Wired

by Caytlyn Brooke

  “Okay!” Sarah chimes. “I mean, if you’re sure,” she quickly adds, having the decency to at least look disappointed.

  I hoist my bag higher onto my shoulder, slipping the copper Vertix safely inside. “All right, I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Andy nods and kisses me on the cheek. “Be safe getting home. If you get stuck, stream it, okay?” he grins, pointing to his iJewel.

  “Okay,” I reply.

  Sarah leaves Andy’s arms and wraps me in a tight hug. “Yeah, be safe!” she says, squeezing me tight. Her voice drops to a whisper. “And lock up, I’ve got a good feeling I won’t be home tonight.”

  “Come on, Sar. I don’t want to hear that,” I groan, stepping out of her embrace.

  “Hear what?” Andy asks, glancing up from his iJewel.

  “Nothing, baby,” Sarah answers sweetly, winking. “Come on, let’s go have some fun! Bye, Maggie!”

  “Bye, Sis!” Andy waves and they step off the sidewalk and back into the swirling crowd, getting lost in seconds.

  I watch them go, a little sad to be left behind but elated at the same time. Now I can go. I glance at the pulsing crowd and numerous tents lit up like big circus tops. It’s going to take me forever to get out of here. I groan and walk to the end of the sidewalk. It’s not as busy over here, with all the action centralized in the middle of the plaza.

  I stay to the right side of the concrete, hugging the blacked-out windows and crumbling walls of the abandoned stores lining the outer ring of the plaza. Aside from Yeti and an oxygen bar, Scarlet Meadows Plaza is pretty deserted. I could remember when it housed big retailers and fun little shops. My friends and I used to go to Tunes music lounge in high school and jam on whatever instruments they were featuring that day. I walk by the dark windows of Tunes slowly, peering through the multiple layers of dust. Nothing remains inside save for a punched-in snare drum and a wooden maraca.

  I frown and continue on, surprised to see a forty percent off sale sign pasted in a small window. Behind it is a vintage china tea set atop a pale pink, child-sized wooden table. I stop to peer further. The lights are off, but I can make out rows of shelves, brimming with antique toys, glistening snow globes and even a shelf full of antique iPhones, Kindles and tablets.

  “Wow, they must be selling those for pennies.” I whistle, pushing away from the window. I notice that my breath leaves clinging moisture to the cool glass and I can’t help but smile as I reach out and trace a tiny heart into the disappearing vapors.

  “Nostalgic for the old days?” a deep voice asks.

  I jump in fright and clutch one hand to my chest as the other grabs the bulk of my messenger bag. Spinning around, I see a tall guy standing several feet behind me, practically balancing on the crumbling curb. His face is cast in shadow as the pale solar light shines down on the top of his head from the streetlight above. I can see that he has short brown hair, the longer pieces ending in a soft wave. I have no idea who this person is, but his voice is familiar for some reason.

  “Ah, yeah, I guess,” I mumble, glancing up at the faded white and yellow banner. The name Jo and Ed’s Antiques flutters in the soft breeze.

  I’ve never even seen the mom-and-pop shop before. I take two steps away from the glass, away from the guy, clutching my bag tighter.

  “You’re Maggie, right?” the stranger asks, pointing to me with hands concealed inside his black sweatshirt.

  His question stops me in my tracks. “Yes,” I whisper hesitantly. “Do I know you?”

  “Yeah. Well, obviously not too well.” The guy chuckles. “I just started at Red Leaf Publishing last week. Robins brought me around and introduced me to everyone, but you seemed pretty preoccupied when I came over.”

  “Red Leaf? You work at Red Leaf?” I stutter, repeating the name of my employer like an idiot. “When did you start?” I take a step closer, taking my chances that he isn’t a serial killer.

  He laughs and withdraws one hand from his pocket, his long fingers running down the tidy scruff on his chin. He moves closer, leaving the bright halo of light so I can see his face.

  He’s handsome. A scruffy square jaw and chiseled features draw my eyes up to meet his and the pale blue color surprises me. They look real, untouched. Natural compared to the varying dyed blues most people have upgraded to.

  “I’m Jeremy,” he says, and I notice with a slight flutter that his bottom teeth are crooked. Another trait he didn’t change or improve. I lick the inside of my surgically altered smile and feel self-conscious about it for the first time.

  “Jeremy,” I repeat. “Yeah, I think I read an email saying that you were going to be starting. Wow, I’m really sorry I didn’t pay attention earlier.” I blush. Smooth.

  Jeremy waves his hand nonchalantly. “It’s all right. When I came by you were pretty focused.”

  Of course. The first time a guy, a gorgeous guy wants to meet me, I’m too wrapped up in a manuscript. My life in a nutshell. “Yeah, sorry about that. I just got promoted so I’ve been working a lot.”

  “Congrats,” Jeremy says sweetly. His pale blue eyes regard me. “Robins brought me on as a Marketing Consultant. Maybe we’ll be working together in the future.” His smile widens and my heart flutters once more.

  Calm down, hot pants. I think back to the mistake I made with George at Yeti. That humiliating realization sobers me up and the tiny butterflies swirling within evaporate.

  “Yeah, I’m going to need a cover design in a few weeks so now I have a personal connection.” I laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound forced.

  Jeremy nods to something behind me. “So did you get a Vertix H2?”

  “Umm, yeah. How did you know?” I ask, tucking a stray hair behind my ear.

  Jeremy’s blue eyes flicker back and forth between the vacant shops, then back to the raucous activities in the distance. “Just a guess,” he says with a smirk. “Unless you like to hang out in derelict shopping plazas at two in the morning.”

  I roll my eyes and resist the urge to smack my forehead. How do I manage to keep making an even bigger fool of myself with every word I say? “Clever,” I say, narrowing my eyes in his direction. “Yes, I did get one. It’s a lot cooler than I thought. What about you?”

  Jeremy shakes his head. “Nah, I’m happy with my iJewel for now,” he says, holding up his wrist to display a simple black iJewel. “Where are you heading?”

  I relax my tight grip on my bag and exhale, letting my shoulders relax, satisfied that Jeremy is just a normal guy, a co-worker in fact. “Ah, I was with my brother and roommate but I’ve got an early morning meeting tomorrow so I’m on my way home,” I explain, pointing to the brightly lit street up ahead. Somewhere up there awaits the subway.

  “Me too.” Jeremy nods, falling into step with me.

  I snort, unable to help myself. “Oh yeah, that’s right.” We lapse into silence for a bit, but unlike the long awkward pauses that usually accompany first meetings, this silence is nice, calming after the constant action I left behind.

  We continue along the shabby sidewalk, leaving the far end of the parking lot and crossing a slightly busy four-lane road. We’re still several blocks from the bay, but a sweet breeze rolls through the dark sky, catching me off guard. I inhale deeply, loving the way the fresh air feels against my sweaty skin. Briefly my mind wanders back to the Vertix tucked safely in my purse, back to the amazing rush I felt as it spilled the world into my mind. I inhale the salty air once more. No app can replace this. But it got pretty close.

  “So where did you work before Red Leaf?” I ask once we’re safely across the wide lanes. A softly glowing subway sign calls to us two blocks down. All of the department stores and boutiques are closed, but several eateries have their doors thrown wide open. Warm yellow light spills into the cool autumn night, the shops hoping to entice exhausted Vertix revelers with hot cheese pizza and spicy burritos.

  “I was a loan officer in North Carolina,” Jeremy says.

  “Oh really? That’s
cool. Why’d you leave?” I ask, pausing as a group of girls stumble in front of us. Two of them spy Jeremy and look him over appreciatively.

  “Hey,” the redhead calls, her bright cat-like green eyes never leaving Jeremy’s face.

  Jeremy nods once and turns back to me. I wink and take a step closer to him, flipping my hair over my shoulder and looking back at them with newfound confidence. Jeremy is in no way my boyfriend, but it feels nice to pretend.

  “Needed a change,” Jeremy replies, already dismissing the younger girls. “I went to North Carolina for college, got a job in finance, did really well, but decided it wasn’t what I loved.”

  I pause, surprised at his openness. “That’s pretty brave,” I say admiringly. “It’s hard to leave and start over.”

  Jeremy shrugs. “Not really. Things always work out pretty well if you have a positive outlook,” he says, now looking in my direction. “See, I’ve only been in this city two weeks and I already have a new job and I met you.”

  My cheeks blush warmly and I tuck another loose strand of hair behind my ear. Don’t read anything into it. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” We fall into a comfortable silence again, just half a block from the subway now. I clear my throat, hoping my next question doesn’t sound like an invitation. “So…where are you staying? Do you have an apartment yet?”

  “Yeah, I found a small studio on Rutland Street,” Jeremy answers. “It’s not bad, but it faces a brick wall out of three of the four windows I have.” He runs his hand through his short hair and grins. “I found a guy who was looking to sublet his place for a year while he backpacks around Australia for some documentary he’s helping to film. I got it pretty cheap too.”

  “Wow, that’s awesome! Sounds like you got pretty lucky.” I’ve heard of Rutland but I can’t quite remember where or why. Then it hits me. Sarah and I left a late-night party there back in our college days because some creep kept hitting on her. We thought we’d just ride the subway home but it turned out to be a lot further than anticipated. “Wait, Rutland,” I start. “That’s in Southie.”

  “Yeah, I think so,” Jeremy agrees, cocking his head to the side. “Is that bad?”

  I shake my head and wrap my arms around myself as a cold wind picks up. “No, it’s just, you walked all this way in the wrong direction. I may have cost you a transfer or two. I’m so sorry. I wish I’d known earlier.”

  Jeremy shakes his head, looking unruffled. “I’m not. It was time well spent. I’m glad I got to talk to you, hang out for a bit.” He stares at me, confident and sure. I wonder if he left a string of broken hearts back in North Carolina.

  I blush again and shift my purse on my shoulder. I hear a soft thud as the Vertix falls from the thin pouch stitched weakly to the side of the fabric. Images of the beautiful picture frames materialize in my mind, but I push them away.

  “Yeah, I’m glad you introduced yourself. I had fun.” I glance at him, biting my lower lip in an attempt to come across as endearing.

  “Again,” Jeremy says, the corner of his lips lifting minutely.

  I roll my eyes and lightly swat his arm. He chuckles but doesn’t flinch away, looking down at his gray sneakers. “Whatever. I already told you I was sorry,” I say, resisting the urge to stick out my tongue.

  “It’s all right,” Jeremy says, taking a step away from me. “I have an idea of how you can make it up to me,” he adds roguishly. For the first time I hear a little touch of southern drawl.

  My eyebrows arch as I put my hand on my hip. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” Please kiss me, please kiss me, I silently plead, careful not to let my excitement break through to the surface.

  Jeremy grins without showing his teeth and shakes his head. “No, you’ll find out later.” He plunges his hands back into the pockets of his pea coat. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he calls, pivoting on his heels and walking a few steps back in the direction we just came.

  Confusion sweeps over me. “You’re not coming? Aren’t you going to take the metro home?”

  Jeremy spins around to face me but keeps walking backward. “I’m meeting a friend before I head home. Good night, Maggie,” he calls before tipping his head down and turning back around with more grace than I’ve ever had.

  “Bye,” I whisper, raising my hand and wiggling the tips of my fingers. I spin around and start down the steep stairs that lead underground. I’m meeting a friend, he said. I sigh in disappointment as I open the Ride On app on my iJewel and flash it against the automated scanner. The metal grill pops open, a bright green timer above warning I only have six seconds to cross the threshold. A friend, I scoff. I bet she’s blonde with boobs the size of coconuts.

  Hi, Acey!” I call to the doorman as he holds the wide, plate glass door open.

  “Morning, Ms. Maggie. You’re looking like a hurricane blowing in from the coast.” He’s wearing his standard uniform, a pair of pressed black pants and a white button down, along with a little black beret over his bald head.

  “Yeah tell me about it,” I gush, trying to stuff several loose papers back into the correct slot of my messenger bag as I dodge fattening rain drops. “I was almost to the subway when I realized I forgot my notes for the meeting and some guy spilled his coffee all down my skirt.” I gesture awkwardly, my heavy purse pulling me off balance as I try to turn.

  “Whoa, steady there, Ms. Maggie.” Acey grins, catching me before I hit the opposite closed door.

  “Thanks, Acey. At least it’s black!” I shrug, righting myself as I successfully cram the wrinkled notes into an empty spot.

  “That’s right, Ms. Maggie,” Acey says, tipping his head down. “You always looking for that silver lining. You get your breakfast today?”

  I pause, my eyes flicking to the corners as I rack my brain, trying to remember. “Wait, yes!” I say triumphantly. Quickly I pull my purse up, practically sticking my head between the handles in order to see inside the black hole. I stick my hand in and find the correct pocket. “Here it is!” I pull out half of a plain bagel, one jagged bite already ripped into the chewy dough.

  Acey scoffs and shakes his head. “You is something else, Ms. Maggie. Acey gone get you some real breakfast. Can’t make it through the day without it,” he says paternally.

  I glance down at my iJewel. “Time,” I whisper. I have four minutes to get upstairs. “Thanks, Acey, but don’t worry about me.” I’m already moving across the elegant marble foyer.

  “All right, Ms. Maggie,” Acey calls after me. “You have a good day now.”

  I turn and wave over my shoulder. I am so late. “Bye, Acey!” I don’t look back to see if my friend waves as I half-sprint toward the elevators. I jam my finger into the dull button marked with a four. Please, please, please, please, please.

  At last the doors ping open and I leap inside, hitting another button to indicate I’m the only passenger. The golden doors glide closed and my stomach does a little flip as the box car climbs the cables. Just before the elevator reaches my floor, I call up the clock again. I have less than a minute.

  The elevator pings, halting its frustratingly slow ascent and sets me free. I’m halfway to my desk before the doors roll completely open. I’m late, I’m late, I’m so late. I barely see the other agents seated at their desks as I breeze by.

  “Morning, Maggie.”

  “Hey, how are you?”

  “Morning, hun.”

  Various voices call out to me as I race by, but I don’t have time to chat. I’m almost to my desk when I look up at the meeting room. It’s situated in the middle of everything; just four large glass walls plopped in the center of the room. I can already see the other members of Robins’ team seated calmly around the table, and Robins herself is standing in front of a digital whiteboard, scribbling something onto it with a stylus.

  “Shit,” I curse under my breath. I don’t have time to drop my things off. Desperate, I start shrugging out of my red raincoat, and somehow manage to spin out of it. I have no idea whose desk I’m at, but i
t doesn’t matter. I’ll apologize later.

  I chuck the coat and my purse down sloppily onto the chair and withdraw my notebook from my messenger bag. I let the bag slide down my arm, hitting the wall of the gray cubicle with a solid thud. Feeling and breathing like I’ve run a marathon, I straighten my posture and start my hurried jog up again. I try to smooth my wild hair back into place and feel one long strand sticking way out above my ear.

  Acey was right! I am like a hurricane. I groan, pulling the edge of my coffee-stained skirt down over my knees. With as much poise and grace as I can muster, I take one last steadying breath, open the door to the glass box, and slide in as quietly as possible into the last available chair. Robins turns away from the board, her piercing green eyes finding me over the rim of her red glasses. I grin sheepishly but she doesn’t comment and I allow myself to exhale, relaxing for the first time since my eyes opened this morning.

  “All right, everyone, let’s talk covers,” Robins begins, pointing to a thick book with a plain white cover sealing the characters within the pressed pages. “Title,” she pauses for effect. “Into the Night, a psychological thriller about a man searching desperately for his family, with nothing to go on but a bloody teddy bear.”

  I glance away from Ms. Robins, hastily scribbling notes onto my steno pad while most of the others make bullet points using the touch screen on their Torches. Bloody teddy, I write making a small sad face next to the sloppy letters.

  Robins continues covering the basic synopsis of the story. “The grieving father’s search takes him to seedy bars and dark cells that even the vilest of criminals avoid. At last all the clues come together and he discovers he is responsible for their disappearance, their murders. Right at the end, the author flips the story, revealing that the father suffers from split-personality Disorder that has gone untreated for years. It is this ‘Mr. Hyde’ persona who killed the family, leaving our would-be hero at a very bleak crossroad,” she finishes. “We need this cover to be chilling, haunting, something that keeps readers up at night.” She stabs the white cover once more, emphasizing her point. “Okay, give me ideas.”