Too Much

EMERALD

“Clear my afternoon, then come have a word with me,” Mr. King demanded, and I blinked, holding the receiver in my hand as it rang. “Put that down. There are more important things to do right now.”

He went back into his lair, and I hung up the phone as I began clearing his schedule for the afternoon.

It was nearly lunch, and he ~should~ have been going to meet with Mr. Logan right now instead of barking at me like a seal.

I could just imagine him bouncing a ball on his nose and clapping his flippers together. He’d, of course, be in a suit. No tie because that would be silly on a seal.

“I should buy frozen sardines,” I muttered as I sent out apologetic emails.

I could imagine the look of shock on his face when I started throwing fish at him when he acted like a prick.

Of course, I’d end up fired and unable to afford care for my mother, but it would be funny as shit to see at least once.

Once the schedule was cleared, I knocked on the office door and stepped in once I was summoned forth like some pitiful underling. I was a pitiful lackey, but the imagery wasn’t helping any.

God, I needed to get a social life that didn’t revolve around my boss. Maybe then, I’d stop being so imaginative about him being some dark overlord with a pitchfork.

“Close the door and have a seat,” he directed, and I cringed a bit. This wasn’t boding very well for me already.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked as I sat down.

“That depends on which side of the desk you’re on,” he shrugged. “You’re aware my grandfather passed away recently?”

“I am,” I nodded.

“Well, there seems to be a clause in his will that completely fucks everything,” he sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“My father is too old, but my brothers and I… In order to inherit full ownership of the company, there’s a list of requirements to be met.”

“Devon and Leo?” I frowned. “That’s… insane.”

“What makes you say that?” he folded his hands on his stomach.

“That depends on how candid you want me to be,” I grimaced.

“Very,” he said. “I need honesty, Emerald.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes to prepare myself for cleaning out my desk. I couldn’t ~not~ answer him. And he’d said “honest,” so… Honest it was.

“Devon is a child in all of the worst ways. He’s immature and shortsighted and couldn’t manage a paper clip without running it into the ground.

“He’s also pretty lazy, and since we’re being honest, he’s spoiled with no tact or subtlety,” I said, shaking my head.

“That’s fair.” He nodded.

“And Leo is greedy. He’s got the skills to run a company like this, but he’s a slimy little shit with no morals. Calling him a snake would be insulting the entire species.” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Yes, we already have a bird invasion and mole people to worry about, let’s not add snakes to the mix just yet.” He smirked.

“Okay, seriously, who the hell are you and what have you done to my boss?” I shook my head. “What’s all this about, anyhow?”

“Well, you’re not wrong. Devon is very ill-suited to running a company, and Leo only wants to sell for the highest amount he can get.” He leaned his elbows on the desk. “What about me?”

“What do you mean?” I frowned in confusion.

“You’ve given me your thoughts on both of my brothers, but what about me?”

“Like hell I’m telling you that. I don’t want to get fired, thanks.” I snorted and stood up. “Suffice it to say, you’re doing better than anyone gives you credit for.

“Considering you’ve managed to double the yearly earnings for the past two years, with the board of dicks blocking your every move, I’d say that leaves you the more qualified from a business point of view.

“I’ll keep my opinions on your personality to myself. At least until I decide to find a different job.”

I started walking to the door, intending to get back to work, when Vince walked in with a file in his hand.

“Oh. Good. You’re here.” He nodded to me.

“It’s my lunch break. Leave a memo and I’ll make the appointment,” I said, stepping aside so he could get through the door all the way.

“Emerald,” Mr. King said, standing up and buttoning his jacket, “we aren’t finished here yet.”

“Could we skip to the point then? I’m kind of hungry.” I sighed and turned around.

“I’m afraid this is going to take a bit of time, Emma,” Vince said, holding out his arm, motioning for me to take a seat as Mr. King came around the front of his desk.

“Please tell me there isn’t some kind of legal notice that makes no sense to the rest of the human race but ultimately means I’m out of a job.” I groaned as I obliged.

“That remains to be seen,” Mr. King said, and Vince sighed and rolled his eyes at him.

“You’re being a jackass, Tate,” he said. “If you aren’t going to be helpful, shut the hell up.”

“I second that request if it makes any difference.” I held up my hand slightly.

“You aren’t fired, Emma, but there is a bit of a…complication. Did Tate tell you about the will?” Vince said, and I nodded.

“Well, most of the requirements are easy enough to meet, but there is one that, honestly, is going to be a problem for him.”

Mr. King scoffed, and Vince shot a look at him.

“I’m not understanding why this has anything to do with me.” I tilted my head to the side.

“It doesn’t really have much to do with you, but you are the best solution to the issue.” He grimaced. “Pardon the lack of decorum, but you’re basically the easiest fix. The most ~believable~.”

“Before you go any farther”—I held up a hand—“I’m a terrible public speaker. I get nauseous and end up fainting. That’s how I ended up with three staples in my eyebrow.

“Best and worst fourth grade play ever.”

“Good to know, but that won’t be necessary, Emerald. Not for a few months, at least, but you’ll only be needing to say two things.” Mr. King crossed his arms.

“‘Unemployment sucks?’” I tried.

“Well, you will be unemployed, technically, but no, that’s not it.” He smiled.

“Again, Tate, not helping,” Vince ground out. “Look, Emma, one of the clauses was that the potential candidates needed to be married in order to be considered an heir.

“Tate, Devon, and Leo are the only ones that meet the other, more superficial, requirements.”

“Whoa, the fuck you said to me?” I blurted, eyes wide and mouth dropping open.

“I need a wife,” Tate said. “You know I hate the idea of a relationship, so I’m sure you can see the problem.

“Not only do I need a wife, but I need to be able to convince my grandmother that it’s real.

“You know me better than anyone, aside from Vince, and you already spend a lot of time with me, so it’s perfectly reasonable to believe that we’re in a relationship after hours.”

“You need a ~what~?” I squealed slightly.

“Tate! You aren’t making this any better, fucker,” Vince said.

“There’s only so much time before now and the deadline, Vince. I can’t afford to waste it playing around with kid gloves right now,” he said.

“You can’t just drop this on her like that!” exclaimed Vince.

“She’s got to make a choice and the sooner that happens the sooner I can focus on more important things,” Mr. King stated.

“Hold the fuck up, both of you assholes!” I shouted and jumped to my feet. “~She~ is right here, so stop acting like I’m not.

“And you, dick for brains”—I pointed at Mr. King—“did ~not~ just call this completely fucked situation, and by no stretch of the imagination, me, less important than a phone call to Dale to come get your precious ass…

“Because, so help me, Tate, I will have you in back-to-back meetings for the rest of your pampered life!”

“Holy shit,” Vince whispered as Mr. King’s eyes opened wide.

“You’re insane. You know that, right? Who in hell ~does~ this stuff? It sure as fuck isn’t me.” I shook my head.

“I’m going to lunch, and I’m taking the rest of the day off. Answer your own fucking phones, fuckwit.”

I stomped out of the office, grabbed my purse, and left the building.

When I made it back to my apartment, I had no idea what the hell just happened.

Part of me was convinced it was some kind of daydream fantasy bullshit. I had been reading too many romance novels lately and this kind of thing, let’s face it, happened a lot.

Another part of me was convinced that I had been hit by a bus or something and I was hallucinating while in a coma.

I hoped, if that was the case, I’d remember my life, but not this. This was insane, and if I remembered it, I’d probably check myself into a clinic for a while.

Some other part was banking on it being a fever dream or some kind of overdose of cold medicine. Bad seafood, even. I mean, dying brain cells would explain this kind of hallucination, right? Totally.

Still, as I changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, some small, teeny tiny speck wanted to believe that all of it was real.

It was happening.

Not even that part of me wanted to hope that there was a deeper reason that Tate picked ~me~ over some bombshell trophy wife.

That would be pushing the fragile limits of what my already overloaded brain could handle right now.

I started my laundry and was scrubbing the toilet when my phone rang. I groaned and pulled off the rubber gloves to answer it.

“Yes?”

“Ms. Wells?”

“That’s me.” I looked at the number.

“This is Dr. Quinn from Highland General Hospital. I’m calling to inform you of the admittance of your mother, June Wells,” he said.

“What? Is she okay?” I said, dropping the gloves and grabbing my wallet and keys to the apartment.

“She was brought in by a handyman that had come to work on the oven when he found her unresponsive. We believe that she may have overdosed on painkillers due to her Alzheimer’s.

“Her home nurse was able to get in touch with us about her condition and situation,” he said.

“Will she be okay?” I asked as I raced down the stairs.

“We’ve pumped her stomach and given her medication to help prevent organ damage from what we didn’t get out of her system,” he assured me.

“I expect that she’ll make a complete recovery; however, I strongly urge you to consider either a live-in caretaker or maybe a care facility to help prevent things like this from happening again.”

“My brother and I are already aware of the progression of her symptoms, Dr. Quinn.

“He’s only just returned from a tour in the military, so we haven’t discussed it at length yet,” I said as I waved down a cab and jumped in, telling the driver where to go.

“We had to sedate her in order to pump her stomach, so when you get here, she’ll likely not be lucid, but you’re welcome to come sit with her,” he said and gave me her room number.

I called Lance and told him what had happened, and I was so glad when he joined me in the tiny room with our mom.

“What are we going to do, Lance?” I whispered. “I can’t live that far from my job, you can’t give up the military, we can’t afford a live-in caregiver.”

“We need to look into nursing homes and facilities, Em.” He sighed, scrubbing his hand down his face. “Surely there’s enough left from the insurance from Dad to cover a month or so, right?”

“No, Lance. That went dry months ago.” I looked away. “I’ve been paying all of her bills for about a year now.”

“What? How did that happen?” he asked.

“Her medicine, the nurse, all of the utilities, the mortgage, the appointments, plus the months I lived with her, I couldn’t work to cover the costs of me being there,” I listed off.

“I was sending money, Em. Where did it go?”

“Do I need to break out the bank statements? One month of her medication costs $500 with her insurance. Barbara is another $3000. Should I keep going?” I asked him.

“Fuck, Emerald. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“And what would you have done? I know how much you make, Lance. Besides, I’ve been making enough the past ten months to make ends meet most of the time.” I shrugged.

“But we can’t afford a home or a full-time nurse.”

“There are programs and stuff, right?” he asked, shaking his head. “You said you looked into those when you hired Barbara.”

“The kinds of places approved by those programs are little more than asylums, Lance. Poorly funded ones, at that.” I sighed.

“That’s why I hired Barbara in the first place. I can ask for a raise, but I don’t know how well that’ll go right now.”

“I promised Mom I wouldn’t sign up for longer trips, but I don’t think that’s an option anymore.” He leaned his head back on the wall behind him.

“No, Lance. I have nearly a year of working under one of the biggest names in business. If it comes down to it, I can update my résumé and find a different company to work for.”

I glared at him. “I don’t want my brother over there longer than necessary.”

“This isn’t just on you, Em,” he shot back.

“No, but right now, I’m the one that can make more.” I shrugged. “It’s only for another year, then you process out of the service. I’ve already held things together for one year. What’s one more, right?”

“That’s—”

“No, Lance.” I held up my hand. “You’ve ~always~ wanted to serve, so serve. Go get your soldier on and make your country proud.

“Let me hold the fort, okay? When you get done and you’ve got all your shiny medals and shit, you can be the one to do the things and stuff. And for the record, I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

“Fucking bossy,” he muttered.

“You know I’ve always been your biggest cheerleader, Lance. That’s never going to change.” I shrugged. “I’ll take care of Mom. You go play in the sandbox with your friends.”

“I know you’re joking, but I’m also kind of concerned you think that’s what we actually do.” He gave me a half smirk.

“You make sandcastles and pet the doggies and work on your tan.” I played up the airhead tone.

“I want to throttle you now.” He narrowed his eyes at me.

“I’ll figure something out.” I waved around the room generally.

“No stripping and nothing illegal, Emerald,” he pointed at me.

“Damn. There goes a promising career in being a stripper-slash-drug mule,” I sighed with disappointment. “Killjoy.”

What I didn’t tell Lance was that I had a contract with Tate King. I couldn’t leave for another job with a competitor, which was everyone, pretty much, until the contract came to term at one year of employment.

Unless I was fired or there was an unavoidable family emergency requiring relocation, I was stuck.

I could try to talk him into releasing me from the contract a few months early, but that would go almost as well as me asking for a raise after what happened in his office today.

As it stood, I was still waiting on the notice of termination to grace my email.

I might be able to grab a night shift somewhere, but I could see myself burning out really quickly doing that and I had at least two months to go.

Truthfully, I didn’t know how I was going to make ends meet anymore.

Lance and I grabbed some Chinese takeout on the way back to my apartment, and we ate quietly until I decided to go to bed a little early.

My poor brain had taken one too many hits of information and I was practically dragging myself into bed.

Of course, all the information kept bouncing around in my head, making it impossible to sleep, so when Tate’s message came in, I sighed and reached for my phone.

Tate

Do penguins count as birds since they swim instead of fly? Asking for a friend.

Emerald

Not tonight, Tate. Please? It’s been a fucked-up day and I really don’t have the brain power for this right now.

I pulled the blankets over my head.

Everything was always better under the unbreakable barrier of the blankets when I was little, so surely it would be the same now as an adult, right? No harm in trying.

My phone rang, and I muttered profanities as I answered it.

“What?”

“Are you okay?” Tate asked.

“No. I’m very much not okay.” I sighed.

“I’m sorry about what happened today. I shouldn’t have just thrown that out there like that and I was kind of a dick,” he said.

“It’s not because of that. Well, it’s not helping, but I’m used to you being a twat canoe at work.” I flipped the blanket off, getting too hot.

“Believe it or not, I hate hearing that from you.” He sighed. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

And for some stupid reason, that’s when it all hit me right in the tear ducts and broke me into a little girl who was in ~way~ over her head in life.

“I-it’s my mom.” I sniffed.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, and it shouldn’t have shocked me that he actually sounded like he really cared. This was ~Tate~ not Mr. King, the dickhole boss.

“No. Yes. I don’t know anymore, Tate.” I sniffed and wiped my face with my hand. “I just… I just got hit with everything all at once and I have no idea what I’m doing.

“I’ve been flying by the seat of my pants for the past four years and I can feel my grip slipping right now, you know?”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“Are you asking as my friend or my boss?” I took a shuddering breath and put my arm over my eyes.

“As much as this sucks for me, Lance is probably getting it worse. He just got home and this is what happens right out of the gate. Talk about a welcome home from hell, huh?”

“Not to sound like an ass, again, but he’s not my concern right now, Emerald. You’re the one crying,” he said.

“That’s not fair. Lance ~could~ be crying.” I laughed weakly.

“Jesus, I’m not crying, but I’m about to if you don’t get the fuck up and take this touching conversation, literally, anywhere else,” Lance called.

“Fucking shit, Em, I’ve lived in ~tents~ with thicker walls than this apartment.”

I heard Tate laughing as I groaned and rolled out of bed.

“How in the hell do you plan on kicking me out of my own apartment, stupid?” I called out.

“Hey, lover boy. You on your way yet?”

“Yeah.” Tate laughed.

“Wait, what?” I looked at the phone.

My bedroom door banged open, and Lance stomped in, picking me up over his shoulder. He took me to the front door and sat me outside, shoving my slippers at me before closing it and locking it behind him.

“What the fuck just happened?”