There’s a slow prick of irritation crawling down my spine as I sit in the chair across from James. It makes my entire body feel the need to move, like a spider is climbing its way down my back. My fingers dig into the hard wood of the armrests as I stay perfectly still, staring down my former boss. Former friend. Now enemy.

“You aren’t the best at listening,” he says from across the room as he closes a drawer. The city lights are just creeping in through the window behind him. Casting shadows over the large desk.

“I don’t follow orders,” I grit between clenched teeth. My words come out menacing, but I don’t mean for them to. One more meeting, and this is over. I’m done with him. And he’s yet to get the message or to tell me what the hell is going on.

James leans forward, clasping his hands together and his perfectly hemmed suit wrinkles beneath his arms, making the fabric look cheap. He’s always looked just a bit cheap. Regardless of the brand or how expensive his tastes are. Some assholes just look like a knockoff.

He taps his fingers on the desk, but my eyes don’t leave his. “The reason I called you in here is simple, Evan. The new client we have likes to live on the reckless side, and I’m concerned about drug abuse.”

A gruff huff leaves me from deep down in my chest. “I quit.” I ignore the fact that he’s hinting around what happened with Tony. My skin crawls and that feeling of a spider walking on me comes back. I can’t help but think he’s recording this conversation. Everything in my gut has been telling me there’s a setup.

That I’m going to take the fall for what happened.

But it was my fault, so I should be taking the blame regardless.

“I know what you said, but I assumed you’d come to your senses,” he says, waving off my curt response. “Like I said, the new client has been known to behave a bit recklessly and I just want to make sure the policy we had in place remains the same.”

The policy. I smirk at him, my grip on the arms getting tighter although my fingers are all that move.

The policy where the clients get what they want, but we don’t say it out loud to anyone. The one where we’re given clean stashes of the best drugs in the rec rooms. That’s the policy. But instead of saying that, I answer, “After what happened with Tony I would think it’s more than clear that we should advise our clients against anything too reckless.”

James’ eyes narrow. He knows I know. That fucker is recording this. I’m not an idiot. The only question I have is why. Why record it? More blackmail? Or evidence? What’s he after?

“What is it you really want?” I stare him in the eyes as I ask. “You know you’ve provided drugs to clients before.” I cock my head to the side as I ask, “Are we changing the policy?”

“I’ve never given anyone anything illegal,” he says and I notice how he stiffens slightly but still tries to act casual as he shrugs and adds, “There’s no change to the policy.”

My wife has this thing she does. It’s a smile I hate. A smirk really. I hate it when she gives it to me. It’s one that tells me she knows I’m full of shit. And while I sit here, staring at this asshole, I can feel the corner of my lips tug up into that sarcastic smirk. It doesn’t stay there for long though.

“Did you know the coke was laced?” James asks me and it takes a moment for the question to register.

The coke I gave Tony.

That doesn’t make sense. Our shit is clean and pure and the best there is.

It’s also provided to us in the rec room by the company.

“I wouldn’t know a thing about that.” It’s the only answer I can force out. Keeping a hard stare on my face even as my blood heats hotter and hotter.

I know the laws in and out. And I can’t admit to any knowledge that could lead back to me. I can accuse him, but not admit to participation or any foresight of drugs being gifted so freely when asked.

I raise my hand as if I’m the one in the wrong. The one who misspoke. “None of it matters anyway. I told you, I quit.”

“And I told you, that you-”

“I’m done,” my words come out hard as I stand up and tower over the desk. James is quick to get up, tugging at one sleeve and then the other on his suit. “I thought you had something to tell me. Something useful and not some delusion that you could use to blackmail me.”

His eyes glint with a darkness at my words. “It’s not blackmail. I haven’t-”

“Fuck you, James,” I tell him and start walking out of the room. It’ll be the last time I come here.

“You know what I can do to you,” James says to my back.

“I’m calling your bluff,” I say out of anger and instantly regret it, but I don’t stop. All the weeks of not knowing if him or Samantha would tell, all the guilt and denial rise up in my chest and the words come out without my consent, “Tell them what happened.”

Just the thought of the truth getting out lifts a weight off of me.

“Tell them I gave him the coke. Tell them I set him up to get high and came back to him dead. Tell the press. Tell everyone,” I say and my heart beats faster and faster as my hands ball into white-knuckled fists. But then I realize what I’ve just done. I realize I’ve said it out loud. But I don’t care. It doesn’t change anything. None of it matters anymore.

“It’s murder, Evan, and you know it,” James says as I face the door to leave. Not bothering to acknowledge him in the least.

Yes, it’s murder. And it’s not the first time something’s happened under my watch. But it’s the last. I’m done with this shit and this life.

I didn’t lace a damn thing. If that stash was messed with, it wasn’t me and I’m not going down for a crime I didn’t commit. I’ll own up to everything else.

I want to pay for my sins and chase what truly matters to me.

A love I took for granted. A love I don’t know if I can salvage.