A/N. Been very busy with work and life the last couple of weeks, hence late in updating. Just starting to get to the main part of the story now set up is nearly done.
Chapter nine
Looking back Richie decided that he should have kept his temper. He also decided he would probably do the same thing again in the same circumstances. That was a little titbit he was keeping to himself however as Mac looked unimpressed enough with him that adding not sorry to the equation wasn't going to do anything to help matters.
He winced slightly at the expression on Mac's face when he returned from the kitchen with ice for Richie's hand. Richie accepted the ice from the outstretched hand and pressed it to his knuckles. They would be healed shortly, but in the mean time they still hurt…
Mac sat down on the sofa next to him. Richie didn't look up, focusing on his hand instead, he knew there would be an imminent lecture, but he had no intention of initiating it.
The seconds stretched, and so did the silence. Richie pulled all of his stubbornness reserves into action. He would not speak first, would not break first…
"Want to tell me what happened?" Mac asked eventually, his tone worryingly light.
"Not really," Richie sighed, knowing even as he said it he would be telling Mac everything anyway.
"Tell me anyway," Mac said, still in that disturbingly calm voice.
"Nothing to tell," Richie shrugged.
"Your hand and a window tell a different story."
"Coulda been worse. Could be my hand and that idiots face telling you a different story."
"So you punched the window instead of Kyle. That much I worked out. What I'm hazy on is why?."
"Because I let him get to me ok? I lost my temper and didn't think punching someone with a law degree was a great idea."
"You were thinking then?" Mac said mildly.
Richie threw him a dirty look. "Can we just get the lecture out the way Mac, I'm kinda tired?"
"You're expecting a lecture?"
"I punched a window at a party and broke at least three knuckles. That's gotta be worth a few minutes of 'what were you thinking?'"
"Richie," Mac sighed now. "I'm not exactly thrilled about tonight, but you have to stop thinking I'm going to tell you off for everything you do. Sometimes I'm just trying to be a friend you know?"
That got Richie's attention. "Sorry," he said eventually.
"So what happened?" Mac pushed gently.
Richie blew out a breath. "He and Isla had a bad break up right?" he started. "But from what I gather they were like this amazing couple when they were at uni. So her friends have spent all week trying to get them back together."
"Ok," Mac nodded. "I'm not sure how we ended up with the window being attacked…"
"Cos Isla isn't interested anymore. And I guess Kyle is. So he's trying to figure out why she's blowing him off and thinks it's cos of me."
"Is it?"
Richie laughed. "No, it's not cos of me, it's cos he decided to put his career before her. Simple as that. Me and Isla are just friends."
"You sure about that?"
Richie nodded. "Hundred percent certain. I mean she's gorgeous, she's funny, she's smart. But she's my friend and that's it."
"So what happened at the party?" Mac asked.
Richie shrugged. "He had a few too many, was trying to get her to talk to him and she didn't want to. I told him to leave her alone. He said some things that I didn't like about her. I got mad, I punched through a window. Then I left before I decided actually his face would make a much better target."
"Which is where I came in." Mac finished off.
"Yep," Richie agreed, flexing his fingers. Still sore.
"You know, usually you're quite good at keeping your temper."
Richie sighed. He knew wouldn't let him get away with evasive, but it was always worth a try.
"So maybe some of the stuff he said hit a bit close to home ok?"
"In what way?" Mac continued to probe.
"Some of it was kinda true. But not the way he made it sound. And I guess I was pissed that he thought he could just deconstruct me and Isla like that and think he had any idea about how we are."
"You got angry because he said things that were true?"
"He twisted stuff that was true." Richie corrected. "Made it sound like something it wasn't. Made out like she was…" Richie stopped.
"Like she was what?"
Richie shrugged. "Easy or something."
"You and Isla have…" Mac left the sentence unfinished but Richie nodded anyway, not making eye contact.
"Once. In inverness."
Mac nodded like that made perfect sense.
"We talked about it and decided we didn't wanna risk our friendship. So that was the only time. And I didn't like him thinking he had a clue about us, or about her. And when he started calling her names I just lost it. But I stopped myself from touching him, though he deserved it. I now understand why she threw kitchen appliances at him last time they were together. "
Mac actually chuckled at that. "Well she can throw anything she likes at him, but we're trying to live here quietly without attracting attention, so I'm glad it's just the window that we have to fix."
Richie groaned. "I'll phone them tomorrow and apologise," he said, meaning the owners of the hall that had been hired for the party.
"Probably a good idea. I think they were going to talk to you tonight but you were still a tad angry when we were heading for the car."
Mac had practically man handled him out of the building after the window incident. Richie had been aware of a few onlookers, but at the time he hadn't really cared.
"Sorry," Richie said again, removing the ice once more from his hand and inspecting his knuckles.
Mac started to say something when the phone started ringing and the door bell rang at the same time.
"You get the phone, I'll get the door," Mac said instead of whatever he had been going to say.
Richie snatched the phone from its cradle. "Hello?"
"Richie, hi," Isla's disembodied voice floated down the line.
"Hey," he said falling back onto the sofa. "Isla, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lost my temper."
Isla laughed. "Are you kidding? He was being a dick. I thought you were quite chivalrous."
Richie laughed with her, nodding hello to Joe as he entered the living room.
"I'm glad you think so," Richie said.
"Mac giving you a hard time?" Isla asked sympathetically.
"Not so much actually," Richie admitted. Ignoring Mac as he poured himself and Joe a scotch. "I was more worried you'd be pissed at me."
"Me?" She sounded surprised. "You saved me from hitting him myself. Now you see how he brings out the violent tendencies in people."
"It's like a skill," Richie agreed.
"He'll be sorry," Isla said softly. "I think he is already. He just has a habit of speaking without thinking sometimes."
"You defending him?"
"No, I'm defending my taste in men," Isla said lightly. "And letting you know in advance that he'll probably call you tomorrow to apologise. At least he's got it out of his system now."
"You reckon?" Richie asked incredulously.
"I do. Look, I'm the last person to defend him tonight, believe me. But he will be sorry. And we all make mistakes right? What we need are people to give us second chances when we screw up."
"Fine," Richie acquiesced. "I'll play nice if he calls."
"Thank you." Isla said. "For that and for defending my honour."
Richie chuckled. "Anytime."
"See you tomorrow still?"
"You still wanna do that?" Richie asked. They had planned to take Isla's friends to Glen Coe to climb up to the lost valley, a walk Mac had told him about a couple of times but that Richie hadn't done yet. The view was supposed to be spectacular, but Richie wasn't sure it was going to be worth it now.
"I do. And so do they. Please. It'll be nightmare taking three unfit city people up that mountain without someone who can keep up …"
Richie sighed. "Fine. But if he tries to push me off the mountain I'm holding you responsible."
"I accept those conditions. Besides, like I said, he'll be sorry and I think you'll get on better now the air is cleared."
"If you say so."
"See you tomorrow. Nine am, my place," she instructed.
"Bye," Richie said and replaced the receiver.
He looked up and saw Mac and Joe looking at him with amused expressions on both their faces.
"What?" he demanded.
"Nothing," Mac said smiling broadly. "I just find it interesting the way you can never so no to a pretty lady."
Richie rolled his eyes. "I can say no, I just didn't want to."
"Of course," Mac agreed still smiling.
"Whatever Mac," Richie said smiling as well. It was an argument for another night. One he would probably always lose.
The phone rang again.
"You may as well get it, I don't have anyone that rings me at this time." Mac said sipping his drink.
Expecting it to be Isla having forgotten to tell him something he grabbed the phone again. "Hello?"
There was a long silence and just the sound of breathing. Richie frowned and was about to speak when finally a voice said his name.
"Richie?"
Richie dropped the phone back on the hook as if he'd been burned.
"Rich?"
He was standing, staring at the phone like it was a poisonous snake. He didn't remember getting up.
"Rich?" Mac repeated from his side. "What's wrong?"
Richie could feel all the blood had left his face. He felt slightly sick. It couldn't have been her. She couldn't have this number…
"That was…" He paused swallowed. Turned to Mac. "On the phone then. It was Frankie."
Mac stared back at him. Put a hand on his shoulder. "You're sure?"
Richie resisted the urge to say something involving swear words. "I know her voice Mac," he settled on.
The phone started to ring again. Richie felt panicked. "Mac she can't know," he said desperately. But he had no idea what to do. He knew her voice, she would know his too, no doubt…
"It's ok," Mac squeezed his shoulder before turning to Joe. "Answer the phone Joe, tell her you dropped it a minute ago."
"She'll never believe Joe's me," Richie argued. Though he had nothing better to offer.
"She will because what's the alternative?" Mac said, even as Joe headed to the receiver.
"Hello?" Joe answered the phone, sounded completely calm. The polar opposite of Richie, who's heart was doing an interesting little dance in the centre of his chest.
"Did you ring a minute ago?" Joe was continuing. "Ah yes, had a couple of drinks you know how it is. Dropped the damn phone." Joe was laughing a little. He sounded convincing.
"Mac? Sure, He's in the kitchen, I'll call him for you."
Joe held out the phone to Mac, who looked a little torn.
"I'm ok," Richie lied, whispering in what he hoped was a calm voice.
Looking unconvinced Mac took the phone from Joe, but kept a hand on Richie at the same time. He positioned himself in front of the door, effectively ensuring Richie didn't try to leave.
"Hello," he said into the receiver.
Richie watched the short conversation trying to tune out Mac's words. It was only at the end of the conversation that Richie's head snapped up and he paid attention again.
"I'll be there tomorrow. Don't worry."
Mac met his wide eyed stare unflinching. He said goodbye and replaced the receiver.
"What the hell is going on?" Richie demanded.
"She needs my help."
"Is she ok?"
Mac smiled tightly. "She will be."
