by Diana Dwayne
“Yeah?” I ask. “Try me.”
“He was getting ready to sell Opulence to some snot-nosed venture capitalist. You may remember him, your brother. I couldn’t let him go through with that. This company means too much to me, it means too much to the business world. If we can’t turn things around and work an ethical business model, if for no other reason than to shine a light on those who don’t, we are lost.”
“So you had him killed.”
He smiles. Why is he smiling? “I was at a fundraiser when Rory was stabbed. I didn’t kill anyone. Oh,” he says, “and by the way, you’re fired.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?”
“I will not work with someone who threatens me, do you understand? I may come across as a nice guy, but trust me, Rose, you do not want to get on my bad side.”
“I think that ship sailed when you threatened me.”
“Get out of my office. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be getting quite the severance package after your years of service, despite your week of insubordination.”
“I didn’t kill anyone,” I say. “I didn’t try to kill anyone. Do you know what happened to me this morning, Sam?” this may not be the ideal time to start using his first name, but he did just fire me.
“You got in a car crash.”
“Someone tried to kill me. Last night, I received a text from an unknown number threatening me and the next day my car has been tampered with, and I’m lucky to be alive. So, what changed? Why am I suddenly a target? The only thing that I can think of is that I left with Melissa, someone who seemed to be rather uncomfortable with you. All of this, and I brandished my little gift from Fyurek. What exactly was it that took you by surprise? Was it the pen? Was it Melissa? What was it, Sam?”
“You’re just as crazy as she is,” he says. “I want you out of my office right now, and I want you out of this building in the next five minutes or I’ll be calling the police.” He picks up the receiver of his desk phone and asks for security in his office.
“Oh, I’m not going to hurt anyone or steal anything. Hell, I hadn’t even planned on making a scene. The thing that I’ve come to learn about you today, Mr. Waite, is that you are a snake. You know just what to say and just who to say it to, but it’s all bullshit isn’t it? You don’t care about the employees of this company any more than you care about me. I think that you’re behind all of this. I don’t know why, but you can bet your ass that I’m going to find out.”
“Back off,” he says in a voice that doesn’t begin to approach natural.
“Now that sounds familiar,” I say. “So, you just let me know. Are you going to try to sabotage another car, try to get me to crash and kill myself, or do you like to branch out? I can only imagine how long it’s going to be before anyone else realizes the kind of man that you really are.”
“Get out.” His words are slow and emphasized, and a chill runs through my body. Mr. McDaniel could be frightening from time to time, but he was just a drunk with a few screws loose. This man has a hate inside of him that I’ve never actually felt from anyone in my life, and right now it’s directed at me.
Without a word, I turn and walk out of his office. Security is already closing in, but I’m not too worried. I simply grab my purse, let them do a quick inspection of it and walk two steps ahead of them on my way out of the building.
This is one of those times that I wish I had a friend in the office. For a few days there, I had almost believed that Mr. Waite and I could have been friends, but whether he had anything to do with McDaniel or my car or that text, I don’t think we’re going to be getting together for drinks any time soon.
What I need is proof. I get that he couldn’t have actually killed Mr. McDaniel on his own, but that doesn’t mean that he didn’t put the whole thing together.
It’s a little nerve-wracking having these two enormous security guards watching my every move, but I’m not going to try anything. I may not be as naïve as I was even a week or two ago, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to start trying to take down the company or steal from them.
I finally make it to my rental car. The one thing that I’m really nervous about is the conversation with James. Before I talk to him though, I need to talk to my asshole brother. James is letting me borrow his cell phone; after all, he has the house phone and it’s not like he’s planning on going out anytime soon.
Once I’m in my car, I’m ringing Mark’s phone, just hoping that Sarah doesn’t answer. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, I tend to feel an uncontrollable urge to take a shower while hugging my knees and rocking back and forth.
“This is Mark,” he answers. “What do you want, Rose?”
“Are you trying to overthrow Opulence?” No point in beating around the bush.
“Yes,” he answers bluntly. “I told you that already. I had a meeting with your boss. He didn’t tell you about that?”
“He did,” I say. “Listen, we need to talk.”
“Can’t right now,” he says. “I’m kind of busy at the moment, and although you’re my sister and I love you, I don’t think you’re going to talk me out of what we’re trying to do.”
“I got fired,” I blurt out.
“For what?”
“Well, I may have intimated to my boss that I suspected him as the one who was behind Mr. McDaniel’s death.”
Mark just laughs.
“And that he’s the one I think tried to kill me this morning.”
The laughter stops. “He tried to kill you?”
“I can’t be sure of that, but he didn’t seem too shaken up by it. The bastard just gave me a lecture on how I was trying to sabotage his company.”
“I’ll be right there,” he says.
“Actually,” I say, thinking better of it, “why don’t we meet tomorrow for coffee or something?”
“I’m pretty busy tomorrow. Tonight is a lot better for me.”
“Tomorrow,” I say. “I need your help figuring out a few things.”
“But I can’t—”
I hang up. There’s no use arguing with him; either he’ll help me or he won’t. What I need is someone who can give me some inside information on Waite and the company. Too bad I don’t have Fyurek’s number.
Another call is coming in and I don’t bother to look at the caller ID before answering, “Mark, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you.”
“This is Jillian,” the voice returns. “They’ve confirmed what happened. It was foul play. Please tell me that you didn’t say anything to your boss.”
“Well—”
“Goddamn it, Rose!” she shouts. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“Yes,” I answer. “I got myself fired. He threatened me, so I threatened him back. Well, kind of.”
“This is just fucking great,” she says, audibly taking a drag off of a cigarette. “Rose, there’s more.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were able to trace the number that sent you the text. Are you sitting down?”
“Kind of,” I answer. “I’m driving.”
“We’ll talk when you get home.”
“Tell me,” I respond. “I don’t know that much of anything is going to surprise me at this point.”
She sighs and takes another drag. “The text came from someone in your brother’s office.”
“My brother? Mark?”
“We don’t know that it was him, but apparently, someone there doesn’t want you interfering in their hostile takeover. They used a company phone. It’s pretty obvious that they wanted you to know who did it.”
“When the hell did I become such a target to these people? I can’t even begin to—”
“We don’t know if there was a connection to the text and what they did to your car, but I’d stay clear of your brother for the next few days. Again, I’m not saying that he had anything to do with it, but they got your number somehow. Rose, this is bad.”
“I know thi
s is bad.”
“You don’t understand,” she says, blowing out smoke. “Things like this don’t usually end well. I know you’ve worked in the office of a large firm, but you have no idea the lengths these people are willing to go to in order to get what they want.”
I pull up to my house and just sit in the car for a minute. “I think I’m beginning to figure it out.”
“Just promise me that you’ll stay away from your brother, at least until we figure out what happened and who’s behind all of this.”
“Do you have any idea what I have to look forward to right now? Forget the fact that I’m about to tell my mostly-broke husband-to-be that I just lost my job, but if all of this started with Opulence—hell, I don’t know what they’re going to try next.”
“Just stay close to home, Rose. Make sure that you’re with someone you trust, at least until we can get this thing taken care of.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll stay away from Opulence and anyone involved in my brother’s company, including him, but I don’t want to live like this, Jillian. This has to stop.”
“I know,” she says. “Andrew’s going to be coming over tonight to keep an eye on you and James. Call him after you and your fiancé have had a chance to talk. I’m sure that everything’s going to be fine, but you’re going to need to be extra careful unless you—”
“I know what I have to look forward to, Jillian,” I say and hang up.
Now I have to go inside and talk to James. Today’s just getting better and better.
Chapter Sixteen
Houseguests
James is understanding enough I suppose, but I can see the fear in his eyes. I can’t help but feel bad about who and what I’m starting to become: I’m paranoid, I’m distrustful, I’m certainly not the happy-go-lucky, insecure parcel that I used to be, and right now, I’m not sure if that’s something that I’m ready to go back to.
“What happens now?” James asks, finally.
“I don’t know,” I say. “To be honest, I think it’s probably for the best that I don’t take any jobs in the field of high-power business administration at the moment. This may sound strange, but I can actually feel the target on my back. It’s not a particularly good feeling.”
“Yeah,” he says. “But they fired you, right? I mean, there’s got to be a severance package—”
“I’ll figure it out, James.” What is happening to me? “Look, my brother Andrew is going to come by tonight if that’s all right with you. It’s not that I don’t feel safe with you, I do, it’s just it might not be a bad idea to have someone else around in case anything happens.”
“What about a hotel?” he asks.
“I guess we could...” I trail off. I’m not particularly in the mood to uproot my life for an indefinite period just because I seem to be quite the popular target. On the other hand, I do seem to be quite the popular target, and I have no idea how far these people are willing to go to shut me up. Whatever that means.
“I think it’d be for the best. I mean, your brother can still come along if you like, but I really think that we need to get out of this house for a night or two.”
“There’s one minor hitch in your plan, James.”
“What’s that?”
“We have more security in the house. I know that hotels are a lot more populated, but strangers don’t really have a good track record with looking out for other strangers, you know?”
“What do you suggest?” he asks.
I look at him, a look that he hasn’t seen for a while. “Maybe I’m thinking of calling the wrong brother.”
“I thought you said that Andrew was your favorite.”
“He is sometimes. You have to remember that I have six to choose from, so it’s not always as simple as who’s my favorite at any given time.”
“Who are you thinking of calling?”
“Simon.”
James chuckles. “You’re being stalked, threatened and someone’s trying very hard to get you to be quiet about whatever it is they think you know. I hardly think that getting stoned is going to help with the paranoia.”
“That just depends on the trip,” I say. “So long as the parents aren’t around, Simon has a tendency to be pretty fun while imbibing.”
“You know that I haven’t done that stuff since high school,” he says. “I’m not sure I’m really in the headspace to handle something like that with everything that’s going on.”
I give him the look. It’s a look that I only give him when I really want something that he’s not going to approve. It’s worked so far. “I know that this isn’t exactly what you want to hear right now, but I could use an escape.”
“What about finding another job?” he asks. “That stuff stays in your system so long.”
This may be an argument that I’m not going to win, and my urge to get away from everything is kind of outweighed by my need to maintain peace in my relationship, so I relent. “Fine,” I say. “I’ll call Andrew and have him stay here tonight, but if you think that I’m not getting drunk, you’re out of your mind.”
“Well that’s different,” he says.
I’m not in the mood to argue the fact that alcohol is so much worse an idea than the alternative so I just pull out my phone and call Andrew. Apparently, he’s already on his way. Yep, tonight is going to be a drunken one.
* * *
“You are so full of shit,” Andrew laughs, between sips of his shot.
“I’m not,” I respond, drinking my shot like god intended: all at once.
“You’re actually trying to tell me that you made out with your physics teacher when you were a senior?”
James is mortified.
“We would have done more,” I respond, “but he was afraid that we’d forget to wipe off my ring of black lipstick. I guess he didn’t think his wife would have approved.”
I would feel bad about making James so uncomfortable if it weren’t for two simple facts: one, it happened over ten years ago, long before he and I were an item; two, I am really, really drunk and this is hilarious. I pour another shot and hand this one to James. If he’s ever going to find this story the slightest bit amusing, he’s going to have to get some liquor in him.
“What should we toast to?” Andrew asks.
“How about we toast to a different conversation?” James asks and drinks his shot without waiting for my brother and me to get prepared.
“Oh come on,” I say, nudging him in the ribs with my elbow. “I know what you and the other popular kids got up to when you had those parties.”
“It wasn’t as Caligulan—Caligula-esque—Cali...” Apparently the alcohol is finally starting to kick in. That last shot he just drank was number five. I don’t know if he’s always been a heavyweight when it comes to alcohol, or if being in close proximity with my family is what did it, but I’ve been tipsy since before I had shot number three an hour ago. “It wasn’t as decadent-Roman as you think it was,” he says, giving up his attempt at making Caligula an adjective.
“Right,” I chuckle, nudging him in the ribs again. “Weren’t your parties always clothing optional?”
James doesn’t have a retort, but by the smile on his face, I think we’re going to be okay. We sit up talking and laughing with each other for a while, but before too long we’ve all had a bit too much to drink.
I head up to bed a few minutes after Andrew passes out on the couch. James says that he’ll be up after he has a tall glass of water and some ibuprofen. Until then, I have this big, soft bed all to myself, and all I want to do right now is lie down, basking in its comforts.
I lie here, occasionally opening my eyes to convince my brain that the room is not actually spinning. It’s kind of funny how much a person can want to drink and then, the moment they’ve had too much, it’s so easy to want to swear it off forever. I’m not quite there yet though. If I can make it through the night without vomiting, I don’t think I’ll have any regrets in the morning.
The w
ind must be blowing hard again, because there’s a light rapping against one of the bedroom windows. One of the tree branches must be the culprit. It doesn’t occur to my drunken brain that the nearest tree would have to have fallen over in order for any part of it to come in contact with that particular window. The fact of the matter is, the bedroom’s on the second floor, so it’s not like someone’s trying to get my attention. I keep on thinking that, right up until one of the windows cracks.
I’m out of bed in a second, but too afraid to approach the window. I don’t know who’s out there, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want to call out to James, because whoever’s on the outside might hear me and then they’ll know just where to send the bullet.
“Rose!” a voice comes from outside. It’s a woman’s voice. It has to be Melissa. I knew I couldn’t have trusted her to continue on with her medication. What the hell was I thinking? Maybe she’s the one that messed with my car. Of course, I never really pegged her as the automotive type. Then again, I never thought that she was the lie-to-the-police-and-get-me-thrown-in-jail type either.
“Rose!” the voice comes again; it doesn’t sound like Melissa. I don’t know who the hell it is, but she’s not giving up. What do I do? If I just stand here, there’s no telling what she’s going to do. She could break in or find a way to climb up. Andrew’s useless, but James is still up and moving. Sure, he’s drunk, but I have to believe that he can protect me.
The voice calls my name a third time and I have to do something. My phone is downstairs, but I need to see who’s standing out there. I know I should call the cops first and ask questions later, but I have to know.
I kneel down and crawl my way over to the window. I push the drapes out of the way just enough that I can see the front yard. It’s not who I was expecting.
I open the window. “Sam?” I call out.
“Oh, thank god,” my former cellmate calls up. “Can you let me in? It’s freezing out here!”
It’s the middle of the summer, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know what she’s doing here, but I’m fairly certain that she’s not here to cause harm, so I make my way downstairs. James apparently came back into the living room to drink his water, but didn’t make it all the way through. He’s passed out on the couch next to my brother. It’d almost be cute if it had anything to do with affection instead of overconsumption of alcohol.
