Who: Emalee Jordan and Mark Yoo. What: Life’s a bitch, and so are they. When: Backdated to Sunday, Dec. 27. Where: The Jordan House Warnings: Snark. Bitterness.
The weekend was dragging by. Emalee had never been big on holidays in general, but this one was practically insufferable. She’d spent most of it at home, with her piano and several bottles of very fine wine. It probably wasn’t the healthiest way to spend Christmas, but it worked for her. It was better than having to force herself to attend any number of upscale holiday parties. She’d gotten invitations, plenty of them. Everyone who was anyone in Vegas had thrown a party, and she had taken over her father’s place on most of the guest lists. Yet she hadn’t gone to single one. She didn’t have the patience to deal with more fawning condolences. If she heard the same overused lines one more time, she was going to drown someone in a bowl of champagne punch.
Her pleasant daydreams were dashed when her phone beeped at her. Right, there was still some business to take care of. She’d gotten a visit from her lawyer earlier (who apparently didn’t celebrate holidays of any kind or sleep) with an envelope of checks that he had cut for some of the other will bestowals. They were more token handouts than anything else, for staff or friends that her father had been fond of. She made a few calls to the people that she knew personally, letting them know that they could come by and get them at the first chance they had. It wasn’t like she had a whole hell of a lot else going on.
So far, she’d only had one person tell her that they would be coming by that night. She’d told Joseph Yoo that he could wait until he came back to work, or she could have it delivered, but he insisted. Since they had already argued over him taking a week off for the holidays (he didn’t think she could look after herself), she caved. He had told her what time he was heading her way, so she had left a reminder in her phone. Otherwise, she’d never surface when the doorbell rang. She’d had good timing, too. She’d just closed the cover on her piano when she heard the jingling announcement that someone was at the door.
Running her hands through her hair, she jogged out and pulled it open. That was not who she had been expecting. Instead of her cheerful butler, there was someone there who looked a lot less pleased to be standing on her doorstep. She took a step back before she realized who it was. “Oh. Hey.”
---
Mark's father had gotten a call from Emalee Jordon, his boss, as strange as it was to think that a girl younger than Mark was now his dad's employer. Technically she was Mark's employer too, since he worked at one of the casinos she'd inherited. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like to have so much just handed to you. Must be nice.
He also couldn't imagine what was so important that his dad was going in on what was supposed to be his one week off in Mark couldn't remember how long. He said that he had to pick up something, but Mark had insisted on going instead. He could run an errand just as easily. The fact that Joseph had agreed to it was probably only because he had some kind of delusion about Mark being friends with Emalee Jordan. Sure, he'd met her a few times over the years, but being close to the same age didn't mean they had anything else in common. At all.
He parked at the end of the long driveway and wandered lazily up to the door. It was quite the house, he'd give it that. "Hey." Mark nodded curtly to Emalee when she opened the door. It surprised him that she opened the door herself, and it was strange to see the huge house so empty. He'd always been there when it was full of people. Employees, guests, Edward Jordan and one of his wives, whichever one he was on. It seemed bigger when it wasn't so full. "I'm supposed to pick something up for my dad?"
---
She nodded, pulling the door open the rest of the way. “Yeah, come on in.” Dealing with Joseph was one thing, but she’d always gotten the feeling that her butler’s son didn’t particularly care for her. She’d gotten good at telling when people weren’t fond of her. That skill had been invaluable when she was in school. The only difference was most of the time people had a reason for being hostile. She couldn’t figure out what Mark’s malfunction was.
Emalee led the way back toward the kitchen. She wasn’t quite ready to use her father’s office to do this sort of business, and the kitchen was always neutral territory. Even though she’d been there on her own for several days, everything was still pretty neat. There were a few dirty dishes in the sink, but it wasn’t a complete wreck. It weirded her out to see things in this house out of place. Every time she had visited, it had been neat as a pin. Like something off a showroom floor, and not a home at all. She had vague plans to change that in the future. She just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
Digging through the stack of envelopes, she surfaced with the one marked ‘Yoo’. She knew exactly how much had been left to them, and when compared to what she had received, she was almost embarrassed to hand it over. There was nothing she could do, though. Her lawyer had made that very clear. If she bolstered this bequest at all, everyone else who had gotten anything would be clawing at the door to get the same thing. It sucked, but her hands were pretty much tied. Holding it out to him, she shrugged. “Here. Sorry it wasn’t in earlier.”
---
He followed her, taking a good look at the state of the house. His dad would ask, he knew he would. She hadn't burned the place down, so as far as Mark cared she was doing well. "Nice house you've got here," he said with a slight smirk. At least he was making conversation? It was better than the awkward silence.
For a moment he debated whether or not to open the envelope, but decided to do it. His curiosity was killing him, and besides, the name on the envelope was his name too. The check inside was for a lot of money. Enough that Mark could only stare at it for a moment. Sure, Caffrey had probably forged checks for more than this, and he had seen fortunes float through the casino, but actually seeing that many zeros on a check for someone in his family was surreal. Not like it was going to change his father's life, it'd take the jaws of life to pry him out of the Jordon house now, but it was a nice gesture.
If anyone could find a way to ruin a nice gesture it was Mark. He didn't mean to, exactly, but something about the whole thing just made him uncomfortable. He nodded again. "Guess he decided to leave something to charity, huh?"
---
She leaned against the counter, watching him as he pried open the envelope. He wasn’t going to hear any arguments from her about it. As far as she was concerned, it was all going to the same family. If he wanted a peek, that was his business. She wasn’t going to get in the middle of that. The only thing she didn’t want was any gratitude. Chances were, she was going to have to brush off a thank you from Joseph whenever he came back in. It wasn’t like she’d had anything to do with any of this.
Turns out she didn’t have anything to worry about. The way he worded it had her bristling. “Is that what you think?” Didn’t that figure. There had to be other people thinking the same thing. While she appreciated that he had the balls to say it to her face, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with this bullshit. “Whatever.” In what was probably an overdramatic move, she pointed toward the door. “Fine. If you want to take it that way, why don’t you just take your handout and go.”
Feel better about yourself now? Em’s teeth nearly ground together when Logan chimed in. Hey, I’m not saying you’re wrong. Somebody needs to be put in their place. What a dick.
---
"Am I wrong?" he asked with a skeptical look. He probably could have phrased all that better, but he couldn't just meekly go and not say anything. Of course now the princess was pissed, and tossing him out. Shocking. "No problem. I'm sure Dad will be by to be appropriately thankful and kiss your feet later." He turned to go.
Whoa, slow down there. We have a policy of not yelling at women who give us checks for large sums of money. Just in general. Mark scowled. Even the guy in his head wasn't on his side. Then again, nothing won over Neal quicker than cash. Glad you think so highly of me.
Mark paused and looked back. He found himself raising his hand to adjust a hat he wasn't wearing at the moment. This would be the part where you say something that doesn't make you sound like an asshole. He couldn't think of anything.
---
She could only stare at him. Oh, she’d heard these kind of whispers before, but none of her employees had ever been brave enough to say something of the like when she was still within hearing distance. This was the sort of thing she would expect from the sorority girls that she had loathed, not a grown man. Especially not a grown man who was the son of one of the few people she actually liked. Whatever. If they wanted to talk that way behind her back, she wasn’t about to stop them. At least now she knew how low an opinion the Yoo family really had of her.
“It doesn’t matter. You have what you came for.” When he stopped, she took over, marching back through the living room and to the door, holding it open pointedly. She’d been pissed enough before he came over here and started throwing one of her father’s last decent deeds in her face. Now she really wanted a couple of minutes to regroup. If this had been a board meeting or something, she would have had to grin and bear it. But it wasn’t. It was just some uppity little prick that she was more than capable of pitching out of her house.
---
"I do. At least it was worth the trip. I was expecting to have to drop off your dry cleaning." He just couldn't shut up, even if he knew he should. He'd come over with every intention of telling her off, and somehow the fact that things hadn't gone at all like he'd expected didn't change that. The honesty train had left the station, even if it got him fired. He gave her a last long look before he went out the door. He just didn't see it. "You know, my dad always talks about how great you are. I must be missing something."
He made the walk down the driveway much faster than he'd come up it. The sooner he got out of here the better.