Remorse
Kara Kartt
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Copyright @ 2023 Kara Kartt
Chapter 1
Anna
“I can’t believe you, Jenny,” I cover my eyes with my free palm, fighting the fierce heat that creeps up my neck. “You got arrested! Are you serious! Obviously, you’re screwed. I’m not coming to get you! I’m in the middle of work.”
“Aunt Anna- you can’t just leave me here! What the Hell! Are you saying work is more important than me! I’m in trouble!”
“Yeah, I am saying that, because I’m gonna send you back to your mother, but I still need a job afterwards,” I snap sharply, my angry whisper a little too loud for my liking. Stunned silence meets my declaration, and I sigh heavily in a futile attempt to collect myself. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that the rules of my house include not getting arrested. I’m changing the locks and putting your stuff outside. You better hope one of your loser friends bails you out, or you’ll be going back to New York City with just the clothes on your back.”
I hang up before Jenny can argue with me. She’s a minor! I promised to take care of her! I made a commitment, and now I’m betraying her! It’s always the same excuses; no wonder my sister couldn’t handle her anymore. Not that my sister is any better. She basically sent Jenny here with a note saying she won’t take her back. Well. . . that’s not really my problem.
“‘I didn’t break any rules’, my ass,” I grumble to myself before placing my phone face down on the desk and turning back to my computer monitor. The time on the bottom right of the screen burns into my retinas, and I run my hand through my hair agitatedly. “I’ll go on my lunch break.”
“You want me to cover for you?” Blinking, I look over at Dan poking his head around the flimsy divider, a concerned crease in his brow. My mouth dries in trepidation, the anger coursing through me simmering my blood. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I nod curtly, and Dan frowns as I lock my station and grab my purse from the bottom drawer of my desk. “How long do you think?”
“I’ll be back by the end of lunch. Thanks, Dan,” I grumble, my voice scraping against my throat painfully. My abdomen twists with dread, and I pull my keys and wallet out of my purse before stuffing it back into the drawer. “I can’t do this anymore. She showed up at my door one day, and I should’ve turned her away. But no- she’s only been here for two years, and she keeps skirting the line. And what’s worse is she knows it. She’s doing it on purpose. Now, she went over, and she wants me to come get her? It’s not like she’s being charged with anything, but like Hell am I putting myself in a precarious situation after all she did.”
“Are you still mad she drank your good liquor while you were gone?” Dan asks, and I shoot him a weak glare as I check my bank account from my phone. “At least she never tried to steal from you.”
“I am still mad, and Jenny never tried because I have cameras. She only had a few rules, and they weren’t even that rule-y! Do well in school, don’t have people over if I’m not there, and keep her room and bathroom clean. I think that ‘don’t get arrested’ is obvious! And she was arrested for hitting random people in the face? Why?” Standing up with a huff, I grab my jacket and hide my wallet and phone in it. “Just tell people I’m out for a quick smoke. Thanks. I’ll hit you back up when you need it.”
“Just bring me back a buffalo chicken sandwich with everything. And extra jalapenos.” I give him a thumbs up as I head for the elevator, balling my hands into tight fists by my sides. I’m just boiling with irritation, the heat beating against my temples with each furious beat of my heart. Jenny might be 18 now, but this shit has been going on since day one. Punching the elevator button, I rock back on my heels and heave a fiery breath.
My sister says she sent Jenny away, but Jenny says she ran away; I suppose the semantics don’t matter, but I should’ve taken that as the demonic sign it was. Jenny was tired of being forced to mother her siblings, and I understand that. But to come here just to spit in my face, as if I’m not doing her a favor. . . In the beginning, Jenny would say how appreciative she was, but getting her to do chores and keep to a curfew I thought was appropriate for a 15 year old was nearly impossible from the start. And it only got worse once she got comfortable and started making friends.
Stewing in my own complaining as I take the elevator down to the ground floor, I leave the lobby before my phone starts to buzz insistently. I check the caller I.D., grinding my molars as my face grows hot. “Hello?”
“Ms. Jackson? I’m Owen Right, with the police department,” My chest tightens, my steps faltering on the way out of the building. “I understand your predicament, but I’d urge you to come to the station to fill out some paperwork and explain the situation to me in better depth. You have legal guardianship of your niece, she says?”
“No,” I quickly refute. “She showed up with a general power of attorney statement, but I don’t have legal guardianship and didn’t sign anything for her. And while I realize that Jenny’s a minor, it’s also under my discretion whether or not to execute that statement, and I’m choosing not to. I’m at work, so I’ll come by when I’m done, but it won’t be until at least 7pm.”
“That does change things,” Right admits, and I move my cell to my other ear. “We’ll talk about it more in depth face to face. Do you have contact information for her mother or father?”
“Um, yeah,” I scroll through my contacts, rattling off my sister’s number and address to the cop. “Even if I go to the station, I’m not bailing her out.”
“You’re not going to be forced to. I’ll make some calls and see you at 7pm. Thank you for your time.” The officer hangs up, and I heave a massive sigh, the heat of my breath frosting white the moment it leaves my lips. It’s not even that cold, and it’s barely snowed the entire winter, but I still feel a chill race down my spine. Glancing at my reflection on my phone screen, I grimace deeply.
“Some paperwork,” Muttering under my breath, I slip my phone into my jacket pocket and head down the sidewalk towards the bus stop. “He probably wants it in writing that I’m refusing to bail her out. That means my sister will end up having to come here- or worse- my mom. Oh, Christ.”
I should change the locks and stuff, then bail her out and leave her there. I don’t wanna risk my sister getting involved. Palming my forehead, I groan softly in foreboding. Letting this happen was a huge mistake. Anything even remotely involving my sister is a recipe for disaster. First, it was drugs, then it was her first two kids, and as if she’s just a glutton for punishment, she had three more! Watching her life sometimes makes me wonder how we could’ve been raised in the same house, by the same mother.
“Then again, the cycle is hard to break. I know it was damned near impossible at first,” It’s really sad that Jenny’s following in her mother’s footsteps, but I’m not going to make the same mistakes again. I’m not going to take her word anymore. Jenny’s actions have shown she doesn’t care about her own life or future, and I’m certainly not going to shoulder that burden. “I’m real glad I never had kids.”
I reach the bus stop, the ache behind my eyes intensifying now that I’m not outrunning my thoughts. What to do- what to do? “For the moment, I’ll focus on going to the home improvement store and getting new locks. I’ll decide what to do after that. . . after that.”
Glancing back over my shoulder, I can’t see my office building anymore, and unease spreads through my gut. I really should’ve told my manager that I had an emergency before I left; I hope I don’t get reprimanded. Dan is always good for it, though.
I check the time on my phone, drumming my fingertips against the back case as I calculate how long it’ll take the bus to get here. Thankfully, the universe seems to be doing me a favor in that regard. When I look up, the bus is sitting at a nearby light, and I pull my bus card out of my wallet. My thoughts churn sluggishly, circling ruts into my brain. Worry mounts behind my eyes, clouding my vision as the bus stops in front of me and opens its doors. Swiping my card, I head for one of the many empty seats and sit down heavily, stretching my legs out and rubbing my face with my free hand.
“Ugh, now that I think about it, maybe I should’ve officially taken the day. It’s gonna take some time to get the stuff, go home, change the locks, and then get back to work. It’s gonna be tight,” Lest I forget, I have to go to the sandwich shop Dan likes. Thankfully, it’s not far away. I sniffle through my hot sinuses, clogged with emotion that creeps up from deep in my chest. “I can get a ride from the hardware store so I’m not waiting around for half an hour for the next bus.”
Pulling the wire to signal the bus to stop, I stand up to wander to the back door. My mind is everywhere; I could’ve walked and not lost any time. Arrested, my ass. Without fail, my thoughts arrive back at Jenny, and I worry my lower lip anxiously. The bus stops with a jostle, and I hop off to head down the short way to the cross walk and punch the button. How can anyone think it’s a good idea to fucking slap random people in the face?
I unlock my phone, juggling it and my wallet in one hand, and frown at my faint reflection on the screen. Bitterness coats my tongue, sticking to the roof of my mouth. The chilly, Boston air hangs heavily around me, clinging to my cheeks and the backs of my hands to dampen the fires raging inside me. Turning my gaze to the crosswalk post across the street, I tap my heel as I wait for it to turn green before heading across. My calves are on fire, and I head the short way to the hardware store with heavy strides to duck inside.
“Morning. Anything I can help you with?” The cashier says before the door even closes behind me, and I nod, walking over.
“Where’s the doorknobs? Do you have deadbolts as well?” I ask, and she directs me to an aisle without looking away from the customer she’s checking out. Wandering away from the register, I find what I’m looking for easily, and I grab a few different knob locks and three deadbolts. “Can’t be too careful.”
I stand in line with my armful, spying a few, colorful key caps in a bowl by the register. Picking out a number of them when I reach the cashier, I fish my debit card out of my wallet while she puts the key caps into a tiny envelope. Ordering a rideshare from my phone in the interim, I take a deep breath and hold it, closing my eyes for a brief moment to collect myself.
“That’ll be $66.27.” The cashier turns the card reader towards me, and I swipe my debit card before grabbing the bag. “You want a receipt?”
“No thanks,” I wave dismissively before leaving the hardware shop, the bag heavy in my hand. “$66 dollars. . . I didn’t think they’d be that expensive.”
Staring into the bag, I drop my phone and wallet inside before picking up one of the brass knobs. There’s another silver one, and yet a third, black one. Rifling through to pick up the deadbolts, my fingertips tingle wildly. It’s gonna take me an hour to get these all in. But I don’t have time to call someone to do it for me. My phone blips, and I glance up as a car idles in front of me to roll down the passenger window. “You called for a ride?”
“Yeah.” Checking the car make and model on my phone before hopping into the back seat, I hold my bag on my lap and sigh. Once again, my phone trills, the tone assigned to numbers not saved in my contacts, and I purse my lips thinly. Dread creeps up the back of my neck as I check the caller I.D. and swipe the green button. “Hello?”
“Aunt Anna!” I wince, pulling the phone away from my ear at Jenny’s horrifically shrill shriek. Hanging up the call, I fight a groan that threatens to push my heart into my throat. Part of me feels guilty, but I shake my head viciously to scatter the heavy sensation gathering at the back of my skull.
“If she truly was a good kid, she wouldn’t be sitting at the fucking police station right now for assaulting people in public,” I whisper to myself, bucking up my endurance; I have to remind myself that Jenny is only upset she was caught. She didn’t stop and think it was a bad idea at all until she got the crap beaten out of her by her ‘prank’ victim. She didn’t doubt what a good idea slapping random people was until the cops slapped bracelets on her. “This has been a long time coming, and I told her too many times to watch herself. But, she’ll probably blame me and not herself, so it’s a 50/50 shot that she learns anything from this. Either way. . . I’ve learned my lesson.”
Chapter 2
Damien
Stepping off the elevator, I pause when I notice a bunch of teenagers milling around my neighbor’s apartment door. Several eyes immediately turn to me, and my eyes narrow on the screwdriver one of the girls’ has in her hand. For a moment, I simply stand there; it’s obvious they’re trying to break in, but I feel like I’ve seen this girl before. Her stupid bandana mask doesn’t cover her eyes.
“You want me to scatter them?” Chandler asks gruffly from behind me, and I shake my head before starting down the hallway.
“If you’re gonna break into someone’s apartment, do it at night,” I remark on my way past, and that clearly spooks the girl with the screwdriver. Eyeballing her sidelong, I point up at the camera tucked above the door frame. “And where there’s no cameras recording you.”
Curses ring out as all these dumbass kids look directly up at the camera before running away down the hall towards the elevator. Watching them go, amusement tickles my ribs; this is a higher end apartment building, and there’s cameras in the elevator, too. And the lobby. And outside pointed at the lobby door. I reach to stroke my chin thoughtfully as the six or so kids crowd around the metal doors, ignoring the one leading to the stairs.
“Remember when we were that young and stupid?” I ask with a smirk, glancing at Chandler as he snorts. “Well, maybe not that stupid.”
“She lives here, I think,” Chandler replies, and I nod; he basically lives in this makeshift safe house, and he throws his thumb at the door. “That knob is new. It wasn’t here yesterday morning when I left. The woman that owns this apartment is pretty nice.”
“Are they gonna go down looking like that?” I ask distractedly as the kids at the end of the hall pile onto the elevator. Chuckling under my breath, I shake my head at the lunacy. Well, I needed a laugh today after that dumpster fire of a meeting I ended up stuck in for two hours.
“How’d it go with Mark?” Chandler asks before we head the few feet towards our apartment, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Did you fire him for failing again? That’s the second time, right?”
“Yes, I did, and yes, it was. Why? You want the job, Chandler?” I posit, and his jaw ticks, lips thinning before he nods curtly. He’s put an impressive amount of work into himself the last few months, but I still can’t help being disappointed. It’s a shame it took so much to get him to do something he was perfectly capable of doing all along. Following my littlest brother into the apartment, I set the plastic bag in my hand on the coffee table to sit on the sofa. “Chelsea will set you up. Although, I shouldn’t have to warn you that now that the attempt failed, the target will be that much harder to take out. You’ll have Jim with you for oversight, since he’s already there.”
“You know,” He starts, sitting in the recliner across from me and grabbing the remote while I take out the subs I’d purchased. The butcher paper is smooth against my fingertips, my eyes scanning the words scrawled on the top but not registering as anticipation races through my veins. “You know how. . . when you eat a ton of junk food, and you just get used to feeling so bad that you don’t even realize it’s bad, and that feeling decent feels like it’s fantastic?”
“I’m glad you’ve come to the realization that being a spoiled brat is not a very satisfying way to live,” I say, holding out his sandwich as satisfaction spreads through my veins. Chandler grimaces, the knife wound Wesley had given him poking out from under his rolled button down sleeve. He covers his forearm with his palm, setting the sandwich in his lap mutely. “So? What do you think will make you a satisfied, accomplished human being, Chandler? You’ve run the gambit the last few weeks since the new year, and now you want to go out on a hit job. Find anything you like?”
“That’s actually why I asked you here today,” The paper crinkles while I unwrap half my sandwich, the plume of vinegar and spicy peppers blasting me in the face. Leaning back against the sofa, I cross one knee over the other with a grunt before taking a bite of my steak and cheese with the works. Chandler does the same, taking a chance to really organize his thoughts and form his words carefully. It’s so different from just a few months ago; granted, he’s still got a temper, but he’s able to manage it a lot better now. “Honestly, I’m not sure if pulling this contract is even a good idea, but I thought this would be my opportunity to find out. Like you said, Mark fucked it up, so the guy knows someone’s after him. I thought that being in the field would help. Maybe not necessarily pulling the contract itself.”
Inhaling deeply through my nose, I watch my brother take a bite of his sandwich before taking one myself. The silence is heavy, expectant, and tense, and I tap my foot against air absently. This would be a good opportunity for him. Chandler isn’t great at anything, but he’s good at most things. That’s part of the reason I didn’t just have Wesley pull a contract on him without bothering to give him this chance. The last few months had proved he can put in the work, but Chandler has never needed to put his mind to any one thing. I can appreciate that difficulty.
“You’ll probably be in Poland for a while- a couple weeks at least. When you get back, we’ll see about putting you in the Security division. Although, depending on what excuses they spout about their intelligence gaps, I’m not optimistic about there still being a Security division by then,” I offer, and Chandler’s eyes are bright when they meet mine. “The fact that rumors were swirling around, and we didn’t hear a single whiff of them. . . is concerning. It’s not even about not telling me- I don’t think it could’ve been done without some direct interference. Someone under me deliberately covered up the rumors so we wouldn’t know about them.”
“Do you think Dad had anything to do with it?” Chandler asks.
“Dad wouldn’t dare,” Rifling through the bag with my free hand for the spicy relish, I clear my throat at the discomfort of last year’s debacle. “Despite what he did last year, it’s not like it had anything to do with business. He was blowing smoke up my ass, but it was mostly arbitrary in nature. Dad would never keep something as important as Al-Hashim from me, which means that he didn’t know about the rumors either. In turn, it only makes sense that someone or a group of someones has turned on us, and the only place it could’ve come from is the Security division.”
“I find it hard to believe Dad didn’t know about it. He knows everything,” Chandler grumbles a little bitterly while I dump relish onto my sandwich, and I chuckle. “But. . . if it is true, what’re you gonna do about it?”
“Mm,” I hum softly. “I have Wesley asking for help from some of his associates, and Chelsea’s got a plan in the works. There’s a mandatory meeting for the Security division and all subdivisions coming up in a few days. You should attend, if you’re interested in that kind of thing.”
“A mandatory meeting- so anyone that doesn’t show up would be suspicious, but they have to know you’re looking at them. Is it a roundup?” Chandler asks, but I don’t get the chance to answer before a hard knock on the door interrupts us. Setting down my sandwich, I saunter over to the barrier to peek through the hole. That must be the neighbor woman. Two cops flank her, and I open the door to lean against the frame.
“Good afternoon,” I greet, and the woman’s face clouds in dark shadows that roil in her bright, honey-brown eyes. “What can I do for you?”
“You saw my niece and her friends trying to break into my place,” She grumbles gruffly, clearly pissed off, before gesturing to the officers behind her. “Can you give a statement?”
“It’s my brother’s place. I didn’t recognize those kids. Come in, please.” I step out of the way, and Chandler hastily gulps down his mouthful and wipes his hands on a napkin before standing up from the recliner. Closing the door behind the trio, I grab my sandwich and head into the kitchen; I don’t really want to be involved in teenage shenanigans.
Besides, I have more important things to worry about than a neighbor’s family drama. Inhaling my sandwich, I hang over the sink while Chandler talks to the cops in the other room. It shouldn’t take more than five minutes, especially if the woman is handing over the security footage. It all speaks for itself.
“Excuse me,” Glancing up mid-bite at the soft call, I grunt lowly in acknowledgement. The woman pulls an awkward grimace, hugging herself tightly. “Can I have some water?”
Chewing my mouthful roughly, I set down the end of my sandwich and wash my hands as the silence stretches into discomfort. Grabbing a glass from the top cupboard, I open the fridge to grab the water pitcher. I clear my throat, taking a moment to really look at her as she takes the full glass. Her high-waisted jeans hug thick hips and thighs, and her flowing, plain white blouse hides muscular arms under her quarter sleeves.
“How you holdin’ up?” I ask just to break the silence, and she shrugs; she’s got quite broad shoulders hidden under her long, mahogany waves. She’s a woman I can grab. “Teenagers.”
“She’s my niece. She got arrested for slapping strangers for some internet prank video, so I kicked her out,” The woman palms her forehead, her frenched nails glistening under the light streaming from the unblocked windows. “I saw on the video. Thanks for stopping them.”
“It probably helps there’s not a single shared brain cell between them. Trying to do that in the middle of the day with a screwdriver,” Sighing, my cheek twitches when the woman chuffs a humorless laugh, hiding her smirk behind the back of her hand. Taking a large gulp of her water, she holds the cool glass to her cheek, staring at some distant point on the tiled floor. She’s really quite beautiful. “If you don’t mind my asking, were you going to just watch them? They wouldn’t have been able to get in without brute-forcing the door that way.”
“Sounds like you know a lot about breaking into places,” A thin thread of amusement underlies her tone. “I thought something like this might happen, so I got more cameras. I’m glad I did. I don’t think my doorbell camera would’ve gotten their faces if I hadn’t. It’s kinda disappointing, but I was hoping they’d give up. They were crowding around the door for at least ten minutes before you came off the elevator.”
“Determination is only good if directed. It sucks about your niece,” I reply. “You’re obviously a lovely woman.”
“Thank you,” The woman smiles, showing off diamond-cutting dimples, before draining her glass and hastily washing it in the sink. As if on cue, the cop appears, telling her they’ve taken Chandler’s statement and are ready to leave. Walking the trio back to the door, I nod, and the woman offers a wave. “Appreciate it.”
Closing the door, I sigh, rubbing my chin and mouth before heading back to the sofa to sit down. I should’ve asked her name, but shit- I know where she lives. I’m sure we’ll run into each other again. “Anyway, what were we talking about before?”
Chapter 3
Anna
“Dan!” I whisper yell, and he pauses his typing to glance over at me as I hang over the divider between our stations. “I was gonna go get a few drinks at that Ramen bar place. You wanna come gossip with me?”
“Uh-h,” He trails off, glancing at the clock in the corner of his monitor, and expectation rages in my veins. Dan never turns down an opportunity to get in on some juicy gossip; and the best part is he doesn’t tell anyone. He just likes to sit on it, knowing that he knows something other people don’t. “Sure. I got some time. But I can’t drink tonight- me and Jess are heading out at, like, 3am to head for her parents’ place for the weekend down in North Carolina.”
“Oh, well, this’ll be a long one, so,” I trail off, pursing my lips thinly as conflict twists Dan’s expression. “We’ll do it when you get back. I didn’t know you were going down there?”
“It was kinda spur of the moment for- for. . . reasons?” He winces, waving a hand dismissively. “Anyway, yeah, I guess we’ll do it when we get back. If I come back alive, that is. Jess’s dad is scary.”
Arching a brow quizzically, a grin creeps onto my face, and Dan blushes fiercely, desperately trying to keep his mouth shut. Sitting down in my chair once again, I open the small window for messages between team members and shoot him a familiar meme of a wizard and a hobbit. There’s only one thing it could be, after all, and I’m not gonna push him. He sends back a laughing emoji, and I rub my palms together readily before turning my attention back to the spreadsheet in front of me.
“Okay, okay,” Dan pokes his head above the partition. “What kind of gossip?”
“I met my neighbor’s hot brother the other day,” Shuffling over on my chair, I grin broadly when his brows rise in interest. Holding up my hands, I nod enthusiastically. “So, Jenny tried to break into my apartment, and they saw it, so I brought the cops over.”
“She didn’t!” He gasps, an incredulous chuckle escaping him as he leans his elbows on his knees leisurely. “What happened? I thought she was supposed to be going back to New York City?”
“Well, obviously that didn’t happen. I guess my sister’s been dodging the calls, so they’re like ‘whatever’. Anyway, this guy,” I grip my chest dramatically, flames licking up my neck to spill into my cheeks. “He’s so hot. And he was obviously checking me out. I wasn’t exactly paying attention at the time, but damn! I haven’t seen him before- only the younger brother. But the older one- wow. Ugh! If I was smart, I could’ve played the damsel in distress.”
“You?” Barking a laugh, Dan quickly covers his mouth, his eyes dancing with mirth. “You get his name?”
“No, unfortunately, but I’m a hundred percent sure I’ll run into him again. I think it’s love at first sight! Fate! Celestial intervention,” I snigger, and Dan scoffs lightly, reaching to push my shoulder playfully. “Or, at the very least, I’d ask him out in a heartbeat.”
“I hope you get the opportunity, Anna. It’s about damned time you do something other than work.” Dan chides, and I roll my eyes; as if I hadn’t heard that before. Leaning back in my chair with a sigh, I swish side to side and run my hand through my hair absently.
“This whole mess with Jenny- I need something to cut through the stress. I’m afraid to leave my phone in case she pops up on the cameras with her stupid friends again. The police aren’t looking for her; they’re kinda hoping she falls in their laps. Which, I mean, I get it. Jenny can’t do much more than superficial damage,” I answer, and unease blossoms in my chest to crowd my heart. “Hopefully. I don’t wanna jinx it, but considering she tried to break into my apartment in the middle of the day, knowing I had cameras, and the recent run-in with the cops.”
“You have renter’s insurance, right?” He asks, and I nod as I gulp down the lump that suddenly forms in my throat. “Then you’ll be fine. If anything happens, maybe your as-yet-nameless neighbor’s hot brother will show up again.”
“I just said not to jinx it, Dan.”
“Sorry- sorry,” Waving his hands, he glances at his computer briefly before catching my eye. “You finished the spreadsheet yet? I kinda need it to finish putting in the variables on this report. To be honest, I’m kinda worried. Jess and I are partly going this weekend to check out places just in case I get sacked in the acquisition.”
“Why do you think you would?” I ask curiously. “You’re the one that always tells me that work shouldn’t be 100%, because then you leave nothing for yourself. If you get your work done on time and without error, I don’t see the problem.”
“Well, they fired Rebecca.”
“That’s not true,” I refute quickly. “She got poached, and they got mad. It didn’t have anything to do with the acquisition, Dan. This company honestly needs some restructuring, and hopefully it’ll be for the better. Trim the fat. And if you ask me, this department is pretty chunky.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll see what happens. Best case scenario, I can find remote work, but I’ve been checking the internal system, and nothing’s come up yet. Finger’s crossed.” Our conversation winds down, and I shuffle back to my station to focus on the task at hand. There’s only an hour left to the day.
The acquisition clings to the back of my mind, the very edges of my thoughts, while I type away into my spreadsheet. It’s not uncommon for a company like ours to be sold off; data entry and management is a very important skill, and it’s very important to be good at it. The department only had about 25 employees before the layoffs, and now we’re down to 19. I guess, I can understand why Dan’s worried. Hopefully, it’ll be our useless manager that gets the shaft.
“Speaking of, he never even knew I was gone half the day. I kinda feel bad for being paid when I wasn’t actually here,” I mutter to myself lowly, frowning under tightly knit brows. “If I told him, though, he’d probably yell at me that unless I was dying, it’s not an emergency.”
A notification pops up on my screen, and I pause my furious typing to click on it.
Attention: following members report to Conference Room 3.
“Did you get that?” Dan asks over the divider, and I grunt in acknowledgement. My, his, and several other people’s names are on the list, and I stand up to lock my station and glance over at Dan’s worried expression. “We’re gonna be fired. Oh, God.”
“Just calm down and let’s go see what’s happening.” I assure him, but I’m not feeling too great either. The list is small- only six or seven people. Hooking my arm around Dan’s, I pat his shoulder comfortingly as he takes a deep, calming breath. Heading out of our little, shared cubicle thing, he and I walk with the other employees towards the conference room near the elevator. Dan opens the door for me, and I nod in thanks before taking a preparatory breath of my own.
It bodes well that our manager’s not here, I think. Turning my gaze to the four people already milling around at the head of the table around a projector, I rub my fingertips together by my sides. My palms clam up, and my heart begins to race as I take a seat at the far end of the table. The owner, the HR woman, and. . . I don’t recognize the other two.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice,” Mr. Long starts once everyone is seated, and I share a worried look with Dan. Suddenly, I’m not so confident in my previous statement. “As you know, we’re being acquired by LaFountaine Industries’ accounting and billables subsidiary. I’ll introduce you- Wesley LaFountaine and Chelsea Rawbler, co-owner and chief assistant, respectively.”
Co-owner? There’s no way such a bigwig would be here if we’re getting fired. Excitement grips my heart in a vice, squeezing tightly, and I clench my hands into white-knuckle fists in my lap. The man is tall, lean in his suit, and very little expression on his face. “Allow me to lend you my congratulations. You seven are going to be transferred to the main subsidiary within the next eight to twelve weeks. Does anyone have any questions?”
My mouth dries; not a man of many words, apparently. Sluggishly raising my hand, I cringe in the unyielding, confused silence before Wesley LaFountaine grunts, jutting his chin out in my direction. “You?”
“I- if I might ask. . . why us? Why are only seven out of the 20 or so still employed here?”
“Because you’re not idiots.” Harsh. Wesley’s answer stuns everyone in the room, even the CEO, and Chelsea shoulders him aside and clears her throat gruffly and loudly.
“To answer your question properly,” She starts, shooting a weak glare at her boss before addressing the room. “We at LaFountaine Industries do not necessarily care much for the extra frills and bells. You are all perfectly adequate at your respective jobs, and together, we’re hoping that without the current office atmosphere and role segregation, you seven will be able to do what 20 people barely manage. I’ve gone through the last two years worth of productivity charts personally and chosen based on your merits.”
“Are we going to have some leniency with work-from-home?” Dan’s hand shoots up, hope blossoming in his tone. “If so, are we going to be assigned oversight from someone from your company during the interim, or is our current manager going to continue?”
“You’re all adults,” Chelsea says with a leading look that skewers the employees sitting around the far end of the table. “I expect, since none of you have less than five years at this company in your current roles, that you’re fully capable of doing your job without strict oversight. You’re free to work from home once you transfer over, but you’ll be required to have whatever office hours until then as stated in your current contracts. Over the next few weeks, we’ll be calling each of you in to discuss pay and conditions, but until you’re official employees of LaFountaine Industries, you’ll continue as usual, under your current manager.”
“What if I quit and apply directly?” I ask directly, and interest sparks in Chelsea’s eyes. But I’m asking a question we all would’ve found ourselves contemplating. I hold my breath in anticipation as she frowns.
“You’re welcome to do so, but be aware that this is due to the acquisition. If you quit, you’ll be treated like any other applicant and may not get the job. I would highly suggest waiting out the next few weeks,” Chelsea’s eyes flicker from person to person, and it’s obvious she sees the unease on everyone’s faces. Our manager is gonna make our lives Hell because of this. “Your current benefits will still stand. Mr. Long will contact you next week about your PTO and vacation time.”
“Those don’t roll over, though, and it’ll already be past the deadline in two months,” I state, and Chelsea nods. “If you’re bending over backwards about trying to keep us here, why’re you basically telling us to all piss off for the weeks we've accumulated? Making a special concession before we’re even your official employees, and bending the rules of a company you only just got your hands on. . . I’m sorry, but it seems a little fishy to me.”
“Allow me to rephrase,” Chelsea states, and the bridge of my nose tingles wildly under her firm gaze. “We’re shutting down this company, and everyone but you seven are receiving a pink slip two weeks before the closure. I would like to start this working relationship on the right foot, and as was agreed upon last year when we approached Mr. Long, we’re the ones that are taking a loss paying out PTO and vacation time anyway, so yes- we will bend the rules. These are not special concessions. It’s simply the product of management changeover.”
“So, we’re free to take the payout or use up our time? Because I have 6 weeks combined. Would that carry over to you?”
“Vacation time will carry over, but you won’t be able to access it for six months while you acclimate and get comfortable. It’ll be free for you to use if you so choose for six months after that before you lose it. The PTO- obviously, an emergency is an emergency,” Chelsea pauses, letting that sink in for a moment. What a fucking amazing deal! Almost too good to be true, if I’m being honest with myself. “As I said- you’re all adults. I trust there won’t be any problems in properly communicating. If you have to take a day off for your mental health, you can simply say so. I’m aware how difficult the process can be, but I would like to emphasize that, once again, that I’ve chosen you because you’re perfectly decent at your jobs. Your workload will honestly not change that much compared to what you’re doing now. There’s absolutely no reason to play childish games like pretending to have the sniffles or because your dog ate your homework. However, that’s quite far into the future, and we’ll be talking in depth about all manner of the job at some point in the next few weeks. This meeting was just to let you know what’s happening. You’re all dismissed.”
“Um, one last question,” I raise my hand, and she nods before I stand up. “When will the payout be? I wanna celebrate?”
“You can pick up your check today from HR if you so choose,” She gestures to the HR woman with a wave of her hand, and the atmosphere is noticeably lighter, almost buzzing, now. “Have a wonderful weekend.”
Chapter 4
Damien
“I would like you to explain this to me,” I slide a thin, two-page leaflet towards the well-dressed Saudi Arabian man across the table. His beige suit and slicked back, black hair do nothing to impress me with the way his jaw is ticking like that. He’s nervous, and he should be. Taking the pamphlet, he leans back in his seat with a feign of nonchalance and clears his throat. “In simple terms, so I can understand.”
“Your support into our endeavor into the Caucasus Mountains,” He says, his accent thick and clipped as his eyes narrow on me over the edge of the pamphlet. “There’s a great much land between us and it. Such a huge operation- I was under the impression you were aware it’d be impossible to keep it kept quiet.”
“That’s not an explanation, now,” I suck my teeth lightly, shaking my head, and the skin around his eyes tightens as he purses his lips. I’m glad I chose such a brightly lit bar. God damn, these people. . . Inhaling deeply, slowly, I lift my wine glass to my lips without breaking eye contact. “Explain. In simple terms.”
“I do not have an explanation,” He finally admits, and I’m relieved. There’s nothing worse than conversing with a guy who knows he’s in trouble but won’t confess. Despite his regality, his unwillingness to bend, he still looks like a puppy who got caught ripping up the trash. And frankly, that’s what he is. He came to me, for fuck’s sake! Setting down the stapled pieces of paper, he gives up trying to hide how irritated he is and scowls outright. “I expressly forbid anyone from mentioning the deal, but I’m ashamed to say that someone doesn’t understand the concept.”
“Ah-huh,” I grunt, taking a big gulp of wine. What the fuck is this guy saying- admitting to my face he’s not able to control his people? “Well, I’m disappointed. I’ll be pulling out of your operation.”
“You can’t do that!” He says harshly, eyes flaring with anger and desperation, and I’m quick to hold up a palm to silence him. “We had a deal, Damien, and I’ve done nothing to breach the contract we signed. You can’t pull out now! We’re this close to inciting civil war, and just because deniable rumors swirling around- those are inevitable.”
“Someone in your camp got stupid, and you didn’t tell me. If you’ll remember, the contract we signed had a glass-door clause,” I state coldly, and he clenches his jaw, absolutely fuming across the circular table. “If you knew someone had let slip our deal, you should’ve taken action and informed me. Instead, I had to find out what everyone else already whispered about from a syphilis-brain addled bitch with absolutely no connections or power. . . and it’s curious to me that she knew that I didn’t know. So, I’m very hurt, you understand. Very hurt. This relationship could’ve been salvaged had you done your fucking job and reported to me. How am I supposed to trust anything you say anymore? And without trust, there is no business to be done, I’m afraid. You can leave, now, Ambassador.”
He hesitates for a moment before standing up, offering me a shallow bow beyond the edge of the booth, and storms off out of the bar. Next to me, Chelsea sighs, propping her elbows on the table to hold her cheeks in her palms. “He’s so insufferable.”
“It was an enlightening conversation,” I reveal, watching the man’s back get smaller before he disappears behind a corner leading to the elevator. “What was his name again?”
“Who cares?” She groans. “That didn’t go nearly as well as yesterday did for me. Those little people in that no-name firm practically gobbled my offer up and swallowed.”
“Attracting talent is one thing, but keeping it is another. Work culture is changing, and besides,” I take a swig of my wine, draining it before standing up to glance down at Chelsea. She’d been so bored, being ignored- no, worse, it was like she didn’t exist. Dude’s got balls of steel and no spine to carry them. “We’re expanding for this exact reason, Chelsea. It’s easier to control people who want to be controlled.”
Chelsea waves me off, and I head to the bar to order another glass of wine. And maybe a shot. After that debacle, I’m going to just send Chelsea; if people don’t like it, they’re free not to use me. Without my father around, I’m able to do whatever I want, without having to justify myself. The freedom is addictive. I drum my fingertips on the bar’s steel top as my mind rewinds to my time at the booth.
Al-Hashim probably can’t continue their efforts without my guns and money. It’s a shame that I won’t get in on the oil action, but I can’t waste any more on this little side project. I’d already pulled myself out of the red on it, anyway. There’s no loss here, even if the gain would’ve been substantial.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Pulled from my thoughts, a sultry voice catches my attention, and I glance over curiously. Chandler’s neighbor. She’s all done up, her hair curled and her curves on full display in her sleek, red, shimmery dress. Lips stained bright red stretch in a flattering smile, and I smirk as she confidently holds out her hand. “I couldn’t introduce myself last time, but I’m Anna.”
“Damien,” I take her outstretched fingers, kissing the back of her hand, and her eyebrows wiggle in pleased surprise. Eyeballing her critically as she takes the bar stool next to me, I kick the toe of my shoe against the bottom of the bar. She’s got a nice ass. “So, are you celebrating? That dress is pretty expensive, isn’t it?”
“Is the tag still on it?” Anna jokes, reaching over her shoulder while I chuckle amusedly. “I thought I’d splurge. Just yesterday, I got the promotion of a lifetime. . . I hope. I’m still pretty skeptical, but so far, there’s no reason not to take it. We were only just informed, so no details yet. How’d you know about my dress? Are you on the up about women’s fashion?”
“Ah, my assistant is an amateur designer, so I’ve picked up some stuff over the last few years,” I throw my thumb over my shoulder towards Chelsea, glancing back as she types away on her phone. “Can I buy you a drink to start off your celebratory night?”
“Oh,” Anna gasps, and I look over as unease ripples through the confidence on her face. “She’s your assistant? Are you one of the higher ups at LaFountaine Industries?”
“I’m the higher up,” I reveal, and Anna full on frowns, disappointment creasing her brows. “I take it your promotion was part of the acquisition of your company into my subsidiary?”
“Unfortunately. I was going to ask you out, but if you’re going to be my boss,” Trailing off while the bartender comes over, Anna orders two shots of tequila, and I get a refill on my wine. She sniffles, dabbing her eyes with a crooked finger so as not to smudge her perfect makeup. “What a shame.”
“It is,” I agree, eyeing her sidelong, but Anna truly doesn’t seem inclined to flirt with me anymore. She’s one of those people, huh? I can appreciate that, as unfortunate as it is. The bartender sets a full wine glass in front of me, pulling out two shot glasses for Anna, and I pick it up. “Well, I wish you luck. I suppose it would be inappropriate to pay for your drinks, but enjoy yourself tonight, Anna.”
“Thanks. I will.” Anna smiles lackluster while I make my way back to the booth, sitting across from Chelsea. The woman casts me a glowering look, opening her mouth only to pause to stop the waiter that’s walking by our table.
“Can I get two salmon with the celery puree, please?” Chelsea asks, and he nods before continuing off, leaving me alone under her judgemental gaze. “So?”
“If I’m going to be her boss,” I reiterate gruffly, and Chelsea snorts a laugh, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Glancing over at the bar, I lift my glass to my lips to cover my own disappointed frown. “She’s drop dead gorgeous, but if she doesn’t want to mix business and pleasure, there’s nothing I can do about it. I wish it didn’t come up until tomorrow morning, though. Lesson learned- never bring up another woman when trying to seal the deal.”
“Are you sure she didn’t want you to tell her something like ‘I’m not your boss yet?’ and whisk her off to the bathroom?” Chelsea asks, and disdain sours the wine on my tongue. She claps her hands lightly, picking up her glass of bourbon with an amused sigh. “You never were one to mince words, Damien.”
“I would never say that- and she was going to ask me out, so I doubt it’s some sort of hard to get game.” I say, and Chelsea nods, taking a small gulp of her drink with a sharp sigh.
“That was basically my assessment of her. In the meeting yesterday, she led most of the conversation to the important points that were already on everyone’s minds. I was impressed. Even Wesley said something about her asking if things were really too good to be true. I don’t think she’s particularly up to task about her job, but she can lead the sheep.”
“You should be less condescending, Chelsea. If she’s celebrating at a bar where the beers are $20 dollars, she can’t be that skeptical,” I reply, and Chelsea arches a brow, tilting her head with a soft hum in agreement. “We have the Security department meeting on Monday. Chandler’s agreed to go, and Wesley will be taking the head. I’ve got back to back meetings organizing the deportation from the Middle East. It’s going to be a long week.”
“Oh, no, Damien. You’re not gonna get out of it that easy. If you’re having such a tough week, all the more reason not to let semantics stand in the way of having fun on a Saturday night,” Chelsea wags her finger in denial, and her insistence sparks irritation in my chest. Shooting her a warning look over the booth, I roll my jaw, and Chelsea obediently backs down. Sometimes, her thinking she’s my friend has its drawbacks. Of course, we’ve been together as superior and subordinate for twenty years now, but the very last thing I want is Chelsea’s opinion about dating. “Fine, fine. I’m just sayin’, it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe go get a massage or something. Or a pedicure. You spend more than half your life on your feet- you gotta take care of them. I’m telling you, it’ll be worth it to go to a spa. ‘Me time’ isn’t just for women or reluctant husbands.”
“I’ll consider it, but not until after things settle down. I have no doubt that the Ambassador had hoped he could talk his way out of this, or at least mitigate the damage, and since he couldn’t do that,” Sighing in aggravation, my chest grows tight, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m glad we started things already, but the assets I have over there are still fairly substantial. Plus, Mongoose is holding down the fort, and I cannot lose him if the Saudis decide to retaliate. I would’ve gotten his ass on a plane immediately if I could, but he’s gotta oversee the mop up operation.”
“Ugh, don’t even talk to me about that guy. The last time we were in the same room, he kept trying to grab my ass. Almost stabbed him,” Grumbling, Chelsea gulps down the rest of her drink and shakes her head with a hot exhale. “The nerve of that man to snap his fucking fingers at me! If he wasn’t so damned good at his job, I’d take him out myself.”
She punches the air swiftly, a smile on her face that doesn’t reach her eyes. I sit back in the booth, stretching my legs under the table to circle my finger around the lip of my wine glass absently. Tonight had gone disastrously; I don’t know why I held out hope that the Saudis had even a half decent explanation for this shit. To be turned down by a beautiful woman on top of that. . . this is really not my best day.
Chapter 5
Anna
Shuffling off the elevator and into the all-too familiar cube farm, I head for my desk and drop my purse heavily onto it. The darkest of moods casts shadows over me, and I sit in my chair heavily with a groan. Flopping my head back, I can see the clouds, heavy and dark, collecting above me. Or is that just my imagination? No, it’s my regret manifesting.
“Anna,” Glancing up at Amon, I sit up to swivel towards him as he kneels down in my cubicle to cup his hand over his mouth. Worry brightens his eyes while confusion clouds my own, and I hold my breath in anticipation. “We all got together and decided not to tell anyone about what happened Friday. I just wanted to let you know, since you bolted out of here with your check so fast. Especially not to tell Jeff. Just say it was a boring meeting and you don’t wanna go through the details.”
“I- I mean, I thought that was kinda obvious, Amon. They all but said if we talk, we’re screwed since we have to stick it out for another 12 weeks,” I whisper back, and relief floods his face as his eyelids flutter closed briefly. “Was Jeff harassing people about it over the weekend? I didn’t get any messages or anything.”
“Well, of course you didn’t. He’s scared of you,” Amon replies, rocking back on his heels to rub the back of his head. His expression tightens in apprehension, and I feel kinda bad for him. “Jeff’s gonna be a huge douchebag if he finds out, and if he finds out, everyone else will. It’d be Hell.”
“If he gets pushy, you can drop my name. Tell him I’d be more than happy to give all the details,” I offer, and Amon grimaces with a very serious nod. “I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m sorry to put this on you, Anna. I’ll take you out for lunch when this is all over.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” Smiling broadly while Amon stands, putting a grateful hand on my shoulder before heading back to his desk. He looks noticeably less tense now, and I sit back in my chair leisurely. Bracing my cheek on my knuckles, I prop my elbow on the desk and fight a sigh. “At least it’s a distraction from my disaster of a weekend.”
“What disaster?” Dan draws my attention from behind, and I twist to shuffle around on the tips of my toes. Interest brightens his eyes as he pulls out his wheeled chair, twirling it around to sit in it without ever turning away from me. “What’d I miss?”
“Ah,” Breathing hotly, I shrug. “I’ll tell you the important part later, but right now. . . I should’ve taken a page from your book and not drank so much last night. Partly because of work today, and partly just because I was drowning in my own sorrow, and that’s never good.”
“Did Jenny show up?”
“No, but I usually don’t go out on the weekends, so she might’ve thought it was too dangerous if she caught me at home. I’m telling you, Dan. . . I had the worst weekend. I’m such a dumbass. I’m so miserable,” Ducking my head, I groan pathetically, and he chuckles amusedly as regret stains my tongue. Running my hands through my hair, I ball the strands into my fists and sit up sharply. “I screwed up big time, and I can’t do anything about it. But what about you? How’d it go with the girlfriend?”
“Ah, it went okay. Turns out, we didn’t go to the Carolinas’ after all. Her parents were a little disappointed, but Jess and I had to talk about what to do next by ourselves, and her mom can be a bit bullheaded,” Dan replies, seriousness thickening his tone as we move away from the unspoken. “It honestly didn’t start until, like, Saturday night, though. I really wasn’t sure about bringing it up at all, but Jess- you know, she’s my partner. I couldn’t make the decision by myself, and if nothing else, Jess has the patience of a saint. Talking about big, life-changing stuff isn’t really my forte. It was actually really great. We went and got pretzels and walked down by the docks. It’s been a while since we just walked around. It reminded me why I moved here in the first place.”
“Well, you met Jess here, and your whole life is here. Moving away should take a lot of thinking about, Dan,” I reassure him; I don’t know if he’s talking about the move, or the other thing, or both? But Dan’s got things well in hand. “So, did you come up with anything, or are you gonna talk about it more?”
“We’re gonna keep talking about it over the next couple weeks. It’s not like a decision has to be made right this moment, and who knows? Something could happen. Like you said- lots of thinking and planning A to Z. And I know now, at the very least, that if Jess and I were to move, it certainly wouldn’t be anywhere near her parents. She was quite firm on that,” He chuckles fondly, and some of the dense fog lifts from my mind. I’m glad things went so well for him. “But that’s kinda as far as we got last night.”
“So. . . I’m pretty sure I know what it’s about, but I won’t say anything for now,” I cross my fingers, holding them against my lips as Dan’s eyes widen, lips parting in surprise. “But it’s safe to say that a bottle of wine would be wasted on you?”
“Wo-ow, okay,” Blustering a sigh, he rubs his jaw and cheek roughly before meeting my gaze. “Fine, you caught me. But don’t tell anyone. Jess wants to figure out what we’re gonna do- if we’re gonna move, and whether or not she’s gonna stay at her job. But she’s always hated her job, so this could be the perfect excuse to quit.”
“Perfect excuse for who to quit?” Dan’s head snaps up, and I twist as Jeff lumbers around the edge of the cubicle with a curious, but slimy, expression. My friend immediately clams up, turning to his station to turn on his computer and make a fuss of things. Standing up, all my aggravation balls in my throat as Jeff stares, expectancy brightening his eyes. It’s barely the start of the work day, but his face is already red, and sweat beads around his temple. His shirt buttons strain, and I clear my throat before palming Dan’s shoulder to get his attention.
“Looks like I was right. You owe me five bucks,” I state, and confusion twists Dan’s sharp features before I turn back to Jeff. “We had a bet going that anyone who says the ‘Q’ word is gonna make you magically materialize instantly, and look! You’re here!”
I fling out my hands, wagging my fingers as Jeff’s bald head flashes bright, tomato red. My words echo around the otherwise quiet, sleep-addled office, and I grin broadly. “I gotta know how you do it, Jeff. I mean, there’s no other explanation for you just sneaking up so quiet-like. You must teleport at the magic word. It’s gotta be annoying if it happens during an important meeting or something, right? Or if you’re on the toilet. Oh! I know! It’s gotta be because you’re insecure about your managerial position because you suck at it, and you’re desperate to crack down on anyone who attacks your fragile ego by alluding that we don’t need you around. So? Are you gonna reveal your secret? Do you have some magic button that you press whenever your manager-senses are tingling?”
Stunned silence meets my little irritated tangent, and I scoff lightly, flicking my hair away from my face under Jeff’s fiercely enraged gaze. But he doesn’t scare me- not his position, or physically. He probably couldn’t make it the short distance to me without getting winded, not that his life choices are any of my business. “I have a lot to do today, and I’m in a terrible mood. I’ve had a crap weekend. So, if you don’t mind.”
I point in the general direction of his office, and Jeff opens his mouth only to breathe hotly. Clenching my jaw, I tilt my head back and stare down my nose at him pointedly. He doesn’t want to lose face here- not that he had any at all in the first place. My heart slams against my chest as the silence ticks by arduously slowly until, finally, he turns to waddle away. I’m sure he’s just as miserable as he seems, and he’s not only taking it out on us.
Sitting down in my chair with a huff, I cross my arms over my bust and tap my foot furiously against the carpet. “You are the choices you make, though. Too bad.”
“Are you sure that was a good idea?” I look over, taking calming breaths through my nose, as Dan shuffles towards me on his chair to whisper. “What if you get reprimanded? What if he tries to fire you?”
“I asked the CEO on the elevator ride to the HR lady’s office- he said as long as nothing outrageous happens, we’re fine, and frankly,” Frowning, sourness coats my tongue, and I stroke my chin with my free hand. “He was already checked out. He’s gonna get to walk away from this floundering company for more than it’s currently worth, and he’s just counting down the days himself. I thought about asking him about leaving early, but I felt like that was pushing it considering what the lady said at the meeting. We’re adults. We know right from wrong, and if I need to make Jeff hate me more to get through the next couple weeks, I’ll do that. It’s nothing I can’t handle. He’s been trying for seven years to get me fired.”
“Throwing yourself under the bus- a true hero,” Clutching at his button down, Dan chuckles, but the gratefulness in his eyes is very real. Smiling fondly, I reach to push his hand away before he leans back in his chair with a strained sigh. “Jeff’s probably gonna write you up, though.”
“Sure, and I’ll contest it, and then he’ll realize he has to actually do something- put effort into it- and back down, and then,” I pause, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. “I’ve got absolutely no intention of stirring the pot, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up. I feel better already.”
“We’re for sure gonna go out for dinner tonight so you can tell me all about it.” Dan says, whipping out his phone; I assume, he’s going to text his girlfriend and ask. Whether asking for permission, or if she wants him to bring something back. . .
“I hope Jess knows we’re just friends,” I remark, and Dan shrugs carelessly, not looking up from his phone. “That’s not one of the things you have to talk about, right?”
“You’re worried about that? We’ve worked side by side for over eight years, Anna; longer than I’ve known Jess. It’s like if she accused me of incest at this point. You’re the bully older sister I never had,” Snorting at that, I can’t deny that makes me feel a little more at ease. Jess is pregnant, so I hope her emotions don’t run wild. “Plus, you’ve met her a few times, right? She’s the exact opposite. You’re most definitely not my type, Anna. Physically, or personality-wise.”
“Well, yeah, but I just wondered. With everything going on, you may not have time for me anymore,” I sniffle loudly, dramatically, and cover my eyes with my palm, and Dan rolls his eyes when I peek through my fingers. Smirking, I lean back in my chair to stretch out my legs. “I just know how it could look, and I don’t wanna cause any trouble.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but if Jess has a problem with our very healthy friendship, that’s not your fault, Anna. This. . . life event. . . is gonna change stuff, but I don’t think it’ll be that much,” He’s really trying to avoid saying the word. And I get it; announcing something like a pregnancy is something they have to do together. If he’s trying so hard not to admit it, Jess must’ve asked him not to. “When we got together, we did have the conversation, too. I wouldn’t say she was accusatory, but just, like, wanted a clearer picture. That clear picture being you’d back me up in a bar fight and then leave me there.”
“Bah!” I laugh heartily, pointing at Dan. His phone blips insistently, slack in his palm, and he checks the notification. “Not if it was your fault.”
“You’d give me a kidney, no hesitation, but if I knock on the door asking you to turn the music down, you’d punch me,” We share a chuckle at the analogy; I only have my sister, and Dan doesn’t have any siblings. “She wants us to get this particular fried pickle burger at Harrowman’s. Does that work for you?”
“Sure, it’ll be my treat. As congratulations.” I wink at him, and he blushes lightly before turning back to his station. I do the same, turning my computer on as I glance over the partitions towards Jeff’s office. Through the open door, I can see him just fuming. If I look close enough, the perspiration on his head is steaming- he’s so mad about my confronting him. And it’ll take him a few days of grumbling, sulking, alone in his office. Which gives me time to figure out what to do next.
Chapter 6
Damien
“You better hope this doesn’t cost me a fucking arm and a leg, Wesley.” I pinch the bridge of my nose aggravatedly, cracking my eyes open to stare out at the two rows of chairs of security personnel. Four of Wesley’s associates stand at equal intervals, alert and hawk-eyed, and I grind my molars absently. Although, it’s truly worth the money. It never ceases to amaze me how good professionals really are at their jobs.
One of the men, I recognize as one of Caroll’s guys- an expert in his field. It was him who came up with the idea. To have all the employees of the security sector come in one at a time only to get jumped, gagged, and tied to a chair as a way to avoid the panic. People really will believe anything they hear if it’s confident enough.
“You wanted the job done right, and here it is,” Wesley gestures with a broad stroke of his arm, and I grunt lowly in agreement. “What’re you planning to do with all of them?”
“First, I’d like to get to the bottom of all this, and for that, I called Chris in to do a sweep of their electronics,” I check my watch. “He should be here any minute. Once he finds out who played this little game of keep-away, I’ll make a decision. While I’d rather get rid of them all in one fell swoop, it’s just not possible to dispose of 12 people without it being noticed. I’m sure some of them are trustworthy enough to let go, but then again. . . we’re in this mess because they couldn’t be trusted to tell me a very important bit of news that literally involves me.”
“Would be nice if someone here told Lucinda. I’d bet on her,” Wesley juts out his chin at the woman sitting to the far left of everyone else. She’s breathing harshly, her makeup streaking as she struggles to control her fear. “She’s the manager of the department and has the power to threaten her subordinates. Word is she’s a conniving bitch who isn’t afraid to throw her weight around if it’ll get her up the greasy pole.”
“Yeah, it’s possible. That quality is why I hired her, but she could be another,” I pause when the door to the conference room behind us opens, and Chris slinks in with a foul expression. “So? What’s the verdict?”
“People are stupid with their electronics,” He holds up a tablet from under his arm, rolling his eyes with a scoff. “Apparently, they heard the chatter last year when it first started circulating about you and Al-Hashim, but the manager lady said to keep quiet and that she’d tell you herself. Blasted a few nasty emails out about not subverting her authority- really sounded like she was trying to wait for a dicey situation to come up to make herself look better. Which, if you think about it, is backwards as Hell.”
“What about the others?” I scan the room; I don’t need or want scared rodents working for me, but at the same time. . . the information they’re handling isn’t exactly above board. To me, it could be obvious that a report needed to be made, but if the manager said she’d handle it, the aftermath is out of their hands. “Anyone follow up on whether or not she reported to me?”
“Ehh, I wouldn’t say that, but after what happened last summer, someone figured it out,” Chris points to a man sitting nearer to me, sweating profusely, and his eyes widen in surprise and fear. “He went ballistic in a private chat room on the division server, but in the end, decided there was nothing he could do about it now that the cat was outta the bag. Went back and forth with a few other people about approaching you about the manager. He typed up a resignation letter- it wasn’t anything special, but he no longer felt he was a good fit for the division, and he’d like to pursue other opportunities.”
Chris trails off as I round the short table towards the man, gently peeling the tape away from his mouth. He pants harshly, chest heaving and red-faced, and his shoulders knot in his ears. “You’re fired. You can leave. Oh, and we’ll pay out your contractual term severance. As a reward.”
“W- why?” The man licks his lips, and I jerk my head at Chandler, who saunters over to cut the tape around his hands.
“Because it’s cheaper,” I answer simply, and he rubs his wrists, uncertainty drenching his face as he stands on weak knees. “I wish you success.”
Holding out my hand, I wait patiently for the man to take it, his palm sweaty and fingers stiff. He won’t meet my eyes until I squeeze his palm, tugging his arm sharply to force the issue. His little gasp ripples through the air, the heavy gazes of those around us making it hard for him to breathe. I can even feel his blood pumping in the tiny veins of his hands; he’s so nervous as he begins to wheeze, on the verge of a panic attack or something.
“You were the only one who even thought about approaching me. I appreciate that,” I glance back at Chris for confirmation, and he nods curtly before I meet the shining, tearful gaze of my now former employee. The color slowly starts to rise up his cheeks from his chin- like he’s a cartoon. Palming the top of our clasped hands, I hold his eyes firmly. “Don’t waste this opportunity. You’ve been doing well here. Hopefully, you’ll do even better somewhere else. You have my word that I won’t seek retribution, but I urge caution. I can’t control other people who might come for you for what you know.”
“Th- thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” He practically bows at the waist, whispering furiously, and I release his palm before jerking my chin at Chandler who guides the man out of the room. He even starts to cry on his way out. It’s really quite sad; bitterness coats my tongue at the fact that I’m even in this position.
“Chandler,” I call when he closes the front door to the conference room, gesturing with a broad stroke of my arm. This’ll be good for him. Sauntering over to me with a grave expression, he grunts lowly in acknowledgement. “Interrogate the others. Wesley and his acquaintances will help you determine whether or not to let them go. Send me a list when you’re done, and write up a report about each person here. Except her.”
Pointing at the manager, I fight a grimace of disgust when she starts yelling, hoarse and muffled under the tape that covers her mouth. She even starts to thrash about before Caroll’s man walks over to grab her by the hair and yank her head back. Her once pristine appearance in shambles, makeup running and smart suit disheveled, she stops her childish tantrum instantly. Inhaling deeply through my nose, I shake my head before turning my gaze back to my brother.
“It’ll probably take a while. I’ll call for an update in an hour. Chris,” I call, and the lanky man walks over with his tablet in hand. But I don’t spare him a glance, palming Chandler’s shoulder as I start towards the door. “Utilize all your tools. Don’t fuck up.”
Leaving the soundproof, opaque-glass room, I head for the elevator to rub my palms together, reaching to pump a few dribbles of antibacterial from the dispenser hanging on the wall. I hadn’t expected Wesley and his boys to get everyone as orderly and swiftly as they had, but now. . . it was time to go deal with the fallout from Al-Hashim.
“I should’ve taken Chelsea’s advice on Saturday and gone to a spa,” I mutter as the doors to the elevator slide open with a mechanical whirr. But that’s not the real problem here. No, the problem is I’d gotten my hopes up with Anna only to be firmly rebuffed. For practical reasons. What the Hell is that! Smirking ruefully, I shake my head before the elevator jostles and starts its ascent. “Ah, it’d be worse if she went back on her ideals. That’s what makes her so attractive.”
Her body, and her wit. Joking about the dress she’d bought and quickly shutting down the conversation when it became clear who I would be at some point soon. Anna is, according to Chelsea, quite the fire cracker, and I’m hoping it’ll be good for her team once I put her in charge.
The elevator stops at the middle floor where my offices are, and I step off to be met with Chelsea herself, a huge sheath of papers in her arms. “How’s the evacuation going?”
“It’s on schedule, and so far, we haven’t run into any real problems. Mongoose called to let me know that a delegation tried to enter the compound, though,” She reveals as we walk briskly towards my office. A delegation. Those idiots don’t know when to quit. I suppose, feeling the sort of superiority they do, it’s impossible that they’d admit a mistake can’t be rectified by throwing whatever leverage they think they have at me. “The Ambassador is waiting for you in your office. I tried to turn him away, but.”
“Leave the politics to me. We all know I’m simply a figurehead, and you make the real decisions.” I half-joke, and Chelsea’s scowl darkens her face under tightly knit brows. Pausing in front of my office door, I take a breath before opening the barrier. True to her word, that shitty Ambassador from Saturday is sitting in the armchair, a cup of tea in his hand, and one of my secretary’s eyeballing him with contempt on her face. He doesn’t stand up to greet me or anything, and suspicion clouds my gaze as I take my seat behind my desk.
“Mr. LaFountaine, I would like to continue our discussion about your funding our operations,” He starts, and I. . . ignore him. Unlocking my computer with easy keystrokes, I drum my fingertips against the desk rhythmically. “Mr. LaFountaine.”
“Tessa, go down to the Security department and observe, please. I’d like some outside perspective. Send me updates.” I turn my gaze to her, and she’s all too quick to get out of here and maybe release some of her own frustration. It’s odd- or maybe not so much. Tessa has a very agreeable personality, but even she’s angry at this guy. Shutting the door quietly behind her, the silence is intense before I fish my cell out of my jacket pocket. The longer I ignore the Ambassador, the sharper his gaze becomes, but I don’t even look his way as I navigate my contacts and hold my cell to my ear. The line rings loudly in the quiet, and I stand up to walk over to the window to gaze out at my beloved Boston.
“Damien! Nice to hear from you, man! I was hoping you’d call me with all the juicy bits,” Caroll chirps over the line, and I smirk as amusement creeps up to ease the ache behind my eyes. “What’s up? I gotta admit- I was surprised when Wesley approached me about this little joint operation.”
“I was impressed by the ingenuity your man displayed during the roundup. I’ve just left them with Chandler doing the interrogations, so I trust you won’t use his incompetence against me,” Chuckling lightly, I move my cell to my other ear and rub my chin thoughtfully. “Although, he’s closing the gap quite quickly.”
“I bet that just fucking irritates you to no end, Damien, but it’s good he’s finally getting his act together. Chandler’s a good kid, he just had access to too much money. Bu-u-ut, that stopped, didn’t it? And now, he gets a paycheck instead of an allowance?”
“You’ve been talking to Wesley,” I surmise, and the mirth in me dies down some. “Yeah, but I’m not going to take it for anything less than it is. Some people just grow differently. Speaking of growing, are you available for a meeting today?”
“Today? Ah, I’m not gonna be near downtown, but if you’re willing to come to me,” Trailing off, Caroll sniffles harshly, the line crackling with the sudden rush of wind. “I assume this has something to do with my connections to the Middle East.”
“I know you’re just a middle man, but I’d like to start a new endeavor out there,” I finally turn to meet the Ambassador’s fierce gaze, and he stiffens as a smile creeps onto my face. “Preferably, if you have any contacts that directly oppose Al-Hashim, considering I’ve withdrawn my support.”
The man jumps up, his cup of tea tumbling down to stain my carpet with a seemingly ear-splitting shatter. On the line, Caroll is quiet, no doubt hearing the sound, as this truly insufferable prick storms out of my office without a word.
“Are you gonna regret that, Damien?” Caroll asks when I sigh in relief, and I shake my head. “Do I have to be careful?”
“I didn’t say your name, so you should be fine. That being said. . . we’ll see whether or not it was the right move. Those sand-crusted assholes can’t seem to do anything on their own. Their only playing card is the oil that they don’t even have in their possession, so I’m not expecting much in the way of retaliation. They can’t even blackmail me because the news of the deal is already widespread, and since I withdrew, they’ll only damage themselves by disclosing anything more.”
“Well, as long as I get my cut, I can set you up. Arguably, your best quality is that you back up your bluffs. It’ll take some time.” Caroll replies, his thoughtfulness permeating his voice, and I grunt in agreement.
“Take your time. I need to reorganize anyway. We’ll set up a meeting for a few months out, if that works for you?” Caroll agrees to my proposal easily before we hang up, and I round my desk to stare at the broken teacup, sitting in its own stain. “Chelsea. . . find someone to clean this up, and put a contract out on the Ambassador.”