Out of Reach

by Jocelyn Stover

  “Wow, I had no idea. Has he had episodes before?”

  “Not to my knowledge, but I don’t really know the guy all that well,” I admit.

  “That’s awful, I hope he’s able to get some help.” Gwen’s expression of shock over my story is genuine; she doesn’t know anything about Mr. Johnson. Still I’ve garnered some useful information from our exchange. He regularly cleaned her lab. I tuck this new bit of information away as we return to work. There will be time later to ponder the ever-growing list of coincidences lending credence to my deepening suspicion.

  I hope.

  Chapter 21

  Gwen

  My immense pleasure to be back in normal people clothing is the only positive thing I will be taking home with me today. I do a happy little wiggle in my jeans as the elevator dings. Sighing, I step out into the main lobby. Clutching a stack of paperwork, my precious notebook, and my purse, I make a beeline for the exit doors, hoping no one will notice my escape.

  Glancing to my left I see Joe and Charlie engaged in discussion with Abigail. Scrunching my head down and hiding as best I can behind the stack I’m carrying, I pick up my pace. Just my luck, before I can tear my gaze away from the group, Abigail looks up.

  Damn it.

  Any chance of a quick escape was dashed the moment our eyes met and that hopeful expression spread across her face. Chastising myself for even looking at the group in the first place, I plaster a smile to my face and head over.

  Greeting everyone quickly I again look at Abigail, hoping to garner some clue as to why she wanted me to engage with the group. Unfortunately my visual query is answered with a radiant but ultimately unhelpful smile. Broadening my gaze to include the group, I become sucked into another discussion about compound 253B. Slowly it dawns on me I’ve been unwittingly duped into conversation by my overly friendly lab partner.

  So really it’s my own damn fault I’m in this conversation.

  Just when I’m about to scream in frustration, the universe lets me know it doesn’t completely hate me.

  “Gwen ... Gwenie!”

  Turning at the sound of my name, I see Melanie shouting and waving her arms frantically to get my attention. Politely excusing myself from the conversation, I rush off in the direction of my savior. Not even Melanie’s disturbing public display of affection as she wraps me in an enormous bear hug can annoy me tonight. I’m that grateful for her timely intervention.

  “Oh, Gwen, I’ve had the worst day ever,” she explains, releasing me from her Kung Fu grip. Freeing a hand to tug on her sleeve, I steer us in the direction of the exit before anyone else decides they want to talk to me.

  Nodding along, I listen as she regales me with the details of her day.

  “First, I show up at Dr. Chen’s office only to find out they are closed for the day and forgot to cancel with me. So there I am with an entire office’s worth of Starbucks and no one to drink it.”

  As we reach the unpopulated back forty of the parking lot I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. We made it! Setting my stuff down on Melanie’s trunk, I lean back against her car, finally giving her my undivided attention.

  “Then I was scheduled to give a talk about the new blood pressure medication I’ve been telling you about to Dr. Fernandez’s staff. And wouldn’t ya know, when I stop by Panda Palace to pick up their lunch order, nothing was ready for me.”

  I can’t help but smirk at the wild hand gestures and dramatic faces she’s using to act out her story for me.

  “So I was of course late to Dr. Fernandez’s office, and you know how I hate to be late to a presentation.”

  “Yes, I know,” I say as she wilts against the car beside me. Lifting her head she looks around as if realizing where we are for the first time.

  “Why am I explaining this all here? Let’s go get some food.”

  “Can’t ... it’s Ben’s last night before heading back to work. I’m going to grab something for us on the way home.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll save it for tomorrow.”

  Appraising my face, Melanie suddenly launches herself from her casual position against the car while pointing her finger at me.

  “Tell me you haven’t forgotten what tomorrow is!”

  Wracking my brain, I try to remember as quickly as possible why on earth the next day is so significant.

  “Normally I would cut you some slack because I know you are a single-minded workaholic, but tomorrow is the most sacred of days, Gwen.”

  Watching her giggle, I know she’s enjoying herself way too much as she lays the guilt trip on nice and thick. Finally I throw up my hands.

  “I give up, what’s tomorrow?”

  Gently punching me in the shoulder, she opens her car door. As she leans against it a huge you’re-going-to–pay-for-it grin spreads across her face.

  “Only our annual summer shopping trip.”

  I smack myself in the forehead. “I can’t believe I totally forgot. Okay, but let me sleep in this year.”

  Winking at me, she climbs into her car, preparing to back out. I grab my pile of crap off of her trunk and move aside before she decides to run me over.

  “Mel, I’m serious—do not wake me before ten!”

  Acting like she can’t hear me through the closed window, she backs out of her parking space, leaving me standing there shaking my fist at her.

  “Crap.”

  After my oversight I know there isn’t a chance in hell she’s going to let me sleep in tomorrow.

  * * *

  Pulling into a parking space just outside of Hint of Sicily, I turn off the Mini’s engine and inhale deeply. The welcoming scent of garlic and freshly baked bread is thick in the air. I hop out of my car and follow my nose into the little Italian restaurant. It’s one of our favorite places. Located just a few blocks from our home, Ben and I will often walk here during the summer months and enjoy a meal under the veranda on the outdoor patio.

  Waltzing up to the hostess I patiently wait while she seats the couple who has just walked in ahead of me. Megan recognizes me immediately.

  “Gwen, how have you been? We haven’t seen you or Ben in ages.”

  “You may not have, but I know your folks have. I’m in here at least once a week.”

  Laughing, I lean down and give Megan a quick hug.

  “Are you here for your usual spinach tortellini and lasagna?” she asks.

  “Yes, please, and make it to-go. And add an extra loaf of cheesy bread please.”

  As she races off to the kitchen I pull out my phone and sit down to kill a few minutes checking messages and perusing my email. Not ten minutes later Megan is back with a large to-go bag. Fast service is just one of the many perks of being on a first name basis with the owners.

  “Hey, are you home for the summer?” I ask Megan while she’s printing out my receipt.

  “Yes, but I won’t be working here much I’m afraid.”

  “That’s too bad! What will you being doing?”

  “I have an internship at the hospital.”

  “That’s great!”

  “Yeah, it’s going to be a lot of work but I’m really looking forward to it.”

  Signing the receipt I grab the to-go bag from Megan and wish her luck on her internship.

  I drive like a bat out of hell and when I finally arrive home, I gratefully drop two armloads of crap from work along with my purse onto the counter. Looking at the large stack, I roll my eyes. Keys in hand I make a quick dash back out to my car to retrieve dinner. Upon reentering the house I hear ... music? Still clutching the to-go bag I head down the hallway in the direction of what is most definitely music. And it’s coming from the bathroom.

  Stealthily I enter the bedroom and crack the door to the bathroom just wide enough to peek inside. My eyes and ears are assaulted with the ultimate display of boy band gone wrong. I quickly thrust my hand over my mouth to keep from blowing my cover while inside Ben continues singing into my hairbrush and working his way throu
gh a complicated dance routine. Well, let’s just say the fact that he’s only wearing a towel complicates the routine.

  But hey, I think to myself, he’s on key and the towel definitely enhances the choreography.

  Despite my best efforts my laughter spills forth long before Ben notices me watching him in the mirror. At that point, he turns around to face me, and his dance moves become even more suggestive. He’s halfway through a truly obscene body roll when I hold up the to-go bag where he can see it.

  “Great, I’m starved. But I’ll be saving a little of this for later,” he says, winking at me as he completes his last twist. Handing him the bag I head into the closet to change into something comfortable, still smiling.

  It’s the work of two seconds to strip out of my top and jeans. After throwing them into the hamper, I start rummaging around in the dresser for my favorite sweats. This is one of those times where my single-minded focus is an undesirable quality. If I were one of those people who are more in touch with their senses and what’s going on around them, I might have noticed the 230-pound, slightly wet man before he tackled me. But no, thanks to the music and my lack of external awareness, I don’t notice him until I am flat on my back against the closet floor. My yelp of surprise and the giggles that follow are quickly lost as moist lips caress my neck while Ben’s strong hands reach around me to release the clasp of my bra. I sigh as he pulls the thing out from between us, balls it up, and throws it into the hamper.

  Distracted by his hot breath on my skin I barely hear him when he whispers, “See I’m not always a slob,” into my ear.

  * * *

  After donning a tank and sweats, I attempt to pick the remaining carpet fuzzies out of my hair. Listening to the sound of my stomach rumbling for the second time in the last five minutes, I give up. I’m hungry and my hair is a lost cause tonight. I grab a hair tie on my way out of the bathroom, and efficiently pull it up as I amble into the kitchen. As I breathe in the heavenly scent of garlic my stomach churns and gurgles again.

  “You need something to drink?” I holler at Ben, who has dinner set up outside on the back patio. Shaking his head at me he holds up a bottle of wine. Smiling, I reach for the hooded sweatshirt hanging off the back of a kitchen chair. While pulling it over my head, I step through the sliding glass door and onto the back patio. Reaching for my glass of wine, I sit down and sigh, totally relaxed. Between bites of lasagna, Ben hands me a heaping plate of spinach tortellini.

  Conversation is superficial and borderline nonexistent between us tonight. I just don’t want to sour the mood. I so don’t want to discuss work right now, and I’m always a tad grumpy the night Ben has to return to work. Opting for as little conversation as possible seems the safest course of action. Ben politely gives me my space, like always, knowing I’m moody on the best of days. So we eat and afterward I join him on his side of the table.

  Resting my head on his shoulder, we snuggle, quietly watching the sun slip lower and lower on the horizon.

  “So ... will you be stalking me at the bar this week?”

  Pulling away from him, I try my best to appear aloof.

  “Possibly.”

  Chuckling to himself, Ben stands, kisses me on the top of the head, and strides back into the house to finish getting ready for work.

  I pull my knees up to my chest and continue to sit outside, aimlessly swirling my wine glass. Five swirls to the left. Stop. Six swirls to the right. Stop. The mindless pattern is soothing.

  “Gwen!?”

  Absorbed in the acrobatics of the burgundy liquid I must not have heard Ben the first time he called. Just as I begin my pattern of six swirls to the right, the glass is snatched from my fingers.

  “Hey!” I exclaim, looking up in time to see Ben toss the last of my wine down his throat.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, were you going to finish that?” he replies sarcastically. “Apparently you were too busy doing nothing to hear me when I asked you politely if I could have a sip. I am leaving you with the bottle, ya know.”

  Never having been one to be the bigger person, I desperately want to wipe that smug look off his face.

  So I punch him in the leg.

  He doesn't even flinch, but it makes me feel instantly better.

  “I love you too, Gwen.”

  Staring up into those crystal blue eyes of his I fumble and fail to make a response. I lack the emotional depth or connection to return those three little words. Unwinding myself from the chair, I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his shirt, hoping my lame display of affection will make up for how completely tongue-tied I become when it comes to verbally expressing my feelings. In preschool terms, I’m the one who hits the boy she likes on the playground, not the one who writes him letters professing her undying love.

  Squatting down so we are closer to eye level, Ben kisses me softly on the mouth.

  “Sleep well, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Nodding, my eyes follow him as he steals another slice of cheesy bread for the road. Popping the thing in his mouth to free up his hands, he grabs the rest of his gear and strolls out the front door. A few seconds later I hear the metallic scrape of the dead bolt as it slides into place, locking out the world. There is something so final about the sound. Not prone to visceral reactions like some, who can sense cataclysmic events in their bones, I have no idea if my gut is trying to telling me something in this moment, but I just can’t shake the feeling that things are about to change.

  “Oh my God,” I blurt out loud.

  An idea suddenly clicks into place in my mind. Rushing to stand, I nearly knock a chair over in my haste. Stabilizing the thing, I hurry back into the house and down the hallway. Leaping over the pile of laundry cluttering the doorframe to my bedroom, I race into the bathroom. I fling open the medicine cabinet and scour the shelves. Not finding what I’m looking for I continue my search in the cabinets under the sink.

  Come on, I know I have one somewhere around here.

  Then I see it way in the back. Grabbing the box, I take a deep breath trying to calm myself down enough to read the directions. I should pee on the stick and wait. Okay, got it.

  Any idiot can do that.

  Setting the test to rest on the tank of the toilet when I’m finished, I turn around to wait the designated three minutes.

  If Melanie could only see me now, I chuckle.

  At my lingerie shower, instead of getting me something racy to wear on my honeymoon, Melanie had given me a stack of pregnancy tests. Not considering children at the time, I about died of embarrassment when I had unwrapped her gift. Who knew her present would turn out to be so practical.

  Taking one last deep breath I turn back around and look at the test cautiously: one pink line. Double-checking the answer key and the expiration date on the box, I breathe a sigh of relief. One crisis averted, but you can scratch gut feelings and feminine intuition off my list of attributes.

  Chapter 22

  Kade

  With a small brown paper bag tucked under my arm, I push my way through the front entrance of Preston-Ward. I stealthily tread across the lobby and duck into the stairwell, hoping to avoid attention. By taking the stairs two at a time, I swiftly climb to the second floor and ensconce myself in my office.

  I lock the door behind me and slant the blinds so they let in just enough light to see by while still blocking out unwanted eyes. I turn out the lights and take a seat behind my desk. Unfolding the take-out bag releases the glorious smell of beef and broccoli into the room. Sighing I relax into my seat and prepare to eat.

  Halfway through an eggroll I pop open a bottle of iced tea and savor a large gulp before returning to my meal. When my appetite is sated I send Z a text: Working late, something smells funny. I’ll keep you posted. Dropping the phone on my desk I run a hand through the black waves of my hair, and then attempt to rub the knot out of my left shoulder. All of my tension is carried in my neck and shoulders, which have developed permanent tight spots over the years—a mas
seuse’s worst nightmare, to be sure. The phone begins to vibrate silently on the desk top and I look down, reading Z’s reply: Ready if you need me.

  Good, I think to myself, I’ve no idea what I’m in for tonight or what I might find. Backup may come in handy.

  I glance at the clock on my desktop computer, which reads 5:05p.m., “Closing time,” I whisper aloud. Shoving the empty Chinese food containers into the trash I tidy up and sit back in my chair to wait. The buildings usually clear of the daytime inhabitants by 6:30p.m., but I’ll need to hide out until after 10p.m. at the earliest. The last of the workaholics will be long gone by then and the custodians will be well into their cleansing rituals. The personal staff offices are cleaned by the dayshift so not a soul will be on my floor until morning, making it the ideal place to stow away.

  Tapping my fingers on the desktop, already bored, I remind myself waiting is the best plan, given my list of alternatives. By choosing to wait in my office, I minimize the amount of magic needed to accomplish my goal. I also avoid having to erase anyone’s memory. Honestly, if I get caught I still may have to do that, but the chances of me running into anyone are a whole lot slimmer.

  The next five hours are a blur of strategizing where to begin my investigation, trying to nap, and playing solitaire on my computer. Too many pieces of the puzzle are missing. At least one other person knows about the Sylph’s existence: the master. As to whom that could be, I haven’t the faintest clue at this point. Where the Sylph and his sphere could be hiding is another good question. How Gwen and her team obtained fragments of his essence for experimentation is the dilemma that frightens me most. It opens the door to a world of dangers none of us have ever foreseen. Rubbing my eyes I lay my head down on the desk again and try not to dwell on the “what ifs.”

  By the time 10p.m. rolls around, I’m grouchy and stiff from sitting too long. Stretching up to my full height I shake out my legs and roll my neck, pausing to knead the knot in my left shoulder again. Feeling a bit more limber I channel a little power and cast a cloud of concealment around my body. It’s not a literal cloud per se, but it will conceal my presence from those around me, including cameras.