Charlie
Mark’s apartmentsmells exactly as it did when I was little, like peppermint potpourri. His wife used to keep it in crystal bowls in every room. She said it was to keep the stench of Mark’s uniforms from invading the small space, but I think she just liked the smell. She’s been gone seven years and Mark still keeps a bowl of the stuff in each room.
Having finally gotten myself out of the shower, I wrap myself in a large towel. The hot water was too good to pass up. I have no idea how long I spent in there.
I dry off and get dressed in a pair of pajama shorts and a t-shirt then head into the kitchen to find something to eat. The cleanup at the deli has left my muscles sore. The ache in my chest though, that’s keeping me dragging my feet even more.
“About time you got out of the shower,” Oliver laughs when I enter the kitchen.
I jump when I see him sitting at the kitchen table with his feet propped up on a second chair in front of him.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, while trying to chase down my breath. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Well.” He drops his feet from the chair to the floor. “Your boyfriend isn’t the only one who has connections in the city. I asked around, found out you’re not staying with him anymore. You have no apartment now, so I figured you’d be here.”
“Where have you been staying? When I couldn’t get a hold of you, I tried your landlord; he said you haven’t lived there for a couple of months.” I move across the kitchen and lean against the counter. “What’s going on with you, Oliver? Please tell me so I can help.”
He’s aged years since I saw him last. And that was only months ago. His hair is longer, shaggier, and a straggly beard covers his chin. He’s never been a heavy guy, but he looks thinner. His eyes are distant, like they’re looking at me but he can’t see me.
“I don’t need your help, Charlie. I need the money.”
I sigh. “I already told you I don’t have it yet.” I grab a glass out of the upper cabinet and fill it with water from the sink. “Besides, I really need it for the rebuild. If I give you the ten percent, you know that takes you out of the ownership. You won’t have any more distributions or have any piece of the deli.” Not that the distributions have been huge, but I’m certain it’s what has kept him off the streets.
“I called the insurance company, and they said they made a deposit into the business account today.”
“A deposit? They were going to send a check, but they had to get more information from the police investigation.”
Oliver shrugs. “I don’t care what they said to you. Check the account.” He points to my phone sitting on the counter.
“Why did you even call them?” I ask, putting the glass down and grabbing my phone. “Do you even know the policy number?”
“I didn’t need it. I’m on the policy so they looked it up.” He always has a way around the system. Someone is always there to help him.
I log into the bank account and see the money he’s talking about. Four hundred thousand dollars.
“They told me specifically it would take ten business days to get a check after they received the police report.” I scroll the translation list and find the direct deposit. It’s from the insurance company.
“Now you have the money, so you can transfer thirty thousand to my account,” he says and moves up to his feet.
“No, Oliver.” I shake my head. “If you want that money, we need to talk to the lawyer. He needs to draft paperwork that states you’re selling out of the company.”
“I don’t have time for all that shit!” His teeth clench as he practically growls at me. “Just fucking transfer the money.”
Who is this man? I don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s never yelled at me or sworn at me like this.
“Oliver.” I take a breath. “Listen to me. If you want the money, fine, but we have to do it the right way.”
“Did you not hear me? I don’t have time for all that.”
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Dread fills me. He’s in trouble again, and from the sheer panic making his eyes wild like this, I know it’s something I can’t fix, even with a check.
“Don’t look at me like that.” His hands curl into fists. “Don’t you dare look at me with all that judgment in your fucking eyes.”
“I’m not judging you. I’m worried. I’m scared for you.” I put my phone down and take a small step toward him. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”
“How dare you judge me.” His eyes narrow into thin slits and his cheeks are red.
“Are you on something?” I ask, and immediately know it is exactly the wrong thing to say. He rushes at me and shoves me into the counter.