Chapter 25
ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
Marlon.
The fax machine went off while I was already irritated.
“That should be it,” Marcus said through the phone. I walked over, pulled the sheet out with my free hand and read it:
Dillon Rodriguez.
Resignation.
Signed like a regular business move and not the fallout of him losing his damn mind a month ago.
No apology or explanation. He was doing everybody a favor. I read it anyway.
Front to back.
“Tch,” I folded it once and set it on my desk. “So that’s it, huh?”
“Looks that way,” Marcus exhaled with exhaustion. “Per the agreement, he’s gonna step down as long as no charges are pressed.”
I rubbed my neck. “I never was gonna press them.”
“I was!” Marcus yelled through the speaker. “I had the shit written up and everything! You were shot, Marlon. He could’ve killed you! No matter what happened between you, him, Alice and Aurora, he took it entirely too far.”
I blew out hard. “It was an accident, Marcus. Like I told you before, we tussled for the gun and it went off.”
“He never should’ve pulled it!” Marcus was getting loud again. “I never should’ve allowed him to sweep the first time he did that to Jason under the rug.”
My eyes grew, “So he really did that?”
“I told you he did!”
“Yeah, but I thought you were exaggerating.” My shoulder pulled the second I turned to pick up my phone.
“Evidently, I wasn’t.”
“Hm,” I looked down at the sling. “It’s over now. I just want to put this all behind me.”
“It’s not a good decision.”
“Marcus, I can’t put Rory through that,” I finally admit. “Court? Testifying? Having to choose between me and her dad? She’s been through enough, man. I can’t do that to her.”
Silence.
“How’s Aurora doing anyway?” Marcus asked.
I shrugged and my shoulder stung. “She’s okay physically. Mentally?”
“Maybe she should talk to someone,” Marcus advised. “Both of you should.”
I nodded. The sling kept my arm in place, but it didn’t stop the irritation. Everything I did reminded me of that night. I couldn’t ride Spades.
Couldn’t get out in the rows like I used to, I couldn't pick or feel the grapes myself. I had to stand there and tell somebody else what I already knew how to do.
That part pissed me off more than getting shot.
So I stayed inside more, handling all the shit I usually ignored until I had no choice. But that wasn’t even the worst of it.
Now, Rory refused to touch me.
She’s so paranoid she’d break me, the only time she’d even lay hands on me was to change my bandages. And with my arm like this, I couldn’t exactly impose my will onto her as a Dom right now.
Ironic how just when I felt comfortable enough to let someone into my space, finally allowing someone to hold me, Dillon took that away from me when I needed it most.
It wasn’t fair. None of it was. Especially to Rory. Because of me and Dillon’s…fighting, she was in a weird position. Some nights she’d wake up screaming. Others she’d just say with Orim. And she was so traumatized by the events, she barely went to Alice anymore, so Hartland and Patch took over.
I spent most of my free time on the phone with my brother or with Chewy. I’d walk him everyday. He became my new companion here, since everyone around me seemed to be walking on egg shells.
I peeked over my desk to see him sleeping on my chair.
“I think you’re right.” I answered Marcus. “Thank you, by the way. You really stuck by me these past weeks. I appreciate that.”
“Of course, little brother.”
I chuckled. “I’ll let that one slide.”
“Yeah, yeah. Are we still playing golf in May?”
“Nigga, I don’t got a working arm right now!”
“Fine, I’ll play and you watch.”
I groaned. “Bye, Marcus.”
“Night, bro.”
I hung up and looked over at Chewy. Still sleeping.
Good, I needed to take a scroll and find his mother anyway, so I picked the paper back up and headed out.
I found her at the reception desk.
Not behind it but under it. Half her body was crouched down with the drawers pulled open and files stacked around her like she had been at it for a while.
She was digging, so damn focused she didn’t even notice me walk up.
I stepped closer, watching her reach deeper into the cabinet. Her head came up quick and I moved without thinking. My hand braced against the edge of the desk right where she was about to hit it.
She bumped into it anyway, but my palm took the impact.
She paused and looked up.
“Marley? Hey… what’s up?”
“You left out early this morning,” I reminded her.
She shifted, pushing herself up a little but not fully standing yet.
“Yeah, well. You were asleep and I had to talk to Hartland about revenue.”
“It couldn’t wait?”
She slid another file out, flipping it open without even looking at me.
“No,” she said. “No, we're both very busy. How can I help you?”
Straight to business, I see.
I handed her the resignation paper and she took it, scanning it quick.
“Wow.”
“You talk to him?” I asked.
She shook her head slightly, already moving the paper aside and reaching for another folder.
“Not recently. Last I heard he was in Milan.”
“I see.”
I took the paper back.
“Well. I guess he’s not coming back here anytime soon.”
“Right.”
No emotion.
She moved to the next cabinet as I followed her.
“What you even looking for?” I asked, watching her flip through another set of files.
“Payroll inconsistencies,” she said. “There’s something off in the backend.”
“Okay well can you stop and talk to me for a second?” I asked. “Are you okay with this?”
She didn’t look up.
“What can I do to change it if I’m not?” she said. “It’s my fault any of this happened anyway.”
I exhaled through my nose. “Aurora. What happened between your father and me is not your fault.”
She kept moving.
“You two were friends for over thirty years and I came in and ruined everything.”
“I think you forgot the part where I slept with his wife years before that,” I reminded, “and me being the one to tell him about us.”
She didn’t even slow down.
“Still,” she said. “I never should’ve crossed the line with you. You wouldn’t have been hurt if I didn’t.”
Damn it.
“…look at me.”
She kept shuffling through the files, acting like she ain’t hear me.
“Bunny,” I said, a little firmer. “Look at me, please.”
She stopped, then she looked up.
“I’m alive,” I held her gaze. “I’m okay. You aren’t the reason for this. So please stop avoiding me.”
She stared at me.
Then her eyes dropped to the sling, then the bandage underneath, then back to my face.
“I know you said you’re okay,” she started. “But that don’t mean you are.”
“I am,” I said.
“No, you’re not,” she replied, shaking her head slightly. “You got shot, Marlon. Like… actually shot. And I keep thinking about that, like what if something went different. What if you didn’t move? What if—”
She stopped herself, pressing her lips together like she didn’t want to say it out loud.
“I wake up some nights thinking I’m about to walk into that room again,” she admitted. “Like it’s happening over and over.”
I stepped a little closer, “You don’t gotta go through that alone, Bunny.”
She laughed lightly, but there wasn’t anything funny about it.
“I kinda do,” she said. “Cause I don’t even know how to be around you right now.”
Ouch.
“I’m scared I’m gonna hurt you,” she added. “I don’t wanna touch you wrong. Don’t wanna do too much. And then on top of that, I-I keep thinking I’m the reason you even in this position.”
“You’re not,” I said immediately.
“But if I never—”
“You’re not,” I repeated, firmer this time.
She went quiet again. I reached out with my good arm, resting my hand lightly against her side.
“I made my own decisions,” I said. “Everything that happened between me and your father… it ain’t start with you.”
She didn’t respond right away, but I saw her shoulders drop just a little.
“I’m here,” I added. “Still standing and still dealing with your stubborn ass.”
That got the smallest reaction out of her.
“And I love you. Don’t push me away when I need you the most, okay? We need each other right now. You understand?”
She nodded.
“Good,” I kissed her forehead. “Now say it back.”
“I love you too, Marlon.”
“Hm,” I stood there for a second before I looked down at the mess of files around her.
“Why you even out here digging through all this for payroll, anyway?”
She wiped her hands on her pants lightly, glancing back at the open cabinet.
“Cause Hartland and I went through all the boxes of paperwork,” she said, shifting back into that focused tone. “And we keep coming across this one employee number that’s showing inactive.”
I frowned slightly.
“No resignation is attached,” she continued. “No changes in bank statements. Nothing. So I figured I’d just check if Mom has any records at her desk. Or at least a phone number we can call.”
I straightened a bit.
“What’s the number?” I asked. “Maybe I can help.”
She reached down, grabbing a folder and flipping through it until she found the page she was looking for.
Then she turned it toward me. “17A.”
The second I saw it I knew.
She noticed.
“You know it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.
I exhaled slowly. “Yeah.”
“What is it?”
“That’s Alice’s employee number.”
She blinked.
“…what?”
“I never closed it,” I said. “Couldn’t bring myself to. So it just sat there.”
Her brows pulled together immediately.
“That don’t make sense,” she said. “If it’s inactive, why is it still showing movement in the system?”
“Movement?” I repeated.
“Yeah,” she said, already flipping through more pages. “It’s still being calculated in payroll growth. Every year. Five percent, just like everybody else.”
“That shouldn’t be happening,” I frowned.
“That’s what I’m saying,” she replied, her tone sharpening now. “And there’s no linked account for withdrawals. Which means the money isn’t going anywhere.”
We both went quiet.
Rory straightened a little, flipping the folder closed halfway before looking back up at me.
“Do you know what bank she used?” she asked.
“Same as everybody else,” I said. “We kept it consistent. Easier for payroll.”