by David Archer
“I’m fine, Mom,” I said. I spent the next twenty minutes telling her what had happened, and slowly listening to her get a grip on herself. I should have thought about the fact that she would be notified, because she has a newsfeed set to look for anything with my name in it. The radio and TV station websites would already have the story up, and they were bound to mention me in one way or another.
It turned out that they only mentioned that the Outreach was the place where I did volunteer work. They didn’t bother to say that I was alive and well, the bastards.
After Mom calmed down, I went back to what I was doing with my computer. It only took me a couple of minutes to get logged in to the cloud server, and then I was looking at all of my client records. I downloaded them so that I’d have them on my computer, then took out my phone and began calling each one.
Most of the women had heard the news, and thought I was dead. I got every reaction from screams of joy to tears to one lady who kept asking if I was a ghost. I assured her that I was not, but I’m not a hundred percent certain she believed me.
I explained to each of them what had happened, and that the Outreach was probably no more. However, then I explained that I would be opening my own office and would be happy to continue working with them, and that got some pretty big thank yous. I promised to let them know as soon as I found a location, and then called the next woman on the list.
It took me almost two hours to get through all of them, but it was worth it. Some of them were actually terrified, afraid they’d never be able to escape the abuse they were living in without me. It dawned on me that all of the other counselors had clients, as well, but I just didn’t have the energy to sit down and call them all at that time.
Instead, I ran a Google search for offices that might be for rent in Tulsa, and found a gazillion of them.
There were offices in fancy high-rise buildings, but that didn’t appeal to me. Most of the women who would be coming to me lived near or below the poverty level, so I didn’t want them to feel intimidated by the surroundings. I saw a few that looked interesting, basically just storefronts, and called a couple of the real estate agents who were handling them.
That got me three separate appointments that afternoon, so I gave Critter a quick belly rub to calm her down, then grabbed my purse and hurried out to the Kia again.
I went to the first appointment on Admiral Boulevard, and then called to cancel the other two. The building I found was perfect. It was only a thousand square feet, but it had a nice little reception area out front, a beautifully decorated office behind that, and a big conference room that actually had a small kitchen in it. There were also bathrooms, two of them. That was important, since a lot of these women had little boys.
The place was available for only six hundred a month, so I signed the lease and paid a year in advance. The previous tenants had actually left some furniture behind, including a decent reception desk and chair and their conference table, so all I really needed was my own desk and chair, plus chairs for the clients, and a few decorative accents.
I sat down at the reception desk and made the calls to get power, water, phones, and Internet turned on in my name, and then I drove off to a big office supply store on Harvard Avenue and picked out a desk, a luxurious chair for myself, and four comfortable wingback chairs for clients, several smaller chairs for the reception area, file cabinets and lots of office supplies, a big commercial copier and printer, a computer system with two terminals, and a lot of decorations. The salesman was extremely happy, so I guess he must work on commission; he promised to have it all delivered to my new office by nine o’clock the following morning, and even assured me that his delivery guys would set everything up for me.
After I left, it dawned on me that he might have been so helpful and friendly because he wanted me to leave. Oh well, that’s life.
I checked the time and it was just short of four thirty. I had just enough time, so I hurried down to the Ford dealership and was waiting when Dex got off work.
“Hey, good looking,” I said. “Care to take a ride?”
Dex looked at me, and he grinned. “You already got an office, didn’t you?”
That man can be so infuriating at times. He can read me—correction, he can read just about anybody like a book.
“Oh, shut up and get in,” I said. “Yes, I got an office, and I want to show it to you.”
We drove back to the office and I gave him the grand tour. He looked around carefully, then nodded.
“For six hundred a month,” he said, “you got yourself a pretty good deal, here. It’s a decent neighborhood, but not too upscale. Not a lot of crime in this area, so that’s a plus. I wonder why it was so cheap?”
“I asked the agent that question,” I said. “She told me that the previous tenants were running some kind of a scam out of here, so the cops had it boarded up for a few months. They just got all the legal tangles untangled, and the owner is desperate to get rent coming in from it. They only put it back on the market for rent this morning, so I was just at the right place at the right time.”
“Well, it’s a great place to get started. You’re gonna need some office furniture…”
I held out the receipt from the office store. “It’ll all be delivered tomorrow morning,” I said. “I can’t wait for you to see it once I get everything set up.”
He stood there and looked at me for a moment, then reached out and put his arms around me.
“Cassie, have I ever told you that I’m proud of you?”
He was looking into my eye, the way he does when he’s feeling romantic. I’ve asked him not to do that, because he knows that it turns me on, but he does it anyway.
I stood there, looking back at him and breathing heavily, so he finally quit waiting for an answer and kissed me. It was a long, drawn-out kiss, and when it was finished I dragged him out the door, locked it behind me, and pushed him toward the car. We got in and I drove straight home, telling him to shut up, we could go pick his car up later.
We did, about three hours later. We stopped at one of the Mexican fast food places for dinner while we were out, then went back home to eat it.
We found a movie on Netflix that sounded interesting, then kicked back to watch it. We sat on the couch the way we usually do when watching TV, with Dex on one end and me leaning against him. It was a really nice way to watch TV, I thought.
Six months earlier, if anybody had told me I would enjoy cuddling with a man again while I watched television, I would’ve said they were crazy. Back then, the closest I got to intimacy was the assortment of toys I kept in my nightstand drawer. The thought of even letting a man touch me, after the things I had been through with my former fiancé, would send me into spasms of pure revulsion.
Sometimes, though, changes creep up on you when you least expect them. Dex had started out as a mildly annoying acquaintance, but then it turned out that the reason he was so persistent was because he hoped I could help him locate a missing friend. A former girlfriend of his had gone missing after dealing with a stalker, and the stalker had also disappeared. The police had concluded that the two of them simply ran off together, but Dex wouldn’t buy it.
After I rescued the first little girl from her stepfather, Dex had talked me into looking for his missing friend. The deeper I dug into it, the more convinced I was that the girl was dead, but then I stumbled across an even more surprising and chilling revelation. I found the answers he was looking for, and a friendship began. I finally gave in to his persistence and agreed to a night out on the town, and it slowly dawned on me that my scars didn’t put him off a bit.
We went to a bar and he managed to drag me onto the dance floor, and between that and the liquor, his gentle seduction got through the barriers I had erected around myself. Without even really thinking about what I was doing, I went home with him for the night and suddenly felt alive again.
At that point, since neither of us really had time or inclination for the pursuit of rom
ance, we calmly and bluntly agreed that being friends-with-benefits was exactly what we needed. We started hanging out together on weekends, which often resulted in one of us staying overnight with the other. It was just a way to deal with our need for human contact, and nothing more.
Or so I thought. Over a few short months, I found myself thinking about Dex a lot during the week, and finding excuses to call him. He is a pretty smart guy, and could often help me figure out ways to help my clients, things like that.
At the same time, though I didn’t know it then, Dex had begun to realize that he was more attracted to me than he had expected to be. He hinted a few times that he wanted to take our relationship to another level, but I wouldn’t even hear of it.
Then, a few months back, I decided to go undercover in my search for the people who were abducting abused women. I have a prosthetic mask that actually makes me look perfectly normal from the neck up, and I put that on, put in my glass eye (ugh) and got Dex to pretend to be my abusive husband. I rented an apartment under a phony name and we put on an act so that all the neighbors could hear me being “abused.” Alfie was able to rig it so that when I called a certain abuse hotline, it went directly to the perpetrators, and I became their next target.
I got the bad guys, but then Dex and I had to deal with the fact that we had enjoyed the short time we were living together. We talked it over, and that’s how we ended up living together at my place and cuddling on the couch.
“This is nice,” I said softly.
“Yeah,” Dex said, “it is. I wasn’t sure you were going to be able to relax tonight.”
I shivered as I remembered the friends who had died that morning. “Life goes on,” I said. “Whether we like it or not, life still goes on.”
“It does, indeed.” His arm, which was wrapped around me, pulled me a little bit closer. “So, are you excited about your new office?”
I broke into a smile, then. “Yes! I really am. I think I can really do some good, you know?”
“Have you thought about what the other abuse clinics are going to think?”
I turned and looked at him. “Why would I? I mean, this isn’t a business, I’m not going into competition with them. Am I?”
“Remember what Alfie said once? People set these places up as charities so they can get grants and such, and have tax write-offs. They’re making money in some ways, so any clients they lose to you are likely to be money they’re not going to get. They might not care at all, but I’m just suggesting you might want to give it a little thought.”
I frowned. “It’s not supposed to be about making money,” I said. “It’s supposed to be about helping these women and children get out of bad situations. I can’t say I’m going to lose any sleep worrying about whether New Beginnings or the Freedom Center can’t give themselves a bonus at Christmas.”
I settled back to watch the movie, but suddenly my mind wasn’t really into it. I was thinking about what Dex had said, about the possibility that some of the other centers might resent what I was about to do.
On the other hand, St. Mary’s Outreach had employed five paid counselors, and had a couple of other part-time volunteers. I was the only full-time volunteer they had, but I was also the only one that didn’t need the income. Between all eight of us, we handled a total of around five hundred clients a month. There was no way I could handle them all, so the other programs would probably see an upswing in their clientele, rather than seeing fewer of them. I put the question out of my mind and finally managed to get back into the movie just in time to see Will Smith save the day once again.
FIVE
I woke the next morning to a cloudy, overcast day, but I was too busy thinking about my new office and the things I would need to do to let it bother me. Dex was already up and showered by the time I rolled out of bed, so I got my own shower and then went to the kitchen in my bathrobe.
“Sit,” he commanded. I raised my eyebrow and thought about a snappy comment, but then he turned around and set a plate of waffles on the table. For waffles, he can get away with talking to me like that.
Holy cow, he’d even melted the butter! I couldn’t help wondering how many women were as blessed as I was, but I quashed the thought quickly. I knew that road, and I didn’t want to go down it. It’s the one that leads to thoughts of chapels and vows, and I certainly wasn’t ready for either.
With butter and syrup, waffles are one of the greatest things God ever gave to man. I’ve often wondered who invented the first waffle iron, and what could have led to the idea, but not knowing the answer hasn’t hindered my enjoyment. I cut into the stack and shoved a big forkful into my mouth, and that caused me to moan in sheer delight.
“Oh,” I said, “oh, these are so good. Did you do something different this morning?”
“Secret ingredient,” he said mysteriously. “I used an old family recipe that I learned from my grandmother.”
“Then call your grandmother and tell her I love her. These are incredible. What’s the secret ingredient?”
“If I tell you that,” said, “it won’t be a secret anymore. You can’t ask the guy to give up all his culinary secrets, now can you?”
My eyebrow came down, giving me the stare of a one-eyed psycho. “Tell me,” I said. “Tell me, now.”
He grinned. “Mayonnaise,” he said. “Instead of using two eggs, like it calls for, I used two heaping tablespoons of mayonnaise. Makes the batter come out a lot smoother, and for some reason it really brings out the natural flavor of the waffles.”
“Whatever it is, it works.” I shoved another forkful into my mouth and tried to grin at him at the same time, but it didn’t quite work. I don’t think he noticed, he was too busy slathering butter and syrup onto his own.
Having breakfast together was one of the benefits of sharing the house. Sometimes, our easy banter actually reminded me of my parents. They had always gotten along well when I was a kid, and I could look back now and see that Mike and I had never achieved that kind of comfort level with each other. Even before he started being abusive, even when I thought he was my knight in shining armor, we just never quite reached the point of being able to joke and tease the way Dex and I could do.
Shake that off, Abby said in my head. Last thing you need to do is start comparing Dex to Mike! In fact, you shouldn’t be thinking about Mike at all. Put that behind you, and everything that went along with it.
I’m not comparing, I said back. I was just thinking that it should have been a warning sign, but I didn’t recognize it.
“Abby again?” Dex asked. He had once asked me why my face would occasionally go blank, and I had finally confessed about hearing Abby’s voice in my head.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Don’t worry, she was just telling me what a great guy you are. She never had a boyfriend who would make her waffles.”
That got me the look, the one that says he’s not quite sure if I’m joking or not. As I said before, I’m fully aware that it isn’t really Abby talking to me, and I’ve explained that to Dex, too. It’s just that now and then, I wonder if he believes me, or if he thinks I’m just crazy enough to believe she’s living inside my brain.
“Relax, Dex,” I said. “It’s all good.”
We finished off our breakfast, and then he had to rush a bit to make it to work on time. I stood in the bathroom and talked to him while he shaved and sat on the bed while he got dressed, and he kissed me quickly as he hurried out. It was only seven thirty, so I had a little extra time.
I decided that day was going to be about getting the office all set up, so I climbed into a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt. I slipped my feet into my sneakers and went back to the kitchen to feed Critter, then grabbed my purse and my jacket and headed out the door.
I got to the office well before nine, and went inside to get all the lights on and make sure nothing was in the way for the delivery guys. I found a broom and dust pan, so I swept the place and carried the sweepings out to the dumpster in the back alley.
It was one that was provided by the city, and all the businesses on my block paid a fee for it on our water bills.
It was a big dumpster, and had a door in it that had to be opened by hand to throw anything in. The handle was stiff but I got it after a moment, then reached in to empty the dustpan. I was just about to close it again when I heard a sound, and I had to stretch a bit to look inside.
A woman was laying among the trashbags in the bottom of the dumpster, and she had obviously been severely beaten. I dropped the dustpan and grabbed my phone to call 911.
“Nine one one, what is your emergency?”
“This is Cassie McGraw, I’m in the alley behind 1525 Admiral Boulevard,” I said. “I just found a badly beaten woman in the trash dumpster.”
“I’m sending police and an ambulance immediately,” the dispatcher said. “Does she appear to be breathing?”
“Yes, she’s breathing, but she seems to be in a lot of pain.” I leaned my head into the opening. “I got help coming,” I said. “Can you tell me your name?”
She tried to say something, but nothing came out except a grunt.
“She doesn’t seem able to speak,” I said to the dispatcher. “She’s breathing and moving around, but I don’t think she’s in very good shape.”
“Police officers will be there within two minutes,” the dispatcher said, “and there’s an ambulance on the way now, probably five minutes out. Can you remain there until the police arrive?”
“Yes, I’ll stay right here,” I said. I could hear sirens off in the distance.
“Do you know the victim?”
I was still looking inside the dumpster, just trying to be sure the woman kept breathing and didn’t die on me. I took a good look at her face, then, and got the eerie feeling that she did look familiar. I leaned in a bit further, and then I gasped.