The Parking Lot Attendant Who Controlled the Stock Market

chapter 6

Chapter Six: The Party

The party was in a building that used to be a factory.

Someone had turned it into something fancy. Brick walls. Chandeliers made of old pipes. Music that was too loud to talk over but too quiet to dance to. The kind of place where rich people go to pretend they are not rich.

I stood outside for five minutes before walking in.

The borrowed suit felt tight around my neck. The watch felt heavy on my wrist. The coin felt hot in my pocket. And the cracked phone from Victor Kensington sat next to it like a bomb waiting to explode.

There was no guest list. No security. Just a man at the door who looked at my suit and nodded me through. That was how rich people's parties worked. If you looked like you belonged, you belonged.

Inside was a sea of expensive clothes and fake smiles. People held drinks they did not drink and laughed at jokes that were not funny. A woman with diamonds on her ears walked past me and did not see me. A man with a gold ring on every finger bumped my shoulder and did not say sorry.

I was nobody here. Just another face in a borrowed suit.

But I had something they did not have.

I flipped the coin.

Three seconds.

I saw a hallway to my left. A door at the end. A sound behind that door. A voice I recognized from a thousand videos on the internet.

Marcus Webb.

I put the coin away and walked toward the hallway.

The door was unlocked. I pushed it open and stepped into a small room that looked like an office. Desk. Computer. A bookshelf full of books nobody had ever read. And sitting in the chair behind the desk was Marcus Webb himself.

He was younger than I expected. Maybe twenty five. His face was smooth and pretty like a movie star. His suit was white and his shoes were white and his smile was white. Everything about him was clean and bright and fake.

He looked up at me and did not look scared. Not yet.

"You are not supposed to be back here," he said. His voice was the same one from his videos. Smooth. Friendly. Like he was selling you something you did not need.

"I know," I said. "But I wanted to meet you."

Marcus tilted his head. Curious. Not scared. That would come later.

"Most people wait in line," he said. "I do meet and greets after the party. Two hundred dollars for a photo. Five hundred for a conversation."

"I am not most people."

He laughed. A real laugh. Surprised. "No. You are not. Most people do not walk into my private office wearing a suit that costs more than their rent."

I almost smiled. Derek's father had good taste.

"What do you want?" Marcus asked. He stood up now. He was taller than me. But tall did not matter. I had something better than height.

"I want to talk about Victor Kensington."

The smile on Marcus's face did not fall. But it changed. Grew harder. Smaller. Like a door closing.

"I do not know that name," he said.

"Of course you do. You have a recording of him. A conversation about the Kensington Holdings merger. The one that was fake. The one that stole money from your followers."

Marcus walked around the desk. He was not smiling anymore. His face was empty. Like a mask.

"Who sent you?"

"Someone who wants that recording back."

Marcus laughed again but there was no joy in it. "Victor sent you? The man who ruined hundreds of my followers? The man who made them lose their savings? Their rent money? Their children's school fees? He sends a boy in a borrowed suit to threaten me?"

"I am not threatening you," I said. "I am asking. Give me the recording and I walk away. Keep it and Victor sends someone else tomorrow. Someone who is not as nice as me."

Marcus stared at me for a long time. The music from the party was muffled back here. A low thump thump thump like a heartbeat.

"Do you know why I have that recording?" he asked.

"I do not care."

"You should care. I have it because Victor Kensington is a snake. He came to my office six months ago. He wanted me to promote his fake company to my followers. He offered me two million dollars to lie to young people who trust me."

Marcus walked to the window. The city lights made his white suit look blue.

"I said no. He got angry. He said he would ruin me. So I started recording every conversation we had. Just in case."

He turned back to face me.

"Now I have enough evidence to put him in jail for ten years. And you want me to just give that away?"

I looked at the coin in my pocket. I could flip it. See what happened next. But some things you do not need a coin for. Some things you can feel in your bones.

"Marcus," I said. "Victor Kensington does not care about jail. He cares about winning. Right now, he thinks he can send me to fix his problem. If I go back without that recording, he will send someone else. And that someone else will not ask nicely."

Marcus sat down on the edge of his desk. For the first time, he looked tired. The mask slipped and I saw the person underneath. Scared. Angry. Trapped.

"What if I do not care?" he said. "What if I want to fight? What if I release the recording tonight and let the whole world see who Victor really is?"

I almost told him the truth. That Victor would destroy him. That Victor had men with scars and guns and no conscience. That Marcus Webb had millions of followers but followers do not stop bullets.

But before I could speak, the door opened.

The woman in the red dress walked in.

She was more beautiful up close. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Red dress that fit her like water. She looked at Marcus and then at me and her face did not change. She was good at hiding things.

"Marcus," she said. "The investors are asking for you. They want to talk about the new fund."

"I will be there in five minutes," Marcus said.

She nodded and turned to leave. But before she walked out, she looked at me. Just for a second. Her eyes were the color of coffee. And there was something in them. Recognition. Like she knew me from somewhere.

Then she was gone.

Marcus stood up and straightened his white suit. "That is my partner. Chloe. She handles the money. I handle the face."

"She knew I was back here," I said. "She was watching me."

Marcus smiled. That fake smile was back. "Chloe watches everyone. It is her job."

He walked to the door and paused.

"I will think about what you said. Come back tomorrow. Noon. My office in the financial district. We will talk again."

"And the recording?"

Marcus looked at me over his shoulder. His eyes were dark and unreadable.

"I will bring it."

Then he walked out and I was alone in the room.

I flipped the coin. Three seconds.

I saw Marcus walking through the party. Smiling. Shaking hands. Being the man on the screen. Then I saw Chloe following behind him. Watching. Her red dress like blood in the dim light.

The vision ended.

I did not know if Marcus was lying about the recording. I did not know if Chloe was really his partner or something else. I did not know if I was walking into a trap tomorrow.

But I knew one thing.

Victor Kensington was watching me. Derek was scared of me. Marcus Webb was lying to me. And somewhere in this city, a homeless man with a coin was dead or dying.

I was alone.

And alone was exactly where I needed to be.

I walked out of the office and through the party. Nobody looked at me. I was just a face in a borrowed suit.

But tomorrow, everyone would know my name.

One way or another.