Meeting at the bar

Madeline's POV

"You're late," 

John sat in a booth, a glass of brandy or some other dour alcohol sloshing around it, sat on the table. He had a stern look on his face as if he were training a bunch of soldiers. The jackass probably felt like he could talk to me however he wanted because I had allowed him to be part of the plan.  

Dumbass.  

He had better have a valid reason for calling me out here. I was here running around, trying to make sure things worked out as we wanted it to. As I wanted it to. This was my dream anyways and John was just privileged to be a part of it.

He had nothing to go to if one thought about it. He had nothing to do but join me anyway. If he hadn't joined me, what would he have done? Make a living? 

Without this deal, he had no hope of being set for life. Without me he was nothing. He had to