect you?” she snapped. Her face dropped, mouth open as her face paled further. “Your father. Jules. Fuck,Nixon,quelest tonproblème?Incroyable.”What is your problem?
But then she really went full steam, her words so fast I blinked as she — I could only assume by her glare — tore her son a new one.
This time when I looked at Nix, it wasn’t for support, but to give it. His touch on my shoulder became a massage of comfort. “She’s just telling me how irresponsible I am. And that I better propose to you on the spot.”
He didn’t need to tell me that part. He really didn’t need to tell me that part.
“Look at what she’s done for you!” Marie screeched, standing. “And yet I don’t see a ring! Not even a single flower anywhere!”
“I send flowers to my mum every week,” he stage-whispered.
She tapped her pen against the notepad, ready to write. A move I often pulled in meetings with clients that pissed me off.
I’d done it many times with Nix in the early days.
“But I was just on my way to get some,” he said.
“With your top off in the middle of December?” His mum cocked a disbelieving brow.
He nodded, put in his place, and walked off to our bedroom.
“Right,” she said, puffing. “You tell me if this is too much. But let’s get you out of the mess my son has created for you.”
“I did it myself,” I told her, hands heavy on my lap. “Hedidn’t know.”
She shook her head and tutted. “He’s out of that now, thank god. Now his dad’s dead. And his brother, Jules, despises him, so I doubt he’ll want Nix involved. I’ve never been happier for someone to die.”
Fucking hell.
“Although… anyway, piece of shit he was,” she muttered. “Tried to ruin everything my son accomplished. That way of life…” She sighed, staring at the picture of Nix as the wallpaper on her phone. He was a teenager on adirtbikewith the brightest grin. He’d had braces since, his little teeth were crooked.
My teeth had been crooked too.
