Damage Control
“Of course.”
“What about Seth? Is he here?”
“I have no idea. That man checks in with no one but Shane. Why? What in the world do you need Seth for?”
My intercom buzzes and Brandon Senior barks, “Get Fitzgerald back on the line.”
“Right away,” I say, refocusing on Jessica. “Thanks for the pizza and I’m back to work.”
She leans on the desk. “Do you need me to find Shane or Seth for you?”
“No,” I say. “It’s nothing important.” I hope. I think. “I can talk to Shane this evening.”
“Everything’s okay?”
“Yes. Fine. Please don’t bother them.” My brow furrows. “Why are you being so motherly? It doesn’t suit you.”
“Motherly?” She pushes off the desk, a frown on her face. “I have never been motherly. I am not that old. Eat your damn pizza.” She turns and walks away, and I laugh, grabbing the phone to get Fitzgerald on the line, but not before deciding I’ll have to delve into Jessica’s mothering syndrome over lunch sometime soon.
Another few calls and I finally stuff a bite of pizza in my mouth, and at that very moment, Derek walks around the corner, an older version of Shane in a black suit paired with a red tie. He’s standing over me before I can blink and swallow, watching as I choke and reach for a bottle of water, never saying a word, and I hate that he will think he’s rattled me. I hate it so much. Finally, I’m no longer struggling and find my voice.
“Sorry. I swallowed wrong.”
“Tell him I’m here.”
I pick up the phone and buzz Brandon Senior. “Derek is here,” I say.
“I don’t have time for his nonsense right now. Get rid of him.” He hacks in my ear for several seconds. “Get me more of that damn tea you’re always shoving down my throat.”
“Right away,” I say, quite enjoying the opportunity to send Derek away. I hang up and say, “It’s a bad time. He’s about to be in a big meeting.”
“Is that what he said to you?”
I paraphrase, though nothing would make me happier than to repeat Senior’s exact words. “He said it’s not a good time.”
His eyes glint hard, lingering on me and he abruptly moves. Before I know what is happening, he’s opening his father’s door. The door shuts again, but not before Senior’s angry spewing of profanity reaches my ears. I sigh, resigned to the chastising I will get over this, like I can control Derek. I need to go get the man his tea. I stand up and stick both of my phones back in my waistband, and head for the lobby.
A thought hits me. I dial Jessica. “Can I get Seth’s phone number?”
“Seth again? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” I repeat, removing my phone from my waistband. “And I’m in a hurry. Senior wants tea, and considering Derek just barged into his office after he told me to get rid of him, I want to be back here when whatever is happening in there is over.”
“How very Derek of Derek. It’s not even like it’s unexpected. It’s just him, but I get it. Senior will blame you for the way he made his son. Here’s Seth’s number. Are you ready?”
I pull up a new contact on my phone. “Ready.” She gives me the number and I key it into my contacts. “Thanks.”
“Emily—”
“Mother Jessica. It’s nothing. I promise.”
She sighs. “Fine. How about bringing me a coffee so I have an excuse to nag you again?”
“What do you want?”
“Vanilla latte, nonfat.”
“You got it.”
We end the call, and I head through the lobby, and make my way to the elevator. Once inside, I dial Seth, not even sure he’ll answer, but he does.
“Emily. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” I say, “and I hope you don’t mind Jessica giving me your number.”
“I should have given it to you myself. Did you get that call we talked about?”
“Yes, I did and—”
“I’ll be there in ten to fifteen minutes. I’ll find you.”
“Yes, I—” He ends the call and I murmur, “I just want to know about the security guard,” to the empty space, sticking my phone back in my waistband.
That man is not full of charm, but I’m not easily ruffled and he’s smart and hard in ways I can see work for the role he has by Shane’s side. Which is what, exactly? Head of security? More like the ultimate fixer of all things broken? Yes. He’s the fixer, all right. The man who seals the cracks that might appear in Shane’s armor, while Shane himself fights to hold together the pieces of a family too broken to mend. It’s a problem I understand all too well, and unbidden, my eyes shut, and I flash back to my stepfather lying in a puddle of his own blood, my brother standing in the kitchen covered in that same blood, and my brother’s words play in my head: What the fuck are you doing here?
The car jolts and I inhale with my return to the present, but this time it’s not fear that I feel over the blood and death. My brother had been angry. I’ve remembered that often, but never until now do I remember it being at me. I exit the elevator with the sense that there was more to that night than I have wanted to face, but I can’t think about this now.
Shoving aside thoughts of a night that has forever changed my life, I cross the lobby and enter the coffee shop, relieved when a college-age kid is behind the counter instead of the chatty owner, which will allow me more time for Seth before I have to head back upstairs. I place the order for Brandon Senior and Jessica, and make my way to the end of the bar to wait for the order, my mind taunting me with my brother’s words again. What the fuck are you doing here? And this time I dare to ask the question I’ve suppressed all this time. Was my stepfather’s death self-defense, or a planned murder?