Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
JASON
Sitting at the breakfast bar at the island in the large kitchen, Jason took another sip of pineapple juice.
He would have preferred grapefruit juice. With a healthy pour of vodka. A salty dog sounded great right about now. Considering the circumstances. Considering the mess they were in. The mess Alex had made. The firm he, Chris, and Alex had founded ten years ago and had made considerable sums of money from, was potentially on the verge of bankruptcy.
Because of Alex.
Everything, good or bad, right or wrong, was always because of Alex. Because of some action or reaction he carried out. Because of some decision or direction he made. The world centered around Alex. And it shouldn’t be that way. Jason didn’t know why they allowed Alex to center himself in everyone’s life. Maybe they didn’t know how to put their feet down and stand up to him. Maybe they didn’t want to. It was scary, and more than a bit pathetic, to think that they put up with Alex’s unrepentant narcissism because they’d always put up with it and were comfortable with him calling the shots. Directing the show. Telling everyone what to do and how to do it.
Maybe he and Chris didn’t want to make the decisions.
Maybe they were wary of change, of taking the risks that Alex took and shouldering the burdens he’d carried all these years to make sure the firm made a profit.
Jason rubbed his eyes.
The firm wouldn’t be in trouble if not for Alex. And Alex’s misguided attempts to get the firm out of trouble had failed spectacularly, and now they all were probably fucked. Phil hated them and wanted to ruin their lives. Jason knew he could do it. Phil would do it.
The notes had riled Phil up. Enraged him. And now he was out for blood.
Jason took another sip of the pineapple juice. He didn’t understand the notes. Didn’t know who could have sent them. Or why. Phil was convinced it was one of the six of them. Jason wasn’t sure about that, but who the hell knew? Alex was right about one thing. The notes didn’t matter. Who cared who sent them? They couldn’t waste time on a pointless investigation.
They needed to figure out a way to deal with Phil.
A way that didn’t involve an unfortunate accident. Jason bristled, thinking of Alex’s suggestion. Was he serious? Jason hoped not, but?—
“You don’t have to believe me!”
Startled by the anguished plea, Jason glanced over his shoulder.
Grace stomped into the kitchen, her face red and puffy, eyes wide and wild.
“Honey, please!” Chris hurried after Grace, panic in his gaze. “You have to calm down! Let’s just think about this logically!”
“I don’t need to think about anything!” Grace said, facing her husband, glaring at him. “I am not crazy or mistaken and you don’t have to believe me! I know what I saw!”
Confused by the lack of context concerning their conversation, Jason finished his juice. He wasn’t in the mood to get in the middle of a spousal argument. Now would probably be a good time to exit, stage left.
And Jason would have gotten up and left, but Chris was staring at him with a beseeching expression. Jason understood Chris’ silent plea. The guy needed help. Needed to know what to do. How to fix the predicament he was in. Jason wasn’t surprised.
Since he’d first met Chris at WBU fifteen years ago, the guy had been clueless, helpless. Academically, Chris was razor sharp. A genius with facts and concepts, critical thinking, and pattern recognition. He’d been at the top of his class at WBU and had graduated magna cum laude at law school. When it came to case studies and precedents, Chris was a savant .
But he faltered at social skills.
Chris lacked the verbal communication, social cues, collaboration, conflict resolution, persuasion, social awareness, or any of the innumerable mechanisms needed to play well with others. He relied on others to guide and direct him.
Or, rather, he depended on Alex to direct and guide him.
His overreliance on Alex’s suggestions and counsel had led him to make disastrous decisions. It is more like a submission to Alex’s will. Chris had given up his independence in favor of Alex’s suggestions and counsel, most of which was Alex telling Chris to follow his lead and let him take care of everything, which Chris had always been willing to do because he admired Alex. Chris believed Alex had his best interests at heart. Even when Alex’s ideas proved to be detrimental to Chris, he convinced himself that, somehow, Alex still knew best and any hardships were necessary.
Alex was never wrong, as far as Chris was concerned.
In Alex he trusted.
Tempering his irritation, Jason asked, “What’s going on?”
“Everything okay?” asked Sarah, striding into the kitchen, dressed in a sheer, billowy cover-up beneath which she wore a skimpy white bikini. “I thought I heard someone crying?”
“Everything is fine,” Chris said, staring at Jason with darting eyes, as though expecting him to make everything right. As though with a few soothing words, Jason could ease Chris’ panic and calm Grace’s anxiety.
“Everything is not fine!” Grace said, pacing the length of the kitchen, from the stove to the Sub-Zero double-door stainless refrigerator, wiping tears from her blotchy cheeks. “Everything is so far from fine!”
Jason caught Sarah’s questioning gaze as she walked to the island. He returned a questioning look of his own, letting her know he had no idea what the hell was happening, nor was he particularly interested, but because Chris seemed just about ready to have a meltdown, Jason cleared his throat. “Grace, what’s going on?”
Stopping abruptly, Grace faced him, her face twisted with fear and rage.
“You want to know what’s wrong?” Grace said, the words escaping through gritted teeth. “What’s wrong is that … Alex is dead …”