Undressed By His Arrogance

"She was my sister." He answered.

One of them handed him shovel and he scooped a couple of sand over the coffin.

He handed the shovel back and just as he was turning to leave the grounds, a fist connected with his face. The groundskeepers shouted. "Hey!"

Pain exploded behind his eyes, bright and immediate. James stumbled sideways, catching himself before he hit the ground. Shouts rang out, boots scraping as the groundskeepers surged forward.

"Stay out of this!" Tom yelled. "He’s my son."

The men glanced between them, uncertain. Tom stood rigid, breath coming hard. He turned enraged eyes to James. "What the hell are you doing here?"

James straightened. His cheek throbbed, but he refused to look away.

"I came to pay my final respects." He gestured faintly toward the grave behind them.

"How do you know who she is?"

"She contacted me years ago. Told me who she was." James answered.

Tom hit him once more. "You kept a secret from your mother and I."

"You keep a secret from us!" James shouted. Anger replacing fear.

He wasn’t a child anymore, shrinking under his father’s shadow.

Tom hit him again.

The groundskeeper couldn’t take it anymore. "Okay, that’s enough or I am calling the cops."

He stepped forward decisively, phone already halfway out of his pocket. The other groundskeeper shifted closer too, tools forgotten, their faces tight with anger. This was sacred ground. Grief didn’t give anyone the right to turn it into a battleground.

Tom yanked the boy by his collar and dragged him away. "You piece of fucking shit! Does your mother know where you are?"

James stumbled as Tom hauled him back, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie.

As he passed by, he didn’t notice Joey and Trish who had come late to pay their respects to Sylvia also.

They stood just beyond the path, partially hidden by a tall marble tombstone beside a tree.

Joey used his frame to cover Trish. Trish had her hands on Joey’s chest, her hair covering her face.

Joey was suddenly aware of how close they were standing. His eyes dropped down, observing her, waiting until Tom was out of sight.

He swallowed, forcing his focus outward even as his body registered details he had no business noticing right now. Only when Tom disappeared did Joey relax his stance, just slightly.

"That’s his son. I have seen him before with Morgana. How can he do that to his own son?" Trish said.

She lifted her head then, eyes wide with shock.

"He raised Winn the same way."

"But he isn’t Winn’s father."

"Well, true. I guess he just naturally is a terrible person." Joey said.

He kicked a small stone off the gravel path. Joey shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against more than just the cold.

"And Anna did nothing?" Trish asked.

Joey shrugged. "I think he’s gone. Let’s go."

Trish sighed and followed Joey to Sylvia’s grave site.

Joey stopped a few feet away.

"You know she was a good friend. Everything they say she did, she was just confused because she still loved you," Trish said.

"I loved her too. Even while I was married to Diane. Sylvia was my weakness. Both of us, we... we were magic together but I couldn’t deal with her addiction anymore. It was ruining us. And then I married Diane. I thought that was it, you know."

He finally stepped closer. "We had one stupid night again and that was when I realised, Sylvia was my addiction. After Diane died, the guilt ate me alive that I was unfaithful during my marriage while Diane had been nothing short of amazing."

It felt unfair that both women were now reduced to memories and regrets.

"Yeah, she told me about that," Trish said quietly.

Joey stiffened and turned his head slowly. "Really?" He raised a brow, surprise flickering across his face.

"She did tell me you were goooood." Trish chuckled.

Trish bumped her shoulder gently into his, testing the mood, giving him permission to laugh without feeling guilty about it.

"That I am."

"No need to brag about it." Trish rolled her eyes.

"I’m not bragging, it’s a fact," Joey said.

Trish looked back down at the casket. "I’m gonna miss you, Syl. Really."

Trish pressed her lips together, blinking as memories flooded in.

Joey wrapped an arm around Trish. "Come on, let’s go."

His arm was solid and warm around her shoulders. He didn’t rush her, just gently guided her away, as if staying too long might reopen wounds neither of them had the strength to stitch closed today. They walked slowly toward the exit, past rows of stones that told other people’s endings, other unfinished stories.

"Are you going to tell Winn about Tom’s son being here?" Trish glanced up at him, curiosity sharpening her features.

"Yeah. But I have to be careful. We still need Tom to think I and Winn are still at odds. But we do have a meeting point."

"Where?" Trish asked.

"Commissioned."

"Hey! I and Ivy meet there too!" Trish laughed.

Joey chuckled. "Maybe you girls can give us a show one of these days." He waggled his brows just enough to be obnoxious.

"Ivy dancing again as Beyoncé? Your friend is going to have a heart attack." Trish snorted.

"You know him too well." Joey unlocked his car. He opened the passenger door for Trish. "Where do you want me to drop you off?"

"At home."

She slid into the seat. As Joey closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side, Trish leaned back, staring out at the cemetery one last time.

"You want to stop for a drink?" Joey asked as he settled into the driver’s seat.

He adjusted the mirror, then glanced sideways at Trish, one hand resting on the steering wheel.

"Of course, sure. Why not?" Trish said.

Soon they were at a bar, Joey ordered them two shots each.

The bartender slid four glasses across the counter without ceremony.

"To Sylvia," Trish said.

"To Sylvia. Damn that girl could drink!" Joey said.

He smirked as he clinked his glass against hers. He tossed the shot back easily, barely flinching, while Trish followed more slowly, the alcohol biting down her throat.

"She was recovering when I met her. I never saw her drink. How long do you think it will take to put Tom away?" Trish set her glass down with a soft click, eyes sharpening as she turned toward him.

"Everyone’s working really hard right now. Some shit should hit the press soon that will attack his business. Also, Winn will be going on live TV for an interview where he will talk about his life. We masked it as an interview into House of Kane but the interviewer knows what to do."

"Whats the point? You are just going to make the man mad," Trish said.

"Exactly." Joey raised his glass again, but didn’t drink this time. Letting Tom get mad was the plan.

"And whats your role in all these."

"Tom likes to use people. The plan is to make him desperate enough to use me to take Winn down," Joey explained.

"Just be careful, please." Trish begged. She reached out without thinking, fingers brushing Joey’s forearm.

"Are you worried about me?"

"Of course, I am worried about you. We may not be close friends but I do consider you a friend. So there." Trish said downing the last of her shot.

"More?" Joey asked.

"Hmmm." Trish nodded.

Joey signalled to the bartender who provided them with another pair. "I’m gonna have to uber us home."

"Oh, I forgot you’re driving. You know what? Its fine. Never mind. Lets just go now." Trish waved a dismissive hand. She pushed her stool back slightly.

"Come on, stay. I need the company. I’m just going to go back to an empty house anyway."

Hours later, while inhibitions were down. Trish and Joey found themselves tangled at the back seat of his car, clothes gone, bodies connected, their moans and grunts filling the car.

*****

The night didn’t stay gentle for everyone.

Tom dragged James into the house, pushing him to the floor. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

James cried out as his knees hit the ground, palms scraping as he struggled to catch himself.

He scampered to his feet immediately as his mother entered the room.

He darted toward her.

"What are you doing?" Morgana asked and quickly held her son to her side.

Her arms wrapped around James instinctively.

"Did you know your son has been talking to Sylvia for years now? I found him at the grave site today." Tom yelled.

Tom’s face was flushed, veins standing out at his temples, his jacket half off as if he’d stormed in without stopping to breathe. Rage rolled off him in waves.

Morgana turned to James, pulling the hoodie away from his face and saw the unmistakable bruise on his face. "Get some ice, take it upstairs. You and I are going to have a talk."

Then her spine straightened. Morgana had learned long ago that fear only fed men like Tom.