Chapter 30 – Last Resort

He felt a droplet of sweat fall down his forehead, following the path of the stress wrinkles of his skin. Lifting a gloved hand, he wiped it away as it fell into his eye.

“I can't believe she took him there,” he said, lifting his hand and releasing it to left jab punch the red bag in front of him.

The sound of his gloved fist connecting with the firm bag made her jump.

“You shouldn't be surprised,” Mackenzie said, leaning against the wall. “They're married, Marc. He cares about her. When he married her, he became one with her, and that includes this. That's just how Lance is.”

“He's not April's father,” he said, punching the bag again. “He has no business visiting her grave.”

“We're talking about a man that would take in every stray dog or cat that he found if he could,” she said. “He's got a big heart. That's probably what attracted her to him.”

After one last hard punch to the bag, he stopped to look up at her.

“Don't forget whose side you're on,” he said, pointing at her.

She narrowed her eyebrows as she watched him go back to punching the bag, taking out his frustrations. She had watched him spiral for almost two years now; it was getting worse than ever before. She knew about the drinking, the drugs, and the hallucinations he was having.

“I'm not on any side, Marc,” she said. “I don't care what they do with their life. I've moved on from Lance, and he's moved on from me. They've moved on from you. You're the only one here who has any kind of grudge at all. When will you finally move on? When will you let this go?”

He watched her open the glass door of the hotel's gym and exit. He could tell she was frustrated with him. He turned back to his workout, increasing the impact of his punches on the bag.

He couldn't let it go. There was something inside of him that prevented him from letting it go. She couldn't understand because she wasn't hurt by it. Not like he was.

He knew the history; he had done his research. Mackenzie had left Lance first, almost four years ago. And that's where he had met her – in Germany. He had been on another month-long stint of filming. She had been on his set, visiting a friend.

In hindsight, it was a mistake. That was the point that he and Adeline had been trying to start a family. He was trying to turn over a new leaf and change his ways. His infidelity had gone on a lot longer than that; but knowing he was about to have a son or daughter, he wanted to raise his child in a good environment – better than what he had grown up in, with a cheating drunk of a father.

But there was something about Mackenzie that he couldn't resist at the time.

It was over as quickly as it began; even though they kept touch, he didn't keep her as a woman “on the side” like he had a lot of women – he kept her tucked in his pocket, as more of a business acquaintance. He assumed one day she would come in handy.

That day had come a little over a year later, the night he received the first picture proof that Addy was having an affair with her newest client – Lance Bass.

He knew the name. The guy was a nobody – did nothing spectacular in the movie industry, his greatest accomplishment being that “boy band” of his. The thought made Marc sick. He had seen where it was going from the moment that he'd seen the pictures of them playing in the golf tournament – sparks were visible from the pictures. He saw it in Addy's eyes, even though she had no idea that the camera was there.

That's why he had sent the warning. He thought wrecking the guy's car would be enough to warn him that he was approaching already claimed territory and that he needed to back off – but then they had gone back to her apartment together. Then for a night out on the town, to a club. And then, they kissed.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to see how things progressed from there – especially when you had a private investigator following them full-time. He knew she hadn't left his apartment the night of Halloween; he saw that she left in the same clothes she came in. And he saw how it didn't end there – how she spent more nights at his apartment than she did at her own.

He never thought she would betray him like that – especially after everything they had been through that year.

And when she came home for Thanksgiving – that's when he realized it was falling apart. She was being taken away from him, and he had little hope of getting her back.

He knew people; people who were all too willing to break into the guy's apartment. They had fun destroying it – breaking picture frames, pulling things out of drawers, even redecorating with toilet paper. The thought of that made him chuckle, even if at the time he had thought it was a bit childish and low-rent for him. Lance had made it too easy – who kept a spare key outside the door anymore? The intent had been to send the message...stay away.

It angered him when he didn't get the message. He didn't stay away.

Then he had proposed to her.

The red punching bag flew up several feet in its place and he placed his hands up to his chest to stop it before it flew back and hit him. And that's when he tore his gloves off his sweaty hands, throwing them down to the floor.

“Damn it!”

He fell to the wooden bench against the wall, throwing his face into his hands. He was covered in sweat from head to toe; he hadn't realized how hard he had started working as he let his thoughts get carried away. The angrier he got, the harder he punched.

And that thought made him angry. Hearing that he'd asked her to marry him. It had been little consolation that she hadn't accepted – until two weeks later.

That had been when the plan formed to tear them apart once and for all. But he couldn't do it alone; he had to call in reinforcements.

He knew Mackenzie would come in handy one day.

It couldn't have been any more perfect; it was as if the heavens themselves had decided to shine down on him, sending Lance's ex-fiancee his way, like kismet. It made it even more perfect that he had something she wanted.

He was famous enough that he could get her good work on his word alone – and for an actress whose once flourishing career was starting to drown, he was as valuable as a gold mine. She needed the money; with a sick mother and medical bills piling up by the millions of dollars, her bank accounts were quickly starting to diminish into piles of ashes and dust.

He had money; it was a drop in the bucket to him, with all the success he had. And she wanted it bad enough that no matter how she felt about Lance, she was willing to do whatever he wanted her to do.

It looked like it would work at first – Mackenzie had timed everything perfectly. He was so pleased. She had snuck into the party and managed to get Lance alone, and luckily Addy had been there at the right moment to see Mackenzie make her move. Addy did exactly what he expected her to – got pissed and left him.

It was only for his own insurance that he told Mackenzie to marry Lance. He thought it would ensure that they never crossed each others paths again. Mackenzie had no feelings for Lance anymore, but put up little fight – she would do anything for her mother.

The one thing he hadn't counted on was Adeline growing a backbone while she was gone.

She had blindsided him when she filed for divorce anyway. He had gotten too confident over the years; she was always a strong individual and if he'd gotten out of his own way long enough to look at the situation, he could have known that she would eventually stop being weak and refuse to put up with his infidelity.

The problem with her having strong feelings towards Lance was that it had been what made her even stronger as a woman. Instead of being a strong woman, now she was a strong woman backed by the love of a man – a man who, even though Marc didn't want to admit it, made her feel important, worthy, and cherished.

Despite the slight setback, all might have gone well – if he hadn't come back into the picture.

But Marc had never been more relieved the day the divorce went through...because he had a new plan. And Lance wouldn't make it out of this one.

Once he had collected his breath and cooled himself off, he threw a black hoodie over the sweaty gray wifebeater, placing the hood over his head and the sunglasses over his eyes. He had to be conspicuous; he was at too great of a risk of being recognized. If only one person recognized him and his suicide alibi fell apart, the whole plan fell apart.

He didn't take his stuff back to his hotel; he carried his duffel bag directly out the doors, making sure he had his key card in his pocket, before ducking out of the public eye and into the black Lexus in the parking lot.

He drove thirty minutes before he found the perfect place – dingy, shady, and dark. The perfect place for them to do business in the dirty, public, cop-ridden streets of New York. He didn't usually do this – it was even too disgusting for him. But his regular haunts – clubs and strip bars – were too risky right now. He hadn't been as careful as he once was and he had come close to being recognized too many times. It was too important of a juncture in the plan to ruin it now. But he needed a release.

He parked and watched for another half hour, for extra security – the last thing he wanted to walk into was some kind of set-up police sting operation, and these days you could never tell the difference. The whole time, his eyes were on the perfect one – long brunette hair all the way down her back that was like an ocean of curls, soft legs that went on for miles, and an innocent schoolgirl look despite the profession.

When he was for certain the coast was clear, he started his car and let it coast up to them before coming to a soft stop in front of her.

“You looking for a good time?” she asked him immediately.

“I'm looking for a great time,” he responded.

“You got money?” she asked.

“I got enough money to go for days,” he said with a smile.

“You got the stamina to go along with that?” she asked, grinning.

“How about we go find out?”

She paused a moment before looking around, ensuring there were no cops around, and walking around the front of his car.

“Right here?” she asked, shutting the door behind her.

“I prefer my privacy,” he said, switching the car into gear. “I know the perfect place.”

“So what did you have in mind?” she asked after a few minutes of driving.

“What do you charge?” he asked.

“Depends on what you want, honey,” she said, shooting him a sideways grin.

“Whatever you feel like,” he said, approaching the old brick building and slowing the car to a halt behind it, next to the fire escape. He put the car into gear and cut the engine. “I have only one request.”

“What's that?”

“I want to call you Addy.”

He expected her to be surprised; instead she only smiled. “Honey, for what you're paying me, you can call me the Pope for all I care.”

She was the first to exit the car, jumping out with zest. He opened his own car door a bit slower, adjusting his sunglasses as she stood in front of him and he shut it.

“In the alley?” she asked.

“I like a little bit of exhibitionism, too,” he said with a smile.

“Sounds like fun,” she said.

She turned away from him and started walking toward the alley, swaying in her tight skirt and black heels.

“Yeah.”

He reached into the pocket of his hoodie, feeling for the cold metal against his skin. He pulled it out and in one swift move, retracted the sharp knife of the switchblade – the smile disappearing from his face, being replaced by a sadistic scowl.

“We're gonna have a lot of fun...Addy,” he said, following her towards the darkness of the alley.