Small lights around the Exit signs illuminate the empty space, and I squint into the darkness. A figure steps around a file cabinet.
“Patton! What the fuck are you doing here?” Marley holds out his arms, grinning like this is normal, as he walks to me.
“Work starts at 9 a.m., not 9 p.m. Where the fuck have you been?”
“Is it nine?” He laughs like it’s all a big joke and pushes past me, going into my office, and dropping into one of my leather chairs. He’s wearing the same blazer and slacks he had on when I left him yesterday evening. “You won’t believe what happened.”
My fists clench and unclench as I follow him inside. “Sounds like something I won’t like.”
“Have you heard of Sissy Faith?”
“Yes.” My tone is sharp.
Celebrity or not, the girl is barely twenty-one, twelve years younger than us. I don’t have time for his bullshit. He drops his leg and leans forward, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a blunt. He grabs the lighter off my desk and fires it up, taking a long pull.
“Her body is so tight.” His voice is strained, and he grins lifting his chin to let the smoke out before passing the joint to me. “It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone so… fresh.”
“Jesus… You slept with her?” I scowl, taking the joint and holding it a second. At least it doesn’t smell like that cheap, skunk shit. I wanted a drink, but this will suffice.
“Fuck, yeah.” He chuckles at some memory. “After you went home last night, she showed up with some roadies or whatever. We hit the town and, damn.”
His words make me think of Raquel, of touching her body, and the heat rises below my belt. I lean against my desk and take a long pull off the blunt before passing it back. I watch as he takes another hit, and my brain starts to relax. Dad’s call pissed me off, but I’m feeling a little better now that Marley’s in my office, not dead and not too far off track.
He offers the smoke to me again, but I decline. “I am planning to show up for work tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself. She gave me the name of her supplier.”
“Don’t get caught with it.” This guy thinks nothing of getting high, getting in a car, and speeding through The District.
“What did I miss today?” He pulls up his phone and starts tapping on the face.
“Not much.”
“What’s this? Welcome Raquel Morgan?” He turns the phone toward me and has the nerve to look interested.
“Taron hired her.”
“Morgan… Is she related to—”
“Yes.”
“Is she pretty?”
Yes, very. “It doesn’t matter.”
He leans back on the couch and looks at me a second before lifting the joint and taking another long pull. Then he looks out the window. Seconds pass. “Let’s go to AJ’s and see who’s playing.”
“I told you, I have to work tomorrow. We’re meeting with Madagascar.”
“Fuck that, you could do that in your sleep. We’re only young once.”
I study the deep lines around his eyes. I’m going to have to do something about him, and I’m pissed I didn’t see it sooner. I’m pissed my dad is right. “We’re not so young, and you need to sleep it off. I expect you to make an appearance here tomorrow.”
“I guess now I have to.” He stands, tapping out the J. “Have to check out this new Morgan chick in the office.”
“Raquel works with me.” It’s possible the words come out a little too sharp. I don’t care. “I want to see your marketing plan for the fourth quarter.”
He doesn’t bat an eye. “Already done. Instagram account @Fletchcom, hashtag luxrental, hashtag rentbnb, hashtag Fletcher. Now I just need to post a bunch of photos of our shit.”