Page 14 of The Attic on Queen Street
I felt my stomach and heart switch places. “I didn’t think you cared.”
“Of course I care,” he said softly. He leaned back in his chair. “And you have a bad habit of agreeing to things that aren’t in our best interests when left to your own devices.” His gaze remained on my mouth as he lifted his index finger to his lips and wiped at something invisible.
The movement distracted me from absorbing the impact of his words. He flicked at something on his lips again, his gaze moving between my eyes and my mouth. “Mellie,” he said, leaning forward again, his hand outstretched.
Yes,my mind and heart whispered in unison. But, thankfully, not my mouth. Instead, he swiped his finger along the side of my mouth, revealing a glob of whipped cream on the tip of his finger. He immediately wiped it on the napkin wrapped around his cup, erasing the stray thought of me licking it off his finger.
“Oh, thanks,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “For the record, I have never said or done anything with the intent of hurting you.”
“I know. But your intent isn’t the problem. It’s the outcome. You skip right from intent to action without considering the collateral damage. It makes you a very difficult person to be married to and to live with. It’s like I always feel as if I have to sleep with one eye open.”
I heard every word he said, but I couldn’t seem to make them stick together and make sense. Maybe I’d lived alone and independently for too long. I remembered in fifth grade getting a note from my teacher to bring home to my father.Doesn’t play well with others.Maybe that was what Jack meant.
“Is it my labeling gun? I can get rid of it if that would help.”
Jack sighed heavily as he rubbed his hand over the stubble on his chin, the sound of it achingly familiar. “Oh, Mellie...”
A sharp rap on the door made him stop. The door opened and Marc and Rebecca stood in the doorway, a flustered Jolly behind them.
“I’m sorry, Melanie—they didn’t want to wait for me to announce them.”
“That’s all right, Jolly...” was all I could get out before my words were smothered by Rebecca’s embrace.
My cousin was dressed head to toe in mauve—her new shade to avoid her usual bright pink, which she thought appeared too startling next to Marc’s new hair color—including mauve boots and a matching hair ribbon. The Empire waist of her maternity dress was topped by another mauve bow. Luckily her dog, Pucci, General Lee’s paramour and the mother of Porgy and Bess, wasn’t with her. They usually wore matching outfits and I just didn’t think I could take it this morning.
“How are you?” she said with an exaggerated frown. Simultaneously discovering that she was pregnant and that Marc had a girlfriend hadn’t dimmed her perkiness or her commitment to her marriage. While I might have found that admirable in some people, in this case I found it beyond comprehension.
Jack stood and faced Marc, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Good to see you’re out and about, Matt,” Jack said, deliberately using the wrong name, as he’d been doing since the two adversaries had first met. “Not sure I’m on board with the new hair thing, but we won’t be seeing each other often enough for that to matter.”
This was the first time I’d seen Marc since that night in the cemetery when his hair had inexplicably turned white. Well, maybe not inexplicably. He’d been dragged by unseen hands into a mausoleum, after all. The experience had made him a softer and gentler version of himself, according to Rebecca, but I had a strong suspicion that it wasn’t a permanent transition. The Marc Longo I knew had a piece of coal for a heart and it would take more than a serious fright to turn him into something resembling a human being.
The white hair distracted me for a moment, making me forget that he was about my age and not a feeble old gentleman. He was our enemy, and I had to keep reminding myself that regardless of what he looked like or what Rebecca said about him changing, he was still the same Marc Longo I knew. And that Marc Longo was neither friend nor family.
Marc smirked, although it did seem to have less smarminess than I’d seen in the past. “How’s the writing, Jack?”
If there was one thing I’d learned since knowing Jack, it was that the worst thing to ask a writer was how the writing was going. It brought up feelings of inadequacy, doubt, and sheer panic. Jack’s face remained calm, although I recognized the tic in his cheek. “It’s going great—thanks for asking.”
Jack walked across the room and dragged a chair back to my desk, placing it next to the one he’d just vacated. “Let’s go ahead and get this started so I can get on with more pleasant tasks. Like waxing my chest.”
I sat down again behind my desk while Jack waited for Rebecca and Marc to sit down across from me. Jack perched himself on the corner of the desk and smiled. “I’ll just stay here in case Matt tries to steal a pencil or something and I need to tackle him. He’s got sticky fingers.”
Marc shook his head, looking more annoyed than hurt. “Look, I came here to make a truce. In case your head has been buried in the sand and so you aren’t aware, the filming is going to happen whether or not you want it to. Harvey Beckner and the other producers won’t back down. You signed a contract and unless you want to be sued for everything you own, I’d suggest you honor it.”
Jack nodded pleasantly, the tic in his cheek stronger. “So, if I don’t have a choice, why are we having this meeting? I do believe our lawyers made our position very clear. If we have to settle this in court, we’re prepared to do that. There is no reason for us to meet face-to-face. It causes me intestinal distress just to be in the same room with you, and that’s something I’d rather avoid.”
Rebecca folded her hands primly in her lap. “Marc and I decided to call this meeting because we’re family. And because we’re family, we believe that we can continue with the filming in a mutually beneficial way. You’d avoid the necessity of emptying your bank account and selling a single ruby to fund an unnecessary and ill-advised lawsuit, and Marc gets his movie made. We want this all to go as smoothly as possible so the film people can get in and out quickly and you and yourfamily aren’t inconvenienced more than you have to be. We want to work together, not be adversaries. Because wearefamily.”
Jack picked up my pencil cup and began replacing each pen and pencil in an upside-down position. It made me squirm, and I had to sit on my hands so I wouldn’t yank the cup out of his hand and put everything back the way it was meant to go.
He continued to smile. “I might believe that, Rebecca, if your husband and I didn’t have such a long history. And if he didn’t have the reputation of being a liar and a thief.”
Marc started to stand, his hands in fists, but Rebecca pressed her hand on his leg. “No need to make this physical. We are all adults. Why don’t we discuss this in a rational manner?”
“Just as soon as you tell us why you’re really here. If Harvey is hell-bent on us honoring our contract, there’s no need for us to talk. It’s in the lawyers’ hands.” Jack placed the cup back on my desk with the contents all askew while he stood. “Otherwise, I’m leaving.”
Rebecca looked at her husband with raised eyebrows.
“Fine,” Marc said, although his expression was that of a man who suddenly realized his underwear was too tight. He took a deep breath. “It’s... important that this movie happens and that there are no lawsuits or complications that might impede or delay its filming and release.”
