by Maxine Storm
"The meeting was about me?" he asked, flatly.
"Yes," I softly said. "We were discussing you."
"And what about me were you discussing?"
I looked away from Armand and out the window of the kitchen. What was he doing, where was he going with this? No, I knew. I just didn't want to admit it to myself.
"Janet, look at me," he commanded.
My eyes snapped back to his, as if by mind control.
"Why were you talking about me?" he questioned.
"It was because..." it was hard for me to continue.
Armand just stared at me.
"It was because, I had an assignment about you."
Armand did not break his gaze.
"What was the assignment?"
"They wanted some kind of expose on you," I explained. "To dig up some dirt on you. Make you look bad. I was against it."
"But you still worked on it."
"I didn't think it'd be anything substantial. Just a puff piece about the famous Armand Silver. But then they wanted me to help them take you down. But Armand, the moment I met with you, I knew I'd never be able to do that. I never met anyone like you before."
Armand closed his eyes for a moment.
"You were assigned to spy on me," he said.
"Yes, *assigned*," I said. "But I never told them anything about you."
Armand was silent.
"What did you tell them about me?" he asked.
"Nothing!" I said. "I never told them anything!"
"Then what were you doing in these 'meetings'?"
"I was trying to find a way out - for both of us. They assigned me to your story, that's true. But all I wanted was to write something simple, that didn't hurt you, and get it over with. Move on to something else."
"But you were still there," he said.
"Armand, what could I do? It was - and is - my first real job. I took it before I ever met you. Before I knew who you were, the man you are."
"Well, now we're in the thick of it, Janet," Armand declared. "Because someone wanted Philip dead."
But who, I wondered? And were we next?
"Is that it?" Armand asked, bringing me back to reality.
It's like he was just digging for the truth, unconcerned with my feelings. I knew he would want more. I just didn't want to see his reaction when I gave it all.
"No," I said. "It's not."
I took a deep breath.
"They wanted me to take your data," I said.
"Why?"
"I don't know, other than the supposed assignment they put me on. I swear."
"And how were you going to do that?" Armand asked.
"I wasn't going to," I said.
"How did they ask you to do it?" he rephrased himself.
"They asked me - and I wasn't going to do it - but they asked me to use this tool. This new technological device which could scan all your files almost instantly. It was like some CIA thing they had."
"And they gave this to you?" Armand asked.
"Yes," I said, weakly.
"Show it to me," Armand commanded.
I looked at Armand, wishing this never happened.
"Now," he said.
I got up from the chair and went into the bedroom. My legs barely had the energy to make it there. It's like they didn't want to walk there, to walk to what was awaiting - the terrible truth I had been keeping away from Armand. But what was I supposed to do?
I entered the bedroom and took my bag off the chair. It felt like it weighed 100 pounds. I just didn't want to bring it back to Armand and show him. I looked at the bed. Memories of the passion we shared fluttered across my mind. And now, was it all going to disappear?
I walked back to the kitchen where Armand was still sitting at the table, not a muscle having been moved.
I put my bag on my chair and dug inside, looking for the device.
Finally, I found it, its smooth coating and inconspicuous shape hiding its terrible purpose - to spy, expose, and destroy.
I took it out and handed it to Armand.
"There," I said. "That's the one."
Armand held it silently and examined it delicately in his powerful hands.
"It's real," he said. "You really had it."
"I was going to destroy it," I said.
Armand cocked an eyebrow.
"I was going to get rid of it somehow, or just give it back to them," I said. "I was never going to use it. I just had to hold on to it for now, before I could make up something up to tell them. To end all this craziness."
"No more making things up, Janet," Armand said.
I bowed my head.
Armand put the device down.
"I'm holding on to this," he said.
"But!" I said.
"I'll give it back to you after. I have to examine it so I can defend myself against any further attempts like this."
Armand took a sip of his coffee. I totally forgot about mine. My throat was parched from all the talking and the nerves.
"Why didn't you tell me about this?" he asked.
"I couldn't, Armand," I said.
"You could have."
"Not if I wanted to keep my job. I'm not a rich girl. I never had opportunities like this. It was more than I could have imagined. In good ways. In bad ways."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Armand demanded.
"I - I was afraid I was going to lose you. That you would want nothing to do with me anymore. That you would hate me. That you wouldn't forgive me."
I wiped a tear from my eye.
"That I'd lose you," I said.
Stone-faced, Armand looked at me.
"Damn it, Janet. What the hell."
Armand looked away and clenched his fist.
He got up from the table, his chair screeching against the ground. He turned away from me and pounded his fist on the wall. My stomach sunk. I didn't want it to end like this. I didn't want *us* to end like this.
"Armand," I pleaded.
He said nothing.
"You have to understand," I said. "I was scared."
"I do understand," he said. "That's why this is so hard."
I got up from the table and held his arm, which even my two hands couldn't fully envelope.
"Please, Armand," I said. "I didn't know what I could do. I couldn't go back to my hometown with nothing. To see my mom gloat over how I never should have left to New York. To have her tell me she was right and I was wrong, that I never should have tried."
Armand put his other hand around mine as they held him. He squeezed tightly, and then loosened my grip on him.
He held his temples.
"Damn it," he said.
"Please, Armand, I'm sorry," I said.
"I know, Janet."
"I wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how."
Armand looked at me with pursed lips. He frowned and rubbed his temples again.
"Are you mad, Armand? Is there something I can do?"
Armand shook his head.
"I'm not mad, Janet. I'm disappointed."
He walked out of the kitchen and left me standing by myself against the wall.
I wanted him to yell, to shout at me, to raise his voice so I could feel his anger. I wanted something, anything like that.
But it was all denied to me. It wasn't worth it to him. It was if he were just ignoring me, leaving me, my presence, by myself.
This was worse than shouting at me. I could at least see him in front of me and be near him. I could at least hear his voice, feel his energy, even if he were upset.
But I felt like I had crossed a line, a line that I was now left behind.
I dashed around the corner where he was leaning against the door frame.
"Please, Armand," I said, "let me help you."
"I have to figure this out myself, now," he said, not looking at me.
"I'll help think of something to get us out of this," I said.
"No," Armand said. "You need to go, now."
"I'm sorry, Armand.
I really am."
Armand didn't say anything.
"You have to leave, Janet."
I wrapped my arms around him, as if I were a ship being tied to harbour. I had no words that my arms couldn't express better, as I held him tightly, feeling his strength, his warmth.
"Bye, Janet," he said, not lowering his head to look at me, not moving a muscle in response to my embrace.
I drew back my arms and looked up at him.
"Bye, Armand."
I picked up my bag and opened the door. I looked back at him but he was still in the position he was before, like a statue.
I closed the door behind me and stepped through the hall.
I didn't want this. I didn't want us to separate like this. After all we had gone through. After all we had learned about each other.
In the end, he was unwavering as ever. The true Armand Silver who never yielded.
I wiped some more tears away with the back of my hand and made my way to the exit of the building.
What was I going to do next?
Armand and I were finished.
Now he had to deal with whatever was going to happen with Philip's death. I was going to have to deal with it, too, since I was there. As terrible as it sounds, this was something I thought I could at least look forward to at the time. I'd at least be able to see Armand for something related to that, even if it's in court or through an attorney.
Everything was in shambles. I began to panic. Breathe, breathe, I told myself. I slowed my breaths after nearly hyper-ventilating. I just wished I had Armand by myself in a moment like this. He was like a rock in a stormy river, splitting the terrible tide without giving way. And now I had...no one.
It hit me in the gut as I looked out onto the street, seeing the busy couples hurrying through their lives, perhaps forgetting how precious such a connection is. It was one I was already feeling the lack of, like something of me had been severed for good.
And what was going to happen to me at Global Eye? They were going to set their own investigators onto Philip's death. Even though Armand and I did nothing wrong, who knows how they'd try to sway the facts. I just felt sick thinking about it all.
Suddenly my phone started buzzing, jolting me out of my racing mind.
"Could it be Armand?" I hoped.
I looked at the display.
Alex.
I put the phone away. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to think of Global Eye. I just wanted to be somewhere else.
Cars honked throughout the street and my phone started buzzing again.
Alex on the line once more.
I didn't want to talk to her, but I guess it was unavoidable. I probably should set the record straight while I could. Before some crazy story is run in the Global Eye paper, slandering Armand.
"Hello Alex," I said into the speaker.
"Janet," said Alex, "we need to talk right now."
"Yes, let's meet up," I said.
Alex gave me the directions to the coffee shop she was at and I took a taxi down to meet her. I didn't know what she was going to say, but I knew it wasn't going to be good.
Chapter 36
I found Alex sitting by herself at a table at the back of the coffee shop. It was a dimly lit place, using this weird bulbs that barely gave off any light. I guess it was some hipster style I wasn't aware of. The exposed brick and the dimness really gave it a homey feel, like a personal dungeon.
"Sit down, Janet," Alex said to me, not looking away from her laptop.
Starting off our conversation with a command, that's just perfect manners.
I sat opposite Alex and put my bag down. Setting it down I remembered I had given the spy device to Armand. Carrying that thing around was terrible. But now that I gave it to Armand, that uncomfortable feeling still followed me.
"I have some bad news, Janet," Alex said. "Philip was murdered."
I dropped my jaw in mock surprise. I hope if something happens to me, Alex isn't the one to deliver the news.
"He was stabbed to death last night outside a bar," she continued.
I dropped my head. It wasn't a shock anymore, after going through the ordeal with Armand, but it was still terrible. Because someone wanted him dead, and I don't know if I was a target, too.
"I know you guys had some arguments, but that you were good friends through it all," she said. "So this must be hard."
I almost furrowed my brow in irritation. "Good friends"? She didn't know a damn thing about me - or Philip - if that's what she thought. Or who knows, maybe it was just Alex being fake as usual, reading some fake script she prepared before I got here.
"Yeah," I said, slowly. "Philip and I were...buds."
"You must be taking it really hard," she said, again as if she were reading from a script.
"Uh huh."
I definitely was saddened by Philip's death, but Alex's manner of delivering the news was really suspicious. Like she was just getting through the lines to something she really wanted to discuss. Or more like tell me to do, considering our history.
"So did you hear who did it?" she asked me.
"No," I said. "Who would do such a thing."
"I think you might have an idea," she said.
My eyes narrowed. What the hell? Did she know something about me being with Armand that night?
"No," I said. "No clue."
"Oh, well it won't come as a surprise, anyway," she said. "It was Armand."
Her words were like a dagger through my heart. I know she didn't know I was there with him. But to hear her just accuse Armand like that - it was painful. Especially because she has no idea who he really. She, like everyone else, just repeats what they're told about him. Either they don't look deeply enough or they don't even care.
"Armand?" I asked. "But how did they find out?"
"Well," Alex said, "it's not an official thing or anything yet. But the police leaked to Maximilian that Armand's jacket was found nearby Philip's body."
"How do they know it was his jacket?" I asked.
"It had his name embroidered on it," she said. "I guess that's how arrogant he is."
My head twitched out of irritation. I had to just sit here and listen to her bad mouth Armand. Not only that, but hear her portray Armand as a sick killer. It was getting to be too much.
"I need to order a drink," I said.
Alex waved a server over and I ordered a vodka. I never drink vodka but I needed one right now.
I took a swig of the drink once it arrived, so fast it was like I had it in my hands before it even was placed on the table.
"He's not stable, Janet," Alex said.
"Who?" I asked, my face buried in the glass.
"Armand, of course."
It was a good thing the glass was obscuring my face because I shot a nasty look at her.
"It's fitting with Armand's personality," she said. "You can't trust that man."
I almost spit out my drink.
"What do you even know about him?" I shot back.
Alex looked puzzled.
"I'm just saying," she explained, "it's something that should have been expected."
"Stop saying that about him!" I shouted.
Alex raised her eyebrows.
Oh shit, I thought.
Did I blow my 'cover'? Did I just reveal to Alex I was sleeping with the enemy - literally - this whole time?
Well, too bad. What did it matter to me now? Armand saved my life. Why were they hammering this point about him being some kind of bad guy, like they knew him? They didn't know anything about him. And I believed their lies.
Alex frowned at me and tapped the table with her pen.
"Janet," she said, "I'm really concerned about your ability to do this assignment objectively."
My head twitched.
What was she trying to tell me?
What the hell was she talking about? And why was she taking this 'disapproving mother' tone? We were basically the same age.
"I'm not sure you ha
ve what it takes to think with your head, and not your heart," she said.
Wow. Like she knew me. I guess people her love to prejudge others.
"What makes you say that?" I asked, barely concealing my contempt.
"Oh, lots of things," Alex said. "You seem to have fallen for Armand. It's cute, but an amateur mistake."
I rolled my eyes.
"People don't know Armand at all," I said.
"We know plenty about him," Alex replied.
"Like what?"
"He's abusive. Violent. A cheater. A fraud."
I laughed.
"You don't know anything," I said. "Those are all lies you're repeating from Global Eye and Maximilian."
"It's all true," she said.
"It's not. You call yourself a journalist, but actually all you do is parrot what Maximilian and the company tell you to believe."
"I'm a professional, Janet" Alex said. "Maybe one day you'll understand."
"Honestly," I said, "I hope I don't."
Alex looked at me but said nothing.
I looked around us. This cafe. This scene. This very conversation.
It wasn't me. At all. Armand was right when he told me I didn't fit in this place, this crowd.
At the time it angered me. I thought it was what I wanted.
But I was just being like Alex. Following the leader. Doing what my 'head' told me, and not my heart.
Forget that.
"I can't do this job anymore," I said. "It's wrong."
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Alex said, coldly. "Not everyone is cut out to work at Global Eye."
"I'm glad I'm not," I said. "I wouldn't forgive myself if I were."
I got up from the table.
"Bye, Alex," I said. I had nothing else to say to her. I finally felt as if I spoke my mind.
If she said something, I didn't hear it.
I turned around and walked out of there without looking back.
Chapter 37
The cab dropped me off at my apartment.
It was colder and more isolated than usual. I don't remember it feeling like I lived on the outskirts of town, all by myself.
I checked my phone, looking for a sign from Armand.
Nothing.
Just reading his name made me want to be near him. I imagined his voice, reassuring me that I could be different from that phony scene. I wanted to reach out and tell him that he was right. I wanted to show him that was the real me. Not the person who almost betrayed him. I never meant to do that. And truthfully, I didn't. It was just bad timing, bad luck. Which is all I seem to get in life.