Page 6 of Love Marks
“There’s a joint in my room,” I say, giving her a knowing look, and she nods. It’s been an ongoing debate with us, me trying to get her to give THC and CBD a chance, which she finally has. She still won’t admit that she actually likes getting high, but I know bliss when I see it.
I run to the train and miss it by a second, letting out a string of curses that I’m glad nobody is around to witness. On the train, I listen to music and wallow for most of the ride. The news about Sheila has put me in a mood that even my pump-up music can’t cheer.
We’re sitting on the bridge when I peer down at my phone. Shit. I’m late.
Why isn’t this train moving?
The conductor comes over the intercom and apologizes for the delay, citing an unmoving train in front of us. The joys of the MTA. Finally, five minutes later, we start moving again. When I get to work, I am a whopping twelve minutes late. It’s not that bad, except that Ian is standing at the hostess stand as I try to slip in the front hoping nobody will notice.
“You’re late,” he says.
“Sorry. Train issues,” I offer, hoping he’s in a good mood. No such luck.
“Pierre asked to see you,” he replies, his voice a little colder than usual. Now I’m nervous. Ian may be kind of a hard ass, but he’s usually more pleasant than this.
“Oh, cool. Maybe he wants to switch scarves!” I laugh awkwardly, holding up my bland, brown excuse for a scarf and Ian eyes it with disdain. I take the hint and move past him into the back, heading up the stairs to Pierre’s office.
I knock lightly on the mahogany door and Pierre calls out from behind it. “Come in!”
He’s sitting behind his desk with an orange scarf wrapped around his neck, his hand rubbing his chin in slight thought.
“Please, Quinn, sit.” He gestures for the chair across from him.
Now I’m really freaked out. Pierre is being too serious. He’s usually Mr. Light and Breezy but he’s not even smiling. I cross the room and sit across from him, trying to calm my shaking hands.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice quivering a little.
“Honestly, Quinn, no. It’s not.”
My heart is pounding in my chest. Is this a joke? I wait for his charming smile to return but instead he picks up the newspaper in front of him and drops it right in front of me, his expression disappointed.
I stare down at the headline before me.
Drunkard Dick Marks Nearly Drives Marks Group to Bankruptcy, Forced Merger with Hyatt Estates
“What is this?” My voice cracks as I start to skim through the article.
It’s an exposé about Wesley’s father, Richard Marks. I read further as it details his battle with alcoholism that has led his company to lose money and near bankruptcy. Now, Wesley is taking over as CEO and merging the Marks Group with Hyatt Estates while his dad goes to rehab.
Jeez, and I thought my family was fucked up. This is like an episode of Succession.
I read it again once through trying to make sense of the business deal here before I realize I still have no idea what this has to do with me. Just as I go to ask Pierre, he stands.
“Ah, Ian, thank you for being here,” Pierre says, and I look up to see Ian striding into the room to take his place flanking Pierre.
“Quinn, I’m sorry, but we’re going to have to let you go.” Pierre says. I look up and they are both towering over me.
“Go…where?”
You know where, idiot.
Pierre sighs a deep sigh and looks at Ian, letting him take the lead.
“Wesley Marks has personally requested your termination.”
Wesley? Wesley personally requested me?
“The Phoenix prides itself on creating an environment of confidentiality and luxury. It’s our brand. Unfortunately, the evidence suggests that you are responsible for this breach in confidentiality and as such, a breach in your contract outlined as a fireable offense.” Ian gives his speech like a robot and Pierre sighs again, that damned old man sigh like a British villain in a movie who says what a pity before killing a puppy.