The Love Of Money - Episode 115
28-07-25 (10:50)
"Look," I continued, "Don't worry about the money for
medical stuff. Just forward all the bills to me and I'll
take care of them. If my nephew's sick, the last thing I
want is you guys worrying about how you're going to
pay for his care."
"Yeah?" Jacob said, perking up at the offer. "Thanks,
brother. I'll do that."
"No problem," I said, grabbing my cup of coffee and
taking another sip.
Silence fell on the entire table, and after an
uncomfortable few moments, Jacob cleared his throat
and said, "So have you started looking for new
investment opportunities yet?"
"Not really," I said, the bottom of my stomach
immediately dropping. Was Ryan even sick?
"Because I have something you might be interested in."
"No thanks," I said. "I have financial advisors taking care
of that stuff."
"Well, maybe could speak to them?"
"About what, exactly?"
There's this start-up-"
"Ah," cut him off.
"Wait. Just hear me out."
"Don't you already have a job?" I asked.
"Well yeah! This is just happening on the side, but it has
the chance to be really big."
"Jacob," I said, unable to hide my exasperation. "Come
on, man."
"What?" Jacob said, flustered at the shift in my tone
from the benevolent brother who just offered to pay
his medical bills to the rich potential investor giving
push-back.
I stared at him for a long moment and finally said,
"Nothing." I sat my coffee back on the table and stood
up. "I need to use the bathroom. Jacob, it was good
seeing you, man, but I'm gonna need to leave soon."
Jacob reached out and grabbed my arm, preventing me
from turning around. "Marcus! Just hear me out on this!"
"Nah," said. "This sounds like more of the same. Do
yourself a favor, Jacob. Go home and take care of your
kid. Now, let go of me."
I wrenched my arm free of his grip and turned away
from him, very aware that we were drawing attention
from people at the tables nearest us just when I
thought they were done eyeing me like I was a circus
attraction.
Either Jacob didn't notice the hyperawareness from the
rest of the room, or he didn't care. He stood and took a
step toward me, grasping my shoulder,
"Marcus!" he said, palpable frustration in his voice.
His grip evaporated. Loud groans of furniture sliding
across the floor rang through the coffee shop followed
by the loud crack of something landing on a hard
surface; cups shattered as they hit the floor, and I felt
warm coffee splash across my feet, soaking my shoes.
By the time I tumed around to look at my brother, he
was face- down and pinned to our table. Chloe had one
of his hands in some strange-looking hold that locked
his arm in place. By the expression on my brother's
face, it looked painful. Her other hand was on his neck,
pressing him firmly against the table. Jacob was no
slouch; he must have had eight inches of height and at
least seventy pounds on Chloe, but apparently, that
didn't mean anything.
I started in surprise as I witnessed how easily Chloe
handled my brother, and I wasn't alone. Every single
patron of Strange Mudd was watching the exchange
with the same wide-eyed expression, including Dillon
and Carla. John and the other two bodyguards were
also on their feet, one of them holding his hands on his
waist as if disappointed. There was likely a gun near
one of those hands.
"Please don't touch Mr. Upton without his permission,"
Chloe said in a conversational tone, completely
incongruous with the situation.
Jacob simply grunted.
I approached him and kneeled so my face was in line
with his. I loved my brother, but he truly was the trial
and tribulation of my family, making my mom cry more
than once, and his wife cry even more. I didn't know
how to help him without enabling his crap.
"Jacob," said, "I'm happy to take care of your family's
medical bills, and if you had come to me with legit
concerns and a plan to turn things around, I would have
loved to help, but what I'm not going to do is finance
whatever stupid bullshit you're involved with. Now, I
have a lot going on today, so I'm going to go use the
restroom, and when I return, I'd like you to be gone."
Without waiting for a response, I stood up and left him
to Chloe. As I passed John, I said, "Could you guys help
Chloe get him out of here quietly? I don't want to
make any more of a scene than we already have." He
nodded and I walked away.
The restroom had three stalls, and I chose the middle.
After engaging the flimsy lock on the door, I leaned
against the fake wood and pressed my fingers to my
eyes, cringing as I thought about everyone out there
who'd seen the confrontation. The mob outside and
now my brother showing up asking for money - this
was the exact thing I wanted to avoid when I found
out about my grandfather, and now my worst
nightmares were coming true. I sat on the toilet with
the lid down and just gave myself a moment to
breathe. For a place called the Big Apple, New York was
getting surprisingly small.
I heard the door open and swing shut, and glanced at
the stall door to double-check that I locked it. The last
thing I wanted to happen after the display outside was
to have someone accidentally walk in on me... even if I
was fully dressed and sitting on a toilet lid.
I saw the shadow of someone walk past my stall to
the one on the very end. Then I saw it pass as the
newcomer made his way back to the front of the
bathroom. A few seconds later, the shadow appeared
in front of my stall door and hovered there. Then there
was a light knock on the door.
"Yep. Finishing up." I called out. The other stalls must
have been broken.
I flushed the door so whoever was out there didn't
think was some weird loser just hanging out in the
bathroom, and then I
unlocked the door. God... I couldn't even be left alone in
the freaking bath-
The door flew open, forcing me back so didn't get hit in
the face.
A man with several inches of height on me and built
like a truck took half a step into the stall, blocking me
from leaving. He had thinning, dirty blonde hair and a
very old, faded scar that ran across his cheekbone just
under his left eye. He must have been at least 6'4" and
at least thirty pounds heavier than me. He had one
hand in a pocket jacket and started pulling it out; saw
the handie of a pistol gripped in his hand.
"Marcus Upton?"
To Be Continued.. Don't forget to leave a Comment 
