It Ended With the Truth

by Lisa Suzanne

  I should never have lied to my business partners. Maybe I should never have started a business with my friends in the first place. My father had warned me it would ruin our friendship, but I’d carried on about how our bonds were stronger than that.

  Today proved they weren’t.

  Today proved my buddies would choose our company—their company, now—over our friendship.

  And when I look deep enough, as fucked up and hard as it is to admit...it’s deservedly so.

  I blow out a breath as I realize this is the type of bad karma I’ve had coming to me for a long time. Life’s been too easy for too long. Something was bound to crack. I just never dreamed it would be everything all at once.

  I look around the family room at the sports memorabilia. A Bears helmet I shelled out twelve grand for. A signed football that cost me six grand. I do some quick math in my head, and the contents of this room likely cost upwards of a couple hundred thousand dollars.

  These are the things I thought were important. Material goods. A room filled with shit from my favorite sports team. A black credit card at my disposal to entertain clients and drink the best whiskey. A flashy house complete with all the minute details most people wouldn’t even notice—except Vivian did.

  But this isn’t the shit that matters, and it took losing everything in a single day to realize it.

  People are what matter. Relationships. Friendship. Love.

  And I’m stuck here now with none of those things.

  But instead of sadness, it’s anger that fuels me as I pull up my brother’s contact information. He’s the one person who can fix this for me. As I stare at his number, I wonder why I ignored his call earlier. Was it a warning? Was my big brother looking out for me? Was he calling to find out what was going on, why Becker and Jason wanted me out?

  There’s only one way to find the answers to those questions. I take a deep breath and push the call button.

  “Hey, Brian. Can I call you back in a few minutes?” My brother sounds tired when he answers, and I’m wondering if it’s because he’s dealing with a newborn or if it has something to do with his star proxy quitting on him and my partners ousting me from my own goddamn company.

  “No. I need to talk to you right the fuck now.”

  He blows out a breath as if he knows exactly why I called. “Look, this isn’t my fight. I came on as a silent partner.”

  “You broke that silence when you shoved Vivian Davenport in front of me,” I hiss.

  “So I fix this for you, get you back in, and then what? You work with two men who don’t want you there?”

  “You’re the only one with the power to block what they’re doing to me.” You’re my brother. You’re supposed to look out for me and help me. I don’t say the last part even though the words flit through my mind. They sound too desperate to voice aloud, but I can’t believe he’s actually saying he won’t do anything about it. Brothers are supposed to be there for each other, and it’s bullshit he’s not willing to help me.

  “And you’re the only one who can fix your mess,” he says.

  I play the sympathy angle. He’s my only hope right now. “You’re my brother. You’re supposed to be on my side.”

  “It’s not about choosing sides. I can’t swoop in to save the day every time you get yourself into trouble. I’ve done it for the past thirty-two years, but I’ve got a wife and kid and career of my own to worry about. You’re a grown man, dude, and you’re on your own with this one.” Speaking of his family, I hear Reese call his name somewhere in the background. “I’ll call you back.” This time he doesn’t ask if he can call me back; he simply hangs up.

  I throw my phone on my coffee table with frustration and then slam an angry palm against the solid wood. The sting of my palm is a welcome relief from the pain lancing through my chest.

  I stare at the blank screen of my phone as I wait for it to ring. And wait. And wait a little longer.

  When an hour passes and he hasn’t called me back, my glass is empty and I realize he’s probably not going to. He’s too busy to deal with my shit. He’s got a family now, as he reminded me, and a flourishing career spanning several different outlets, plus hundreds of thousands of people vying for every free second he has—not that he has many.

  He has it all. He’s always had it all for as long as I can remember, but this is just proof he has everything I don’t.

  Frustration and anger burn through me. I can’t believe he won’t help me, and I’ll find a way to fuck him over because of it. I’ll get my revenge.

  It’s my first thought in anger. My go to. My modus operandi.

  Revenge. Payback.

  It’s a nasty poison that’s gotten me exactly where I am today, and I guess if I look deep enough, I can see he’s right not to fix this for me. I’d never admit that to anyone—it’s hard to admit it even to myself—but I did fuck things up royally, and it is my own mess to clean up. Maybe this is Mark’s way of trying to teach me a lesson. I fucking hate him for it, but I don’t have the energy to fight him on it.

  I have the sudden urge to go home. Maybe it’s to run away, or maybe it’s some other need that can only be filled with the things I hold close. I just want to stay with my mom and dad for a few days, to visit my sister and her husband, to walk through a town that’s familiar, where I have friends instead of business associates and where I have family members who will be on my side. Maybe I’ll even visit my old boss. We left things on good terms. Certainly he can find something for me in the future—when I’m ready to start looking at possibilities.

  When I’m ready to admit that Beck and Jason aren’t just bluffing.

  That time hasn’t come yet, but it’s only been a few hours. My energy may be depleted at the moment, but there’s always the possibility I’ll get a second wind that will fuel me to fight.

  The only problem? I can’t go home with no money in my account.

  I finally text my brother. I hate asking him for anything, especially since he’s suddenly the morality police and he’ll let me know again how much I’ve fucked everything up, but I set my pride aside and do it anyway.

  Me: I know you’re busy but I’m broke.

  Mark: Use the black card if you need it. Don’t go overboard.

  I blow out a breath of relief. I may hate him, but he’s coming through for me now. It’s a small glimmer of light in the shit storm, and it’s almost enough to brush away my nasty thoughts of revenge. He doesn’t deserve my vengeance. He’s lived with it long enough. Thirty-two years, I suppose.

  I think that might be the first real, adult, mature thought I’ve ever had.

  I immediately book the next one-way flight to Chicago, throw some shit in a bag, and get the hell out of my silent, empty house. I have no idea when I’ll be back.

  Five hours later, I stand on my parents’ front porch with an overnight bag in my hand and no real plan. I didn’t even bother with my keys, so I ring the bell. When my mom opens the door, her face blanches with shock and her jaw drops. “Brian!” She throws her arms around me, and I’m immediately relieved. I made the right decision. No matter how bad things get—and no matter how old I get—mom’s arms are always home. “Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”

  I clear my throat as I cling to my mom. “Just wanted to come home for a few days.”

  “What a nice surprise! Come in, come in,” she says, finally letting me go and opening the door wider. I follow her through the hallway and set my bag down near the stairs then proceed into the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?” she asks.

  Whiskey. It seems inappropriate to come here only to ask my mom for alcohol, so I don’t. “Just some water would be great.”

  I sit down at the familiar kitchen table and run my finger over a divot in the wood as I call up the memory of how it got there. My brother and I were doing that stupid game where one person spreads out their fingers and the other taps a knife between the blank spaces as fast as they can. I got aggressive, naturall
y, and went too hard too quickly and stuck the knife right into the table. My brother laughed with relief that I didn’t catch his skin in the process and my mom grounded me for a week that ended up only actually being two days.

  Everywhere I look around here, there are memories. It’s the same house we grew up in. Mark offered to buy them a new house, but they didn’t want one. He paid it off when he hit it big, and the details are the same. The same kitchen table, the same couch in the family room, the same recliner that siblings argued over until Dad came home and kicked us all out of it. We even still have our own childhood bedrooms upstairs, and a part of me is excited to be here to spend a few days in it.

  When my mom finally joins me, I don’t look up at her as she sets a glass of water next to me. Instead, I keep fingering the divot in the table and wondering when life got so goddamn complicated.

  My mom’s hand covers mine. “Why are you really here?”

  I finally glance up at her, and her eyes are filled with concern for me.

  I breathe out a long sigh. “I just wanted to get away for a few days.” It’s not a lie—even though a few days might be longer than I think since I don’t have an end date in mind.

  “Why?”

  My brows furrow at her question. “Can’t a kid just want to see his mom?”

  She laughs. “Sure. Of course. But in the three years you’ve lived in Vegas, never once have you just dropped in to visit your mother.” She raises a brow. “Don’t think I haven’t been keeping track. You’ve been back once for your grandfather’s funeral, and that’s it.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to make that right.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Brian.” Her tone is sharp, and I know she can tell something’s up with me.

  I look away from her penetrating gaze. “It’s complicated.”

  “Is it a girl?” she asks, her tone suddenly switching from sharp to knowing and sympathetic.

  “Partly,” I admit. “Look, I’m not comfortable talking about this with you.”

  “Honey, you know you can tell me anything. I’ll do whatever I can to look out for my boys.”

  I know she will, but the reason why I ran away paints me in a bad light, and I never want my mother to see me that way. I want to be good for her, just like she’s always seen me—even after I’ve been the one to mess things up in the past.

  “And you know you’ve got my heart,” she says softly. I’m the baby of the family, and she always says that to me.

  I draw in a fortifying breath then blurt the truth. “Mom, I lost the girl I love, I lost my best friends, and I lost my job all in a few hours.”

  “You can do better than her, your friends are jerks, and you can get a better job.” She snaps her fingers. “There. All fixed.”

  I chuckle. “If only it was that easy.”

  “What happened?”

  “FDB got into some financial trouble. I was handling it and then Mark got involved. He sent a woman to fix the issue, and I lied to Becker and Jason about why she was there. Then I went and fell in love with her only to find out much too late that she’s married. When I told Beck and Jason the truth, they were pissed I wasn’t honest from the start and that I signed over half my control to Mark. They fired me.”

  She sits back in her chair as she absorbs the brutal truth I just laid on her. “We’ll talk about the girl in a second. Those boys can’t fire you! You own the company!”

  “I only own nine percent,” I say. I look down at the table.

  “Still, that’s nine percent!” I love her for the passion in her voice as she tries to defend my indefensible actions. “You’ve still got some stake there. And besides, Mark would never agree to removing you, and they’d need his vote for majority. Right?”

  I shake my head. “Our bylaws state that we only need forty percent agreement to make a decision.”

  My mom’s brows draw down. “Well that’s dumb.”

  “It was actually my idea to get things passed easier if one of us was out of the office. I just never imagined they’d turn it and use it to get me out.”

  She shakes her head. “It’s not right, Brian.”

  I lift a shoulder. “I know. But in their eyes, I did something unforgivable.”

  “Everything is forgivable,” she says quietly. My parents brought us up on those values. Forgive and forget. It’s why Mark was able to come to terms with the fact that I kept Reese from him when I knew he had fallen for her. It’s why I’ve acted my whole life the exact way I have—I mess up and know eventually all will be forgiven as we move forward.

  But just because people have forgiven me doesn’t mean I’ve extended the same courtesy to others. In fact, sometimes I hold an even bigger grudge than they could’ve held against me.

  “Well that puts me in quite a conundrum then considering the girl I fell for did something I deem unforgivable.”

  “Oh, Brian,” she says softly. “She’s married?”

  I press my lips together and nod.

  “Tell me about her.”

  “Do you remember when we all ate brunch at Mark’s place the morning after Beck’s wedding?” I ask.

  She nods, confusion coloring her eyes for a beat.

  “I asked Mark for a loan for FDB that morning. He gave me it with the stipulation I sign over majority to him. He’d always been a silent partner, and I guess he got tired of me asking him for money.”

  “What does this have to do with the girl?” she asks.

  “Mark decided to send her as his proxy. She’s what insiders call a fixer. She gets called in to fix businesses and bring them from the red to the black, and apparently she has a huge success rate.”

  “So she showed up and you fell in love?” She lifts her own water glass and takes a sip.

  I shake my head. “It wasn’t as simple as that. I hated her at first. She introduced herself as my boss. No one is my boss. It’s my company. Was my company. And I made it clear I didn’t want her there and didn’t like her, but Mark paid her handsomely to deal with my attitude.”

  “And then you fell in love?” I can tell she’s waiting for the good part, but just dredging up the memories is making me feel a little sick.

  “No. I lied to Jason about why she was there. I said we were dating. It just slipped out. But then we sort of had to pretend we were dating.”

  “And then you went from fake to real?” Her eyes are hopeful.

  “Sort of.” I put both hands around my cup and allow the ice to freeze my hands before I pull them away and run my palms on my thighs. “I first realized my feelings had changed when we had a business thing in Miami and she came with me. She told me she hated me and it hit me hard. I didn’t want her to hate me when I felt things for her I’d never felt before.”

  “Even with Kendra?” Her voice is soft and soothing as she asks the tough question.

  I shake my head. “Even with Kendra,” I confirm. “I kissed her in Miami and she told me we couldn’t. She never said why, and I assumed it was because of some professional line she didn’t want to cross.”

  “But it was because she was married,” my mom deduces.

  I nod. “Which I found out after she finally gave in.” I leave it at that, choosing not to define exactly what “gave in” means.

  She clears her throat. “I’d never condone that behavior, obviously. I believe strongly in the institution of marriage. But did you happen to ask her if their marriage was over?”

  “We didn’t talk too much about it before I kicked her out.”

  “Oh, Brian,” she says, like it was wrong of me to kick her out when she’s the one who lied to me.

  “It’s not over with her husband. She doesn’t know if she wants to leave him. She loves both of us.” I speak each sentence flatly and mechanically because if I allow myself to feel the words, I’m not sure what will happen. Water will need to turn into whiskey pretty quickly to re-numb it all again.

  “Talk to her, honey,” she says. “Find out what she wants to
do.”

  I shake my head. “After Kendra cheated on me with Mark, I knew I could never be party to cheating. I won’t do it, no matter how strongly I feel about the woman.”

  My mom closes her eyes and nods. “I get that, and I think it’s commendable you feel that way. But you won’t know unless you ask.”

  “I already know what I need to know.”

  She shakes her head. “So stubborn. Just like your brother and your dad.”

  I lift a shoulder. “Runs in the Fox family, I guess.”

  She presses her lips together sadly. “I just want you to be happy. We picked you up after Kendra, and we’ll pick you up after this, too. But Brian...this seems different. I’ve never seen you like this.”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “The circles under your eyes. The rasp of your voice. The sadness in your gait. It’s not you.”

  “I just lost my job, my friends, and the girl I love,” I point out bluntly. “Of course it’s not me.”

  “Take all the time you need,” she says, ignoring my little outburst. She stands. “I’ll make you my special chicken soup.”

  I hold up a hand. “No, Mom. That’s okay.” It’s my mom’s cure-all for anything from the common cold to a broken arm to heartbreak, and it’s not good. “Just some of your world famous spaghetti and meatballs.”

  Her lips lift in a half smile. “Okay. Spaghetti it is. I’ll have it ready in a couple hours.” She sets to work as she checks through the pantry for ingredients.

  “I’ll just take my bag upstairs and be down to help in a few minutes.”

  She yells from the depths of the pantry. “Okay, honey! Take your time.”

  chapter five

  When I open the door to my childhood bedroom, I’m surprised to find it doesn’t look the same anymore. They must have renovated in the last year or two, because the last time I was here, it didn’t look like this. Instead, I find a treadmill, a little bench, a stack of workout magazines, and some free weights.