Looking at Emery's face, made stranger by the shaved shape of his head, Josh found himself tongue-tied. He wanted to at least say good morning, but every opening he could think of seemed contrived, as if daylight had magnified the awkwardness of the previous night exponentially.
"Josh."
Ah. There was a non-committal opening. Why hadn't he thought of that?
"Emery." A pregnant pause. "I'll make breakfast."
The smile on Emery's lips seemed fond, yet overshadowed by the sadness in his eyes. "Thank you, but... I think it's time I leave."
"That's not what we agreed. You said we could talk."
Emery shifted on the sofa, sitting up straighter and placing the blanket beside him. "So I did. What is it I must talk about before you consider that agreement fulfilled?"
"You're being difficult again."
"I'm trying to remove myself from the situation so that any difficulty caused by me is a non-issue; you're the one who doesn't seem to be making that any easier."
Josh ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it slightly so he'd have something to do with his hands instead of throttling the other man. "Damn it, are we back to this? Why are you in such a hurry to leave, Emery? Do you have anywhere you need to go? Can't wait to go out and what, commit suicide by exposure?"
"I'm not trying to commit suicide."
There was something in Emery's brown eyes, a flash of wounded resonance, that chilled Josh to his bones. He swallowed hard before voicing his realization. "You're not trying — but you wouldn't be particularly disappointed if you ended up dying."
Emery flinched then coughed violently into the curve of his arm. "I am not deliberately trying to die. Can you not be satisfied with that?"
"You're a coward."
Emery had managed to resume his impassive look too quickly for comfort; the jab seemed to bounce meaninglessly off him. "I never claimed otherwise. Is this talk of yours going to be a recitation of my flaws?"
"I thought 'this talk of mine' was going to be us eating breakfast and hopefully me getting it through to your head that you have options; suicidal thoughts weren't on the menu."
"I don't have suicidal thoughts. If you're worried I'm going to leave here and jump in front of a train or dramatically hang myself somewhere, don't be. I have no intention of killing myself, dramatically or otherwise."
"Most people cling more to life than simply having no intention of killing themselves."
"It's much too early in the morning for psychoanalysis, Josh. Tell me what you want to know so I can be on my way."
"I want to know what 'on your way' means, for starters. What's the plan for when you leave here? Go back to sleeping on the streets?"
"No, I thought I'd retire to the country house and hunt some pheasant," Emery deadpanned.
"Sounds exciting. Can I tag along?" Josh asked, his tone challenging.
Emery got up, agitated. Clearly he hadn't anticipated Josh playing his game. "What do you want, Josh? Where is this interrogation leading, where—" Another round of coughing interrupted his tirade; he sat down heavily once it was over, apparently trying to control his breathing.
"To Columbia Presbyterian, preferably. You need to get that cough checked out."
Emery's eyes hardened. "Let's move this along, then. No, I don't have anywhere in particular to go. No, I am not going to kill myself. I've been homeless since the trial, under house arrest before that, and wallowing in self-pity before that. That was the first domino to fall. No, I'm not your problem. Yes, I'm grateful for what you've done for me yesterday, and for what you're trying to do today, but this is where it ends. No, I don't have anything else to offer. No, I'm not going to the hospital with you, so can I be on my way, please? What else do you want from me?"
Josh wanted to shake him, to snap him out of it; the casual way Emery dismissed himself made it hard to breathe. Time to change tactics. "I still have most of the money Emma left me."
Emery's eyebrows rose in puzzlement. "Should I offer my congratulations to you for being thrifty?"
He'd regret having murdered the other man if he gave into the impulse now, Josh assured himself; there'd be no wringing of necks for the time being. "You can use it. You can invest it, you can make it grow, I know you can. If you invest it for me and take your cut you can hardly call it charity; that's what I want from you: make me a rich man."
Emery looked as if he'd been slapped. His face fell, even as resignation replaced the puzzlement in his eyes. It was the look of a man whose world suddenly made a devastating kind of sense.
"So that's why you came to get me," he said softly, more to himself than to Josh. Then, louder, "I wish I could, I give you my word. I'm legally barred from working in finance. It's a lifetime ban. And if you're the one investing then someone is bound to realize you worked for me at some point and you risk going to jail. I won't do it."
He ignored the first crushing statement for the moment, not wanting to focus on how much it hurt him that Emery was so quick to jump to the worst possible conclusions where Josh was concerned. "Barred? But you were acquitted. Wasn't Roger the one responsible?"
"People lost their retirement savings, Josh, and the company bore my name. They were out for blood. Without Roger there to extract it from, I was the next logical target. The DA couldn't get me convicted of something I didn't do, but she could — she did — successfully argue that I was morally responsible for what he did."
"Morally responsible? How were you to know he'd join the dark side out of the blue? How long was he your business partner, ten years?"
"Twelve. I gave him power of attorney. I let him run rampant and do what he wanted. I was responsible."
Josh exhaled as Emery continued coughing. He'd followed the story through the media even as he tried not to, but he only had an incomplete puzzle. "I don't understand. Things were fine back when I worked for you. The two of you never seemed to have any issues. What changed?"
"He was a lawyer, not a trader, or a mathematician, or an analyst. After Emma... I was grieving. I was having trouble summoning the will to get out of bed; dedicating the time to understanding the markets wasn't my priority.
"I gave him power of attorney, so he wouldn't need my signature in every single piece of paper, and told him to keep it running as it was until I returned. No new clients, no investing, just holding the investments I deemed safe and selling everything else.
"I was grieving, but I knew what I was doing; I stand by the decisions I made; the company would have been fine. He—"
"Hold that thought," Josh interrupted, "and come sit by the counter so I can make us breakfast while we talk."
"I'd prefer to hurry this along."
"And I'd prefer to eat. Unless you have a speech problem that only manifests itself when you're sitting on a bar stool?"
Emery snorted even as he rose, his eyes crinkling. Humour had always softened his sharp edges. His steps were measured, halting. His feet must be hurting, and Josh didn't have any pair of shoes to offer him that weren't too big.
"Am I allowed to empty my bladder first, or is that something that is also best done while sitting on a bar stool?"
Josh rolled his eyes and didn't dignify that with an answer.
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