Mallorie sat crossed legged on the couch in the dark, a carton of Pork Fried Rice cupped in her hand, her face bathed in the bluish light of the television. She tried to watch the news while stealing glances at Ann, who sat in an arm chair across the room with one long leg crossed over the other, reading a business journal. It never entered her mind that Ann might be involved with her father, although she had seen them flirt. But there was sixteen years between them, and while Matthew showed his age, Ann was still the picture of youth.
"It's gotta be a lie," she whispered to herself, squinting at the woman again. She wasn't posh or elegant in her crisp business suits, and she had much more of an angelic girl-next-door look than the highly-chiseled face of a model, but she was the only person Mallorie had ever seen tease Matthew Durham, and it clearly amused him. She could remember the way his eyes had followed her when she'd strolled past him into the locker room.
Ann lifted her head and stared at her. "Did you need something?"
The question jarred Mallorie's memory, working in her favor. "I was just wondering...if there's ever an emergency, is there a master key to the apartments?" she asked casually, dropping her eyes back to her food container.
"Maintenance has one."
"That big guy? Moose?"
Ann shook her head with disapproval. "His name is Marcos. And I believe your father has one as well."
"Good to know...just in case," she reinforced her lie, her gaze dropping down to her cell phone screen as it softly chimed. Bradley had been texting her all night. They'd gone to the movies after work that afternoon which led to them making out in the back of the theater with their clothes half-unbuttoned and their hands into everything but the popcorn bucket. There was enormous pleasure in having the freedom to do whatever they wanted, and she loved spending all her time with him, but at the moment, her thoughts were elsewhere - because while it wouldn't be too hard to get the keys to Matthew's apartment, entering and leaving it would be another story. She needed a reliable look-out, and since she didn't want to jeopardize Bradley's employment, she only had one other option.
Her fingers flipped through her contacts list and landed on Armando.
----
Work was crazy the last few days before the building was set to open...and the business units sold quickly. Bradley peered inside Mallorie's office and gave her a cocky smirk, his first five days on the job amounting to multiple floors fully rented.
"I love this job," he mouthed to her, giving her an adorable wink before disappearing back into the hallway.
Brooke turned around and glared at her. "I don't see why he has to stop by our office fifty million times a day."
Mallorie ignored her, lowering her head, pretending to be buried in work. Brooke's allegation that Matthew had other children had been rough to hear, and saying she was the only one he'd never mentioned had cut deep into her soul. It was hard to believe, and yet she couldn't help but wonder if maybe he'd been somehow embarrassed by a half-Puerto Rican daughter. Her stomach knotted at the thought and she sighed to herself, tired of having her emotions shredded by lies and half-truths.
"Oh my god," Brooke suddenly clamored, standing up, staring at a letter in her hand with a look of shock. "Oh, no way." She turned around towards Mallorie and snickered in triumph. "Talk about karma. Wait until my father sees this!"
Mallorie frowned, watching her sprint out the door, the letter still clutched in her hand. She rose quietly from her chair and walked to Brooke's desk, peering down at the opened envelope. It was from HyrScreen, the company who did their employee background checks. She cocked her head, confused as to whose it might be, and then her pulse started racing in panic. "Bradley," she gasped, all at once feeling horrified and faint.
Weaving full speed through a crowd of business people, movers and employees, she caught up with Brooke in front of the elevators. "Don't give it to him, please," she begged, desperately holding her hand out for the paper while Brooke poked at the button. "I'll give you anything you want. Anything."
Brooke pressed the letter to her chest. "Not on your life."
"But he has nothing to do with any of this."
Brooke crossed her arms, lowering her voice, aware the people nearest them were listening in. "You caused Armando to lose his job. I'm just paying you back."
"That was an accident," Mallorie said, trying to pluck the paper from her hands.
Brooke backed away, her eyes flashing towards the elevator door as it began to open. "My father needs to see it regardless."
"Brooke," Mallorie soothed, trying a gentler approach. "He doesn't really need to see it. We can work this out some other way."
"Get out of my way." Brooke shoved past her. Mallorie reached out and grabbed the edge of the paper, her extended arm keeping the elevator doors from closing.
"Give me that!" Brooke screamed as she fought to keep it in her hands while trying to kick Mallorie away.
"Why can't you just listen to reason," Mallorie growled, tugging at the paper, struggling against Brooke's flailing arms.
"It's my job," Brooke shouted, shoving her back. Mallorie grabbed for the paper again. Murmurs started rising from the throngs around them as they broke into a physical battle, and then Ann pushed through the growing circle of onlookers.
"Ladies!" she gasped in mortification. "What on earth...?"
"She's trying to hide this from my father." Brooke yanked the letter from Mallorie and thrust it into Ann's hands.
Mallorie slapped her hand across her eyes and fell back against the wall, instantly regretting everything she'd done to bring them to that point. She peered through her fingers, watching Ann read the report, and then cringed as the woman's angry green eyes rose sharply to hers.
"Is what Brooke's saying true?" she asked, having trouble remaining collected despite it being one of her strong points.
"Yes," Mallorie admitted weakly.
Ann's eyebrow rose in a perfect arch. "Did you know?"
Mallorie sighed. "Yes," she said again. "But if I can only explain..."
"Come with me," Ann directed tersely, uninterested in whatever she had to say. "Brooke, you may return to your desk. I apologize for this..." She glared at Mallorie, not even sure what to call what she'd just seen, "this...outrage." Her hand swung towards the elevator, inviting Mallorie to proceed her. Brooke's eyes darted between the two of them, not so willing to be dismissed. Mallorie could see the frustration on her face as the elevator doors slide shut. The second they shut, she turned to Ann.
"It's not fair to hold this against him. He's been..."
"You can tell it to your father," Ann briskly cut her off, her chest rising and falling in heavy breaths.
"He'll fire him," Mallorie said sadly, "and me."
"That might be," Ann gave her clipped response, staring straight ahead.
Uncomfortable silence hung between them for the next three floors, followed by the hurried click of Ann's heels as she walked to Matthew's office. Even though his blinds were mostly down, Mallorie could see him rise when she approached.
"Wait here," Ann said outside his door. She knocked twice and entered, not waiting on his response. She handed him the paper and whispered in his ear, her head tilting towards Mallorie more than once. Matthew's eyes grew wide towards the end of her report. He turned to face Mallorie with a look that she could only categorize as resentment.
"Have a seat," he said, directing Mallorie to a tall leather-back chair. His eyes flashed to Ann, who walked over to shut the door before positioning herself back at his side.
Mallorie eased into the seat, her eyes teary and her hands trembling, trying to look like the frightened teen she actually was in the hopes he might not shout.
Matthew tossed the letter on his desk. "You give me a drug addict?"
"Ex..," Mallorie added. "He's an ex drug addict."
Matthew responded with a low sarcastic chuckled. "He's barely a year out of rehab."
"Please don't fire him though...can't you give him a chance?"
"I can't fire him, princess," he said with condescending sweetness. "Because he's already an employee...so he's protected by the ADA."
Mallorie let out a gasp of relief, clutching a hand to her heart, and then she sucked in her breath again as her father rose and started walking in her direction.
"But he's not really the problem here...is he?" Matthew said calmly, picking up the letter. "You wanted my daughter to hide this from me..." His head cocked at an unnatural angle, as if that was atrocious enough, the letter held out like a cross in his hand. His voice rose sharply from that point. "And you physically attacked her in plain view of our guests and clients."
"I'm sorry," Mallorie said, realizing just how bad it sounded now. "If you need to fire me, I understand."
Ann leaned in and whispered something to him. Mallorie strained to hear her, only making out the words "this weekend," but she had a good idea what it meant. Their trip was just a day away and they were relying on her to handle things in their absence. The whispering continued for another few seconds and then Matthew evened out his voice.
"We'll discuss this more when we get back," he said, walking over to retrieve a glass from the bar. He twisted the top off one of the bottles and poured, continuing to speak over his shoulder. "I'm giving Brooke the weekend off."
"All right," Mallorie started to stand but he turned, shaking his head.
"No one told you to leave."
"Sorry," she muttered, retaking her seat, biting her lip as Matthew emptied a silver ice bucket and asked Ann to bring him more ice. The woman complied without question, quickly disappearing from the room.
Matthew took a swig of his drink and then placed it on his desk, walking back towards Mallorie. He leaned down and put a hand on either side of her chair, his voice low and full of warning. "If you ever...lay a hand on my daughter again..." he seethed, his eyes lit with an icy flicker, "You won't leave here in one piece."
Mallorie's mouth hung agape at his threat. She blinked, unable to even speak as he spun and walked back to his desk. "Do your job and nothing else, do you understand me?" he said.
"I understand," Mallorie fumed, her own anger quickly rising. His repeated use of 'my daughter' was a purposeful slight. She kept wanting to scream 'I'm your daughter too,' but she understood now, that to him, she wasn't. She was just a person he'd accidentally had a hand in creating during a drunken stupor, and when he attempted to be nice to her, it wasn't because she was his daughter. It was because he felt a modicum of pity for her the same way one might feel pity for a stray animal, except now she'd tracked mud into his house and his pity had come to an end.
Matthew finally returned to his drink, waving his hand blithely towards the door. She left his office without another word, the tiniest trace of a smile forming on the edge of her mouth as her eyes pierced the ceiling in the direction of his apartment.
)
