Page 73 of All That Glitters

The scene plays in a circle in my head, Parker pressing the gun against me, Marcus slowly reaching for his. The standoff, where they both wait for the other to shoot. Only, Marcus is the first to pull the trigger.

And it’s inescapable, something I can’t outrun no matter how badly I want to. I slowly close the door to the office but bring the memories with me. Tears prick the backs of my eyes.

Why can’t I stop crying anymore?

I’m like a damn fountain of tears and worse, Marcus is usually always around to see me do it.

Like the way I completely broke down in front of him last night.

Seeing a man die in front of you will do that.

It takes me a long time to come back to myself and realize I’m standing in the doorway of the office, seeing nothing. None of this would have happened if Dad were the one in the chair instead of Marcus.

Except…Dad wouldn’t have been able to get out of the situation.

In all likelihood, he would have been the one to drop dead on the floor.

Marcus saved me, whether he wants to call himself the good guy or not.

I’d ruin you.

He thinks he’s going to get me in trouble or killed. Do I even get a choice in the matter? Do I get to choose my future, whether I want to be at his side or not?

Apparently not, if he’s willing to tell me all this now and hope I’ll keep my mouth shut about what happened.

“Coffee,” I mutter out loud. My voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat, dust it off to be able to use it today.

A truckload of coffee isn’t going to erase what I saw.

Even rationalizing it feels distant at this point. My emotions are strong but too large for me to connect with anymore, like a part that is so far out of my league, I’ve got no business even reading for it.

And what Parker said about my parents—

I shuffle into the kitchen, and although my stomach gurgles, there’s no way I want to eat. Coffee will do, something hot to hold on to, to soothe my insides, because my Mom and Dad didn’t have to die. They should have been here right now, joining me in the kitchen while Mom barked orders to her assistant on the phone and Dad laughed at her insistence to get things done at six am.

And Parker Heath, the producer everyone wanted to work with, had not only known about their death, but tried to exploit me after the fact.

I still, my hands gripping the edge of the counter to keep in place.

“What did he say?” I whisper. “Something about the family. Payment to the family.”

Some kind of organization Parker and Marcus were both connected to?

I wish I remembered every word of his confession last night, but certain parts are a blur.

“They didn’t have to die.”

Tears stream down my cheeks and leave trails of acid behind, the espresso machine burbling until the small white mug fills. I press the button again to add a second shot to the first, fully intending to down it all and pump some much needed life back into my body.

It’s too early to go to the cemetery, but I need to talk to them again, to get every horrible thought and memory and feeling out of me. Maybe this time, I’ll get some answers, because now I know the truth too.

They hadn’t passed away because of a mechanical malfunction. Someone planned the murder, but not for them.

Marcus.

Marcus.

Why hadn’t he gone that day? I don’t even remember. I only knew I hadn’t been invited, adults only, and I’d sulked before going out to meet River.

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