Page 93 of Sirens
At McGarvey, for telling her that she deserved better.
But mostly at herself, for believing it.
“Okay,” she said, setting the glass aside to resume her search. “I’m okay. I can do this.”
“The thing I don’t understand,” Mark said, setting aside his own drink to begin scooping everything into something resembling a pile, “is why you need those now.”
“For fucking McGarvey,” she spat. “I’m going to march right up to him, shove those papers right in his stupid, uptight face before flipping him off and never speaking to him again.”
“Riiight,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. “And the point of doing that would be…”
“Proving to McGarvey that I was trying to leave Charlie even before his well-deserved incarceration.”
“I’m just saying, that seems like a shit-ton of work for someone you never intend to see again.”
Maggie used the doorframe to haul herself up and stomp over to the desk, where she began yanking open drawers.
“It’s about closure, Mark.” She grabbed a stack of notebooks and set them off to one side. “It’s about knowing that he knows that I was trying to get as far away from that lifestyle as I possibly fucking could.”
“So basically, you’re saying McGarvey’s opinion of you matters.”
“Yes! No. Fuck off.” With a disgusted sigh, she reached for a manilla folder. SeeingSirenson the tab in McGarvey’s mechanically precise handwriting felt like a sucker punch to the guts.
In the aftermath of Chazz’s unwelcome visit, she hadn’t even started laying out her notes for the Madame Katz episode of her podcast. A hot flame of irritation flickered within her chest.
One of the throw blankets that she’d hurled across the room began to move. Maggie whipped it off and scooped up Roxie. “Here, take this,” she said, handing her over to Mark.
Cradling her in one arm, he walked over to the couch and set the dog down. “You know, the real tragedy here is that we haven’t even gotten to discuss my latest Tinder disaster,” he said. “And when I tell you that a narcissistic Manhattan pastry chef with acrème anglaisefetish is the new sad thing, I mean it sincerely.”
“Huh,” Maggie said, paging through her notes. “That’s crazy.”
“All right, that’s it.” Mark stood up from the couch. “I’m officially staging an intervention.”
She looked at him, bewildered. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said with a wry smile. “We’re going to pregame until we’re pleasantly lit, and then we’re hitting the town. Or what passes for one around here.”
“Mark, I don’t?—”
“Look, I get that you’ve been through hell and back. But you can’t keep going like this. I’m here now and I’m taking my best bitch out. Step away from the papers, get your ass in the shower, and put on the outfit you’d want to be wearing when you see McGarvey next.”
Maggie chewed her lower lip, alarmed by the sudden tightness in her chest.
“Good,” Mark said. He wrapped his arms around her in a tight embrace, and suddenly Maggie found herself unable to hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down her cheeks, wetting Mark’s shirt as she quietly sobbed into his chest.
“Hey, hey,” he murmured, rubbing her back soothingly. “I know, Maggie. I know.”
“It’s…” she choked out between sobs. “Trent… He was the first person who ever made me feel like I was better than what I’d come from. Like I deserved more than just…this.” She gestured weakly at the chaos surrounding them.
“Hey, look at me,” Mark said gently, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “Youarebetter than this. You deserve the world, Maggie, and if McGarvey isn’t man enough to see that, then fuck that motherfucker. Next.”
She gave a weak chuckle.
“And, on a related topic”—he cleared his throat—“it’s worth reminding you that my family has a history of disposing of bodies.”
Maggie sniffled, attempting a small smile as she gazed into her best friend’s eyes. “Thank you.”
“Always,” he replied, squeezing her one last time before letting her go. “Now, speaking of bodies,” Mark continued, “I love you, but yours needs some self-care. So, let’s get you cleaned up, shaved down, and shimmy you into something that shows off that dat ass.”
