It took Kit a moment before she picked up the white envelope, “When do I start and is this my benefits package?” Her comment had a sarcastic edge to it. I knew she was taking this job out of the simple fact she needed one very badly.
“You start Monday. That will give you the weekend to completely dry out, clean up and buy a decent wardrobe for D.C. The next three weeks will be your training with Rebecca to learn the ropes of being by my side 24/7.” I glanced up at the hazel eyes, noticing the distaste she was trying to hide for me especially as I brought up once again her sobriety and present lack of it. To her I was just a stiff Senator that was over privileged and afraid of the bible thumpers who hated my genetic research. In time she would understand that there was far more to it and why I needed her.
I pointed at the white envelope, “That is not your benefits package. That contains your secrets; ones I would prefer you to tell me when I have earned your trust. I have not looked at it and will not until you give me a reason to.” I said the last part with a firm tone; I would not look into her failure as an Agent unless she failed me. I preferred to keep a clear mind about the woman standing in front of me that I had just hired to be my shadow.
Our eyes met in an intense stare, both of us trying to figure out if this was the right move. Kit broke eye contact first when Rebecca and Davidek entered the room. I grinned at Davidek, whispering in Czech that I had hired Kit and he would be receiving the necessary final paperwork on the way out.
Davidek smiled and nodded, walking over to Kit who was obviously holding in her building anger. She clutched the white envelope and smiled tightly as I issued my goodbyes and left Rebecca to show them out. Kit threw me one last look that could be considered a stiff glare, she was irritated and biting her tongue. I smiled, knowing her temper would be an issue and a challenge as she detoxed.
I walked to the kitchen and dug out the bottle of vodka I kept in the freezer, I was officially on vacation.
“What the fuck Davey? Or should I say Davidek?” I walked quickly to the black BMW sitting in the driveway of the fancy house of the uppity Senator I just interviewed with, “You're Czech? Why did you never tell me that?”
I was fuming mad and irritated. I had been picked apart by the blonde in ways that got under my skin more than the agency psychologist.
Davey shook his head at me, “Just be happy you have a job, Kit.” He unlocked the car just as my hand grabbed onto the handle.
Ripping the door open I sat down in the passenger seat, “How long have you known Senator Avondale? What kind of fucked up bullshit have you gotten me into.” I slapped the white envelope on my lap, waiting for my rage to edge back before I dug around in the vague secrets the woman had placed in there.
Davey took a slow breath as he started the car, “Since I was seven. My family worked for her family as security. Claire and I grew up together.” He pulled sunglasses onto avoid looking at me, “I trust her through and through
as if she was my sister.”
“You could have told me that. You could have also told me that this was an interview to be her personal assistant, following her around handing her tissues and bottled water.” I shook my head, “Babysitting the spoiled all over again.”
“Kit, it’s not like that, trust me in time you will understand. Rebecca filled me in on the basics while you and Claire interviewed. Your job will be far more than handing her bottles of water and picking up dry cleaning.”
I chuckled angrily, “Yeah because I can really see that tiny girl protecting anything bigger than a fly.”
Rebecca was small and I took note of how small she was. My threat assessment training kicking in, noting the personal assistant of the Senator had probably slept her way to the top. Especially the way she looked at the blonde, told me there was something more than just business between those two. I groaned, “I need a drink.”
Davey looked at me hard, “Part of your contract is no more drinking, period. You have to be sober and on your game.” He turned back to the traffic he was trying to push out into, “For your information, Rebecca is actually a former NSA agent. One of the best they ever had, handpicked by Claire years ago to be in her close circle.”
I spun my head around to look at the man, now picking up the Czechoslovakian features in his face, “NSA?”
He nodded yes.
I took a deep breath, getting a sinking feeling in my gut. I ran a hand through my hair pulling out the bun to let my hair fall down, “What the hell have you roped me into.” Receiving no answer from Davey I turned to the white envelope, it was a long drive back to San Diego as we were now in the middle of peak rush hour. I had nothing more to say to Davey that didn’t involve my favorite curse words and questioning what exactly I was getting myself into. All I cared was I would be getting a paycheck tomorrow and a bottle of fancy scotch to celebrate the new job.
I smirked and tore open the edge of the envelope, my fingers plucking out the thin stack of papers, my mind wandering to the big bottle of nice scotch on the top shelf of the liquor store. I had missed good scotch.
When my eyes settled on the top of the first page I could feel my face go pale, my hands began to tremble and my heart pound with fear. I also felt the tears rush to the edge of my eyes as I tried to stuff the case file back into the envelope. Davey turned to look at me, watching me struggle at cramming papers back in.
He grabbed my elbow, “Kit, you okay?”
I turned to look at him, the tears falling as I pushed out the words in a choke, “How did she get the Montreal file? That was supposed to be classified to a clearance above and beyond even the president.”
Davey said nothing as I turned away from him, focusing on the passing highway. I could see my reflection in the tinted window. I wiped away the tears and stared at myself, willing the memories of that day to stay as far as away as they could before I lost it completely. Lost the walls I had built up to protect my mind and heart from what happened that day.
Chapter 2
Davey and I did not speak the almost three hour drive back to my house. It took me far too long to regain my composure from viewing the small edges of a few sheets of paper. The white envelope sat in my lap with my right hand clutching it in a death grip. I was afraid to let go of it, afraid that if I did more would know failures of my life it held. I spent the silent drive staring out the window, memorizing license plates and staring at the concrete jungle that was the California highways.
Davey pulled into my driveway, parking his sparkling new black BMW behind my broken down and beat up red sedan that I still had from college because it was now the only thing I could afford. I went to reach for the door handle to make my quick escape.
“Kit. Do you want to do this job?” He gripped the steering wheel and looked at me, still wearing sunglasses; I could feel the hard stare covered by shaded lenses.
“I don't think I have a choice.” it came out quiet, the words sinking the air as they came from my mouth. I looked at my small house, my broken down car and my broken down life, “Actually, I know I don't have a choice.”
I knew I could not back out of this job with a simple no thank you. Senator Avondale had made it clear the amount of access she had to the deepest and darkest corners of the earth that I thought my secrets had been tucked into. I could suffer being a babysitter for a few months than hope she would fire me after I failed to keep up the standards her precious Rebecca had.
Davey pulled off the sunglasses, his eyes picking up the light. The copper highlights in his eyes becoming radiant, “I chose you because you are the best. You were the first choice, the only choice when Claire called me.” His eyes drew to the white envelope, “I think this is your chance for redemption.” He said it so softly that I wondered if he was also looking for redemption in the mess I had left behind in Montreal and dragged him through. He was there; he knew exactly what was in the white envelope. Maybe more.
I cringed and turned to look back out the window, “I don't need to seek redem
ption for my sins. If that's what you're trying to preach to me.” I swallowed hard, “But no more secrets Davey, no more blindsiding me and throwing me under the bus.” I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open. I was done talking since there was nothing left for me to say. I squinted when the afternoon sun smacked my puffy eyes hard; I looked down into the open door to shield them, “Thanks for the ride and the job.” I closed the car door, walking up my front walkway as I dug around for my house keys.
“Kit, call me if you need me. Like I said, I trust Claire. She will not be like the rest.” Davey called after me, half hanging out the driver’s side door of his shiny BMW.
I looked back at him, smiling tightly before I kicked my front door open and slammed it shut behind me. I heard the BMW rev off into the street and away from the house. I peeled off the brand new suit jacket, tossing it over the back of the couch as I continued to walk to my bedroom.
Inside the messy bedroom, I threw the white envelope on the middle of the bed before I pulled off the white button down that was soaked through from my nervous and anxious sweating, also tossing that into a corner.
Shuffling by the dresser that had drawers stuffed with clean laundry I cared little to fold or put away properly, I reached into one propped open drawer and yanked a tattered t-shirt from it. Dragging it over my body, I held onto the edge of the dresser as I stripped away the sweaty suit pants.
Standing in the middle of the room in my underwear I searched through the random pairs of jeans I had splattered across the room. Digging into all of the pockets until I found random bills and a handful of change. I quickly counted the handful and smiled when I counted out just enough. I then slid into the cleanest pair of jeans on the floor, tossed my black heels into the rear of the closet. Switching them out for my comfortable, worn out brown boots. I had one goal on my mind and was laser focused on it before the afternoon shifted into evening and evening shifted into the part of the night that I hated the most. The time when I had to try and fall asleep.
I walked out of the house, not bothering to lock the door. Why bother? If someone tried to break it in, they would already think the house had been ransacked. All because I gave less than two shits to put things away or clean up the messes I left behind. A consistent theme in my life as of the last few years.
I shoved the key into the ignition of the tired old red sedan, groaning as it only clicked and ticked, letting me know that the car had enough. I had run it ragged with no maintenance and the orange engine light blinked at me, adding that little extra fuck you to my day. I yanked the keys out; slamming the driver’s side door closed so hard the car rocked. Jamming my keys into my pocket I started walking, pulling my sunglasses over my dry eyes. Dry eyes from crying in the cool interior of the BMW that I would kill to have right now to drive me the five blocks I was now forced to walk.
Walking kept me focused and out of my head. I had to pay attention to the heavy traffic on the main streets and be wary of the weirdos that hung out on the corners. The main reason why I would drive to the liquor store that was just five blocks away. I had walked once before. Only because I was so drunk I couldn't drive and I wanted more scotch. That was a bad night for me and the creeper that tried to grope me in the alley as I passed. He walked away with a broken nose and a shattered forearm. I walked away empty handed and blood spattered over my only clean shirt.
The liquor store was nothing special, a typical corner party store that sold snacks, beer, cigarettes and had a large selection of liquor. I waved at Tito the cashier, when the doorbell rang to let him know a customer was coming. He grinned when he saw me, “Hey KT! How's it hanging?”
I dug out the wad of bills and change, slapping it on the counter, “Always to the left, Tito, always to the left.” He always called me KT, I never knew why since I told him my name was Kit. I never corrected him, fearing his size and what could happen if I upset him.
Tito chuckled with me at the daily inside joke we shared. Moving without a second word to the lower shelf to grab my usual. He set the glass bottle on the counter, covering the money I had set with his big meaty palm.
Tito was a big guy, huge actually. He and I would chat once in a while, depending on how sober or how drunk I was. He was someone I trusted because he had driven me home once or twice when I was so drunk I barely made it to the parking lot before falling on my ass, never taking advantage of me in that state or hassling me the next time I sauntered into the store asking for a new bottle.
Tito slid the bottle into the classic brown paper bag all liquor stores offered in discretion to their customers. I grabbed it and before I walked out, I pointed at the top shelf where he kept the best bottles he carried. “I will be back for that one tomorrow, Tito.”
Tito turned and looked at the sixty dollar bottle of Dewar's leering down at us from its dusty perch, he looked back at me, “I will have it here for you KT. You celebrating something?”
I nodded, tucking the brown paper bag under my arm, “I got a new job today, Tito. I can finally afford the best.” I waved at him and went to walk out he called after me, “What you gonna be doing this time KT? Driving around that hot blonde in the new fast car movie? Can you get me her autograph?”
I laughed, “I wish it was that blonde, but sadly no, Tito. I am going to be driving around a stuck up nosy blonde Senator.” I waved at Tito, watching his eyes widen in surprise. I left the store before he peppered me with a billion questions.
Back at the house, I grabbed the last clean glass I had and went to my bedroom. I turned on my small stereo, hit play on the iPod I had tucked in the dock. Turning the volume up as the rich tenors of Stabat Mater filled the room, drowning out the white noise that had been chasing me the second I was told I had an interview.
I sat down on the bed as the music flowed around me. I grabbed the white envelope, setting it in my lap I unscrewed he black plastic cap of my brand new bottle and filled the glass up to just below the edge. I traded the bottle for the envelope, dumping the case file out onto the empty space of my bed. I took large sips as Montreal was scattered before me. The photographs adding splashes of color to the clean white pages that were missing the heavy handed black marker of a government screener.
I drank faster as I caught key words that made my heart tighten, I pushed papers and photographs around until the memories that hid the back of my mind finally became more vivid. Too vivid for me to handle.
I drained the glass of the amber liquid and quickly filled it up again to the brim; the scotch was doing its job fast since I had not eaten since yesterday. I drank half the new glass in two heavy gulps and before I knew it my face was wet with tears I could not feel rolling down.
I snatched the case file up and went to throw it on the floor when I saw a photograph slip out of the stack in my hand and float back to the bed. A photograph I had only looked at once before, when it was slid across the table in my debriefing of that day.
It had been taken by a witness, a tourist with a fancy camera. A tourist who was at the right place to snap the picture that had to be confiscated by the Secret Service.
I stared at myself, covered in blood and crying. Holding onto him and in mid scream, my face red with fear, anger and panic as I lay on the ground in the alley where we had been caught.
The colors in the photograph were so bright and vivid I felt as if I was back in the alley. I could hear the sirens, the screams around me, mine and the others. Then I began to smell the blood mixed with his cologne.
I slammed my eyes shut and crumpled the case file and photographs into a ball in my hand. I stood up and threw the ball of paper across my room as my screams of what the memories brought back became lost in the music that was bombarding the bedroom.
The music seemed to sync up perfectly with my anger and screams, adding a morbid soundtrack to my breakdown. My half empty scotch glass followed the crumpled file closely, shattering against the wall and staining the paint on the wall. I collapsed onto the floor, sitting against my bed. Sobbi
ng and chugging from the bottle, wishing the scotch to work faster and take me out of this sensory memory overload I was experiencing.
____________________
The horrid beep of a truck backing up rattled into my ears and amplified my hangover headache a million times over. I groaned and propped myself up on an elbow, I stuck a hand out and yanked already broken and torn blinds down so I could see where the truck was. I squinted, getting hazy hungover eyes to focus on the bright yellow flatbed tow truck that was backing up into my driveway. Watching as the tow truck driver hopped out and began hooking up the red sedan in my driveway.
It took me longer than it should have to realize it was my red sedan he was towing.
“What the fucking fuck.” I rolled out of the bed, not even taking note how I managed to actually make it to my bed when the scotch took me completely out of reality like I hoped. I stumbled out of the bedroom, running into the walls and struggling to get a hand around my front door knob.
I yanked the door open, almost throwing up when the bright sun charged at me, “HEY! What the fuck are you doing! That's my car asshole!” I stumbled towards the tow truck driver I startled; he ran his eyes over me in a way that I knew I looked like a disaster, a drunken disaster.
Redemptio Animae Page 3