Page 80 of Third Time’s a Charm

“Hoping, rather than expecting, really. It’s a big project to take on all by yourself, supportive investor notwithstanding. I have no doubt you can do it, but it would be easier and more efficient with help.”

My hope is that help will be from me. But the reality is, there are others she could turn to. I can only hope she doesn’t.

“Help.” There’s a wealth of sarcasm in her voice.

“Yes. I want to be involved. I want to help. But I understand if you’d rather go it alone, or if there’s someone else you’d rather partner with. It’s your call. Just think about it. Please.” If I could see my face in the mirror, I imagine I’d look something like a sad dog begging for a treat. But I don’t care. As long as she at least gives my idea consideration.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her how I feel about her, but I hold back. I need to win back her trust first. I need to make the fuckup that Cellar Road and I have created right.

Once that’s done, there’ll be time for personal confessions.

Once that’s done, she’ll hopefully give me the grace to prove myself worthy.

She’s given me my fifteen minutes, and my time is up, so I move towards the door. I’m halfway out when she calls my name.

I turn around. Hope nearly choking me.

“What happened to your hand?”

I lift my still-throbbing, busted knuckles. They’re a little swollen. Grazed and bruised. And there’s a tear in the skin on the middle one where it connected with Tate’s septum, which I won’t be sorry if I broke.

I get the impression she knows what happened, but if she needs to hear it from me, that’s okay.

“Tate might have pissed me off.”

“Not a good career move, punching your boss.”

“Neither is resignation by middle finger. But if those fuckers thought I was going to continue working for them after the shit they pulled, they’re deluded.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Louise

The door swings closed behind Jasper, leaving me standing in the front hall of my apartment, clutching a USB.

Ant unfolds himself from the sofa. “Do you want my opinion?”

“Always.” That is why I brought him, after all. Because I’m no longer sure I can trust my judgement. Also, to stop me hurling myself at Jasper. Whether to knee him in the balls or to beg him to explain in a way that made sense, I have no idea.

Lil wasn’t happy to be left behind, but Ant lovingly suggested her brand of feisty might be a little distracting under the circumstances. What we needed was clear heads.

“I believe him,” he answers, simply, holding out his hand for the USB, which he plugs into his laptop at the dining table.

I’m torn. What Jasper said did have the ring of truth about it. There were no evasions, no excuses. Just a simple explanation.

I leave it to Ant to look at what Jasper gave me. I don’t think I could focus on projections and profit and loss right now.

Because there’s not only what Jasper said about my work, but the revelations about John Mackelden, and how Tate swept all the accusations under the rug.

I know firsthand John is a predator. A fact I shared with Jasper on our travels. And I had suspicions I wasn’t the only one he had … approached. But I had no idea how deep it went. How long it had been going on. Or the extent to which he’d crossed the line. It’s pretty apparent I got off easy compared to others. The file Jasper showed us turned my stomach.

Using it as leverage to get what I want sits a little uncomfortably with me. On the one hand, I’m grateful to have it. On the other, will using it involve agreeing to keep quiet about what John has been up to? Allowing him—and Tate Brown—to get away with it?

I’m not sure I could live with that. Then again, the women who originally brought these allegations against John are the important ones. They’re the victims. So far, whatever Tate and John gave them has kept them silent. Maybe they want a voice. But maybe they want anonymity. In which case, it’s not my place to disturb whatever peace they’ve been able to find.

There are too many spinning plates in my head for me to concentrate, so I flip the kettle on for some tea.

By the time I’m putting a steaming mug in front of Ant, he’s coming to the end of the document Jasper prepared.