Michael Ch. 01

This did not come as a surprise. Megan had also expressed reservations.

"I note your concern, Mr Mead, but this came as a shock and as we all know this has to do with my mother I would like to have someone with me who is outside of all this."

"As you wish, my dear."

"The name is Amanda or Ms Ross."

"I understand Ms Ross. I have raised my objections and you have overridden those objections. Jane will note that accordingly."

Amanda glanced at the woman taking notes. "Wouldn't it be easier just to record our conversation?"

"Forgive me, Ms Ross. I'm old fashioned."

"This fund. It was set up by my mother?" Amanda moved on.

"Yes."

"The woman I haven't seen in a over a decade, who left me with her sister to raise?"

"Yes."

"For the record, can we note Megan did a great job?"

Mead matched her smile. "That is not in question."

"Unlike the woman who is in prison and is an evil bitch."

"No!"

This time, all eyes turned to Jane, who reddened.

"I apologise, but slandering a woman who is not here to defend herself is not right."

Amanda saw Jane look at Megan, who shrugged. "Amanda has her views on her mother and is entitled to them. Can I suggest we stick to the facts and leave emotion on both sides out of it?"

"I agree," said Mead giving Jane a sharp look. "The fund was set up by your mother and can be accessed when you are 21 subject to Megan Ross's approval in your mother's absence, and is fully yours when you are 25. A credit card was issued to you on your 18th birthday which so far has not been used."

"Megan only just handed it over," smiled Amanda. "Proper mums can be a pain."

"Megan had no legal authority, but as you say. Mums."

"What is the limit and who pays it off?"

"Any balance is charged to the fund and paid off in full monthly. The limit is small, only £500."

"So I could spend £500 a month and the fund will cover it?"

"Correct."

"Wow! Okay, that sounds fun."

"Designed to help you at Uni, purchase books, or as you say, 'fun'."

"The fund itself. How much is in it?"

"That is difficult to quantify exactly. There is a large share portfolio, a substantial part of which are holdings in Boost, properties whose values fluctuate, albeit upwards, some cash, bonds."

Amanda could feel tension rising in her. Properties?

"Our office calculated that as of close yesterday, the fund's value was £7.3 million," continued Mead.

"You're fucking shitting me!" Amanda blurted out.

"No, I can assure you, Ms Ross, no one is shitting anyone."

Amanda had stopped listening. The office grew unaccountably warm, and she was struggling to breathe. An arm wrapped itself around her, and she felt herself being ushered out. The restroom! She needed one urgently. Amanda staggered through, lurched for the cubicle and was violently sick.

Megan dampened her daughter's face with a paper towel. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, I think so." Amanda struggled to her feet and parked herself on the toilet. "A bit overwhelming!"

"I know."

"You could have warned me!"

"I was trying to shield you, let you lead a normal life. I even drop a hint about a Trust Fund, and you wouldn't have let it go."

"Like the credit card."

Megan nodded. "All that time you grumbled about money and you had £500 a month on tap."

"Cow!" Amanda laughed ruefully. "Oh, God, what about Amy? She'll be mad at me."

"She has her own fund. Not as generous I suspect, but enough. Not a word to her okay? Promise me that."

Amanda sought out Megan's hand. "I promise. Knowing Amy has one makes it easier. Her again?"

"Amy's family and your mother believed in family." Up to a point. "There is a bit more, do you want to hear it now or later?"

"Actually, I want to know how my mother is. I guess prison wasn't much fun? Or still isn't, I don't even know if she is out. I guess not--what?" Amanda added, seeing the look on Megan's face.

Mead answered her when they settled back down. "I'm sorry it was shock, Ms Ross and as to your mother, that I can't answer fully as I don't know. Michelle served eight years and was released."

"Oh, so she got out, what two years ago?" Amanda closed her eyes as she absorbed the news.

"Closer to three. Her mother needed looking after and Michelle took her abroad where Linda passed. Since then I have seen Michelle twice and not for well over a year. We only look after the businesses and properties that are connected to the Trust Funds. Her main business affairs are handled by Smithson & Partners based in the City."

"Three years?" And not once had she made contact! Anger started to bubble up. "Three fucking years?"

Mead looked sympathetic. "I understand your disappointment. Candidly, I am a little surprised but ultimately it is none of my business."

"But you can get in contact with her?"

"Oh, yes. If something crops up or I need her steer on a financial matter relating to the funds. That sort of thing."

"Well, can you pass on a message?" Amanda said coldly.

Mead sighed and nodded.

"Tell her to drop dead."

****

The side of Megan's face was pushed flat against the cubicle wall. Strong hands gripped her bum, hardness jabbing into her. She sighed with relief as the man entered her. Megan wanted, needed unthinking sex. The stress of the meeting, seeing Mead, who she disliked intensely, and Amanda's reaction had been overwhelming.

"You like that, bitch?" The voice was harsh, the words ritualistic. She welcomed it. After years of submission, endless men using her, paying for her, she needed the release Patrick was providing. Seedy sex in a seedy pub toilet was a nice boost to Megan's flagging morale.

Patrick was banging her hard, sensing her need to be used. She had a great arse, big, round and white. Patrick, a successful chartered surveyor, enjoyed fucking white women of a certain age. That her husband, Richard, enjoyed seeing his wife getting fucked by a black man was an added bonus. They were Patrick's favourite couple.

The toilet wall was covered in obscene graffiti. A door banged, followed by giggles. Megan wasn't the only one in need of a quick fuck. She groaned and gurgled as her worries and cares floated away. Megan was Cunt Candy again. In some ways, she always would be Cunt Candy.

****

Amanda and Annie hit several pubs, then a restaurant for a late lunch. It was in the City and full of suits. Amanda waved her credit card around, determined to 'cane the arse' out of it.

It wasn't so much a celebration, more a 'fuck you!' occasion. Both were a little drunk, but the food helped steady them.

"So, what you going to do?" asked Annie.

"Travel. Europe, States, around the fucking world, far away from my fucking mother who couldn't give a shit about me." Amanda's look challenged Annie to argue differently. Annie didn't.

"She may be your mother, but she is clearly a selfish, uncaring bitch. You're well out from her."

"Absolutely, what sort of mum gets out of prison and decides not to get in touch with her only daughter?"

A mother who is a hot gang boss. Annie kept this observation to herself.

"And my father clearly fucked off as soon as he could. Fuck him too."

Annie raised her glass to this.

"You want to come with? To Europe? I know you don't fancy it, but we can do it in style now!" Amanda waved her card around and wondered if she could get the limit increased.

"A part of me does, but you know how I am with flying."

"We'll go by boat, or train, take a car, I'll get Megan to spring for a new one out of the fund. Seriously, my mother is a fucking bitch!"

A few diners looked at her. Amanda felt like slapping them. "Raven, that was her name right?"

"Yeah, according to that documentary. It stuck in my head, because well, it was kind of cool. Sorry."

"You mean hot, relax, what do I care? Thing is Megan has a Raven tattooed on her chest, top of her breast." Amanda poked at the spot on her top. "Weird, huh? And that woman, Jane, took real exception to me slagging mum off."

"What you saying?"

"That its all a bit hinky and I don't think Megan is being straight with me, and if she isn't straight how can I trust her?"

"Ask her. She's a good woman, tell her you want the truth."

"Yeah, I will." Amanda pulled out her phone and fired off a message.

****

Megan was sitting on the toilet, her head lolling about, her face a mess of snot, salvia and semen. Patrick had faced fucked her into a state of semi-consciousness. Megan didn't want this fuck session to end. She definitely didn't want irate messages from her daughter.

"She's demanding a meet with you. This afternoon. Now in fact," Patrick read out, zipping his trousers.

"Fuck's sake!" mumbled Megan, then felt guilty. No matter how hard she tried, she could never shake her feelings of responsibility. "Well, I can't go like this!"

Patrick laughed, as did the man in the other cubicle. "She look a state?" he called out.

"Just a bit!" Patrick opened the door and damped some paper towels to help mop her face. Megan sat there passively, her breasts flopped out and her legs open.

"You ain't kidding, mate," the voice said. A male face peered in, a blonde woman tugging down her tight skirt beside him.

"Here, let me, you're just pushing the mess around. I have some wipes. You okay, hun?" The woman set to work cleaning up Megan's face.

"Couldn't be better," Megan smiled back. "Thanks for helping out. Ask Amanda where she is and I'll be there at three," she added to Patrick.

At least she was nice and relaxed.