The Love of Money II – Chapter 18: Behind Closed Doors

Thursday, September 12th, 6:20 pm

“So, are you happy to be back?” Emily asked me.

“God, yes,” I said around another mouthful of lamb stew.

Whatever I was paying Camille, it wasn’t enough. This recipe was just like something I had eaten three years ago on a family vacation and had raved about. It honestly still haunted me sometimes. It wouldn’t have surprised me in the least if Emiko had a hand in it, calling my mother and getting her recommendations on my favorite foods so Camille could tailor my meals even more specifically to my tastes.

Well, She was doing a fucking fantastic job, and if this was what eating at home was like now, dining out was officially ruined.

“What did you eat out there?” Helen asked, amused at my enthusiasm.

After our tryst in my study, Helen and I had fallen asleep for the better part of two hours on the couch before Erin awakened us for dinner. After she left, Helen and I spent a few minutes making out before getting dressed, and by the time we entered the dining room, it was as if nothing had changed. Helen was still her calm, poised self. Every look and word was calculated and delivered with surgical precision. To everyone else, she was once more a queen.

Even Erin seemed to act completely normal despite her role in the older woman’s degradation. The only evidence that something had shifted was the collar around her neck—something fashionable to anyone but the most discerning.

I took a moment to swallow my bite of food, admiring her sharp, aristocratic beauty and enjoying how unfazed she seemed by what we’d just done together.

“Not this,” I said, answering Helen’s question. “Chloe and I found some survival rations and managed to make them last. It wasn’t much, though.”

“No hunting and gathering?” Emily asked.

“We weren’t to that point, yet,” I said, “but I’m sure Chloe had a plan.”

Emily looked like she was about to say something, but was interrupted as Jessica entered the room.

My ex-girlfriend looked good, her fair, unblemished skin contrasting with the dark cloth of the maid’s uniform she wore. It was a modernized version of the classic—the black with white trim, but with a different, updated design meant to retain the traditional feel without coming off as some outdated fantasy.

The pleated skirt fell to her knees, and she wore white stockings with black shoes. The shirt was short-sleeved and buttoned up to her sternum, where a window had been cut into the fabric to display cleavage that managed to straddle the line between tasteful and obscene. There were a couple of more buttons that fastened together above the window, hiding the hollow of her throat. She wore a simple white kerchief in her dyed red hair, keeping it out of her face.

I found it hard to keep my eyes off of her.

More specifically, my eyes kept drifting to her tits.

And the moment I managed to make eye contact with her, I was sure she knew what kind of effect her uniform was having on me. I knew her well enough that I could tell she was pleased.

“Excuse me, M—” she hesitated, her grey-blue eyes glancing around the room at all the others eating at the table with me. “Mr. Upton? You asked me to let you know when Phoebe was home?”

“Oh! Good!” I said. I thought about telling Jess to bring her here, but considering how upset Phoebe had been on the phone, I decided it was best to see her in private and save her the embarrassment of possibly breaking down in front of the others. “Is she in the apartment Emiko gave her?”

“Yes,” Jessica said, and then a beat later, “sir.”

“Okay,” I said. “Could you prepare some of this soup and take it to her? Let her know that I’ll be by in a few minutes to see her.”

Jessica looked like she wanted to say something but bit her tongue at the last second. It was unlike her.

“Yes, sir,” she finally said and retreated to the kitchen to do as she was asked.

“Phoebe is your old neighbor?” Natashya asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “She’s the one who called me about her husband running off with her kid. I’m going to help her get him back. It’s the reason why we left Norway so soon,” I said, then clarified, “at least… part of the reason.”

Natashya tilted her head and stared at me thoughtfully, finally saying, “That is very kind of you.”

“Jim’s an ass,” I said, waving off her compliment. “And she’s a friend.”

The chair scraped across the floor as I stood up. “Sorry, I’m going to cut this short. Phoebe’s probably chomping at the bit to talk to me.” I glanced at Erin, sitting in the seat next to me. “Did Psalter say whether or not he’d be able to make it?”

“He’s still overseeing that…” Erin glanced at Emily and Natashya, and then back at me. “That thing you had him do.”

“Ah.”

“Want me to pull him off that?” she asked.

“No. That’s important. I’ll just fill him in later. We’ll probably need his help—him or one of his people.”

I pointed at the rest of my food. “Could you have Jess prep another bowl of that and take it to my room in a warmer or something? I want more of that later.”

“Yes, sir!” Erin said, grinning up at me. “Will you need me for anything else this evening?”

“You know I will,” I said, giving her a look that suggested it wouldn’t be anything work-related.

“That’s what I like to hear!” Natashya said, chuckling as she took another bite.

I smiled wistfully as I left.

It was good to be home.

As I made my way into the living room and headed toward the elevator, I heard a familiar voice say, “In a hurry?”

I hesitated and turned to see Chloe sitting on the couch, dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt. Her hair was up in a sloppy bun, and she was peering at me over a book she had propped on her knees. Chloe had relieved herself of duty shortly after I disappeared into my study with Emiko, and it looked like she was taking advantage of the time off.

“I’m… just going to…” I hiked my thumb over my shoulder.

“Someone going with you?”

“I’m just going two floors down.”

Chloe dropped the book on her lap and called out, “John?”

A few heartbeats later, one of the original men I had interviewed for the bodyguard position appeared in the opening of one of the first-floor corridors. He was a massive slab of a man wearing a suit and tie… the one on duty while Chloe was off the clock.

“Ma’am?” he asked.

“Is it completely secure two floors down?”

“Yes, ma’am,” John said. “It’s on the Green List.”

The green list was a set of pre-cleared floors and rooms deemed completely secure for me to visit without a bodyguard glued to my side. Except for the roof, my entire apartment was on it. The next five floors had been quarantined for my personal use and were fitted with Hannon-approved security measures. Every door on every floor cost thousands of dollars and was everything-proof. All the glass could withstand gunfire. Security cameras were in all the corridors, and alarms were monitored by a dedicated monitoring station manned day and night.

“Thanks, John,” Chloe said, still staring at me.

“Yes, ma’am,” John said. Then he looked at me. “Let me know if you need anything, sir.”

“Thanks, John,” I said, keeping my gaze on Chloe.

He retreated to wherever he came from.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Just doing my job, sir.”

Sir.

That fucking word.

Like nothing had happened—just the way she wanted it.

“If I were going anywhere, I would have taken John with me. I told you, I’m not fighting you anymore on keeping a bodyguard.”

“You were leaving without letting John know where you were going.”

“Emiko left the Green List on my desk in my study. I know what it is, and I know Phoebe’s apartment is on it.”

My bodyguard gave me her silent, Chloe-specific stare (patent pending), and I got the feeling she was peeling back layers of my psyche to determine whether I was telling the truth.

We’d barely spoken a word to each other since we came to our agreement, and now she was giving me shit. I was starting to wonder if things would ever return to even a sliver of normalcy.

“I don’t need this, Chloe. See for yourself. The list is on my desk. If you still need proof, go ask Erin or Helen where I’m headed.”

“Like I said, I’m just doing my job,” Chloe said, coolly.

I turned around and pressed my hand into the scanner next to the elevator. “No. You’re punishing me, and I don’t know why.” Waiting for the doors to open, I turned back around to face her. “If this is the way it’s going to be, then maybe you should rethink whether this is the right place for you.”

“Marcus…”

The doors opened behind me, and I backed into the lift, pressing the button to make the doors close as fast as I could. I didn’t want to talk to her right now. Whatever catharsis I’d had with Helen had been devoured by Captain Killjoy.

Yet, part of me feared I’d come back and find she’d taken me at my word.

I hated that I cared enough to let it get to me like that.

***

The door opened before I finished knocking, and a light brown eye peered out of the inch of visible space. Even though all I could see was a single eye, I saw the recognition in it.

The door shut, and I heard the rattle of a chain. Then it flew open, and there stood my old neighbor—Phoebe Lucas.

I hadn’t seen her since the day I gathered the last of my things and left the house with my sister. Right before I left, there had been an emotionally charged moment between us as she broke down at learning about my move out of the apartment. I’d been a staple in that complex for years, and one of the few she’d been able to rely on.

She watched my cat. I watered her ficus. She’d occasionally checked in on my sister after her return from LA, making sure she was okay while I was at work. We took care of each other in small ways.

Those years of closeness, followed by the realization that she was going to lose one of the closest people in her life outside of her family, had culminated in a kiss. I hadn’t seen it coming until her lips were on mine.

Then, I returned it. Not for long, but long enough.

Now that I stood there staring into her red-rimmed eyes, I felt a great swell of guilt.

I hadn’t checked on her once since that night.

I hadn’t followed up to let her know that the kiss didn’t weird me out.

I hadn’t reached out to see how she was doing after she cried in my arms.

I hadn’t inquired to see how she and Jim were doing, or if Nate—her son—was starting to speak in complete sentences.

I hadn’t thanked her for being there every time I needed her.

“Hey, Phoebe,” I said, almost calling her Mrs.