26. Marc
Marc
“I t’s so good to see you again.”
Even though Kitty Roebuck was only six years older than Marc, after his nana died, she’d fallen into the role of Mom. He stepped into her embrace and hugged her back.
“It’s great to see you too.”
Huck meandered into the hallway carrying Mischief, his favourite cat. She was more like a big dog, the way she followed him around all day and rolled over for belly rubs. Marc extricated himself from Kitty’s arms to offer Huck his preferred handshake.
“How are you doing, buddy?”
Huck’s brow furrowed, and Kitty removed his noise-cancelling headphones.
“How are you doing, buddy?” Marc repeated.
“Good.”
“And how’s Mischief?”
“Good.”
“I hear you made lasagne?”
“And all the fixins,” he said proudly, then headed back to the kitchen. Huck was a man of few words.
“I’d better go help him,” Kitty said, her eyes sparkling. She seemed unusually happy. “Phae sent you a gift.”
Yeah, she had. Marc couldn’t help being disappointed by the software licence, but baby steps, right? At least she hadn’t cut him off completely. And no, he was never going to change his email password.
He plastered on a fake smile. “We ran into each other and cleared the air.”
“You did? She didn’t mention that.”
“It was…unexpected.”
“Oh, I thought the gift would be a nice surprise.” Kitty sounded disappointed. “Well, it’s waiting in your room. They said to open it before dinner.”
“They?”
“The folks who delivered it.”
There was another gift? Marc felt a spark of excitement—maybe the password software had been a prank present, the one to dash his hopes before Phae raised them again? Back in the old days, she’d never been one for joking around, but she’d changed, hadn’t she?
A clatter came from the kitchen, and Kitty startled. “I really should go watch Huck. And make sure you look surprised when he gives you your painting later—I know you get one every year, but it means a lot to him.”
“I’ll act delighted, I promise.”
Marc jogged up the stairs to the bedroom Kitty had assigned him after Rex died. Everyone knew he didn’t sleep in there, not while Phae was still around anyway, but it had given him a place to leave his clothes.
He’d expected a small package, not the huge box sitting on the floor beside the bed.
It had to be four feet square. What was it?
Some kind of furniture? He’d quietly started looking for a builder to renovate his nana’s house with a view to spending more time in Abundance now that he’d pulled the plug on his career, but he hadn’t broadcast the move. Had Kitty mentioned his plans to Phae?
He tore off the paper to reveal plain cardboard.
Huh. If it was something that needed assembly, he could build it with Huck.
Huck loved puzzles. Marc only hoped whatever was inside the box hadn’t been damaged, because there were holes in the side and they didn’t look as if they were supposed to be there.
The lid was sealed, and he picked at the tape with his fingernails, wishing he’d taken a leaf out of Phae’s book and brought a knife with him. One nail broke, then the tape peeled off in one long strip and he pulled the lid open.
Oh fuck.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.
A strangled sound burst from his throat—a sob?
A gasp?—and he desperately reached for Phae’s arm, searching for a pulse.
Phae was in the box. Phae was in the fucking box.
He almost wept with relief when he felt her heart beating strongly, and he paused to study her.
She was sleeping peacefully, totally unaware of her surroundings, curled up in a pretty jade-green dress that matched her eyes.
Then he spotted the plastic bag duct-taped to her thigh and tore it free.
A note fluttered toward the floor, and he grabbed it.
Happy Thanksgiving!
She’s going to be pissed, but not at you. Try to convince her not to kill us, okay?
The Choir
P.S. Press the autoinjector against her thigh and then stand back. She isn’t armed, but you don’t want to be within punching distance when she wakes up.
P.P.S. She gets Depo shots, and she doesn’t have any communicable diseases.
Marc tore his hands through his hair. The Choir? Was that her team? Those lunatics. Those utter lunatics. How was he meant to explain this to Phae? To Kitty?
He paced the room, glancing back at the box every few seconds.
There were no “return to sender” instructions, no way to turn back the clock and pretend this never happened.
He couldn’t just leave Phae in there. He’d have to wake her.
But what was in that syringe? Was it safe? Should he call an ambulance?
If he called an ambulance, Phae would quickly become the number-one subject on the Abundance gossip tree, HIPAA be damned. Too many people from town worked in the hospital. And being the centre of attention was the last thing Phae would want.
The Choir might be a bunch of psychos, but they weren’t fools. They’d never put Phae’s life at risk. Their own, possibly, because she sure wouldn’t be happy about this turn of events, but not hers.
Finally, he decided to follow the instructions.
One of her so-called friends had helpfully drawn an X on her thigh, and he positioned the autoinjector against it.
Pressed hard until he felt the needle deploy.
Hoped to fuck he’d done the right thing.
Every second felt like a year as he knelt over the box, waiting, praying even though he wasn’t a believer.
Her eyelids flickered, then…nothing. How long did the magic potion take to work?
Marc pulled out his phone to check the time, and that was when the blur of Phae sprang out of the box and knocked him to the floor.
Now it was his turn to see stars as her hands closed around his throat.
Then released just as quickly.
“Shit!” She shook her head, confused, still straddling him. “What the…?”
“Believe me, I’m as baffled as you are.”
“Did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m fine.”
More or less. Marc shook his head to clear it, and who cared if he had a mild concussion? Not him. Not when Phae was leaning over him like a succubus.
“How the fuck did I get here?” She glanced around the room, taking in the box and the autoinjector. “They gift-wrapped me? Those psychos gift-wrapped me? I’m gonna kill them. I swear, I’m gonna kill them all.”
“They said you might do that.”
“You spoke with them?”
“There was a note taped to your thigh.”
She spotted it on the floor and snatched it up. “For fuck’s sake. I can’t believe they took my weapons.”
“I’m glad they did, even if I have suddenly become pro-murder in the last few minutes.” Marc rubbed the bump on his head. “I can’t believe they did this.”
“Me neither.” A pause. “No, actually I can. This is Jez’s payback for me doing the same to her, although in my defence, I didn’t act alone and she remained conscious the entire time.”
“So how was it the same?”
Phae closed her eyes and sighed. “We decided she’d be better off with Cole than without him.”
“And how did that work out for her?”
“They’re so happy it makes my teeth hurt.”
Hope sparked in Marc’s heart, and he sat up so he was eye to eye with his girl.
“Then why can’t we be happy too? And don’t tell me Cole isn’t a movie star, because soon I won’t be one either.”
“I don’t want you to give up your career for me.”
“I didn’t; I gave it up for me. It was time.”
“You’ve quit acting completely?”
“I don’t need the money. Maybe I’ll do a passion project from time to time, and I’d guest-star in another Whispers special if Serena asked me to, but no more blockbusters after my existing commitments.”
“I was going to surprise you in LA next week. I already booked a flight. None of this subterfuge was even necessary.”
The knot in Marc’s stomach loosened a little, and the spark of hope burned hotter. “It would have been a wasted trip because I figured I’d stay here for a while and renovate Nana’s house.”
“Oh.”
“But if I’d known you were in LA, I would’ve broken every speed limit driving to the airport.”
“So you could get another citation?”
Phae leaned her forehead against his, and that was the moment he knew he had her back. Nothing about this would be easy, but it would be worth it.
“Well, as long as Chet Billings wasn’t on duty. After he joined the highway patrol, he turned into a real jobsworth.”
“I can handle Chet Billings.” She sighed softly. “For me, a conventional relationship is impossible. My job, the travel, my sociopathic tendencies…” She paused for a beat, and her voice grew hoarse. “But whatever I can give is yours.”
Heat turned to flames, and Marc swallowed down the lump in his throat.
“That’s all I’m asking for. Uh, sociopathic tendencies?”
“According to the shrink, I’m a charming liar who lacks empathy. Which is hardly a disadvantage in my line of work—what am I supposed to do, cry myself to sleep every time I shoot a terrorist?”
She wasn’t lying now. No, Phae was being disturbingly honest for once in her life. And she wasn’t completely devoid of empathy either. You only had to watch her with Kitty and Huck to understand how big her capacity for love was, and Marc had felt that passion too.
He quoted Nietzsche again. “There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”
Phae kissed him, and this time it was sweet and tender, more like the old days. Finding their way back to each other sure would be an adventure.
“What are we supposed to tell Kitty?” he muttered.
“I guess…I guess we say I wrapped myself up in the box as a surprise for you.”
“It was certainly that.”
“Despite Dad being a grade-A shit, Kitty’s still a romantic at heart. She’ll believe it.” Phae checked her watch. “And it’s nearly dinner time. We should probably go downstairs.”
“We should.”
They stared at each other.
“So, about those Depo shots…” Marc started.
“Have you been tested lately?”
“Last year, but it’s just been me and my hand since then. And you. Man, that was a wild night.”
“Lock the door.”
She didn’t need to tell him twice. He leapt up and turned the key as Phae peeled off the green dress and stared down at herself in horrified incredulity.
Marc gave a low whistle when he saw the barely-there thong underwear and the see-through brassiere that did everything for Phae’s breasts and turned him to granite in an instant.
“I like it.”
“Ugh, they dressed me up like a damn doll.”
“I should send your friends a thank-you card. After we yell at them, of course,” he added hastily.
“Hurry up and fuck me already.”
Marc freed his cock and backed Phae against the wall, pushing her underwear aside and sliding his shaft through her slickness. “Fuck” was the wrong word for what he was about to do to Phae. He was going to worship her, today and every day for the rest of their lives.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Phaedra.”
“In case it isn’t obvious, I do still love you.” She moaned as he thrust into her bare. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mr. Gregory.”