Page 40 of Knocked Up by Her Daddy's Friends

“Yeah, I mean it’s great… but I did not expect that,” Buzz adds.

I nod, feeling equally surprised yet happy for my friend. I also can’t help the niggle of worry that worms into my brain. We’ve all wanted Gunner to heal and to find a woman who he feels comfortable enough with to allow them to touch him. But in all honesty, I wasn’t sure he could ever handle a normal relationship again. It’s great that Skye has brought this out in him, but what does that mean? Does he love her? Would he want a relationship with her? And if so, where would that leave the rest of us? I’d happily step aside for my oldest friend, I’m sure we all would if that’s what they want, but it wouldn’t be easy. But even more worryingly, what happens if Skye breaks his heart? The setback could be irreversible and the last thing I want is for my friend to be hurt.

Gunner comes out of his room with a contented smile on his face, he looks happier and more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a long time. “Morning guys, sorry I’m late. Are we ready to go?”

“So… are we gonna talk about what we just saw, or?” Buzz says, stunned.

“Oh you mean Skye sleeping in my room?” Gunner asks.

“Duh, how did that happen?” Drifter interjects.

Now Gunner looks sheepish. “Well, I was having one of my nightmares and Skye heard me. She came in and… comforted me.”

Drifter lets out a big belly laugh, clapping him on the back. “Comforted. Is that what we’re calling it these days? Good for you man!”

Gunner smiles but I can also tell there’s more to the story, that something happened he’s not quite willing to admit just yet. Skye seemed fine but I can’t believe she woke him up in the middle of a night terror and he just let her into his bed to cuddle. Gunner knows we’d tear him a new one if he hurt her or put her at risk, but for now, I’m happy to let it slide. We’ve got bigger things to worry about.

***

When we arrive at Bill Anderson’s office we don’t bother with the soft approach we’ve been using up to now. We’ve tried speaking with his receptionist to book an appointment only to be told he’s fully booked every time. We’ve tried standing and waiting until he comes out of his office only to be escorted out by security, laughable since we could take the security guards on with our hands tied behind our backs, but as I said, we don’t want to waste time in jail. And we’ve tried waiting outside, which results in the cops being called to move us on. I’m done with that, it’s time for a more forceful approach.

The thin-lipped receptionist with a pinched face doesn’t even bother to look up at us as we enter the building. “He’s in a meeting,” she says, her voice clipped.

We ignore her, walking straight past the reception desk and hopping over the gates that require a keycard to enter.

“Wait, you can’t go back there!” she cries out, startled, jumping up and shouting, “Security!”

We ignore her protests, rushing up the stairs toward where Anderson’s office is signposted. We burst into his room without knocking and a startled Bill Anderson looks up.

“What are you… you can’t come in here!” he sputters.

“Seems like we just did,” Drifter replies casually, shutting the door behind us and locking it.

Anderson’s eyes go wide, and he reaches out to grab the phone, he doesn’t manage to key in anything before Gunner pulls it off the desk and out of his grasp.

“Security will be on its way,” he says trying and failing to sound brave, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat nervously.

“We know, your lovely receptionist Linda called for them as we made our way up,” Buzz replies, his voice friendly but his demeanor threatening as he flashes a predatory smile at Anderson.

“Mr. Anderson. We aren’t scared of your security guards, and we aren’t here to hurt you,” I say calmly.

“Not yet at least,” Buzz adds with another cold smile as Gunner stands intimidatingly close.

“What do you want?” Anderson asks tremulously, his brow slick with sweat.

“To talk. You see, a friend of ours, an elderly gentleman, was burgled the night before last. The burglars hit him on the head and sadly, he died yesterday as a result,” I explain, looking at him closely for his reaction.

“Well, while that’s a terrible thing to happen, I don’t see what that has to do with me…” Anderson replies, sitting up a little straighter in his chair and trying to regain his composure.

His eyes dart over to the door where the sounds of the security guards trying to gain entry are now coming from.

“Drifter, please let them in, we wouldn’t want them to injure themselves trying to break the door down,” I state calmly.

This only serves to worry Anderson more, the fact that we’re unthreatened by them shows we are in control here. One of the security guards trips and falls into the room as Drifter opens the door wide at the same time as he is presumably about to ram it with his shoulder. He stumbles before catching his footing, a look of surprise on his face, his equally bewildered colleague enters behind him, gun drawn.

“Are you okay, sir?” he asks Anderson. “I’m sorry, they snuck past us.”

Anderson seems to assess the situation and decides that, for now, he’ll act the part I was hoping he’d play. “I’m quite alright thank you, these gentlemen just wanted a chat.”

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