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‘I think you know what’s up.’ She could hear the edge of cold fury in her voice, but Dylan gave a sly smile, and turned away from his friends.
‘You sure messed things up for me and Sally,’ he said. ‘I didn’t do nothin’. That girl I was with? She was just a friend.’
‘I don’t give a fuck,’ Mary said slowly, ‘about who she was. That means nothing at all.’
‘Yeah? Then why are you here?’
‘Sally told me what happened.’
He raised an eyebrow, and shrugged. ‘What happened?’
‘You raped her.’
His sly smile broadened into a grin, then he laughed. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘She’s fourteen. If you have sex with a fourteen-year-old, that’s rape.’
He looked her in the eyes, his gaze steady. ‘I know. And that’s why we never did it.’
‘That’s not what she told me.’
‘Well,’ he said. ‘She can say what she likes, but it never happened.’
Mary thought back to what Sally had told her, to her sadness and anguish. Dylan was lying, and she had no doubt about it.
‘I believe my daughter,’ she said.
‘You do,’ Dylan said slowly. ‘But will anyone else? I mean, think about it. A teenage girl gets her heart broken, so she spreads rumours about the boy who did it? It happens all the time, Mary.’
‘How dare—’
He held his hand up, palm facing her. ‘Why didn’t she say anything at the time? Seems a bit suspicious to me.’
Mary stared at him, wishing she could reach out and claw his eyes out of his skull. Maybe she would.
He leaned forward. ‘Is that it, Mary? Because if it is, I’d like it if you fucked off and let me get on with my day.’
He put his vape to his lips and inhaled, then turned to walk back to the bandstand. When he was a yard from her he looked over his shoulder.
‘Tell Sally I said hi,’ he said. ‘And the door’s always open, if she feels like reconnecting.’
Mary sat in her office, the door closed, stewing in her anger. Dylan was so nonchalant, so confident that he would get away with it. Why? Because he had got away with similar things before? It was depressing; Sally was merely his latest victim.
She looked at the clock on her computer. It was nearly three; she did not feel like doing any work, but there were some things she had to get done. They shouldn’t take more than an hour, and then she needed to get out of here. She sent a message to Ryan.
Leaving at four. Want to walk home with me?
His reply came a few minutes later.
Would love to, but I have a call with my agent starting then. I could try to reschedule?
That’s fine. No need. I’ll see you at home.
Just past four, Mary shut down her computer and packed her bag. The late summer sun slanted through the office blinds; perhaps she and Ryan could come downtown later and eat outside. There would be few opportunities to do so in the coming months.
She walked out of the office onto Maine Street. The sun was as warm and invigorating as she had hoped and she tilted her face up to bathe in it. On such a perfect day it was hard to imagine anything was amiss in the world. She luxuriated in the peace and warmth and security.
A voice interrupted her.
