Tess chatted about the weather and her morning workout while she looked down at her phone, scrolling through email, or maybe Twitter. After a detailed description of the asshole at the gym, using the treadmill next to the one she was running on — his belief that it was okay to conduct a conference call in the gym because he wasn’t talking, so he couldn’t annoy. Sure enough, he didn’t talk, but every forty seconds — she tracked it on the timer on her treadmill — he said, uh huh.
“It started to sound like the drumbeat for keeping his pace. Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh HUH! I wanted to shoot him.”
I studied her face, waiting for more. People are so casual with that statement. It never seems to make them feel guilty and they fail to recognize how extreme it is. Quite a lot of people say it. Even about their lovers, I could have shot him. I wanted to shoot her. Shoot me now. If they paused for even half a minute and pictured themselves pulling out a handgun, aiming it at someone who cut in line or took their parking space, pulling the trigger and watching a man or woman stagger and fall, blood spreading across the ground, would they still say — I wanted to shoot him? It’s a serious threat. Sure there are hotheads who do pull guns in those situations, and it’s a horrific tragedy, talked about in shocked, shrill voices on the news. Tweeted — #isthiswhatwehavebecome. People should be more cautious about mentioning a desire to shoot someone.
Tess put her phone in her jacket pocket. Using just her thumb and two fingers, she tugged gently on the lapels of her jacket, adjusting the fit. It didn’t need adjusting. It fit as if it had been sewn onto her body.
When she was settled, I mimicked the gesture, tugging gently on my perfectly fitted jacket.
She leaned back as much as the minimalist red chair would allow. “I don’t think I told you, a guy was in here looking for you the other day.”
“What other day? What guy?” I sat up straighter. I smiled, relaxed my shoulders, softening the hard edges of my words with a look of mild disinterest, modifying the demanding, irritated tone that had echoed around them.
“Tuesday. Last week.”
The day Jared had hunted me down in the parking lot. I felt my shoulders relax without effort.
“In the building?” I said.
“Yes. I don’t know who let him in. I was so relieved when I found out he knew you. But people are just stupid the way they allow anyone to follow them in the door. Why do they think we have a receptionist? And key cards? And security patrols in the parking lot? They just don’t think. It’s so easy for a con man to talk his way inside with a lame story and a charming smile.”
I nodded. It was very easy. Self-effacing smiles and talking about how stupid you are can take you a lot of places in this world. “I didn’t see him,” I said.
“I told him he couldn’t wander around unescorted. He was on your hallway and I asked if he wanted me to show him to your office. He blushed. It was kind of cute.”
And that’s how he got in. Did she realize it could just as easily have been her, letting someone in without thinking of potential danger, thrown off her instinct by a luscious smile and blood-infused skin?
“I think he was embarrassed to be bothering you at work. He said he’d see you later. I took him back to the lobby. Very good looking guy.”
“Jared.”
“Suddenly it’s all clear.” She smiled and twisted her left earring. She let her hand fall back into her lap. “Anyway…”
“I’m glad you mentioned it. He didn’t say anything to me,” I said.
“He was embarrassed.”
“Maybe.”
“It was really very cute.”
“Okay. I get it. You sound like a teenage girl.”
“There’s nothing wrong with noticing a cute guy. And that blush.”
I wanted to shoot her.
She took out her phone and held her thumb on the button to unlock the screen. She scrolled through her messages. It seemed as if she was waiting for something, but I couldn’t figure out what. Maybe she wanted the scoop on my sex life. “Did you decide to book that wilderness vacation?”
“Still thinking about it.”
“What’s to think about? It defeats the purpose if you debate it forever. The whole point is to take a risk. Weeks of analysis isn’t risk.”
She nodded.
“Any more fallout from that awkward customer encounter?” I said.
She shrugged. “If there is, it’s not taking place where I can hear it, obviously.”
“Taking extended time off might clear it from everyone’s memory.”
“Or cause it to grow out of control,” she said. She smiled, rather coyly, I thought. “So why was he looking for you?”
“How should I know.”
“I think he’s really into you.”
“What’s the problem? You can’t make up your mind about taking a challenging vacation, you can’t get the upper hand with Steve, so you’re living vicariously through my sex life? Is that your fetish?” It was a terrible thing to say to a boss. Any career advisor or mentor would have said I was crazy, shooting myself in the foot with a question like that. But I had a sense of Tess. Part of the reason she liked me was because I was similar to her in some ways, and I scared her in others. She wasn’t going to get offended.
She laughed. “Maybe I am. Give me more details.”
“There’s nothing to give.”
“He has it bad for you. Don’t be cruel to him.”
“I’m not.”
“He seems like a sweet guy.”
“He is.” Sweetness was becoming a theme.
“What’s the problem?”
“You know nothing about him. Just that he’s good looking.”
“Well, that blush…”
“Stop it with the blushing.”
“You don’t think it’s charming?”
A tweet formed in my mind — One person’s charming is another person’s smothering. It needed work. The sentiment was there but it was a little wordy, or maybe too pedestrian.
Knowing Jared had entered the building when I’d told him to leave moved him awfully close to the line of stalking. It’s hard to say where that line is. Often, the line isn’t visible until it’s crossed. Of course Jared wanted more. There’s nothing like withholding something to make a person crave it, even if previously, they didn’t. They become obsessed. The wanting takes over their minds like a drug, directing the flow of blood and nerve impulses. We want what we can’t have. Some of us are better than others at figuring out how to get it. But even when you have everything you thought you wanted, there’s more. Always more.
Tess was a perfect example. She had a single-minded focus on getting to the top, and she was as close as most people get. And young, so the pinnacle was definitely still within reach. But now, she was talking about a husband and babies and a growing sense of boredom and feeling old. Gushing over Jared’s blushing cheeks. We weren’t close friends sharing our woes, she was my boss. I needed her to get back on her game. I hadn’t heard another word about the pay increase. Things were going off course. I needed her to feel I was indispensable to her career and her sense of herself, her position at the company. I was, and she recognized that fact, but she needed to feel it more intensely. She needed to fear losing me. She was acting as if I needed her help with Jared. I did not need help at all. “It’s disturbing that he followed me into the building,” I said.
“He likes you. A lot.”
“It doesn’t mean he should sneak into a secure building.”
“He didn’t sneak in, lighten up.”
I looked at her, waiting for her to hear how that sounded. The Security department would be thrilled to know a senior vice president was so cavalier about an unauthorized visitor wandering the halls, going wherever he pleased because he was good looking and he blushed. “I’ll ask him tonight what that was all about.”
“And then tell me.”
I needed her to talk about my raise, but I didn’t want to ask. With another five hundred bucks a month, plus en
ough to cover the government tax on my existence, I could start planning to be out of the bungalow on South Bluff Drive and into something less precarious. Every time I saw Noreen’s sad mouth and teary eyes watching me, I was less sure of the place I’d chosen. That’s what happens when you rush into a decision. That’s what happens when funds are limited. The choices shrink with them. People like to spout the idea that money can’t buy happiness, but it can get you damn close. Besides, it all depends on what makes you happy. In my case, I’m very content with spacious rooms, comfortable, stylish furniture, good food, good wine and vodka, great sex, a quiet place to run… “Anything you need from me today?” I said.
She shook her head.
“I assume you saw my charts on how we only have fifty-seven red deliverables for this launch. Last time, before I was working here, there were eighty-four at this point in the schedule.”
She nodded.
“I think at the next milestone, I can get that below fifty.”
“You are amazing.” Her smile looked vacant. She tugged on her jacket and felt the pocket as if she needed to assure herself her phone was still there.
“What’s amazing is the power of a well-functioning spreadsheet. It’s like all the cells are tiny little whips.”
She laughed, but still looked like she wasn’t completely engaged. She stood up. “I was going to check into getting you an out-of-cycle increase.”
I smiled and ran my fingers through my bangs.
“I haven’t done that yet. I will. As soon as I work out a few other things.” She turned toward the door, then turned back. “I still think I’ve seen you somewhere before. The feeling won’t go away. Can you think of where we might have crossed paths?”
“No.” I held her gaze until she looked away.
“It’s your eyebrows. I don’t always see them because of your bangs. They’re very distinctive. Perfectly shaped. Women would kill for those eyebrows.”
“I doubt that.” Damn her. She shouldn’t be worrying about running across my face once upon a time. What did it matter? And she should not be promising money if she wasn’t sure she had the political skill to get it. I needed something to change before I was tempted to sneak into Noreen’s room at night and shoot her. Obviously that would solve nothing. Then it would be just Jared and me. Too cozy.
27
It was two-fourteen a.m. Jared stared at the ceiling, even though he couldn’t actually see it in the darkness. The skin of his face was warm and pulpy. He’d been flat on his back, the blankets pulled up to his ribs, the pillow curled under his neck, since eleven and still his face was hot with shame.
Why had he followed her into the building? For days, the memory had tormented him. If Alexandra found out, and surely she would — the woman who’d showed him around would mention it — she’d think he was stalking her. It was just so difficult to figure out what was going on with her. He’d never met a woman like Alexandra. She’d come into his room and taken off her clothes without an invitation or any preliminary conversation. Then, she’d touched him in a way that made him feel they were connected beyond their bodies, that she knew something about him he was only dimly aware of himself. She’d slid out of bed and disappeared without lingering even for a kiss.
She refused his invitations to go out and didn’t want to discuss any kind of relationship. What kind of woman didn’t want a relationship? It was like she was an alien. Weren’t women the social sex? Women were the ones who wanted to put down roots and nest and form communities and support groups. They were the ones who wanted to talk. Maybe she was playing some kind of game.
Most of the time now, she remained in her room. During the first few weeks they’d lived in the bungalow, she’d come into the living room several evenings a week for wine or a martini. The three of them had eaten dinner together. It was understandable why she no longer wanted to do that — like him, she was steering a wide path around Noreen. But why wouldn’t she talk to him? She’d seemed a little angry when he showed up at work, but he’d thought she refused to talk at the house because Noreen might overhear. Meeting her outside of her office had seemed to make sense. It had been well before the start of the workday. The tiny garden was designed for casual conversation, why had she been so cold?
He closed his eyes to stop them from straining to see through the darkness. His back ached and his muscles longed to reposition themselves, urging him to turn on his side, but he wanted to keep the pressure on his body. He would subdue it. He would use his body as a meditation practice, since clearly he was failing to subdue his mind.
When he sat to meditate, he couldn’t begin to silence or even slow the flashing speed of his thoughts. Even the effort to objectively observe his thoughts as they raced by was a complete failure. They flickered so rapidly, he forgot he was supposed to be witnessing and allowing them to just be. His stomach clenched and a cramp ran along the bottom of his foot. He had to get off the cushion and stand on one foot to ease it back into its relaxed state.
His eyes opened of their own accord, straining again. He took a deep breath of cool air. He’d managed to force the window open wider and kept it that way whenever he was in his room, no matter how stiff the wind, hoping to wipe out the lingering smell of the rat. Or did he imagine the smell? A blast of night air was the only way to keep it from crawling back up his nostrils. Once, he’d left the window open during the day, resulting in a strongly worded lecture from Noreen that he’d jeopardized the safety of his roommates. According to her, it was a crime-riddled neighborhood and everything had to be secured at all times. She really didn’t even like him keeping the window open when he was sleeping, but he’d mentioned the rat and she backed down.
He hadn’t found the nerve to ask whether the rat was her doing. If it wasn’t, he’d appear demented. Besides, after her lie regarding the damaged bathroom mirror, he knew she was fully capable of telling all kinds of plausible-sounding stories without a single tremor of her lip to indicate she was fabricating a wild tale, reeling it out of her brain as she talked.
There was a soft tap on his door. He groaned, too loud. He faked a snoring sound.
A moment later, he heard a rustling near the door. He sat up. If he turned on the light, she’d know he was awake. He opened the flashlight app and shone it several feet from the door. A slip of white paper lay on the floor. He carefully moved off the bed and walked soundlessly to the door. He picked up the note and returned to the nightstand. He directed the light to the note.
It’s me. —A.
It would have been so much simpler if she’d sent a text message. For a woman who worked at a technology company, Alexandra was strangely averse to using a smart phone. She’d refused to give him her number. Surely her job required instant communication, but he’d only seen a phone in her hand once. It must have been a company phone. When he’d worked for technology companies he was issued a phone that allowed a certain amount of personal use. Maybe it was a beach community thing. He was used to the buzzing, constantly connected, always communicating world on the other side of the foothills. Life was quieter over here. People were more prone to distancing themselves from digital addiction.
He unlocked the door and opened it slowly. Alexandra slipped into the room and he closed the door. She put her arms around his neck and began kissing him. He slid his mouth off of hers. “Wait.” His voice was hoarse. His body shouted at him — wait? Wait?! What the hell is your problem?
“I need to know what’s going on with us,” he said. “What does this mean?”
Even as he spoke, he realized one thing it meant was she didn’t think he was a fool for smiling his way into her workplace, wandering the halls, sneaking up on her. He’d seen her sitting behind her desk, the chair turned as she gazed out the window. He’d longed to know what she was looking at, what she was thinking about at that moment. Then a guy had passed by and given Jared a puzzled look. Jared hurried after the woman who’d shown him Alexandra’s office and let her lead him out of the building
.
“I want you,” she said. “That’s what it means.”
“But how? Are we…”
She slid her hands under the waist of his boxers and pulled them down until the elastic reached the middle of his thighs. They fell the rest of the way on their own. With her mouth on his lower lip, she wriggled out of her white leggings. She nudged him toward the bed, letting go of his lip.
He stumbled with the boxers around his ankles. “Alexandra. Wait.”
“No. It’s already late.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“You know you want me.”
Of course he wanted her, but not…
She pulled off her t-shirt and knelt at his feet. She lifted first one foot then the other out of the trap of his boxers. She stood up, took his wrist, and pulled him toward the bed.
Tomorrow, he’d be more confused than ever, but it was crazy to keep resisting. She might leave. He’d worry about it tomorrow. They fell onto the bed.
When he woke, the room was still pitch dark. A light rain tapped the tree outside his window, brushing against the glass like her fingertips on his door. He didn’t have to feel around the bed to know she wasn’t there. He turned on his side and pulled the blankets over him. He didn’t want to know what time it was. The idea of lying on his back, forcing his body to submit to quiet breathing, making it wait for its demands to be met was laughable now. He felt like crying, something he hadn’t done since he was a little kid.
She held his mind like a ball of dough in her hands. He wanted her so badly. Was this some kind of trick, withholding herself to drive his craving to a fever pitch, so their relationship would start out on an unequal footing? Or…? He didn’t even know what the other possibilities might be.
A darker thought appeared.
Women schemed together all the time. Why hadn’t that crossed his mind? The same night Noreen knocked on his door, Alexandra had come in an hour later. Was he a toy in some game of theirs? Alexandra had seemed annoyed when he suggested the two women would be good for his spiritual practice. Maybe they’d devised some form of payback. Maybe Noreen didn’t want him at all, or maybe they had concocted some convoluted plan in which they imagined Alexandra could steer him in Noreen’s direction. It made no sense. He sat up. There wouldn’t be any more sleep. It would be a long day filled with aching, twisted thoughts trying to figure out what they might be up to. Maybe nothing at all. Maybe his focus on crawling through the dark crevices of his mind, spending hours sitting on a tiny cushion with his eyes closed, had stirred up paranoia.
The Woman In the Mirror: (A Psychological Suspense Novel) (Alexandra Mallory Book 1) Page 15