Chapter 5b: Confrontation

Monday 8:15 pm

"We're here, Mr. Upton."

"Uh, yeah." I said, coming out of my thousand-mile stare out the window at the lights of the casino Terrence had pulled up to. "Thanks."

I sat in the black SUV for a moment longer, thinking about the demon I was going to face. Bobbi had made my work life a living hell, and she was a large part of why I'd dreaded going to work every day, and now I had the opportunity to return the favor. I just wasn't sure if I had the stomach for it.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

"No," I said, opening the door and starting to get out. I hesitated and looked back at the opening in the partition where I could see Terrence looking at me. "Do I need to tip you or something?"

He chuckled, "That won't be necessary, sir. Mr. VanCamp pays me very well. Thank you though. You're a good man."

I nodded and met his smile with my own forced one and said, "Alright. Thanks. Have a good night Terrence."

I closed the door and whispered, "That's me. A good man."

Right now, I wasn't so sure.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to behold the front entrance of Solomon's Palace. It was known as one of the most expensive casinos in New York City, catering to the very wealthy and privileged. If there were any upper middle class, they were likely there as a guest of the class with most of the money, or they were blowing savings on a once-in-a-lifetime splurge 'just to see what it's like'. I hadn't really given any thought to why I told Bobbi to come to this place, but I might have just been looking for some other way of putting her on her back foot.

Gathering my resolve, I strode toward the casino. A doorman at the entrance gave me a smile and held the door open for me and said, "Welcome to the Solomon's Palace, sir!" I nodded and gave him a smile. "Thanks. Where's your restaurant? I'm meeting someone here."

He pointed, "Just down the hall and to the left."

I followed his directions, walking down the massive hall completely arrayed in gaudy red velvet and gold trim. A sign was fixed to a massive entrance to my left that displayed the name of a restaurant - Solomon's Palace Fine Dining - and a list of featured items on the menu. A lot of the options available here cost more than half my month's rent.

Pinching myself still made it difficult to believe I wasn't dreaming. Here I was standing in an expensive suit in the lobby of Solomon's Palace after being dropped off by an employee who worked for one of the most prestigious law firms in New York. The whole thing filled me with a sense of dysphoria. The fact that I was here to confront someone I hated more than just about anyone else only exacerbated the feeling.

"I'm here to meet someone," I told the hostess, a lovely woman in her mid-twenties with white-blonde hair.

"Of course, sir. And your name?"

I hesitated, wondering whether or not I should actually give her my name, but then I remembered that Helen had arranged the reservation for me after we'd finished our... meeting that afternoon. She hadn't given me an alternate name to use.

"Um, Marcus Upton?"

"Oh!" She said, her eyebrows shooting up in recognition as she found my name on her list. "Right this way sir!"

She led me through one of the nicest restaurants I'd ever seen in my life, and I found myself looking around at all the gorgeous people wearing nice clothes eating expensive food. An entire world had been opened to me that I had only seen in movies.

As I followed her, my mind raced, wondering what the hell the game plan was. Obviously, we were going to eat, but why the fuck had I invited her out on a date? She clearly hadn't wanted to come. She'd thrown my meager background and my in-state college in my face repeatedly, so was I just looking to rub my wealth in her face? Was I going to stick her with the bill? Should I call the cops after dessert and have her arrested?

Hi, police? This is Marcus Upton. I found out today that this woman is stealing from me, but I wanted to take her out to dinner and feed her a souffle before you arrest her. Yes, I'll be pressing charges.

The entire idea sounded dumb, but the alternative just sounded dark. As with most casinos, this one had hotel rooms. I should know because Helen had booked me the most expensive one.

There was no way in hell Bobbi was going to be interested in sharing a hotel room with me.

She led me through a pair of doors that opened into a private room with its own table and a personal waiter. It even had a fireplace with a roaring blaze in it. The temperature outside wasn't exactly cold, but the room's temperature had been adjusted so that the warmth of the fire was comfortable.

Bobbi was absolutely stunning. Her light brown hair shone in the low flicker of the fire, her grey eyes meeting mine with a look I'd never seen; every time I'd locked eyes with her in the past, there'd been nothing but contempt. I'd expected the same now, but this time she had a look of wariness and uncertainty, which did wonders for my confidence. In fact, my entire experience since I'd walked into the casino seemed to calm my nerves. Everyone had treated me with importance bordering on reverence. It made me feel powerful. Bobbi with that deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes made me feel it even more.

"Welcome to Solomon's Palace, sir," the waiter said as he approached the other side of the table and pulled out a chair for me. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see the hostess close the door behind me.

"Um... thanks," I said as I took the seat provided. I glanced at Bobbi and mentally kicked myself at not sounding confident in front of her. Bobbi was smart and opportunistic - a predator who would pounce on any sign of weakness. I didn't want to show her my throat.

"The lady has already ordered Kobe beef carpaccio and a 1973 Château Petrus. Is there anything you'd like to start with?"

I glanced at Bobbi, and though the uncertainty was still in her bright grey eyes, she arched an eyebrow at me as if daring me to complain about the fact that she'd presumed to order before I'd arrived - it was probably the most expensive wine and appetizer on the menu. I did my best to not give her the satisfaction of reacting. I looked back up at the waiter.

"What's your name?"

"Roderick, sir."

"You know what, Roderick? It's my first time here. Bring us one of everything on the appetizer menu."

Roderick hesitated and glanced at Bobbi. What had she already told him?

"Everything, sir?"

"Everything, Roderick. And please bring four more wines. Some of the best you have, but you choose them, if you don't mind."

"Ah... yes sir." He looked at Bobbi, "Is there anything else I can get you?"

She glanced at Karl, then me. I could tell she was weighing her options. "Go ahead and bring two of everything," she said, looking back at Roderick. I don't like sharing."

She smirked at me, daring me to protest. Instead, I picked up my menu and started looking it over as if it didn't bother me. I managed to keep my eyes from popping when I realized that the menus didn't even have prices on them, so I couldn't do the mental math to see how much of a bill we'd already accrued. The wealthy really did like living on the edge, didn't they? Once again, I had to remind myself that this was all inconsequential. Helen's team had already transferred a bank account to my name that held several million dollars in it just to get me started. Any amount of money spent tonight was like breaking off a chunk of ice to cool my drink. That chunk of ice came from an iceberg the size of a small continent.

I heard the door shut a few minutes later, signifying that Roderick had left, and looked up at Bobbi, giving her a sweet smile. "I don't know about you, but I've had a really long day, and I'm ready to eat."

The smirk slipped from Bobbi's lips slightly, which was one of the best things I'd experienced in weeks. That was coming from a guy who had buried his cock in Helen after inheriting over nine-hundred billion dollars. That's how much I hated this bitch.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Bobbi dropped all pretense of having control of this situation.

"None of your fucking business," I said, giving her my best sickly sweet smile.

"I don't have to put up with this," Bobbi snapped as she threw her napkin out of her lap and stood up.

"Sit down,"I said.

"No," she said, picking up her phone and purse. "Fucking have me arrested. I'll spend a couple years in prison and get out on good behavior. It's better than having to put up with your shit."

She walked out the door without looking back.

"Dammit," I picked up my phone and pulled up Helen's number. I hadn't expected her to get triggered so easily.

She left. Go ahead and do it, I texted Helen.

It was immediately read, but after a few moments of not responding, I put my phone down, sure Helen would pull through for me like she'd done every other time.

I watched the fire in the fireplace, enjoying the crackling of the wood as I waited.

A few minutes later the door opened and in came Roderick along with four other people bearing trays and carts of food. They began wordlessly setting platters of escargot, crab legs, gormet guacomole, Kobe beef, and other things in a pleasing array. They left the decorative carts near the table and lifted lids to other beautiful spreads.

"There's not enough room, so if it's alright with you, we will leave the rest right here. Would you like me to fix both of you a plate?," Roderick asked.

"No thank you. If you'd just give us some privacy, I'd appreciate it. I'll pop my head out if you need anything.""

The staff retreated, as Roderick laid out the plates, wine glasses, and the five bottles of wine. He started to back away to leave as well when I stopped him.

"Hey Roderick," I said. "Does the noise carry outside this room very much?"

"No sir," Rodierick responded. "It's not soundproof, but the room is designed to allow for a fair amount of privacy."

"Okay," I said. "Just a heads up. Things might get a little loud in here. She's... a passionate woman."

He simply smiled and said, "Understood, sir." He'd clearly had similar conversations before.

Nearly ten minutes had passed when the doors burst open. "What the fuck is this?" Bobbi stormed over to me looking as she was ready to bury the phone she held in her hand directly into my skull.

"Seriously," Bobbi spat as she leaned extraordinarily close to me, her face inches from mine. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Keep calm, Helen's voice said in my head as I repeated some of the advice she'd given me, You own the world. There's no reason to get angry when you can literally buy your way in it.

I looked up at her from my seat and said, "Sit. The fuck. Down."

Nearly an entire minute ticked by as we stared at each other. She finally huffed and took her seat once more. I sighed and then began reaching for food. "Better. Now, what's your question?"

"You turned off my phone, motherfucker. How?"

"According to my lawyers," I stated as I reached for some crab claws, "I'm the richest person in the world." I finally looked back up at her as I started cracking open a crab leg, "Bobbi, I could wipe my ass with thousand dollar bills every time I take a shit from now till the day I die and my bank account wouldn't notice. I bought Marduke. I bought the building it's in, and I'll probably buy this casino. I also bought First Patriot. Ever heard of it?"

Bobbi's eyebrows knitted together and she shook her head.

"It's a credit collection agency that has been trying to reach you for the past seven months. They bought 80% of your credit and have been trying to collect on it since. I'm in the process of collecting the other 20% of your bad debt. I also own Monarch Three and Fiscal."

Bobbi's eyes widened at that, "My..."

"Your mortgage, car note, and student loans, yeah."

"I also have solid proof that you've committed a felony." The sound of crackling felt like they were providing some sort of ominous ambience to my words as I made a little pile of cold crab meat for later. I didn't want to detract from what I was saying by eating in front of her.

"Well, my lawyers say it's more like ten felonies. They're saying you could easily spend over fifty years in prison if we pursued all of it, although they said that it would be expensive to do that."

I put down the claw cracker and wiped my hands of the juice before leaning forward and locking gazes with her. "Bobbi, I would spend millions to make sure you suffered the full weight of the penalty for your crimes. That's how much I hate you."

"What are -"

"Shut up," I snapped. "You talk when I tell you."

For the first time since I'd known her, Bobbi was shutting up when told to do so.

"You almost got me fired. I know you got Mary fired. You cost the entire team half our bonus from last quarter. You've microwaved fish in the breakroom at least twice that I know about. You enabled Gina, and you made Gerald cry. You think I'd stop at throwing you in prison? I'd pay off every guard I can to make sure your time there was a living hell. I'd stock the account of every prisoner in there so you couldn't get a moment's rest. They would beat you. Take your stuff. Humiliate you. Maybe even worse."

"I'd also buy out the company your sister's ex husband works at. What do you think would happen if the child support suddenly dries up? Or maybe I'd buy the nursing home your grandmother lives in."

I wouldn't have followed through on any of those promises, but she made me so mad that I found myself improvising just to see how many buttons I could push. I wouldn't have let some kid starve, and I certainly wouldn't have tossed out some old lady on the streets for the sins of her granddaughter. I'm not a monster, but I didn't want her to know that.

"You'll die abused, scared, and friendless in prison. You'll be the sole cause of your family's suffering, and I'll make sure they know it."

I watched her for a long moment as she chewed on my words. Finally, I sat back in my seat and started eating on the appetizers I'd put together on my plate. I could appreciate why it was all so expensive. The food was some of the best I'd ever had in my life.

"You can speak." I said as I continued to eat without looking up at her.

Moments of silence passed with just the sound of the fire and my fork clinking against the plate. I was dying to look at her... to see if I could gauge her reaction. But I didn't dare give her the satisfaction. The ball was in her court.

"I'm sorry." She finally said after about four minutes of silence from both of us. I continued what I was doing, and another half minute passed before I heard a sob escape from her.

"I said I'm sorry," she repeated. "You don't have the right-"

My head snapped up and I glared at her as other sins came to mind that would have gotten anyone fired a long time ago, "Remember Tony? Remember LaShonda? Remember you and me three months ago? You didn't have the right then, and you know what? Maybe I don't have the right to do this, but I'm doing it because I hate you, because it makes me feel good, and because I can."

"What do you want from me?"

I stood up, "I want you to cry. I want you to feel sorry for yourself. I want you to be scared for your freedom and the livelihood of your family." I leaned over my plate of food and placed my hands on the tabletop, "And I want you to eat the goddamn food you ordered!"

All the hatred, anger, and defiance in her eyes had fled as she stared back at me. Tears slipped free and slid down her cheeks. Her bottom lip and chin quivered, but she didn't say anything. Really, what was there to say? Finally, she looked away and began piling expensive food on her plate.

We ate in complete silence for a while. I enjoyed most of the expensive food. Almost all of it was new to me. Bobbi seemed to enjoy it as much as it was possible for someone in her position. She ate slowly and deliberately, taking small bites and doing her best to make as little noise as possible as if that would make me forget she was even here. Neither of us spoke to each other.

I did use that opportunity to really admire her though. As horrible as her personality was, Bobbi was an exquisite woman. She had fine features that gave her an elfin quality, with large, almond-shaped, light-grey eyes that always smoldered with intensity. She had flawless ivory skin and her golden brown hair fell in loose, layered curls that hung over one shoulder. She was a master of using just enough makeup to enhance her beauty without overdoing it. She had subtle curves that she displayed remarkably well in the little black dress she wore, and its plunging neckline drew my eyes to the inner slopes of her modest breasts. Each bite of food was followed up by the tip of her small pink tongue across her lips to capture any excess juices. It was all so tempting.

I dropped my fork on my plate, and the sound of it caused Bobbi to jump in her chair.

"What do you think I should do with you?"

"What?"

I looked at her like she was an idiot. "Gina's gone, Bobbi. What the fuck do you think happened to her?"

Bobbi looked like she wasn't quite sure how to answer.

"I'm not trying to trap you, Bobbi. There's no right or wrong answer here. I'm genuinely asking you what you think I should do. Should I press charges?"

"No," Bobbi replied right on top of my question.

"Why not? You're a criminal and you owe me a lot of money."

"I said I was sorry! What more do you want from me?"

I didn't know. She was so beautiful. I wanted to tell her that there were some ways she could pay me back or work off her debt, but I didn't want to sound like a character in a cheesy porn.

"I don't know. I think I might have Roderick send the rest of this stuff up to my room and just head up there for the rest of the evening. My lawyer says that since I have proof, I should press charges. Maybe I'll revisit the options with them tomorrow."

"You're not going to try to fuck me?"

It was my turn to be caught off guard by her. "Fuck you?"

"Why else would you have me come here dressed up for you?"

It was a good question, and to be honest, she was right, there was definitely some part of me hoping that this would turn out a certain way.

"You want the truth?" I asked.

Bobbi shrugged, looking at me sullenly.

"Part of me wants to hate-fuck the shit out of you," I admitted. "But there's no way that's happening."

"Why not?"

Was she being serious right now?

"Go home, Bobbi," I said and wiped my mouth on my napkin.

"Seriously! Why the fuck did you bring me out here if you were just going to have me arrested? Are you telling me there's nothing you want from me?"

"You want me to fuck you?" I asked.

"God no," Bobbi replied a little too disgustedly for my taste.

"Then what's the issue?"

"Will fucking you tonight keep you from pressing charges?"

This was a turn I hadn't expected. I'd come here with some sort of fantasy of making her fuck me, and then deciding I wasn't up for it. I hadn't expected her to offer to fuck me. Was that what she was doing?

"I don't know. Maybe."

Maybe if she was really damn good in bed.

"I guess it would depend on how good you were," I said.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She had the gall to look genuinely offended.

"It means that if your ability to fuck is on par with your ability to be socially aware or empathize with people, then you're probably pretty bad at it."

"I-"

"I'm done with this conversation," I said, cutting her off. "I'm going to my room."

And without waiting for another reply from Bobbi, I gathered my phone to leave. As I made my way toward the door, she screamed at me.

"Don't you fucking dare walk away from me, Marcus!"

When I didn't even slow down or look back at her, I heard her scream and then heard the shattering of several plates. Fuck, the staff was going to need to be well compensated for that.