Five Will Die, page 5
I regret a lot of things in my life. Stealing that book, though, was one of the biggest regrets I have ever had. Even now.
Chapter Ten
Chuck
He thought about sitting in his townhouse for the rest of the week, hell the rest of the month, but he knew he couldn’t. They’d come looking for him—either Evermore, or his other business associates. There was no escaping once you became too powerful. It was the curse of the blessed. He chuckled to himself, knowing his life was anything but fucking blessed. Even an outsider looking in would know that.
Sometimes, he would wonder what his life would’ve looked like if she’d have kept him. He wouldn’t have had the same opportunities, of course, as Ed and Regina Morris had given him. He was blessed, some would say, that he won the adoption lottery. While so many kids in his circumstance floated from foster home to foster home, he got the golden ticket that put him straight at the top. He never wanted for anything material after they signed those papers. He had every silver spoon he could desire, even if he wasn’t born with them. Opportunities abounded for him.
Then again, was he really using those opportunities anyway?
He laid on his couch, staring at the ceiling, counting the tiles like he had a habit of doing. His Great Dane, Edmund, was snoring on the sofa beside him. Wouldn’t it be nice to have his life, worry-free and simple? His life was never that easy, even if his parents had tried to save him in so many ways.
No matter how hard they tried, his adopted parents couldn’t work some things out of that little boy they’d adopted, including his penchant for running from problems or sticking his head in the sand.
He was sick of being the one everyone came to for their problems. He’d been keeping the business afloat in all sorts of ways. Couldn’t they see that? Without his business prowess, where would all the misfits he’d hired be? Homeless. Dead. Junkies. Nothing.
He couldn’t handle it all. He couldn’t keep the business afloat and deal with severed hands and death threats. Jesus, he’d never pegged Scarlet for the soft one. But she’d fallen apart at ... what? Some pointless words in a manuscript? Shit, he’d had guns held to his head. Repeatedly. Maybe he’d have to take her off the list.
Perhaps he should take himself off the list, in truth. It was starting to get to him. If the people at the office knew half the shit that was going on, they’d be gone. The bird, the severed hand, that was nothing. Last week, he’d had a car follow him and try to mow him down. And then there’d been the eyeball, species undetermined, that was in his mailbox. He shuddered, picturing the round orb staring up at him from underneath the tissue paper in the unmarked box. He’d vomited before chucking that one in the dumpster.
Scare tactics. That was it. He was unshakable, though. Unshakable Chuck, just like the Chuck his mother had named him after.
He thought of Regina and Ed now, over in their luxury home overlooking everyone. He thought of how they always talked about how far he’d come since that rat infested, drug infested trailer park, how he should be grateful. And when he was younger, he was.
Until he wasn’t. Somewhere along the line, their money, their words—they felt condescending. They felt like he didn’t belong, even in the family that proclaimed to love him. Or maybe he wasn’t giving his biological mother enough credit. Maybe her pull on him, her genes, were too strong to fight. The apple and all that bullshit.
He knew, still, Ed and Regina were desperate to love him. You had to be to adopt some little shithead like he’d been. Despite the disappointment he was to them, he could always crawl back. He could run back to the mansion, take up his spot in their firm. The prodigal son, returned from the land of the vulgar, the uncultured. The pointless, in their eyes, for that was what fiction was.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, even when guns were pointed at him from all corners. He couldn’t bring himself to be the coffee boy for his adopted father, couldn’t stand to see that sneer in his mother’s eye when she felt like they were doing him such a favor.
His whole life he’d felt like a favor. And now, he felt like he was in control, like he needed no one. Even if that meant unsavory business and dealing with the office hierarchies—and the women.
He thought of Scarlet now, the terror on her face—and the nerve of her to suggest she was going to the cops. He’d labeled her as an intellectual. Still, those headstrong ones were dangerous. Sexy as hell? Of course. Irresistible to him? Absolutely. But dangerous? You better believe it.
His phone rang, and he groaned. Couldn’t he even get lunch in peace? He looked down, wondering which “business associate” this one was going to be. He sighed in relief as Alex’s name popped up on his phone.
“Jesus, please tell me the whole building is burning down at this point. It’ll save me the hassle,” Chuck announced as he answered the phone.
Alex didn’t laugh or give a witty comeback as usual. Great. It was anxious Alex calling. The last thing Chuck wanted to deal with.
“You don’t think this is all connected ...” he asked tentatively, the loud, boisterous Alex sobered by the thought of it. This was a monthly call at this point, and Chuck didn’t need to clarify what his friend from high school was talking about.
“Of course not. Chill out, Brother. You know that’s in the past.”
“But everything is just happening at once. It’s starting to worry me,” Alex said.
“You know why it’s happening. It doesn’t have anything to do with that. Why would it?” Chuck reassured, but he didn’t put much heart into his words. He was sick of this regular call. He was tired of being the one who had to still make it okay. If he’d have known, maybe he’d have left Alex stranded that night. Maybe he would’ve done it all differently. He felt a little guilty for that thought, pinching the bridge of his nose as Alex continued.
“I just worry,” Alex admitted. “For obvious reasons.”
Yes, for sure. It was obvious. Because if anyone other than Chuck found out, there went Alex’s life, imploding worse than his own.
“Dude, you know what you need? Go get laid. Maybe it’ll get rid of some of this nervous energy.”
Alex sighed. “You might be right. Know anyone?”
“Pretty sure you slept through all of the winners in the office.”
“There are winners in your office? I didn’t know.” The sassy Alex was back, and Chuck exhaled. If nothing else, he at least knew how to calm him down.
“Well, that’s the truth these days. Now chill out, get Scarlet under control so I can come back without dealing with a total clusterfuck. Deal?” Chuck asked. Giving Alex a task was always an efficient tactic. Keep the guy busy, and he didn’t have time to spin out.
“You’re coming back? After lunch? What’s the world coming to?”
After a few expletives, Chuck hung up the phone and stared back at the ceiling.
He guessed all in all, it could’ve been worse. He could have Alex’s fucked-up life.
In truth, it wouldn’t have taken much for Chuck to have Alex’s life. Maybe that’s why he did it. Maybe that was why he was so protective of him. Ed and Regina had saved Chuck. Who had saved Alex? No one. Maybe when Chuck saw Alex, he saw himself, or what could’ve been. He shuddered at the thought.
His other phone rang, the flip phone he kept close by, as if the other business couldn't possibly be drama-free when his whole world was in an uproar at the moment. He opened it and closed it quickly, hanging up on whoever was at the other end. He knew, of course, who it was. He just had zero ounces of energy left to deal with that disaster.
He didn’t give a shit if it cost him his hand at the moment. He just needed five more minutes to pretend his life wasn’t the disaster that it was, ready to detonate at any second.
Just five more minutes and he’d deal with all of that other business. But for now, he just kept counting.
Chapter Eleven
Gretchen
As always, Gretchen did her best to stay out of the drama happening in the office. Mondays were always an insane day, but today was above and beyond. A severed hand. A scream from Scarlet and some shit about a threat in a book now? The place was imploding more than usual.
Staring at the spreadsheet on her computer as she threw back a Greek yogurt, Gretchen thought about how the place was crumbling long before the mysterious packages were coming in. Chuck had no business running this place. She knew that from day one. Still, it hadn’t stopped her from taking over as the accountant, a job that really did symbolize her penchant for masochism or perhaps, more accurately, her husband’s. She grimaced at the thought.
Still, there was something thrilling, if she was honest, about working for a sketchy yet also sexy man like Chuck. He was like a badass cowboy from one of those shoot-em-up Westerns mixed with Ed Sheerhan. He was quirky but bad, perhaps a murderer in another lifetime. Her straight-laced, straight-A, good girl persona she’d carried her entire life lit up at the thought of it, in actuality.
Perhaps he was a murderer now? Who could know these days? Still, the possibility of being Bonnie to his potential Clyde made her feel alive in ways her husband’s missionary-style sex, spaghetti for dinner Wednesdays, church on Sundays, sleep three feet apart without ever touching vibe couldn’t.
She supposed she was always into that bad boy vibe, looking back. She went out with Gino Newfield, the captain of the science club, in high school. They’d gone steady for years, his perfunctory kiss on her cheek and holding of all doors painting a soft smile on her face. Even when she was professing to love the kindhearted Gino, though, her gaze was elsewhere. Her eye was always wandering to the bad-ass foreign exchange student who stole the mayor’s dog and jumped off the school roof. She fantasized about running away with him, driving across country and sleeping in tents without anyone to tell them who to be. She’d always had one eye on what she supposed she never felt like she could be: free. Wild. Unabashedly herself. There had always been a piece of her that craved rebellion, and if she couldn’t let her strait-laced self explore it, then she desired it in her partner.
Which was unfortunate considering she’d married a true bore of a man, someone even more upright than Gino Newfield. Just like her parents wanted. Just as a good girl like her was supposed to. She hadn’t rocked the boat. She’d went down the sensible road, accounting on her left, an upstanding man on her right. Her life was solid, rigidly so, just like her entire family demanded of her. She was always worried about pleasing people, but now, in her mid-twenties, she realized that had come at the cost of her soul. Because every part of her now ached with the weight of monotony, of every day being the same predictable routine that lit nothing up inside of her. She was reined in by schedules, by expectations, and by the way everyone around her saw her.
She put down her yogurt and stood up, stretching her neck. She’d been crunching numbers all morning and getting creative about the financials, as she always did. When he’d first approached her about the task, she latched onto the monumental challenge of it. She reawakened, a blip of the badness of it all exciting her for the first time in a while. Instead of a Chai latte being her biggest Monday excitement, she had to figure out how to keep the authorities off their backs. She had to find ways to hide money so it couldn’t be noticed, like some badass chick from an action movie. It was thrilling in a way she didn’t think her boring life could be.
Still, things had escalated in the past few weeks. No matter how good she was at what she was doing, she had a feeling it wasn’t enough anymore. It was going to catch up with Evermore, with Chuck, and with her. Her stomach fell at the thought. Rebelling in this way wasn’t sexy or intriguing. It was just dangerous.
Someone was sick of Chuck’s shit. Obviously. She just wondered how far they’d go. Money drove people to insane measures, she knew. That was something they didn’t teach in your accounting classes. They didn’t have to.
She could leave, get out of this dysfunctional office. She could get a job somewhere reputable, where her biggest worry was if the printer was working. Still, something about him made her want to stay, to help save him. Something about Chuck made her life not as sad as it could be. He brought potential to her life for excitement, even if it was through criminal enterprises. Beggars couldn’t be choosers when it came to getting your kicks, she’d decided.
Standing at the front of her office, she looked out the glass into the maze of cubicles. People busied themselves. A few younger employees played on their phones. She rolled her eyes. This generation. She glanced across the way to Scarlet’s office, where she stood, primping her red hair. She’d noticed her eyeing Chuck lately, which pissed Gretchen off. Like he’d go for a redhead over a blonde.
As if on cue, the devil himself came storming past her office, heading straight to his. Blood was streaming down his face despite the paper towel he held to it. Her heart raced as she rushed as fast as her stilettos would allow her.
“Chuck, what happened?” she asked, bursting into his office as she shut the door.
Chuck plopped himself into his desk chair, leaning back in that cocky stance she loved. He clutched the paper towel to his head. Gretchen crossed the floor, pulling it back to reveal a gash that was on the border of needing stitches.
“Jesus,” she proclaimed, blotting at it gingerly despite her disdain for blood.
“It’s just a scratch.”
She rolled her eyes at his male bravado. “Of course. Where did you go?”
“To take care of some things.” He reached into his pocket for a can of chewing tobacco, but she batted his hand away to still him. She kept pressure on the wound.
“What things?” she asked. She thought about sitting on his lap but remembered the office was brimming with perusing eyes. They already talked enough about how she’d gotten so much power in the company. She stayed put.
“The hand and threat thing. I think I know who's behind it.”
“Do you owe someone again?” she asked. It was a rhetorical question. Chuck always owed someone, hence her accounting challenges. They didn’t teach you how to cook the books in her college classes. She’d had to be smart, something she prided herself in.
“It’s taken care of.”
“You need to get it together. This business of yours is starting to seep into the office now in big ways. It’s gotten out of hand, no pun intended. It just takes one phone call from an untrustworthy employee and we’re on the map. Don’t you think one of those people out there is going to get freaked out? Going to call? The bird was one thing. But a hand?”
He shoved her hand off of him, causing her heart to leap. He stood up now, standing over her. “You think I don’t know that? You think I’m an idiot? I know exactly what’s at stake here, more than you. I’m risking everything.”
He’d been snapping more at her, his volatility alarming. Anger flooded through her, though, at his condescending remark. She stood up straighter now, chest puffed, and tossed the bloodied towel to the ground. Blood still ran from his head, but not as bad.
“And I’m not risking anything? Who is going to be the first one tossed in jail for embezzlement and all sorts of other shit? I put my neck out on the line every day here for you. Without me, you wouldn’t even have an enterprise to fucking run. Don’t forget that.”
“No one asked you to do it,” he replied, turning now and looking out the office window into the city.
“You did. You asked me to. But you didn’t have to because I would do it for the business even if you weren’t in the picture. I’d do it to save what we do here. And, to be honest, I do it for you.” She wasn’t typically a vulnerable person, but maybe the fact she felt like she was losing him helped her be brave enough to get the truth off her chest. She exhaled loudly, trying to let the fear of it all out. She was terrified of losing him, in truth, because without Chuck, without this shady shit, yes, her life would be safe again. But safety had almost led her to a razor blade ending just to put herself out of her monotonous misery.
He turned to her, softer now, and her anger quelled. Maybe that was the bad boy spell ... and curse. There was this wave of love that always washed over her when she was able to conquer his raw emotion, to worm her way in and see the sensitive side no one else got to. She stepped forward, looking out the window with him.
“I thought we agreed we were going to get things together now that we got that payment last month. I thought we were going to stop all this extra stuff and do things the right way. We had that book last month that did well, and Scarlet’s got a new author she swears is going to be an overnight success. We could build something real, Chuck. Together. We have the cash flow we need and the reserves. We don’t have to keep up this dangerous game.”
He sighed. “It’s never really enough, though. We kept this place going for so long in it. Plus, I’m invested now. It’s not something you just back out of. The severed hand would be just the start if I quit.”
“Then we can go somewhere. You and me. Leave and start over on the coast. A new publisher, a new business. Or hell, we could try something completely new.”
He turned to look at her. “And Todd would be okay with that?”
He knew she hated it when he brought up Todd. In her mind, they existed in separate realities. She liked to keep it that way.
She leaned in close enough that she knew he could get a whiff of that perfume he’d bought her. She watched him shift his weight to his other foot and hoped he was actively trying not to jump her bones.
“Todd who? I’m all yours. You know that.”
He smirked, glancing behind them at the office rats who were all in their own worlds of books, manuscripts, and technology. He yanked on her hand and pulled her into the corner of the office where less people could see them. There was still the risk, though. Her heart fluttered at that.
