Troubled Waters (The Lake Trilogy, Book 2) (17 page)

I take a deep breath and watch as Marcus emerges from the shadows of the corridor to the north parking lot. He looks….good. He’s wearing dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. He looks like he’s been working out by the way the t-shirt is hugging his body. I’m startled by my own reaction to him, but it’s fleeting as I remember that he’s here to destroy everything I have paid and sacrificed to have.

He approaches and I can immediately see that he’s a different person. Standing before me is the not the Marcus I met at the little bookstore on Main Street. It’s not even the Marcus that sat on the patio and told me he
begged to differ
about us being together. Believe it, or not, this Marcus is even more arrogant and I’m suddenly filled with fear.

“Hello, Layla. Aren’t you going to ask me to sit?” he says.

“Hello, Marcus. Would you like to sit?” I reply coldly.

“Why, I’d love to. Thank you for asking.” He sits next to me, a little too close and I scoot myself away from him. “Are you trying to hurt my feelings?”

I don’t even want to gratify that statement with a response, so I ignore him. “Marcus, this…what you’re doing, it’s not you. I don’t understand. All I keep thinking is that something awful must have happened to make you change into something so…so
not
you.”

“Layla, there comes a time in our lives when we have to make a choice. Do we stay on the same, going-nowhere path, or do we forge a new path for ourselves? A new path that leads to getting anything and everything you’ve ever wanted out of life. I tried living a boring life – a dorky bookstore employee, math major, tutor – but I was tired of not getting what I wanted, what I deserved.”

“And you think you deserve me.” It’s not a question.

“Yes. I watched you with rich boy. I know what you want, Layla,” he says.

“What does that even mean? Marcus, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. I’m literally confused. He has this way of talking and I’m not even sure what he’s saying.

“You want it all. You want the life that Will Meyer could have given you. The problem is he didn’t embrace what he had when he had enough to give to you. He scoffed at the wealth, the legacy.”

“That’s not what I wanted at all. I loved Will Meyer and it had nothing to do with his money. You don’t know me at all, Marcus.” I’m keeping my calm better than I thought I would if he brought up Will, which I was sure he would. I’m incredibly proud of myself for referring to my love for Will in the past tense. Technically it’s true. Will Meyer doesn’t exist anymore.

“Come, now, Layla. Let’s be honest.”

“Ok, you go first. What do you want from me? Why are you here?”

“That’s simple, my love. I want you. And I’m going to have you.” His reply is dirty and I feel violated by it.

“Marcus, you can’t just come here and proclaim that we’re going to be together,” I protest.

“Wrong. I can do anything I want. Do you know why I can do anything I want, Layla?”

I shake my head. His tone has become aggressive and commanding and he’s frightening me.

“Because it’s in my blood.”

“What does that mean?” There he goes again, talking in some kind of code.

“We take what we want and make it ours. It’s a talent I learned from watching my father.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t know anything about your father, Marcus.”

“Sure you do. Oh, but that’s right. You don’t know him as
my
father, you only know him as Will’s father.” Marcus’ delivery is cold and angry.

“What? That’s not true! How is that even possible?” He’s lying. He’s got to be lying. He really thinks I want the wealth, prestige, and legacy of the Meyers so much that he’s making up some connecting that I could never prove otherwise.

“My mother got cast away like some old piece of garbage. He didn’t even care that she was pregnant.”

The rumors Claire told me about…

“The first three Mrs. Meyers lasted four, three, and then two years when they were swiftly divorced with a small settlement as agreed to in their pre-nup. And then they vanished… The sad part is the rumor at one point was that wife number three was pregnant but Gregory didn’t know.”

Could it be that Marcus’ mother was wife number three?

“He had his driver take her to a Planned Parenthood office to have an abortion. She went inside but couldn’t go through with it. Dear old Dad wasn’t too happy about that, but there was nothing he could do by the time he found out. Oh, he took care of us financially – God knows he can afford it – but that was just to keep it all out of the press. By the time I arrived he was already priming Will’s mother to be the next in a long line of Meyer wives.

“I begged him for a chance to be his son so many times, but he turned me away every single time. My little brother didn’t even want what our father had to offer him. Will had no idea what he had.” Marcus’ tone is agitated, but his demeanor is calm. It’s creepy and very much like Gregory Meyer. But now he’s said it. He called Will his brother. My head is full and feels as if it could explode any minute. “When Will died, I went to my real father to receive the legacy he had built for his heir, which, as the oldest, rightfully should have been me. Do you know what he said to me?” I shake my head again, too afraid to speak. “He said he may have fathered me, but I would never be his son.”

I’m frozen. I can’t think of what to say or do. Part of me wishes Marcus would make a move so Furtick could take the shot and this would all go away, but then I scold myself for wishing him dead. Another part of me feels terribly for him. If he had any idea the pain that Will suffered all those years, too, maybe he wouldn’t be so angry. He’d see that Gregory Meyer’s dismissal had nothing to do with him; that he’s not capable of loving
anyone
.

“Will had everything that was supposed to be mine. The education, the wealth…anything he wanted, he got. And if I can’t have the wealth, I’ll have you. You see, Layla, getting what I want is in my blood. I’m finally embracing that now, and I have to tell you, it feels pretty damn good.”

I sit there, stunned. Never in my wildest of dreams would I have ever imagined this scenario. Marcus and Will are brothers. I feel light-headed from the effort it’s taking to wrap my brain around this concept. I feel like I should keep him talking, maybe at least
try
to reason with him.

“Can I speak now? I’ve got a few questions.” I say timidly. I don’t want to upset him, but I’m confused by this whole thing.

“Of course, Layla.”

“I don’t understand how he could deny you. Can’t you demand some kind of blood test to prove to the world that you’re Gregory Meyer’s son? He’d have to claim you as an heir then, wouldn’t he?” This is me trying to reason with someone who I’m pretty sure has lost his mind.

“You don’t think I thought of that?” he says, annoyed at my assumption that he left any stone unturned. “It wouldn’t matter. I’m a legal adult so he’s not required to provide or share any of his wealth with me. And he’s made sure his Will specifically names those to whom his estate goes. If your name isn’t in it, you don’t get a dime.”

“Oh. Well, that doesn’t seem fair,” I say attempting sympathy as a new line of defense.

“Quite. Anything else you’d like to know?” Marcus is still so calm. His tone is irritated at times, but he never loses his cool. It’s creepy.

“Did Will know that you two are…were...brothers? If he did, he never said anything to me about it,” I say, prying for more information.

“No, not that he would have cared.” Marcus’ answers are short and curt. I don’t argue this point with him. I honestly believe Will would have been thrilled to not be so alone. Had he known early in life that Marcus was his brother, I think he would have been happy.

“Was that the real reason Mr. Meyer didn’t want Will to date Holly?” I don’t know why I’m asking this. I suppose I still think about what could have been between them had Will followed after her.

“Nothing my mother did was ever good enough, including the children she gave birth to. It was all about making sure Will wasn’t distracted from his legacy…the legacy that should have been mine.” He pauses for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts. “You know, I thought Will had everything and I had nothing, but then you came to town, and you walked yourself into the bookstore and into my life. I knew the minute I saw you that there was something different about you. I should have been more aggressive then, gone after what I wanted. But I waited too long and Will took yet another thing that should have been mine.”

“I’m not a
thing
to be possessed, Marcus. I never
belonged
to anyone.” This isn’t entirely true, as I have entrusted everything I am to Will’s heart. But, the sentiment is true. “And I don’t belong to you now.”

“Layla,” he says, his tone strong and reprimanding. “That’s just semantics. I really don’t want to argue with you…”

“Then don’t Marcus. Please. I considered you my friend, someone I could trust, but now you’ve turned into this guy modeled after the one person you said you despised and I can’t even be friends with someone like him.”

“Pretending that I’m not a Meyer never got me anywhere,” he says coldly. “Remember Halloween?”

“Yes…you pointed the figure at Will’s rage and declared
that
to be what the Meyer men were really like, but it’s
you
that’s just like him, not Will. Will was kind and gentle, like his mother. I’ve had more than one run-in with Gregory Meyer, and now…seeing you like this...you’ve really embraced his ways, haven’t you? You stay calm in a chaotic situation so that everyone around you looks crazy. You’re cold and calculated. And you’re relentless.” As I speak I realize that in order to make this situation go away, something drastic is going to have to happen.

“My father didn’t get anywhere by giving up…a trait I now willingly embrace. I was too patient with you in Davidson. I won’t be making that mistake again.” He stands up, finding a position of dominance over me. “The next time I see you, I expect that pathetic excuse for a ring to be gone. You have three days.” Marcus takes my right hand and kisses it. My skin crawls and my stomach ties itself in knots. “Until then.” With that, Marcus gets up and walks away, back into the shadowy corridor from which he appeared while I sit there frozen.

Three days and then what?
I hunch my body over, releasing all the muscles from their tensioned state. I want to cry from sheer exhaustion after holding myself together for what seemed like an eternity. My head is in my hands but I feel Luke and Furtick rush to my side.

“Layla, honey, are you ok?” Luke asks. He can see how physically upset I am. “What did he say?”

“Taylor’s got his car tagged and bugged, so we’ll know where he is at all times. I was also able to get close enough to ghost-sync his phone. It’s not the full sync I have with yours, but it’ll be enough. We got him, Layla.” Furtick touches my shoulder tenderly. It’s the first time he’s touched me and it makes me feel better.

“I…I can’t…I need to go home. Can we please go home?” I can’t think straight. I’ve got so much information streaming through my mind. What do I tell them first? Marcus is Will’s brother? How do I tell Will?
Oh, no!
“Is Will going to be at the house?” I ask. I know I won’t be able to keep all of this from him, and I don’t have the words to tell him in a calm way right now. I need time to tell Luke and Claire; time to try, in some feeble way, to sort it all out.

It’s all hitting me now. I run through the conversation with Marcus in my head like a checklist.
Marcus is Will’s brother
.
Marcus has decided to adopt the Gregory Meyer approach to life
.
Gregory Meyer has rejected Marcus as his son
.
Jealous of the life he thinks Will had, Marcus is determined to step into that life and take over where Will’s death left off.

“Will’s not at the house, which would mean he’s following orders. But I’ll take care of him if he shows up.” Furtick says hanging up his phone.

When we arrive home Will is still not there. Strangely, this makes me happy. I don’t want him to see me like this, and I don’t want to have to explain anything to him yet. I need to get it all out to Luke, Claire and Furtick first. They’ll know just what to tell Will and
how
to tell him.

After a cup of tea, made lovingly by my sweet Claire, I’m soothed into a better place where I feel confident in communicating coherent statements.

“Thank you, Aunt Claire,” I say, putting the cup and saucer on the counter.

“Layla? Can you tell us what happened? What does Marcus want?” Claire asks in the soft voice I’ve come to hold so dear.

“Well…he wants me.” I say after a beat. “But it’s not that simple. Marcus is Gregory Meyer’s son.”

“Wife number three,” Claire says in a whisper.

“Yes. Mr. Meyer had been taking care of Marcus and his mother for years, but when Will…died…Marcus went to him thinking that he could take Will’s place; you know, receive the Meyer legacy, but Mr. Meyer rejected him. So, he determined if he couldn’t have Will’s wealth, he’d have Will’s girl,” I explain shakily.