39. An Uninvited Guest
thirty-nine
Liz
Walking around the inn, I am still trying to clean and organize to get this place ready for investors to come look at. It’s kept me busy the past few days from the whole tabloid fallout.
Although I’ve tried to be as level-headed as Jack, I’m not even close. Every time I think of it, it just makes me mad all over again. So, I spend my days trying to keep as busy as possible, and Jack makes sure I spend my nights having orgasm after orgasm.
Although the situation isn’t ideal, the mind-numbing pleasure is certainly a perk.
And thankfully, no one around town seemed to find the article. I guess that people around here don’t care much about tabloids. They’d rather keep all their gossip traveling along the internal grapevine.
I hear the front door chime, and I call from the kitchen, “Be right there!”
No one responds, and I wonder if it’s just Mr. McArthur coming for another few days away from his wife. What is that man going to do when this place isn’t here anymore?
But when I round the corner, I don’t see the older gentleman with his top hat and thick-rimmed glasses. Instead, I see a thin man wearing a neatly pressed suit. His blonde hair is slicked back, and not a thing on him is out of place.
Nothing on him was ever out of place.
I should know. We were business partners for years.
And on again, off again lovers for almost as long.
“Mitch,” I say open-mouthed.
“Hey, Liz.”
It takes me a moment to gather myself to even understand what is happening right now. This man is a wanted fugitive. Why the hell is he standing in the lobby of the inn in my hometown?
“What the fuck?” is all I manage to get out.
He licks his lips. “I see that mouth of yours hasn’t changed. You always did love to drop the F-bomb.”
“Mainly when it’s warranted,” I spit. “Like when the person who ruined my life is standing in front of me. I ought to kick the shit out of you.”
He gives a small grin. That grin used to make me weak at the knees. Now, it just makes me sick to my stomach. “Probably. But I came here to talk to you. And that’s going to be hard if you’re kicking the shit out of me.”
“I can’t imagine what you came here to say.”
“Well, maybe we could talk, and I could tell you.”
As much as I want to scream at him to get the fuck out, I can’t help my growing curiosity. And I mean, I can always kick the shit out of him after he talks.
“Fine,” I say.
“Do you have any coffee?”
“Mitch, you’re really fucking pushing it,” I warn.
“Please.”
As I walk to the kitchen to pour a cup from the carafe, I use this moment to pull out my phone and send a text to Jack.
I need you. How fast can you get here?
Instead of waiting for a response, I shove the phone back in my pocket. I know that he won’t keep me waiting long. I’m sure Mitch would rather this conversation be between just us, but I’d feel better with my very large, very intimidating boyfriend here to have my back.
When I turn around, I see Mitch has taken a seat at one of the tables. I hand him his coffee and sit down across from him.
“You’re not going to have any?” He asks.
“You don’t want me to have any more energy right now, Mitch. Get to talking before I call the cops. I’m guessing there are still multiple warrants out for your arrest.”
“Oh, they already know where I am.” He lifts up his pant leg to show a monitoring device strapped to his ankle. “They have me on a pretty short leash.”
“It’s about time someone did,” I say. “If the cops found you, how are you not in jail?”
He sips his coffee. “Well, they didn’t exactly find me. I came to them.”
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
“I cut a deal. I was a very small fish in a very big pond. I gave them some information on some players much higher up the food chain than me. And as of tomorrow, I will go into Witness Protection.”
“Does that mean I’ll never have to see you again?” I ask.
He nods. “That’s exactly what that means. But first, I thought I should try to make some amends with you.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible. You ruined me. My business. My reputation. Everyone thought that I was a joke because I was the one left holding the bag.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t intentionally mean to hurt you.”
I glare at him. “Intentions don’t matter. A hole in the head is still a hole in the head, no matter the intent behind it.”
He glances down at his watch as though he’s keeping a close eye on the time.
I say, “But just for shits and giggles, why don’t you tell me how you didn’t mean to do any of the things you did?”
“When you and I started doing business together, I really was on the up and up. Everything was fine. But I started to gamble…a lot. When I owed money to a lot of the people you don’t want to owe money to, I got into the drug game. That made double the amount of people who wanted money from me. I started robbing Peter to pay Paul. Unfortunately, the business is what suffered.”
I lean forward and point my finger into my own chest. “No, Mitch. I’m the one who suffered. I had to go to court. My life was torn apart by the IRS. They took everything from me.”
“And if I could go back and change it, I would. But I can’t. I’m hoping now I can try to make it a little better.”
Only half listening to what he’s saying, I ask, “How’d you find me? When I left LA, I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. And honestly, I’m not sure that you even ever cared to remember where it was that I was originally from.”
“Honestly?”
I nod.
“I hired a private investigator to track you down. He found you here but then followed you and your new boyfriend to Miami.”
Well, shit. I guess the photos were ultimately my fault.
“Are you the one that sold the photos to the tabloids?” I ask.
“Oh, please, Liz. I’m not nearly that crass.” The way Mitch talks screams that he grew up rich. He has that whole ‘new money’ air about him. But knowing that he grew up with next to nothing. I think having any money at all has gone to his head.
How was I ever interested in such a stuck-up asshole like him? Did I act like this?
Good lord, I hope not.
But it wouldn’t surprise me if I did.
“You seem to be happy,” he says.
“Am I happy with Jack? Absolutely. He’s pretty much the only good thing in my life right now, so if you’re about to get on your soap box about how you did me some sort of favor, you might as well save that bullshit.”
“No, I know I did you wrong. As I said, I’m here to make amends.”
He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and hands me an envelope. “I know it doesn’t make up for everything, but I hope maybe it will help a little.”
I try not to let him see my fingers trembling as I tear it open. Inside is a check for half a million dollars.
My jaw drops.
“Am I supposed to believe this is real?” I ask.
“It’s a cashier’s check, Liz. It’s not like it’s going to bounce.”
“With you, I never know. Why the hell are you giving me this? And how do you still have this kind of money if you turned yourself into the feds?”
He smiles. “Let’s just say I still have a few friends who owed me some favors to keep their names out of my statements. I won’t go into details.”
“Who are you? Like, really. Because you aren’t the man I considered my best friend and partner.”
He adjusts his jacket. “I used to be that guy. And then, life chewed me up and spit me out.”
“What if I don’t want your money?” I ask.
“Then, don’t take it. Donate it or something. I don’t care. But if you want to go back to LA, I talked to Chelsea and Tiana. They’d love to have you come work for them, no questions asked.”
Chelsea and Tiana ran a competing real estate firm, but we were all best friends back in LA. When shit hit the fan, they tried to stick around for a while, but ultimately, it wasn’t good for their images.
He adds, “I explained to them that everything was my fault, and they know the whole story. They’d love to have you on their team if you’re interested.”
“I don’t need a handout,” I tell him. “I’m not a charity case.”
“Oh, I’m well aware. I’m not doing this because I pity you.”
I run my hands through my messy curls. “Then, why? Why do any of this? You were sitting on a plush beach somewhere I’m sure. Why come back and turn yourself in?”
“Because some sins are just too big to live with.”
Jack storms through the front door, calling, “Liz?”
Before I can answer, he finds me. “Are you okay?” Turning around, he sees Mitch. “Who is this?”
“I’m nobody,” Mitch replies before I can. “Just one of Liz’s bad memories.”
With that, he turns and walks out the door.