Chapter 32 The Visitors
Emily started to sketch a picture of Rupert, illuminated by the setting sun. It helped her pass the time while she waited for Byron to come to his senses.
It was probably going to take a long time since he had done nothing but drink, stare at the wall, then stare out the window. He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
The sound of footsteps made Emily look up. A short, prematurely balding man entered the room, looking right at home.
“Hey man, you haven’t returned my calls. Oh, hi,” he said, spotting Emily, “I’m Nathan Clarke.”
“That’s because I didn’t feel like talking,” Byron said.
“I’ve been his friend since elementary school,” said Nathan, “and this is how he treats me. And you must be the lovely Emily.”
They shook hands, then Nathan went over and patted Rupert.
“Do you think the situation is all that bad?” Emily asked.
“I don’t have an inside view of the business,” Nathan said, pouring himself a whisky and plopping a couple of ice cubes into the glass, “but it seems like there’s still a fighting chance.”
“I’m paying back all the people who got scammed,” Byron said, “the losses are going to be huge.”
“Everyone has losses,” his friend said, waving his hand dismissively, “The company might be able to recover.”
“But its reputation won’t,” Byron said, looking up at the ceiling.
“This whisky is amazing,” Nathan remarked. “How are you holding up, Miss Emily?”
“I’m okay,” she said, “thanks for asking.”
“Don’t even bother trying to talk to him when he’s like this,” Nathan said, shaking his head, “He’s like a turtle in a shell. You can’t get at him.”
Emily bit her lip. It sounded like an accurate description, but she couldn’t give up and do nothing.
“I’ll just stay here,” she said, “I don’t think he should be alone.”
“Has it occurred to either of you that maybe I want to be alone?” Byron said.
“You are amazing,” Nathan said to Emily, “I on the other hand have got to go, but I’ll be in touch.”
After he left, Byron was still in his catatonic state. Emily got up to find some food as the whisky was making her lightheaded.
“Want anything to eat?” she asked Byron, but he merely shook his head.
“Then I better take this...” She took the bottle of whisky with the intention of hiding it away somewhere.
“Sure, take away the only thing that comforts me,” Byron groaned, but he didn’t make a move to stop her.
What about me, Emily thought. I’m here for you. But he was clearly not thinking straight, so she decided not to take offence at what he said.
While snacking on some cheese in the kitchen, she heard footsteps again, this time the tell-tale clicking of a woman’s heels.
Curious to see who it was this time, Emily headed back to the living room. The woman who entered was dressed in a smart black pantsuit and carrying a briefcase. She didn’t seem at all surprised to see Emily. It was Byron’s mother.
“So you’re dating after all. And I thought you were going to be friends,” Sylvia mocked.
“We are friends, but we’re also dating,” Emily said awkwardly. She had no idea what Byron told his mother about their relationship, but she loyally stuck to their pact of pretending they were dating.
“How are you holding up, dear?” Sylvia said, going over to Byron and feeling his forehead. “Don’t have a fever. That’s a relief. I brought you the latest information, but you don’t seem up for it.”
“I’ve had enough information to last me a lifetime,” Byron said groggily.
“That beast is a bad influence on you,” his mother said, pointing at Rupert. Emily thought for a moment Sylvia was talking about her. “All it ever does is sleep.”
The dog stepped off the couch and stretched out in the middle of the carpet for another nap.
“At least Rupert doesn’t try to hack into my website and destroy my company,” Byron replied, closing his eyes and rubbing the back of his head.
“You smell like a distillery,” Sylvia complained. “Did you let him drink?” she asked Emily in an accusatory tone.
“He was like this when I got here,” Emily said irritably.
“I see.” Sylvia nodded as if to confirm that the situation was a complete disaster. “Emily, could I have a word with you in the other room?”
