The Dark Star - Aftermath Pt. 09

"Until next time Mr. Logan" I hear him state.

I don't acknowledge, I don't grant him the benefit of a response. 'There won't be a next time' the thought instantly running through my head.

Hearing doors close and the ignition of the car engine tick over I keep walking away. Opening the boot of my own car as the BMW cruises slowly away. Reaching in I unzip the front pocket of the dark grey suitcase and remove the envelope of cash, stuffing it into the inside pocket of my overcoat. Glancing back over my shoulder I crouch and pick up two of the three red builders bricks strewn on the floor that poke out from a patch of snow. I wedge both bricks into the front pocket of the suitcase.

Lifting the suitcase from the boot of the car I carry it to the edge of the Dock and hurl it out into the calm dark waters. Overhead gulls seem to react to the splash squawking and protesting at the early morning disturbance. I watch a little concerned as the case bobs twice on the surface of the water but then slowly sinks on its way to the bottom of the deep murky basin.

Slipping my hand into my trouser pocket I retrieve the two memory sticks. I hurl the first out across the water hearing the plop and watching the concentric circles ripple across the surface. Turning the purple memory stick in my hand I challenge myself to throw it further, drawing back my arm I launch the stick into the air. All height and no distance I consider as it plops into the water short of where the first had landed. This is why I don't play golf.

Headed to the car I climb into the driver's seat and crank up the heating. I've a busy day ahead of me. Beth Macready representing the first of several loose ends requiring attention.

**********

Rose Callaghan leant over the sink in the pristine white and chrome decorated bathroom.

Bare foot dressed in just a navy-blue silk night shirt the cold tiles of the bathroom chilled her feet.

The door to the room locked as she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair dishevelled from a restless night of very little sleep. A lack of sleep caused by the constant twisting dread she felt in her stomach.

Turning the blue and white packaging in her hand she checked the instructions on the rear of the thin cardboard sleeve once again.

The longest two minutes of her life.

She had no idea how she'd handle this. No genuine idea how she'd cope with this situation. Her principals and morals in conflict with the situation she'd never envisaged she'd find herself. She couldn't think.

Taking the blue tipped plastic device from the side of the sink she inhaled deeply.

Turning the stick in her hand she took it seemed an eternity to focus on the two blue lines that confirmed her worst fears.

"Oh, fucking hell no"

**********

Walking into the Coffee Shop I spot her.

Looking a little out of place, looking dishevelled and drawn. She greets me with a weak smile, a weak smile from beneath weary eyes. Sat cross legged on a high stool at a counter, dressed in the same black dress, tights and heeled little boots as she had been last night, only now under a long black leather jacket.

Sat before her are two takeaway cups, two cups of black Americano; there'll be sugar in hers but not in mine. She knows not just my coffee order but nearly every little detail about me.

"She made the train alright?" Jamie states immediately as I'm leaning forward to kiss her cheek in greeting.

"Without any issues," I lie.

"You do realise this might not be the end of the issue." Jamie immediately counters, "I didn't even know she had a Sister."

"Neither did I" I answer as Jamie ruefully shakes her head and I reiterate, "Neither did I."

"Who are you Logan ...who the fucking hell even are you?"

Her voice is hushed but her words are perhaps all the more stinging for that fact.

"I don't know," I openly confess to her, "I don't know myself anymore Jamie."

Scratching my hand through my beard which I realise needs a trim I perch beside her on another stool and take a sip of the scalding hot coffee. Jamie turns to me with a look of grief and anguish. She makes to speak but I hold my hand up and cut her off.

"So many changes so quickly... in the end you learn when to let go and when to hold on... I've held on for too long Jamie. I've held on for too long to the detriment of everyone and everything ... I'm a poison."

Jamie's hand reaches out and rests over the back of mine.

"You lost sight Logan... you lost sight of what you had... what you wanted... your demons took you... I know the good man that's in there... the man I cared for."

Looking up into her heavy eyes I grimace.

"I thought I'd fucked so much up before but ...this ...this is another level," I find myself being open and honest with her much as I'd always been able to. She was more than a confidante, she was much more than a colleague, a companion did not even do her justice. She holds my gaze softly, seemingly not judging me, as ever my sounding board but never judging me despite having the need to question me moments earlier, "You know Jamie in another life..."

"Stop that morose shit..." she smirks "...We'd have never worked out... we'd have married ...divorced and now be arguing over who keeps the dog ...while I was secretly plotting to take half your net worth."

I smile a smile that lifts my spirits, "I always wanted a dog... an English Bulldog."

Jamie laughs herself.

"Where would you be Logan Hughes without fucking your life up chasing women?"

I slip my hand into my jacket and slide the envelope across the counter towards her.

"I'm afraid it's not quite half my net worth."

Jamie takes the thick envelope and slips her finger across the seal to reveal the hundred thousand pounds that I'd counted out in the car earlier.

"That's not?"

"No," I immediate spin the lie, "No she got her share to silence her... it's only fair you benefit ...to thank you ... not to silence you."

Jamie sets the envelope on the counter beside her coffee.

"I've taken so much it's only right I give something back." I state as she looks to me still somewhat surprised. "I'd never tell you what to do but I think the times right ...the times right for you and me to both move on from the Dark Star. There's a change of ownership coming. I've handed my share and Jacks to the new owner... the last few months have been little more than a dalliance... it's been like drinking Diet Coke and convincing yourself it's just the same as it's diabetes inducing alternative."

Jamie shook her head gently; she known this was coming but probably hadn't assumed my exit would be within days of me letting her know of my proposed strategy. Despite the events of the last few hours, she'd always diligently served me, just as she'd always professionally served the Dark Star.

"You're not as addicted to the place as I am, but I think it's time you walked away... hopefully this'll give you a healthy start to whatever you want to do next."

Jamie took a long swig from her coffee.

"End of an era then Logan."

"Not before time," I nod.

In near silence we finish our coffees, each of us contemplating what's been. What's gone. The History that's soon to be between us. Jamie slipped from the stool and I take one last long look at her.

"You were there almost from the beginning and there for me until the end Jamie."

"I wish I could have been there more in the middle."

"You wouldn't have liked me." I darkly smirk.

"You assume I like you."

Leaning forward Jamie's takes her turn to kiss me only not to my cheek. Her soft sweet kiss falls on my lips, a kiss that can't last long as far as I'm concerned, as her hand right briefly comes to rest over my left shoulder.

"You are a good man Logan Hughes," she whispers in my ear as she breaks the kiss, "Never let those demons win."

Jamie walks away and I can't find the words to say goodbye. As her footsteps fade away into the background noise of the Coffee Shop a silent tear rolls down my cheek.

**********

Rose Callaghan had walked it seemed for miles. Her feet ached despite sensibly opting for running shoes.

She stood on a bridge overlooking the wide lake in the middle of Lassiter Park.

Along the side of the lake, she watched a young couple strolling along, pushing in front of them a buggy. Pausing they both leant over the unseen occupant of the buggy cooing and preening over the infant boy or girl invariably wrapped up against the cold crisp afternoon. As if they almost mocked her and her fragile mental state.

As the heavy footsteps of a jogger cross the bridge behind her she gazed down at her reflection in the lake. Hardly recognising her own haunted face. The reality of her situation hitting home more and more with each and every passing moment.

She'd worked hard for everything she'd ever achieved. She always had her life not meticulously planned but always based around her career aspirations. Her career came first, then her family, in recent years Simon had become her life as part of her family. It wasn't that she didn't love him anymore. She'd always love him they had built a home, they'd shared a history, she still loved him but not with the unbridled passion she'd convinced herself once upon a time that she had for him. She cared enough for him that she knew how much hurt the truth would cause him. How difficult that truth would be.

Work would take a hiatus; work would be the easiest situation to handle. Even in the chauvinistic male dominant world of the Police Force modern times finally applied, there might be others that come up on the rails in her absence, but the Stirchley Grange Mills investigation would hold her on a pedestal, the glory of which would carry her career. She felt herself stifle the emotion, personally thriving on the back of the unforgivable deceit and ultimate betrayal to everything she professional stood for.

Slipping her phone from her pocket she dialled his number yet again. The one man central to all of this confusion, all of this emotion, the father of the child developing within her.

She heard his voicemail kick in instantly as it had done since she'd first tried to call him at 9am.

"Where are you?"

**********

I watch her cross the street.

I watch her approach.

Smart fitted black trousers that flare a little over boots at her ankles, the long white over coat with a fitted black polo neck underneath complete the outfit.

Platinum blonde hair pulled back from her face which is lightly, tastefully made up with a prominent scarlet lip stick.

Opening the main door, I offer a smile and find myself mouthing the words, "Afternoon Arabella."

"Good afternoon Logan Hughes," she smiles sincerely at me, "It's been how long?"

"Too long," is my response as to have given my reply in the months, hours, and days I'd calculated might perhaps have been wrongly interpreted.

"You look good?" I offer and the compliment does her absolutely no justice. I mind myself to treat this encounter with no emotion. As she passes the sweet familiar smell of her usual perfume, the brand and name of which escapes me, fills my nostrils, and immediately tests my resolve.

"You don't look so bad yourself..." she turns to me and narrows her eyes playfully, "...For a man whose funeral I once attended."

The playful familiar smirk further tests my resolve.

"Seriously though...are you keeping well ... what medication are you taking?" I enquire.

"Nukes," she replies, "I forget the name but a tablet a day keeps the virus at bay."

She addresses the matter so matter of factly that it's almost dismissive. The same infected blood that courses through my body coursing through hers. The lasting legacy of our former history, previously the silent killer of many now handled with a powerful daily medication.

"You know what it's like..." Ari continues, "There are times you can assume everything's normal ...scarily so."

"I know what you mean..." I reply, "...define normal though."

"Your normal was always very different from my normal," she offers as I walk through the reception into the main club. I bite my tongue on a comment.

"So. burning question ... why have you brought me here?" Ari states as I step behind the main bar and she walks around taking a good look at the place. Full lights illuminate the main room, the constant stale odour that years of cleaning and scrubbing down would fail to disinfect from the place lingers in the air. The legacy of hundreds of nights enjoyed by thousands drenched within the very fabric of the place.

"Drink first?" I offer.

"If you insist ... Vodka splash of Soda"

Pouring a generous measure of Vodka into a tall glass I watch her watch me intently. Cracking open a bottle of soda water I slide the glass and the bottle across the bar to her.

"I'll let you define the splash."

Raising an eyebrow, I sense her holding back her own comment, I keep watching as she barely dilutes the Vodka served over two ice cubes.

"I heard you got your Club back," she states taking a swift swig of the clear liquid.

"Your Club," I state softly.

"What?"

"Your Club," from under the bar I take a slim wedge of paperwork and slide it towards her. Her mouth falls open in shock. "Contracts signed and witnessed by my lawyer who's never been one for the formalities of rules and regulations."

"You're ... you're not serious." she shook her head, and her reaction brings a sincere smile to my face. "You know I can't... not least because of..."

"Deadly serious" I counter "I can't think of another pair of hands I'd rather leave it in."

"Leave it in?" She cocks her head distracted from her initial protest.

"I'm turning my back on this ... admittedly with a little less of an underline on my departure than when I last departed ... less permanent than death and on my terms ... but I'm leaving ...never returning ...as you know Timing is everything."

I place a pen down on the bar next to the paperwork, turning away briefly I grab a bottle of brandy and a tumbler.

"Page thirteen... unlucky for some." I raise an eyebrow as she picks up the cheap biro and turns the pages in her hands.

"There's a catch ...there has to be a catch."

"No catch ... put pen to paper Miss Walker Smith and all this becomes yours," I watch as her eyes meet mine. "Trust me."

"I always did" She offers not pausing as she presses the pen to the vanilla pages of the contract, and she scribbles her full long signature across the page in three places? indicated by a small little cross.

"And the same on my copy," again I watch as she scribbles her name on the identical copy of the contract.

"Done deal" I state "Send those off in the envelope and they'll all be ratified within days ... until then."

I slide my keys across the bar to her.

"How the fuck am I going to run a night club?" she stated a little flabbergasted, amazed that of all the scenarios I'd instigate to see her again, to see her one last time, that these would be the circumstances. I scarcely believe it myself.

"You've a very good Assistant Manager on the books ... sadly, I don't think she'll be here for long." She'd better not be I feel like adding but park the comment, "... You're sharp Ari... you're clever ...use her knowledge though ...the place runs itself... it just depends how hands on you want to be."

"How hands on were you?" She asks looking up at me.

"Too hands on," I offer honestly but with a double meaning to my words. I raise my glass to hers. "To the new boss."

Ari looks at me a little perplexed a little embarrassed, "Never toasted myself before."

I clink my glass to hers as she holds it aloft, the juxtaposition of the clear vodka to the smoky amber dark brandy no more fitting a tribute than I could have orchestrated. In one long swig I drain the tumbler of its contents the last brandy I'll drink in the Dark Star.

"Look after her for me," I offer moving away from the bar.

"That's ...that's it?" Ari exclaims almost incredulously.

"Take your time... take a look around." I grab the pen doubling back a little and scribble down a six-digit code and two four-digit codes on the inside of the first page of her copy.

"The first ones the Alarm... the second one is the access code to the Managers office ... keep the last one as secret as what's beneath your feet."

She smirks that dangerous seductively little smirk that I knew and loved.

"When we were good, we were good weren't we?" I offer.

"Different times" she offers shaking her head, but I spot the glint in her eye.

"Better times," I can't help but saying as I step away, I turn away, not for the first time today I don't look back, not at Ari not at the Dark Star.

"Oh..." I stop but still don't turn around "I have your word you'll look after her ... you'll even keep my Club out of your Gangster boyfriends' hands."

"You know?" she states, and I could tell from the surprised tone in her voice that I'd caught her unawares.

"I know Ari ... he's a lucky man."

"You have my word," Ari states "He won't get his hands on my Club."

**********

Rose Callaghan presses the phone to her ear not expecting to even hear the dial tone as the call connected, somewhat surprised to hear the tone ringing in her ear three times before he answered.

"Everything alright?"

"Not really," she honestly stated trying to keep the emotion from her voice, "I need to see you."

"What's up!" his tone a little panicked. "Is it the investigation?"

"No no nothing like that... I just need to see you... there's something ... look it's better if we..." she tried to keep her composure tried not to raise her voice despite her exasperation.

"Rose," he cut across her "Rose I'm not sure when I can... there's something come up and I need to go away for a little ...

"Go away!" her turn to interject, "For how long Logan?"

"I'm not sure," his immediate and short response.

"I need to see you," She implored, feeling tears back in her eyes, wanting nothing other than to scream down the phone at him why she so desperately needed to see him.

"I'll contact you ... I promise."

"You can't do this to me Logan you can't just..."

"I have to ...I have to I promise I will contact you when the time is right ... but for you... for me the timing is..."

"Timing?" she nearly lost it.

"Timing is everything," he retorted. "I'm sorry I have to go ... Rose I'll be in touch ... I promise."

Rose stabbed her finger against the red 'end call' button in frustration her face flushed with rage her eyes filled with emotion.

Pushing the bedroom door, a jar Simon entered from the hallway, fresh from the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. She looked up at him with a weak smile.

"Who was that?" He quietly enquires, everything about him so gentile and so quiet.

"No one," she tried to hold off the strength of her conflicted emotions. "Just Work crap that can wait."

"You alright Callie?" his use of the affectionate nickname only he used these days for her failing to soften her mood.

She nodded weakly that she was, he didn't need to be a Detective to realise she wasn't.

"Has this anything to do with it?"

From behind his back, he took the pregnancy test kit she'd thought that she'd buried deep enough in the stainless-steel flip lid bathroom bin. Cursing herself for not having presence of mind to dispose of it elsewhere. He fixed his sincere gaze on her as he crossed the room towards her, sitting next to her as she sat motionless on the edge of their bed. A boyish excited grin creeping across his face as he leant towards her.

"You're, not are you?" He asked the stupid question.

"I am" Rose coldly replied.

"Oh my God Rose," he gushed as he embraced her.