White chocolate cinnamon latte.
She slipped the phone back into her pocket.
“Saturday night! Wow, um, okay.” She looked up into his eyes, feeling her stutter threatening again, her breath ceasing under his gorgeous gleaming smile.
“Who was that, you got a boyfriend calling you at work?” he asked. Clearly it had been meant as a joke, but the way he looked up at her under his eyebrows made her feel like maybe there was some seriousness to the question.
She laughed it off. “Um, trust me, no boyfriends,” she said.
He nodded. “Pick you up at eight,” he said. As soon as he disappeared into the back office, she scrambled for a cup and began the drink, having it ready mere moments after John put in the order. John was more than pleased. He looked confused.
On his way out for the day, Sean passed her. “Remember Saturday! And Sabrina,” he added, “no texting at work please.”
He winked, and if not for his adorable face, she might have been annoyed.
***
She sat at the desk and fiddled with her Bluetooth. Doug had bought this for her when they had passed the laws about hands-free driving, but since she hardly ever talked on the phone, the thing had sat in the box in her closet for months. Now she opened it, scrutinized the directions, and plugged it in.
She put the ear bud in and tucked the apparatus snugly behind her ear. It looked neat, she thought, sleek and tech. She pressed the button and turned the talk mechanism on.
A noise, sudden and unsummoned, came through the tiny speaker. She wasn’t quite sure what she was hearing at first. The Dark Application had opened and the familiar icon appeared. But the sound she heard left her startled and intrigued. It was a computerized voice, soft and feminine. The voice was artificial, the words glitchy and the intonations strange, the annunciations awkward and pixilated. It was the voice of a computer, choppy and unhurried.
“Hello, Sabrina. How are you today?” the voice asked.
Enchanted, she thought of answering. She gazed into the screen, her outline reflecting back an empty face just as it always did. But she didn’t reply. She just grinned.
At work, the Bluetooth became an indispensable tool. The small voice trickled out into her ear and told her what to make before the customer even ordered it. She could have the cup waiting with the syrup in it, or she could start a new batch of espresso shots, and be ready. Her anxiety began to relax, and confidence began to take its place. She even took on a few extra shifts, offering to cover for John at the espresso machine, much to his shock and pleasure. Her reputation as a barista began to develop. Her smile became wide and genuine, and she began to enjoy work.
Leah stopped pestering Sabrina at work and actually began to avoid her. Glares and grimaces were less publicized and more discreet, although she still caught Leah peering distastefully at her from time to time. Sabrina also felt her energy rising conspicuously. At first she took it to be simply the joy of finally finding her footing at her first job. But soon she discovered that there was something more, something a little perturbing. It was an unexplainable energy, a skin-tingling ascent in adrenaline. It came to her often now and in gradually larger doses. It seemed to make her lungs expand farther, and make her heart beat stronger. It felt like electricity that needed to be expelled.
Kickboxing classes had taken on a new level of intensity. Lately, she had soared far over her fitness plateau, working herself into utter exhaustion. She speed-punched the bag or the pads while Antonio held them, and each training session he had to hold tighter as her deltoids and biceps grew longer and tighter. She jump roped for hours, the crest of her calf muscles growing leaner, splitting off from each other in distinct layers. Although she was eating nearly 2,000 calories a day, her body was super-charged, energy like lava in her core, and leaning out. She left the gym with jelly-legs that shivered when she pushed the clutch and brake pedals.
Antonio was beyond impressed. “You should come to competition,” he urged. “Come spar. You could get money, and you’ll win trophies for sure, girl.”
But Sabrina didn’t feel inclined to fight just yet. She enjoyed training, and felt superb strength at the sight of Antonio’s thick arms flexing and jerking under the power of her strike. But actually fighting was not something she felt ready for.
His eyes followed her movements, and while in the beginning his gaze had startled her, now she gave over to it as though it was her gift to him. He had made her become this way. She was his handiwork. His gaze could not phase her, but only made her push harder.
She deliberated over telling Antonio about the phone and the strange app. Antonio was intuitive and knowledgeable about spiritual things. The only trouble was that in the back of her mind she feared what he would advise. He would tell her to get rid of it. He would demand that she turn it in to the police, and that she rid herself of the computerized voice. That was the problem, though. She didn’t want to get rid of it. It had saved her from the intruder, and it had protected her in times of stress. Although perplexed and scared of the phone, she also felt comforted by it. It was her lucky charm. Her little piece of God. So she never mentioned it to anyone.
***
Luke sat on the other side of the glass, his facial hair rough and unevenly shaven, his head bald. Kennedy could see a slight reflection of his own face juxtaposed beside Luke’s in the glass and saw that they now shared the same bags under their eyes.
Harrowed, Luke picked up the receiver. “What up?” he muttered.
“Got you a lawyer,” Kennedy said.
“Dude, I’m not pleading guilty to something I didn’t do,” said Luke. He was slouching, looking down at the floor. Two weeks in the pen and crackin’. A few more months, and he’ll get that second wind.
”Pleading not guilty will buy more time time that could be used to prove whether you are innocent or not,” Kennedy said. “We are having the pre-trial in just a few weeks. It’s looking grim, kid. I recommend you just have the lawyer go and stay put. Don’t spend more time in the court room than you have to.”
Luke grimaced. He looked haggard, tired, morose. He was still grieving, and before long he would have to face down the Grand Jury. Doubtless the news stations would be breaking the courthouse doors down. Not the best position for a kid who just lost someone.
“I got fifteen minutes left and two of my friends are here to see me,” said Luke.
Kennedy looked over his shoulder, through the square window into the corridor where visitors got the shake down and escorted inside. The tops of two heads bobbed just outside the door, one blond and one deep brown.
“Look, I know what you’re going through. I’ve had someone close to me die before, and I was a suspect. Of course, the case ended up being a washout, and it was deemed a suicide. I’m still not sure, though. I’ve never been really, really sure.”
Luke sat forward, taking an interest in this revelation of Kennedy’s.
“So wait, you were accused of killing someone? So how did you prove you weren’t a killer?”
Kennedy exhaled. He looked endlessly exhausted, like he had just worn himself down to the core and he didn’t want to explain things to people anymore. He didn’t seem like the average hard-ass FBI Agent, not to Luke, not to himself. Truth was, he’d just learned over the years to be effective without getting dramatic. Drake called it “good-cop, bad-cop,” but Kennedy just called it doing his job without all the emotional masturbation. “Well, I was the only one home, when it happened, you see,” he began, and his thoughts sort of trailed off. He cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the wall.
“So wait, someone died at your house? Who--”
“Ten minutes!” called one of the officers at the door.
“God, why do they have to cut minutes off? So not fair.” Luke said. He looked up at Kennedy with his eyes, his face down, as though regretful to finish his question. But he did. “Who was it, man?”
Kennedy’s eyes hardened. “My son.”
CHA
PTER FIVE: The Date
Saturday night blew around like a leaf in the gutter, and Sean called again to remind her. He was so adamant, and assertive. It both freaked her out and turned her on. She was stimulated by his confidence and intimidated as well. She paced her room, changing her clothes about three times before deciding on tight jeans and a fashionable blouse with a loose neck.
Before she was ready, he was there in his pickup truck, cologne wafting from the warm breeze that blew in the door as he stepped inside. He seemed larger inside her house, his shoulders squarer, and she nervously tucked her hair behind her ears.
“Ready?” he asked and put his arm out for her to hook hers through.
Sabrina nodded shyly. She felt like she was meeting him again for the first time.
The movie was uneventful and ordinary, or maybe it was a good flick but with him breathing beside her she couldn’t concentrate. The heat from his body radiated across the seat from hers. Her guts twisted and tingled when he reached over and grabbed her leg, his hot, dry hand enveloping her thigh.
After the movie, they strolled down the avenue, peeking in shop windows and he bought her an ice cream cone. For her first real date, the night was perfect, warm enough to doff their coats, and a welcome cool breeze calming her flaming cheeks. He showered her with attention, touched her often, asked her lots of questions, and listened with interest as she talked about her kickboxing and her plans to attend college in computer sciences.
“So, like, could you kick my ass then?” he asked, his tongue melting off a thick swath of cream.
“Actually, yes, I could,” she said.
He nuzzled his way between her and the brick wall of the old brewery, where inside they could hear the clamoring of drunken cowboy boots line dancing to the twang of a rowdy string quartet. He pulled a flask from his coat pocket and took a swig.
“What’s that?” Sabrina asked.
“Black Velvet,” he said, offering her some.
She looked suspiciously at it, but then she grabbed the silver bottle and took a tiny taste, letting the fire run down her tongue and to the back of her throat. Her eyes burned a bit, and she flushed, coughing.
He put an arm around her and one on her waist, running his warm fingers up her side. She flinched a bit and then relaxed. The hot liquid melted inside her stomach, and then she reached and took the flask from him, taking another tiny swig.
He laughed, and said, “That’s enough,” and then twisted the lid back on, shoving it in his pocket. He pulled her close, staring at her with his steely blue eyes, looking at her lips, caressing her side.
With sudden audacious certainty, she leaned forward and kissed him. He responded naturally, kissing her back, bringing his hands to her neck and sending shivers rampant. She grinned in spite of herself, in spite of the gnawing self-consciousness, and shoved it away as she came in for more.
He licked her with a sweet tongue, whiskey breath, clenching her, and she gripped his solid back, finally running her hands up and down the huge meaty shoulder girdles, surprised that the first man she ever held was to be so genuinely sexy.
He pressed a hand to her ribs and gently pushed her away to look down at her. He gestured toward the front of the bar.
“I’m not twenty-one,” she said, sassy, and he put a finger to her lips and led her forward by the hand.
They came to the front door, passing a crowd of older women smoking, who saw Sabrina and dramatically waved the smoke away saying sorry sweetie, and go on through now, and Sean shook hands with a large overweight bouncer. Some nods, some looks, and Sabrina was through the door, crushed in front of a long solid oak bar swarming with drunk people.
Smoke hung like fog on the dance floor, which was simply a small square cement stage bordered by a makeshift board railing and covered in straw. People sat on rectangle hay stacks around the floor, watching the dancing with drinks, spilling on the floors and flicking cigarette ashes into the straw. Sabrina thought what a wonder it was the place hadn’t gone down in flames already.
Beer was given to her, a skunky thick brew that warmed her from the inside and made her stumble worse than she already did. She was thrust onto the dance floor, Sean’s affirming gaze leading her along, showing her the steps, shuffling her through the group. The band bounced and blared on their instruments, the banjo and the bass thumping. Sabrina had never seen line dancers. She was envious and amazed at the remarkably diverse group, from young to old, from hip to plain, but all of them knew the dances, every step.
Speckles of sweat had broken out across their foreheads, and the lights made Sean’s eyes and skin glitter, and at no time were his hands not on her body somewhere. He held her lower back, she crooked her arm through his, and by the end of the night, she had grown so comfortable with the feeling of him touching her, and so drunk from the hoppy beer, that she hardly was aware of any more than the pleasant dizziness of being drunk as she was led by his arm outside into the chilly air.
“You can’t be driving,” he said, and led her to his truck. She was pushed in, smiling sweetly and dumbly, and when he got in the passenger seat, she leaned into him, her hand on his shoulder.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I don’t know. My house or yours?”
Through the drunken fog it occurred to her that without her car, she was stuck wherever Sean took her. She felt in her pocket for the prized cell phone, its presence a reassurance, and as she patted it, it buzzed.
The drunkenness dimmed her inhibitions and she took the phone out and looked at it. Sean glanced sideways. He had started the engine and pulled onto the road. He drove slowly, still waiting for her to tell him where to go.
She looked at the dim blue letters. Go home.
Puzzled, she frowned.
“Who is that?” Sean asked, trying to look over her shoulder, nosily. “How many phones do you have?”
She backed away from his prying eyes, and struggled to reason with her drunken head. Go home with Sean or without Sean?
But there was no more communication. The screen went blank.
“Um… that was my dad,” she lied. “He said I have to go home.”
Sean careened the truck into a side street, a smug look on his face.
“Aw, tell him that you are with a girl friend,” he urged.
Sabrina shook her head. “No, he said I have to go home.”
He stopped the truck in a darkened shadow behind a remote convenience store, with a view of the dumpster, and he turned off the engine, leaving only the radio on.
“Can we just hang out for a few more minutes?” he asked. “I’m having too much fun with you.”
Sabrina, sloshed and giggling, melted into him. She pressed herself into his full lips, tasting him. His tongue flicked at her mouth, urging it to open. She wiggled closer to him in the small seats, and he leaned his seat back and pulled her into his lap.
Crunched under the steering wheel, she was pressed belly to belly with him, and each time he breathed, a hot tingle traveled down her legs. She let him rub her butt, and run his hands between her thighs, gasping for air and with unexpected pleasure. A warm melting feeling spread between her legs, and the dampness embarrassed her, but she couldn’t pull away. As they petted and kissed, the phone suddenly began to vibrate. Sean jumped at the sound and Sabrina laughed.
She took the phone out and looked at it. Again, it ordered her to go home.
With a sigh she pushed up on her elbows. “You need to take me home.”
But Sean was reluctant. She asked please, and then almost surrendered again to his gorgeous pout, and the phone buzzed again. She pushed herself back into her seat.
“Sean, please. If you don’t take me home, I will call my dad to come get me.”
Sean crinkled his forehead and his demeanor abruptly shifted. He looked at her with a mocking frown. “Seriously?”
The look on his face bewildered her. He had changed his attitude so suddenly that she wasn’t certain if it was him or her.
Her head was slowly beginning to clear, and she was solemnly aware that he was disappointed with her. She drew back into her seat, and desperately tried to ward off the rejection in his eyes.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t come in,” she added almost as an afterthought, and knew as she said it that it was the alcohol speaking.
He fired up the truck and drove toward her house, too tipsy to be driving. When they pulled up to her street, she saw her mother’s car, and the heaviness of reality hit her. She was going in, and he was not. She had to tell him.
“Look, you can’t come over tonight,” she slurred. The alcohol was wearing off, and her head was beginning to hurt.
Sean just shook his head and guffawed, like she had just told a bad joke. “Alright, I’ll see you at work then,” he said.
She put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him. He stiffened, and then took her hand and kissed the back. But he dropped it immediately.
Sabrina wasn’t sure what to say as she pulled the handle open. Wasn’t he supposed to kiss her goodnight? Walk her to the door? She looked at him with frustration.
“Thanks…” she managed to choke out.
“You’re welcome,” he replied shortly.
Awkwardly, she opened the door and got out of the truck. The stab of guilt and worry hit her as the truck sped off. It was disturbing the way his attitude had changed so quickly from sweet and affectionate to being in such a hurry to leave. She entered the house and saw that her parents were asleep, the lights were off, and she vaguely considered calling him and telling him to sneak up to her room.
As she ascended the staircase, again the phone was buzzing. She pulled it out of her pocket, expecting to see some blue letters, but that was not what she saw at all.
It was a video. The video was black and white and slightly blurry, and the images were small on the screen of the phone. She squinted and sat on the edge of her bed, straining her eyes. She soon began to recognize the small room with the computer desk and the security safe, and the single small folding chair. It was the office at The Drip. She was seeing the camera footage from the office of her work. And it was dated about two weeks prior, at five-seventeen in the morning. Opening shift. Less than fifteen minutes before Sabrina showed up for work.
Dark Application: TWO Page 4