Page 29 of Due Diligence

“I had a shitty day and I need to blow off some steam.” I forced out my lower lip, giving her the most exaggerated sad face I could muster.

“Steam?” She cocked an eyebrow and then let out a shrill laugh. “Bitch, please. We know the only thing you want to blow is a guy who has no interest in sharing his last nameorlearning yours.”

I probably should have been offended, but instead I found myself suppressing a grin. She wasn’t wrong. At all.

“Go without me,” she insisted, waving her hand as she turned her attention back to her salad. “I’ll even give you five bucks to buy yourself a shot and pretend like I went out and bought it for you.”

“Are you sure?” I reached out and tugged on a lock of her hair. “You don’t want to watch me descend into a reckless spiral so grand I may have to move to Montenegro to avoid extradition?”

“Ah, you know how I love talking about international law, but no,” she responded with a shake of her head. “I love you though.”

“Liar.”

Bethany rolled her eyes before she actually poked me in the shoulder with the tines of her fork. “Seriously, just go. You’ll probably have more fun without me. And I’ll be in bed by eleven, so feel free to bring whoever you find back with you. Just no screwing on the couch. Ireallyhate when you do that.”

With a sigh, I stood again. “What about the little pouf in the corner? Is that fair game?”

Her eyes widened. “Mygrandmotherknitted that, you evil slut!” she cried out as she tossed a balled-up napkin at me.

“I’m kidding!” I declared while dodging the napkin and retreating to my room. “The pouf’s not big enough anyway.”

Chapter 10: Marcus

“Do you think she did it on purpose?” asked Dr. Jensen.

I reached over and scratched Frank behind the ears, which elicited a sigh from him. His chin rested on my thigh, drool seeping from his lips onto my slacks. I loved him too much to care. He looked up at me in that innocent, corgi way—eyes wide and unassuming.

“No,” I admitted. I shifted the phone in my hand and stared out the window adjacent to my armchair. “I really don’t.”

On the other end of the line, Dr. Jensen murmured, “Mhmm. So, your mind went there for some reason and you reacted to her because you thought she was being deliberate. Is that right?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. I breathed out slowly and Frank did the same. “That’s right.”

He paused briefly. Over the years, I had noticed he did that whenever he was preparing to go down a line of questioning that would bring me to some revelation. Some days I needed that;other days it was downright tedious. Today was one of those days where a revelation would have been welcome though.

Dr. Jensen cleared his throat. “Well, I want to ask you: Did you deliberately mess up those files you gave to her?”

It was my turn to pause. I wondered if there was any way for me to say yes without sounding like a complete psychopath. My fingers wrapped around a loose thread in my leather chair, tugging on the thick string. When my silence carried on for too long, Dr. Jensen repeated the question.

“I did. I regret it now.”

“And why do you regret it?”

“Because a few hours later, I nearly lost it on Alex because I felt like he was just leaving messes for me to clean up with no regard for how much work that would take from me. So, I guess that makes me a hypocrite.”

“I know you don’t like to call yourself that,” Dr. Jensen noted. I could practically see him leaning forward and staring at me, his gaze sympathetic. “What else can you say instead of ‘hypocrite’?”

“Not sure.”

“What I’ve always appreciated about you, Marcus, is that you’re empathetic. It’s part of the reason why you’re so good at what you do: You’ve been through enough complicated and messy situations that you have a predisposition to try to keep other people from having to go through that. I’ve always believed that’s an asset, but it makes it hard for you to move forward when you have these uncomfortable interactions with your friends and your colleagues, doesn’t it?”

“Yep,” I confirmed, grateful he knew me so well. I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to rehash this on my own today.

“Alex loves you. He thinks of you as a brother. And today wasn’t about making your life difficult—it was about Alex trying to position himself as a thought leader and an iconoclast. It’s frustrating, but it’s part of what has made him successful, soI’m not surprised he looks for opportunities like this. It’s fair for you to be frustrated, but just remember he’s not doing it to hurt you—he’s doing it to make himself feel good. Does that make sense?”

“I hear you. It’s not deliberate; I just end up being collateral damage.”

“Right. So, give it a couple days—take some space. And on Monday, tell him how you feel. Does that work?”

---