by Amy Cross
"It's not that," I say. "It's about my job".
"Well," he replies, sighing, "I'm afraid that's well and truly gone".
"It doesn't have to be," I say, opening the little briefcase I brought with me and pulling out a set of files. "I've prepared a little presentation for you," I continue, my hands fumbling a little as I open the files and lay them out on his desk. Damn it, I feel stupid right now. I spent the whole night printing out these documents, but in the cold light of day, they look so pathetic. "This is my plan for how Crestview can keep going".
He stares at the files. "Right..." He says slowly.
"It's a good plan," I say. "The basic idea is that I'd run the place myself, for free. I wouldn't need many staff. In fact, I'm not even sure I'd need anyone. I could run the whole retirement home myself. I wouldn't need to be paid a salary. The only thing I'd need is that I'd have to live on-site, but that'd actually be helpful because it'd make it easier for me to be in charge". I slide the introductory page out of the files and across the desk. "I know it probably sounds kind of ambitious, but I know I can do it. I just need you to see that it's possible, and that I can run Crestview in a way that generates a good profit for the new owners".
"I see," he continues, looking down at the piece of paper. "Let me explain something, Juliet. When the dire state of Crestview's finances was laid bare and Charles Taylor was fired, the owners divested themselves of the operation as soon as possible. They did this by selling Crestview, and all its assets and debts, on to this law firm. That's kind of a side thing that we do. We buy up toxic assets, re-fit them, and sell them on so that we can make a profit. That's what we're doing with Crestview".
"My plan can make you a profit," I say, taking a deep breath. "It's all outlined in this presentation".
"I don't think you understand," he says. "We have no interest in maintaining Crestview as an ongoing operation. Our strategy with these types of asset restructuring programs is to sell the various asset groups off to different parties. We don't keep the operations running in any form. We're not a management company".
"I know," I say, starting to feel as if he's not listening to me properly, "but I'm proposing something new. I'm proposing that you try to actually keep Crestview open and make a profit from its activities as a retirement home. All the day-to-day aspects of its operations can be left to me. All you really have to do is count the profits, and I'm certain I can make Crestview profitable again within two or three months -"
"Let me stop you right there," he replies, smiling awkwardly. "Juliet, I admire your optimism and I definitely admire your ambition. But the value of Crestview's assets comes primarily from its land, so it's the land that we're going to be leveraging for the main part of our profit. Frankly, running a retirement center is never going to be a big profit center for any company. There's too much regulation, too many variables". He laughs. "I mean, seriously, no-one gets rich from this kind of thing. It's just not something that we've ever considered as a company. As well-researched as your proposal might be, I'm afraid it's a non-starter".
I stare at him for a moment, as I feel a cold swear breaking out across my brow.
"Juliet," he continues, "we've already sold the land. Crestview's going to be knocked down in the next couple of days. A developer from over in Langston has already got planning permission to build a set of apartments. It's actually a really good deal. It's going to bring some new, high quality, affordable housing into the area. Crestview had, what, twelve residents? These apartments are going to be able to cater for up to forty people, of all ages. I've seen the plans. Hang on, I can show you". He starts going through his desk drawers, eventually pulling out a brochure and passing it to me. "You see? That's the future of Crestview".
Staring at the front of the brochure, I see a smart-looking apartment building. It takes me a moment to realize that this is what they're going to build after they've knocked Crestview down.
"I'm sorry you've had a wasted trip today," Mr. Fox adds. "I can see you've done a lot of work on this proposal, but unfortunately it's just not something that Elstion and Mainhew would ever be interested in pursuing. Even if we still owned the land, we're just not into asset management. It's too complicated. It gets messy. We like nice, clean transactions. You catch my drift? We buy the place, we cut it up neatly, we sell the pieces. There. Everyone's happy".
I put the brochure down and stare at him. I was sure I had at least a chance to get Crestview up and running today, but now I can see that I've failed. There's no way I can change this guy's mind.
"Juliet?" he asks after a moment. "Are you okay?" He grabs a box of tissues and slides them toward me. "I keep these for all those messy divorce cases I usually handle, but..."
Suddenly I realize that there are tears in my eyes. I stand up, filled with a sudden urge to get the hell out of here. Grabbing all the documents and files I brought with me, I start stuffing them roughly into my briefcase. I want to stay calm and collected, but I can feel the tears running down my face; in my hurry to finish up, I start scrunching the papers down into the bottom of the briefcase, while Mr. Fox just sits and stares at me. I'm starting to sweat, and I feel as if I've just made a complete fool of myself.
"There's no hurry," he says after a moment. "If you'd like to sit and compose yourself -"
"No," I say, my voice wavering as I fight back the tears. As soon as I've got the briefcase closed, I turn and hurry out of the office, almost walking into the door on my way out. The receptionists look over at me, shocked as I march across toward the main door. Tears are running down my face, but I can't stop and wipe them away; I just have to get as far away from this place as possible.
"Juliet!" Mr. Fox calls after me, but I push the door open and emerge into the bright morning sunshine. An old woman glances at me as she walks past, and I can see the look of shock in her eyes. It's almost as if she knows what a stupid thing I just did. How the hell could I ever have thought I'd be able to walk into Elstion and Mainhew and just persuade them to re-open Crestview? Am I fucking delusional? Or am I just, deep down, a total moron? Taking a deep breath, I walk quickly along the street, wiping my eyes in a desperate attempt to hide the fact that I'm crying. Turning left down a small alleyway, I hurry over to some crates and sit down on the ground, putting my head in my hands as tears stream down my cheeks.
I swear to God, I spent all of yesterday and last night working on this grand plan that I was convinced would work. I thought I'd storm into Matthew Fox's office, present him with my amazing plan for re-opening Crestview, and get the job. I was convinced I'd be successful, but now I realize how pathetic the whole thing must have seemed. Instead of walking out of that office with a deal to run Crestview, I hurried out with tears in my eyes. Damn it, he must have thought I'm a total child. Tears continue to pour from my eyes and my bottom lip trembles as I sob quietly.
Finally, as the tears start to dry up, my embarrassment and humiliation start to subside, replaced by something new: anger. Sure, I made a fool of myself, but this whole situation isn't my fault. Not really. It's his fault. He did this. He did it on purpose, for no reason other than that he wanted to make his life a little easier and a little more comfortable. He screwed everyone over. Without his lies and his deceit, Crestview would still be open, and I'd still have my job on the night shift, and everything would be okay. It's his fault, and he has to pay for what he's done. Sure, I could wait for the legal system to deal with him, but there's clearly a better option. Giving my eyes one final wipe, I stand up, ditch the briefcase in a nearby dumpster, and walk calmly, confidently back out into the street.
It takes me almost an hour to find Charles Taylor's house. I park just around the corner and take the final hundred meters on foot. Glancing at the nearby houses, I'm relieved that this seems to be a fairly quiet, leafy suburban street, so I'm fairly certain that no-one is going to notice me arrive. I walk quickly up the driveway, passing his car, and eventually I stop at the door and ring the bell. A plan is already forming
in my mind; all I have to do is stay calm and get the job done. I look down at my hands and see that they're shaking; after a moment, however, the shaking stops, and I realize that I've managed to get my emotions under control again. That's always been one of my special skills: I can keep myself calm and focused when I really need to concentrate on the task ahead.
"Who is it?" calls out a voice from the other side of the door. I recognize him immediately, though he sounds a little more timid and concerned than usual.
"It's Juliet," I reply.
"Who?"
"Juliet, from Crestview".
There's a pause. "What do you want?"
"I just want to talk to you," I say. "I want to ask you a few questions".
"I don't have anything to say. You need to speak to someone at Elstion and Mainhew about your paycheck for the final -"
"It's not about my paycheck," I say, interrupting him. "I just want to talk to you about Crestview".
"I'm sorry," he replies, "I really don't have anything to say".
"Please?" I pause for a moment, waiting for him to open the door. "Just one minute of your time?"
After a couple of second, I hear him slide the lock across, and the door opens. It's kind of shocking to see how he's deteriorated: he always looked so smart and well-groomed at work, but it looks as if he's spend the past few days just sitting around, not washing and not even stepping outside his house. He squints a little, clearly unused to sunlight. "What do you want?" he asks. "I really don't want to talk about any of this".
"I just want to know what happened," I reply.
"You know what happened. I got set up".
"Set up?"
"Someone cooked the books and framed me. They made it look as if I'd been stealing from the company's accounts, which is obviously a ridiculous claim".
"Is it?"
"Thanks for stopping by, Juliet, but like I said, I've got nothing to tell you. I hope you find another job soon. You were a good worker. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm in a position to give you a letter of recommendation right now".
"I don't want a letter of recommendation," I say, stepping forward and pushing past him.
"Okay, enough's enough," he replies, turning to me. "Juliet, you have to get out of my house".
"It's a nice place," I say, stepping through into the lounge. "So is it true that you used money from Crestview's accounts to buy yourself a bunch of holidays?"
"That's really not something I'm prepared to discuss," he says as he catches up to me. He grabs my arm and tries to pull me back through to the front door. "Juliet, I'm asking you to leave. Despite what you might think of me, you're trespassing on my property and I could -"
"Did you buy this with stolen money from Crestview?" I ask, picking up what appears to be a small marble statue of two naked men wrestling.
"Juliet -" he starts to say.
Before he can get another word out, I turn and smash the statue into the side of his head, sending him reeling across the room. He steadies himself against the wall, but I hit him again and this time he drops to the floor. There's blood coming from a wound on the side of his forehead, but he's already struggling to get back to his feet. I watch as he crawls over to the coffee table, reaching out for his mobile phone; at the last moment, I step over him and push the phone away.
"I bet you wish you hadn't made bail now," I mutter, walking over to the curtains and ripping them down from the railing.
"Help!" he shouts. "Somebody help me!"
Stepping quickly over to him, I wrap the curtains around his neck, twist the ends and start to garotte him. He reaches up and tries to get free, but he's too weak.
"This is for everything you did," I say firmly, pulling his head back so I can look directly into his eyes. "This is for fucking everything up. Why couldn't you just leave it all alone? Why did you have to make them close it down?"
Gasping, he tries desperately to push me away, but I'm filled with enough rage and resist. As I pull the curtains tighter and tighter, I see his face starting to turn red.
"If you hadn't done this," I say, leaning closer to him, "everything would have been okay. I could have just stayed working the night shift for the rest of my life, and I'd have been fine. I'd have been happy. But you had to ruin it all with your greed and stupidity". I pull the curtains even tighter around his neck; his face is really red now, and his eyes are almost popping out of the sockets. I want to taunt him, to tell him how much I hate him and why he has to die, but the words won't come out, so I just move my face closer and closer to his until we're almost touching, and I stare into his eyes and watch as his life fades away. After a few more seconds, he stops struggling, and I realize the only movement comes from the force with which I'm still holding the curtains. Still, I'm worried he might be faking it, so I keep hold of him for a few more minutes before finally letting go. His body slumps to the ground, and I see a dark red line around his neck.
I should feel bad, or sorry, or scared, but I don't. I just feel good. He deserved to die.
Chapter Two
Eleven years ago
I do this every morning now. Every single morning, without fail. It's a strange routine, but it's one that works.
Tilting the bottle, I watch as bleach pours out and into the gap behind the woodshed. I've very carefully positioned myself so that I don't have to actually look down at the corpse that's wedged in the narrow gap; having previously enjoyed seeing rotting bodies, I've lately decided that perhaps I've seen enough. All that matters is that I keep the smell down and prevent too many flies from congregating in the area. There are a couple of meaty bugs on a nearby wall, but overall it seems that I've managed to successfully contain the problem. After emptying the bottle out, I turn and head back to the house. Job done.
Once I'm back in the house, I carefully put the bleach bottle in the bin before washing my hands. I'm having to very, very carefully avoid thinking about what's being the woodshed; the subject is still somewhat raw, and I'd rather not have to deal with the truth. For now, I'm fairly certain I just need to keep on bleaching the area while I think of some other strategy. One thing's for sure: this arrangement can't last forever. I have to think of something else.
"How you doing there?" my father asks as he comes through to the kitchen.
"I'm okay".
"Been out in the garden, huh?"
I nod.
"What you got behind that woodshed? Something fun?"
Drying my hands, I carefully avoid answering his question.
"I might have to work late again tonight," he continues, grabbing a bowl and filling it with cereal. "Do you think you can do me a favor, Juliet? I've left some bills on the table. Can you go into my online bank and pay them? Just use some of the boat money".
I nod.
"Good girl," he adds, ruffling my hair before taking his cereal over to the table. "I'm really glad I can rely on you for more of these things. It helps to have some help around the place".
Pouring myself a glass of water, I go and join him at the table. It's weird, but although I don't want to spend time with him, I feel as if I should sit here in case he tells me anything useful. I need to learn how to do things around the house, and the internet can only teach me so much.
"Don't forget to mow the lawn," my father says as he eats his cereal. "You also need to clean the windows once a month. Bring in the mail every day. Take the trash out regularly. Little things like that, you know? If in doubt, look at other houses in the street and see what they're doing. Don't worry about things like sprinklers or any of that crap. Just keep it nice and simple. The last thing we want is people noticing the house, right?" He pauses for a moment. "You not having any cereal?"
I shake my head.
"Keep what doing what you're doing with the bleach. It won't be forever. Whatever's behind there, it'll just be bones soon. Make sure you don't put anything big down the garbage disposal. The last thing you need is to get a blockage. In fact, don't use that thing at all, okay?
It just introduces unnecessary complications. And make sure you go to school every weekday. If you start missing school, that's when they'll start asking questions. You sure you don't want some cereal?"
I shake my head.
"Okay". He finishes his bowl. "I guess that's everything. There's probably a million things I've forgotten, but for now let's just stick to the basics. I should be home about six or seven tonight. You think you can manage dinner? There's burgers in the fridge, or at least there should be. If not, just get some money out and go to the shop". He pauses for a moment. "I'm sorry there's all this responsibility on your shoulders, Juliet, but I need help keeping the house in order". Grabbing his briefcase, he heads to the door. "Oh, and vacuum the floors. Don't forget to vacuum. Got it?"
I nod. Waiting for a moment, I hear him head out the front. His bowl of cereal is still sitting on the other side of the table, and it looks as if he didn't eat much; the bowl is still full, and the spoon looks clean. I move around and sit in his chair, and start eating from the bowl. He was right: there's definitely a lot to get done today, so I need to -
The doorbell rings.
Sitting completely still, I try to work out what to do.
It rings again.
"Mr. Collier!" calls a voice. "You in there? It's Arthur Harriman from next door! I need a word".
Figuring I can handle Mr. Harriman, and that it's better to get on the case sooner rather than later, I head through to the hallway and open the door.
"Hello, Juliet," he says, staring down at me. "Is your father in?"
I glance out at the car in the driveway. I guess he must have walked or taken the bus to work today. "No," I say after a moment's pause. "He's out at work".