Page 74 of Companion Required
Chapter Thirty-One
Kennedy
In early December, two months after the end of what Kennedy now considered to be the best holiday and the biggest mistake of his life, he found himself marching through an almost empty, unfamiliar office space at seven-thirty on Friday evening, with nobody there except the cleaning staff, most of whom stared at him suspiciously. Not that he cared. This was something he should have done weeks ago. He had been directed to the sixteenth floor and to the reception for Leonard’s office space.
Standing still, he stared around himself at the completely empty reception area as a sinking feeling filled him. But then, beyond, in the fishbowl office, he noticed the familiar dark-haired man stand up and walk to the photocopier, prodding buttons on the display.
Kennedy rarely felt unprepared, but this whim was like walking on broken glass. Without hesitation, he marched over and tapped his knuckle on the window of the security door. After peering up, the figure frowned then moved towards the portal.
“Len’s not here,” said Kieran, after opening the door for him, and before turning back to the machine.
“Oh, okay,” said Kennedy, stood awkwardly in the doorway, his back propping the door open, his hands shoved deep in his trouser pockets. “So how—uh—how have you been?”
“Fine. I’m doing fine.”
“Okay. And the job’s going well?”
Kennedy had never been very good at small talk.
“Loving it. Lots to do, but we’re getting there, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Good. That’s good. Got you working late, I see. So what’s with the suitcases?”
Kennedy recognised a large black case up against the wall, the one Kieran had brought with him for the holiday, plus a couple of other, smaller ones. At his remark, Kieran let out a small sigh.
“I’ve been staying with Cole since I got back. Had a flat-share lined up, but it fell through at the last minute. Anyway, Cole’s friends are over from Tokyo, so I’m bunking back with my sister for the week, until I get something permanent sorted.”
Kennedy stared at the sad line-up of cases until Kieran broke the silence.
“What do you want, Kennedy? I already told you Len’s not here,” said Kieran, after lifting the top of the copier, placing another sheet inside and slamming down the lid. The question sounded so harsh and direct that Kennedy faltered for a moment, unable to speak.
“I—I wanted to see you.”
“Me? Oh, let me guess. You want your dad’s watch back?”
“No, that’s not why I’m here at all,” said Kennedy, rubbing a hand nervously around his chin. “At least, not unless you come with it.”
“Unless…what?”
“You heard me,” said Kennedy softly.
“Okay, Kennedy, what’s going on?”
This time Kieran stopped his work and folded his arms.
Kennedy came into the room, let the heavy security door slam closed behind him and perched himself on the edge of a desk. For someone so accomplished in his professional life, he felt in unchartered waters here. But he had never been one to back down from getting something that he sorely needed.
“I’m going to say some things to you that I’ve never said to another living soul.”
Kennedy waited to see Kieran’s reaction, but he simply leaned back against the copier, his arms still folded.
“I’m listening.”
“You’ll need to be patient. This is somewhat difficult for me.”
“Do I need to sit down?”
“You might want to.”
