Note: I updated this chapter on the 26-Feb – just slight grammar edits but no major plot changes, so there's no need to re-read it if you already have.

Chapter 4

Gordon was already streaking away on the fastest Tracy jet from the island when his father, alerted by the security radar, radioed him and asked what the hell he thought he was doing. A momentary twinge of guilt was drowned by a wave of resentment as he reminded himself that if he'd stayed at home, suspended as he was, he'd have had days of brotherly pep talks and sour looks from his father to face.

So he ignored his father's calls.

Feeling very James Bond, Gordon drove his hired red Porsche into the Californian headquarters of the W.A.S.P. Luckily the security guard remembered him from three years earlier, and, after some admiring words about the beautiful car, the guard cheerily waved him through without requiring the usual security permits.

Gordon sprang from the Porsche after hastily parking it in the first space he could find. Screw parking tickets – Tracy Corp could pay for it if it was towed.

The warm glow of being back at his old stomping grounds was quickly quenched by the receptionist. He didn't recognise her and she blinked at him coldly when he announced his name. When he asked for Carol, she told him that Ms Brooks was not available for visitors that morning. When he asked her to try Paul, she frowned as she made the call. She was clearly put out when Paul agreed to see Gordon, muttering something about 'rules'.

Knowing the place like the back of his hand, Gordon found Paul's office easily. He felt a twinge of jealousy as he approached the closed door – how had Paul managed in just three years to jump so many rungs in the organisation that he got one of the best offices?

At his knock Paul opened the door and shook his hand vigorously.

'Gordo, how are you! Look at you. Brown as a berry. Take a seat, take a seat.'

Since when did Paul call him Gordo? Gordon supposed he couldn't really take offence since they were no longer co-workers, but he felt his irritation rising.

Paul's desk seemed clear of work and his computer terminals were on idle. Gordon sat himself down on a soft leather chair that he was sure wasn't standard issue office furniture.

'Drink?' Paul asked.

Gordon glanced at a clock on the far wall. He was surprised to see it had just gone on 11:30am, then reminded himself his flight from Tracy Island had brought him eastward so he was flying back into the morning by a couple of hours.

'Yeah, sure,' Gordon said, shrugging mentally. Why not. It wasn't like he needed to be anywhere else.

'So, tell me what have you been up to, eh? Heard you are living on a tropical island owned by your Dad. Working for him now, eh?'

Gordon nodded while swallowing some of the Jack Daniels handed to him, which gave him a nice excuse to cover a slight grimace at Paul's comment.

'You're looking good, man,' Paul said breezily. 'How's the injuries, eh?'

Memories of Paul's social tactlessness came flooding back. What on Earth did Carol see in him?

'Fine,' Gordon said perkily. 'Good as new. In fact, I'm fitter now then I was before the crash.' A slight white lie, but why should he say anything derogatory about himself when Paul was clearly willing to do all the work in that department. 'How's W.A.S.P.?'

'Great, great. I got this great office, see!' Paul swung his arm around in a flourish, finishing it by pointing at the wonderful view of the sea framed in the window.

'Nice view,' Gordon offered grudgingly.

'And I'm getting married!'

'Yes, I got the wedding invitation…'

'You're coming aren't you, man?' said Paul enthusiastically. Gordon wondered for the first time which of the couple had suggested he be invited.

'I'll try to make it, of course.'

'I'm sure you will. We're expecting a very pricey wedding gift!' Paul gave a rather ugly snort.

Gordon took another swig and wondered how much more he could take of this before he could ask when Carol would be free.

'So, how's the bride-to-be?' he asked.

'Listen up, man, I'm having lunch with Carol. Why don't you come and see yourself?'

Gordon didn't hesitate. 'Sure, sure. I'm up for it.'

'Why don't you just wander around for a bit – let me get some work done and I'll meet you in reception in about forty minutes. Then we can have a real chat.'

Gordon spent the time trying to locate some of his favourite old work colleagues, only to find there didn't seem to be that many still working there. New faces were everywhere and he felt like an interloper and a little depressed that he'd lost touch with so many people in such a short time. No-one seemed to be very interested in him after asking about his accident or politely inquiring what he did at his father's company.

At the designated time he found himself back at reception being pointedly ignored by the receptionist. Paul didn't offer an apology when he turned up thirty minutes late.

When they walked into the car park, Paul whistled at the Porsche in appreciation.

'Is that yours? You can drive then, man. You can be my chauffeur!'

During the short drive to the restaurant Paul chatted relentlessly, bragging about his great work at W.A.S.P., about Carol's great work at W.A.S.P., how lucky he was to get the best-looking gal in the world, and how easy Gordon's life must be given he was a member of the Jet-set.

By the time they parked, Gordon's fixed smile was hurting his jaw.

Gordon saw Carol first when they walked into the restaurant. She was twirling a swizzle stick aimlessly in her cocktail glass, looking bored. As they approached, she looked up with a scowl.

'You're la…' she stopped short at the sight of Gordon.

The idiot didn't phone her to warn her I was coming along, thought Gordon.

'Look who's turned up,' Paul said too loudly, people at nearby tables looking around to see who was causing a disturbance.

'Gordon, how are you?' Carol asked. Her mouth was smiling but her eyes were wary.

'I'm great,' said Gordon, feeling like he was visiting a super polite dentist.

'You're so brown,' Carol added.

'That's what I said. Look at him. Fit as a fiddle. Have you ordered, baby?'

Carol glanced sharply at Paul.

'No, but I ordered a drink while I waited.'

'Ah, yes, busy morning. How's your morning been?'

After ordering drinks and food, the next twenty minutes were spent with Carol outlining her work hassles and the latest office gossip about people Gordon didn't know. Paul interrupted constantly to add his own salacious comments about his underlings and their inefficiencies.

Gordon felt like the proverbial third wheel.

'It won't do for us to be here too long,' said Paul when the food arrived. 'We've got to set a good example for the troops – no long boozy lunches for the bosses!'

He smiled at Carol, who managed a small smile back.

Gordon automatically assumed that they did this a few times per week.

'So, I see Paul is making an honest woman out of you?' said Gordon, regretting his choice of words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Carol glanced at him suspiciously, but then gave a slight nod.

'Yes, yes, finally convinced her,' said Paul. 'Just took a few years.'

The conversation lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Gordon wondered why coming here had struck him as such a good idea that s morning. Carol's reaction to him was confusing.

Carol started a conversation about the quality of the seasonal fruit garnishing their meals. Then they talked about the weather. Then they talked about global aquatic security patrols. They talked about anything but old times.

'…and that whale. What's happened to that whale?' Paul was asking, and Gordon realised he had tuned out for several minutes. For a second he thought Paul was asking him personally, as if he knew he was responsible for its predicament.

Luckily Carol spoke first.

'I saw a news alert before coming here. It looks like it might not make it.'

Gordon poked at the remains of his prawn cocktail, nodding in a way that he hoped made him look sympathetic but nonplussed.

'They blame International Rescue, you know,' she added. 'Everyone says they should have alerted the environmental authorities as soon as it happened so something could've been done earlier.'

'Like what?' snorted Paul. 'International Rescue barely saved those people. If a whale gets in the way, then too bad! It is only a whale, after all.'

Gordon was taken aback at how much Paul had momentarily sounded like Alan.

'Some lover of the sea you turn out to be!' said Carol with a light laugh.

'I'm part of a security service, not an animal rescue service!' said Paul chirpily.

Gordon felt suddenly sick to his stomach, and blessedly, Carol suddenly announced that she had to get back to work for a meeting.

'What meeting?' Paul asked innocently, and Carol shot him a look.

Gordon pretended not to see. Geez, this guy was a dimwit.

'Gordo can drive us back,' said Paul as he sculled his drink. 'He has a Porsche.'

Once they were in the car and on their way back to W.A.S.P., Paul had a sudden thought.

'Why don't you come out tonight, Gordo. Just us and some of the boys. Few drinks, eh?'

Gordon found himself nodding in agreement even though he didn't feel like doing it. He had to look for a hotel for starters, and he desperately needed to buy some clothes, since he'd brought nothing with him when he'd stormed off Tracy Island.

When Carol got out of the car, she turned to him and nodded like a teacher dismissing class. He felt small. Why was she so keen to avoid talking to him?

He glanced in his rearview mirror as he drove away. Carol was talking animatedly to Paul who swayed slightly as he looked at the ground. They didn't much resemble a happy couple.

The night had started off so promisingly. Gordon knew he looked rather handsome in his new casual suit, and a refreshing shower in the pricey but very acceptable five-star hotel had done wonders for his mood. Some of the guys who'd turned up told stories that took Gordon back to the glory days of his time at W.A.S.P., and he found himself genuinely enjoying himself for the first time all day. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to speak to real people, people he wasn't related to and didn't live and work with every second of the day.

But by midnight things took a change for the worst. The others had left, using an early work morning as an excuse, leaving Paul and Gordon alone at the last bar they'd staggered into.

Paul made a belligerent drunk.

'You know,' Paul slurred out as he propped himself up at the bar, 'I bet you thought you'd always get the best W.A.S.P. girl, eh? With your Daddy's money and your looks and Olympic medals!'

Gordon kept silent, and resisted a temptation to lay his head on the bar and fall into a stupor.

'But I suppose some girls can overlook that, man,' Paul continued. 'She loves me you know. I'm the best man…I mean I'm the groom…ya know what I mean.'

'Yeah,' Gordon answered, hoping Paul wouldn't get any more sour.

'You know,' said Paul conspiratorially, putting his arm around Gordon's shoulder, 'I know you were cutting in, eh? Hitting on my girl…'

'Hitting on your girl?' Gordon muttered, but Paul didn't seem to hear him.

'But that's alright. It all worked out in the end…for the best.'

Paul then slumped almost over, and the barman glanced at Gordon. Yep, time to go, Gordon nodded to the unspoken request.

Gordon hailed a taxi and managed to get Paul's home address from him. Paul slumped to one side and Gordon watched him closely for any sign that he was about to throw up so he could push his head out of the window if needed.

Gordon pondered what Paul had meant by saying that he'd cut in on his girl? As far as he knew, Carol had gotten together with Paul long after Gordon's accident had forced him to leave W.A.S.P.

When they pulled up, Gordon asked the driver to wait just in case it was the wrong address.

Staggering over flowerbeds and tripping up the paved path to the door, Paul seemed to wake up a little.

'The shed, man. The shed. I saw you.'

Gordon nearly missed the comment, and he was too drunk to really puzzle it out right at that moment.

The door was bathed in darkness, and Gordon found the key after riffling Paul's trouser pockets. He tried, and failed, several times to put the key in the lock. He started swearing under his breath.

The door suddenly opened, a bright light dazzling him. He blinked and then saw Carol, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked like a bleary supermodel just gotten out of bed.

Of course she's gotten out of bed, thought Gordon. It must be well after 2am.

She grabbed Paul by the arm and tried to pull him through the doorway. Gordon helped by pushing him hard on the butt, since Paul seemed to have forgotten that he needed to move his feet to propel himself forward. Paul shook his head as if to wake himself up, and staggered into the house, bumping into the walls as he went.

Carol turned and stood blocking the door. She didn't look at Gordon but past him, out into the darkness. Confused, Gordon turned, and realised she was looking at the cab. When he turned back, a look of relief was on her face.

'Thanks,' she said. Even in his pickled state he knew that the thanks was not only for bringing her drunk fiancé home, but also because he'd been smart enough to have a cab waiting to take him away immediately.

She stepped back and shut the door in his face.

As he made his way back to the cab, a new decision started percolating in his head.