Kyle sat, his left foot tapping softly against his right in agitation as he waited for the debt collector to take his seat behind the large oak desk.
The study was deliberately intimidating, over large, the walls wood panelled where they weren't covered with bookcases full of every type of book imaginable. The floor was fine, polished wood and his shoes made a nervous clacking noise until the man silenced him with one stare, pulling out his leather bound wingbacked chair with barely a sound.
Sitting down silently, the man crossed his arms and stared at Kyle inscrutably. Seconds passed, then minutes, neither spoke. Finally Kyle could stand it no longer.
"Where's Jemma?" he blurted out anxiously. The man said nothing, just continued to stare and Kyle wondered whether perhaps in the days since Jemma vanished he'd become delusional. Was he really here or was it an illusion? He'd always sworn never to return and the man in front of him could have been a statue for all his lack of reaction, he didn't appear even to blink as he waited.
"Tell me where she is you bastard!" he shouted, losing it and slamming his hands down on the desk. The man didn't even appear to notice Kyles agitation, just continued to sit motionless, the action seeming somehow more intimidating than if he'd responded. Standing, Kyle made as if to move around the desk. This, it appeared, provoked a reaction.
"Sit!" the man commanded quietly and Kyle dropped instantly to his seat, recognising that tone of voice and kicking himself for coming here like this. Why did he have to be so damn impulsive? He should have known better than to try and circumvent the rules.
Shaking slightly, he watched as the debt collector pushed a sheet of paper across the desk. Kyle recognised it instantly, his signature at the bottom a dead giveaway. With fear in his eyes he looked up at the man, wondering why he'd brought that up. He'd paid his debts, even taken the unenviable step of declaring bankruptcy as had been required, the document was largely irrelevant now.
Okay, so maybe he'd slipped back into his old ways a little. The day the stamp had been put on their file marking it cleared he'd taken himself off for a pint to celebrate and run into some old friends. And the agreement surely didn't stand when the debt was cleared.
Besides he'd been grateful for the company, Jemma had been at work, Jemma was always at work these days, he didn't understand why she'd pushed so hard to get the debt paid over three years. The court had offered five, even ten years but she'd been adamant that she wanted it paid as soon as possible.
So it was only reasonable that he hook up with some old friends for a night on the town. Jemma hadn't cared, he didn't think she'd even noticed to be honest. The only thing she'd noticed was when he got this new job. And despite trying to tell himself otherwise, he suspected part of the reason she'd been so happy was that he wouldn't be sitting around the house making mess and washing up. Sometimes he wondered if she even liked him any more, let alone loved him.
Despite this, he still worried about her and, when she'd vanished so uncharacteristically after that rather bizarre phone message, he'd known exactly where to find her.
Staring sullenly up at the debt collector, he waited for him to explain what this was about. With a sigh and a disappointed look, the man started to speak in a weary tone.
"We had a deal did we not?"
"We did," Kyle replied quickly, "and I paid off the debt exactly as we agreed."
"How much of the debt did you pay off? You, not the young lady. You personally."
"Well," Kyle stuttered, knowing that he'd somehow managed to fuck up somewhere, "I'm not entirely sure, everything went into a joint account and Jemma made sure everything was paid. She's better with money than me."
Perusing another sheet on the desk the man pushed it to join the contract in front of Kyle.
