Chapter Eight #2
I could barely hear him as I fell back into the seat, clutching my phone to my chest as I brought my knees together.
There was a killer whale paperweight on the corner of his desk, its back arched, fin pointing to the heavens.
It looked like it was having the time of its life.
“Someone stole my money, Mr. Tactine,” I murmured, studying the paperweight.
“Yes, we need to figure this out. I…”
He kept talking, but I couldn’t hear a word.
Because I was drowning again, lost in a sea I never wanted to explore. Dark water filled my lungs, burning me from the inside as my hands reached for something to grab on to, but it was too late.
I was already lost to the past.
“Yes, hello. I’m here for Ms. Margo Bennett. I was told she was here.”
The sound of Rossy’s soft voice had me turned in my seat, and when he stepped into the room, my vision blurred with tears, my face crumpling. I shot up, leaving all my shit in the chair, and ran to him.
“Oh, darling girl—oof!”
My body crashed into his, my arms locking around his neck, the rough fabric of his tweed suit scratching my arms as he returned the embrace.
“Houston, we have a major problem,” I croaked into his neck, my tears soaking into his shirt.
“Shit is fucked. Everything is fucked, boss man.” I buried my face deeper, sobs racking my body as I let out everything I’d been holding in for the last few hours.
“Margo,” he called, putting his hands on my shoulders and gently pushing me back. My hold around him tightened. I didn’t want to go back to the real world yet.
If I did, then I would have to face my problems. I would have to tell Rossy the truth, let him see a side of me I never wanted anyone in this new part of my life to see.
I wasn’t good enough.
“What’s going on?” Rossy demanded. There was a foreign edge to his voice, and I found a strange comfort in it.
I looked up at him, the weight of my lost future on my shoulders, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. “Someone took my money,” I whispered, shame coating me like a thick, toxic slime, burning my skin. It was as if a dirty secret had been aired out.
Rossy’s brows snapped together, his nostrils flaring. “Money? What money, darling? Were you robbed?”
Yes.
Robbed of everything I’d been working so hard toward for the last few years.
“Ms. Bennett.”
My forehead landed against Rossy’s chest, the scent of raspberry tea that always clung to his tweed overwhelming my senses, reminding me of my safe space.
My home away from home. The bookstore. I sighed, suddenly very tired.
“The university tried to take the payment for next semester out of my account, and it was declined,” I explained softly as my name was called again.
Rossy’s hands fell away from me. “There must be some mistake.”
No.
Just my bad luck catching up to me.
It was foolish of me to dream, to believe I could build a better life for myself.
My bottom lip trembled, and before I knew it, I was sobbing violently into his chest once more.
His arms came around me as he asked my adviser if there was anything that could be done.
I tuned most of the conversation out, knowing Mr. Tactine was only repeating what he’d told me, what his superiors had told me, and now, the dean of the business school had been notified.
I had been instructed to go to my bank first, to see if there was a way to get the money back, claim fraud, and go from there.
Mr. Tactine was also trying to pull some strings with the financial department to see if they would accept late payment on good faith and my GPA.
I was only a handful of credits shy from graduation.
Logically, it was a solid plan, but I couldn’t see that right now.
My anxiety wouldn’t let me see past the first bit of bad news holding me under.
I’d had a panic attack, and Rossy, who is my emergency contact, was notified after I refused to go to the medical ward.
I knew what it was. I didn’t need a doctor to tell me why my body was locked in fight, flight, or freeze.
“The dean will be in touch first thing in the morning, but for now, it would be best if Ms. Bennett goes home to rest. When I called her in today, I had no idea the complications of her situation. I’ve worked here for twelve years, and this is the first time anything like this has happened,” Mr. Tactine murmured from behind me.
“Right. I’ll get her home and we’ll sort this out in the morning,” Rossy agreed, his voice kind as he rubbed my back.
He was always so damn kind.
“Margo,” he called, pushing me back a bit.
When my eyes met his, sadness flashed across his features. “Let’s get you home.”
After two minutes of deliberation, we decided to leave my car on campus and grab it tomorrow.
Rossy’s only priority right now was to get me home so I could “rest.” So he grabbed my things, plopped them in his trunk, and nestled me in the passenger seat of his vintage BMW.
Then we were off. I stared out the window most of the way, soaking up the soft jazz and warmth around me as I disassociated, drifting off into a different world where everything went right for me.
In the real world, I was teased, broken, and always, always left out in the cold.
“Shall I call Sarah or Carrie? Have them mee—”
I whirled in my seat, the plaid blanket he’d given me flying over the cup holders.
“No, please,” I begged. Rossy was a straight arrow when it came to driving, and I’d always found it adorable that his hands were always at ten and two on the steering wheel.
Except right now, it wasn’t adorable because it was paired with a look of concern that scared the crap out of me.
“Margo, the girls are better at—”
“You’re my emergency contact for a reason,” I blurted. “If I wanted either of them, I would have put them as my emergency contact, but I put you because you’ve had my back since my first day at the bookstore. You’ve taken care of me in ways I’ve never had before.”
He turned his head to me for a moment, the headlights of the passing cars highlighting the warmth in his eyes. “Darling,” he whispered.
“All I need is for you to get me home, put on a pot of tea, and leave me on the couch. I don’t need Sarah or Carrie fussing over me. Love them, but that will just make me more anxious,” I explained, leaving out the part about me being utterly embarrassed. “I just need to be in my safe space.”
“Very well, darling,” he murmured, his eyes on the road. “We’ll do just that, but I’ll be back first thing in the morning to take you to your bank. We’re going to get this figured out. I promise.”
Though his words were comforting, I let his promise fade into the evening as I turned back to watch the coastline, memorizing the colors of the sunset. I didn’t have the energy to lie to myself anymore. Instead, I drifted off to sleep and, in my dream, just like in reality, I drowned.
“Margo.”
A light shake of my shoulder.
“Margo, wake up. We’re home.”
My head snapped up, pain shooting down the side of my neck.
I grunted, bringing my hand to the sore spot as I blinked, adjusting to the light.
The neon red sign of the Buoy was particularly bright tonight, the y blinking rapidly.
I hated that damn thing. For the last month, I’d been hassling Joey to fix it because one day someone was going to have a seizure in the parking lot.
Then he would get slapped with a lawsuit, thus leading to fines he couldn’t pay for.
Then the bar of fifty years would go under, and my secondary income would be lost. And after all that was said and done, I would have to beat Joey’s ass with the bat I kept behind my bedroom door in said parking lot for being so incompetent.
“Margo?”
“Yeah, sorry,” I muttered, shaking my head. As Rossy got out and rounded the front of his car, I focused on the nail polish chip on my right index finger. I’d just painted my nails the day before yesterday, so excited to try out this deep, rich purple for Halloween.
My door was opened, and I mustered up the strength to look my boss in the eye. “Why does everything I do go wrong?” I whispered.
Rossy looked across the parking lot for a moment, the gentle sound of the waves in the distance. “Do you truly believe that? That everything you do goes wrong?”
I didn’t give him an answer. Instead, I got out of the car, the brisk autumn air surrounding me, and I shivered.
“Where is your coat?” Rossy asked on a sigh.
“Hanging on the hook in my entryway,” I deadpanned, keeping my eyes to the ground as I headed to my apartment.
Rossy stayed close as we crossed the parking lot, regulars from the bar lingering outside, hooting and hollering.
By all the laughter and hardy smiles, I knew it was a good catch day for most of the fishing crews.
By midnight, the parking lot would be in full swing because there wouldn’t be enough room for everyone in the bar.
Another problem Joey needed to address but failed to.
He was friends with the fire marshal, and because of that, he assumed his father’s bar was safe.
When we got to the staircase at the back of the building that led to my apartment, I heard Rossy mutter something about finding me a new place to live.
“Can’t let you do that, boss man,” I told him over my shoulder as we climbed up. “There’s a sweet window in my bedroom that gives me a killer view of the water. Plus, rent is cheap.”
“Yes, but you’re living above a bar. Doesn’t it get noisy?” he asked as I fished for my keys.
Found them.
“Not really. Joey’s dad knew what he was doing when he built this place” I slid the key into the lock, turned the knob, and pushed.
The front door swung open, and I led him inside.
He’d only been here once or twice in the few years I’d been working for him.
Once to bring me soup when I was sick and the second time to help me move my green couch, something he detested with his entire being.
“Right, well, let me get the kettle on,” Rossy murmured, slipping past me and heading straight toward the kitchen. Last Christmas, he’d bought Sarah, Carrie, and me whistling kettles, claiming a good “cuppa” was the solution to all the world’s problems.
As I heard the water kick on, I stared at the corner of my rug, which had slowly been curling up after I tripped over it one night as I was rushing out the door.
I’d been running late that night, having spent too much time on my homework, hunched over my shitty kitchen table that had a horrible tendency to wobble.
Without taking my eyes away from the curled corner, focusing on the frayed bits of string, a result of wear and tear, I tossed my keys into the baby blue bowl on my entryway table.
The clatter echoed throughout my living room.
“You all right?” Rossy called.
I lifted my eyes, looking over my green couch, finding him standing in front of the stove, kettle in hand. I kicked the door closed and flipped the lock, nodding at him.
Ten minutes later, the tea was made, I was curled up on the couch under my favorite blanket, and You’ve Got Mail was playing on the TV. I lifted the steaming mug, taking a sip, and a moan slipped from my lips. “This is so good,” I groaned.
A small, proud smile found his lips as he pulled out his pocket watch, checking the time. I waved him off with a quiet fake laugh, understanding that he was out of his routine. “You can head home, Rossy. I’ll be okay.”
He shifted his weight, unsure. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
I nodded, giving him a forced smile. “I’ll be here.”
Taking another sip, I drew my attention back to Kathleen Kelly yelling at Joe Fox over caviar being a garnish as Rossy headed to the door.
When he finally left, I let the movie continue to play in the background as I pulled out my laptop and got onto the twenty-four-hour helpline with my bank.
I didn’t have the time to wait until tomorrow.
I needed answers now. When I finally got in touch with a human, after going through twenty minutes with a computer system, the truth cracked my soul in two.
I had been right.
My money had been stolen from me, but not by a hacker.
It was only when the movie credits ended that I threw the blanket off, put my shoes back on, and called an Uber.
I was going to fix this shit right now because there was no way in hell I’d let my past ruin my future—again.