Page 142 of Checkmate
Okay, so Marcus had told her they were on a tight budget, and there was probably a purchase or two she didn’t need, but she had a vision in mind for Christmas day and she couldn’t resist.
“Is money really that important, Marcus?” She asked. “Or would you prefer to make memories with me?”
“Memories, every time,” he said without hesitation. “But we don’t need a two-hundred-pound tree to make memories.”
“So it is about the money,” she said, folding her arms.
“Sweetheart,” Marcus said in a tone that was far too patient. “I know you want the perfect Christmas, but we have to live within our means, too.”
“But—”
“No buts.” His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. Sophie bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from arguing. “Look, love, there’s no point having all this fancy stuff if we don’t have a house to keep it in.”
“But I hate that we even have to think about that,” Sophie said with a pout. “I hate that we’re keeping track of every penny to make sure we can pay rent on a shitty flat that we hate.”
“I know. But one day—”
“One day, what, Marcus? You keep saying that. One day, one day, blah, blah, blah. One day you might be fucking useful and actually provide for us.”
Silence fell between them as Sophie’s cheeks flushed. She couldn’t believe she’d said that out loud. Of course, she wasn’t wrong. Marcus was so focused on his stupid drama class tour, that he didn’t bother to look at the normal jobs that might bring in some money!
It didn’t help that her new boss brought his wife to work. Erin, or Erica, or something. Dressed head to toe in designer brands, Sophie had gone on a jealous fuelled shopping spree.
She bet Erica didn’t have to budget for a Christmas tree.
Oh, but he looked so crushed. Like she had genuinely hurt him with her words. It would serve him right, though. Maybe it was the kick up the ass he needed to finally get a real fucking job.
“I don’t understand how you can be so cruel when I ask for nothing from you,” Marcus said, his voice void of emotion. “All the money you earn is yours to keep. You don’t pay rent, you don’t buy groceries. I ask for nothing.”
“But I wouldn’t need a job if you had a better income. You’ve forced me to work.”
“I’ve forced you?” Marcus frowned and sighed heavily. Scoffing slightly, he turned away from her, heading back out the door. He looked over his shoulder, speaking quietly. “It really fucking sucks that you’re already labelling me a failure and I haven’t even had time to fail yet.”
“No, what sucks, Marcus, is you thinking that living payday to payday is acceptable.” She turned back to her shopping and shrugged. “I have standards, and you’re not meeting them. And only you can fix that, Marcus.
“So, what’s it going to be?”
PRESENT DAY
“We’re here with Lord Provost, Angus MacFarlane and owner of popular tourist attraction Phantom Footsteps, Marcus Crowe.”
Sophie looked up from her magazine, positive she heard wrong. Glancing at the TV, her eyes widened to see Marcus and Erica on her screen.
What the fuck?
Abandoning the magazine altogether, she grabbed the TV remote, turning the volume up as she leaned forward in her chair.
“...senseless act of vandalism,” Angus said, shaking his head gravely. “Marcus’ walking tour is one of our most popular tourist attractions and I won’t stand for someone trying to destroy that.”
As the old man waffled on, the camera panned to the battered garage door, painted with Marcus’ logo. Since when did he have a garage? The last time she bothered to pay attention to his business, he was stressing over which microphone would best amplify his voice.
Why did he need a garage?
“... the tour bus was my partner’s idea, and we’ve only had it a month or so,” Marcus said, shrugging his shoulders.
Tour bus? Business must be booming. Well, good for him. About time too.
Frowning, Sophie drowned out whatever was being said, running a critical eye over Marcus. Or at least, what she could see of him. Reluctantly, she had to admit he looked good. Too good, in fact. It wasn’t just a physical thing either, (although, had he been working out?!) but even the way he stood and held himself was different. He looked more confident, more… at peace.
