Maybe I ate something bad at Jason’s and need to lie down.
Mark wraps his coat tighter around his wide middle, giving an appreciative smile as I warm my hands in my pockets. “Well it’s wonderful to meet you, Aaron. I’m from out of town, so this looked like a horrible situation until you pulled into your driveway. I was beginning to worry I’d freeze to death.”
“Glad to help.” I neglect to meet Mark’s eyes any longer, instead I stare down the dark street. I don’t know how, but I can tell I shouldn’t maintain eye contact anymore.
While he dials roadside and speaks, I think about his stained teeth near the mouthpiece of my phone. I imagine the little germs carried by rank breath finding their way into every crevice, just waiting for the opportunity to strike the next time I make a call. I can almost see myself heaving over a toilet, spilling my guts because of this dirty man’s bacteria-infested orifice. My stomach begins to churn in an unsavory way as my eyes search the night for something else to think about.
Before I can wipe the disgusting thought from my mind, Mark turns back to me. I see his mouth moving, but I only hear silence. I know he’s speaking to me, I can see it, I just can’t seem to sharpen my senses enough to take in what’s being said. He puts my phone into my hand, which I hadn’t realized was open, and I fight the urge to shudder or gag at the gifts from this stranger now crawling over my skin.
Suddenly with a sharp metallic POP I can hear Mark’s words once more. Not only am I able to hear, but also the strange sensation that was raging through me subsides with the return of sound; the anger I didn’t exactly realize was mounting begins to fizzle out.
Not sure when I got mad, or what about, I’m just glad it’s retreating. I don’t need another road-rage-type incident with this guy.
“Thanks again, Aaron. Here’s my card. If I can ever repay the favor please call me. Anytime.”
Though I have my auditory functioning back I don’t seem to have use of my mouth. First I went deaf, and now my motor skills are frozen. I’m falling apart. Instead of responding verbally I simply nod my head in agreement. I take his business card, again noticing how rough the surface of his skin is compared to mine.
“Well I’d better start walking back to my car so I don’t miss the tow truck. Have a good night, and don’t forget to call so I can return the favor.” His smile seems genuine, but I notice a glint of something menacing in his eyes I hadn’t noticed before.
“Will do. Get home safely.” With that I turn to make my way inside.
What a weird encounter. From the outside I can’t imagine anything looked amiss, but there was definitely something off. At least something in me was off.
And let’s not forget I was having a grand old time with myself when he walked up. That just started the whole thing with a real exciting bang.
As I step up to unlock my front door, a violent urge crashes through me like a heavy wave, and I can’t fight it before acting. I whip the tainted cell phone from my hand toward the unforgiving concrete. My blood pressure spikes. I see red, literally, which I didn’t know was actually possible. I’d always thought it was just a saying. My breathing picks up speed, making me feel dizzy. But then everything subsides as I look down at the pieces lying next to my feet. Instead of feeling scared or confused I, oddly, feel accomplished. Stepping over the threshold into my entryway, I don’t regret my sudden action.
I’ll need to buy a new phone though.
****
I see elongated faces with widening black spots growing like sores. Pointed gray teeth come at me, and before any get close enough to touch me I can tell each is sharp like a razor. Jagged fingernails scrape against my back, but I’m unable to turn around. I can feel the thick warm blood begin to trickle down my shirt.
I can’t get away.
I can’t run. My legs won’t work. I try to scream, and nothing comes out but air. I can move my limbs and I can hear myself whimpering in protest to my attackers, so why can’t I run?
Suddenly the horrible teeth meet my waiting flesh, and finally a piercing sound, with force behind it, escapes my lungs. I yell, thrashing, but I still can’t move fast enough to separate myself from those inflicting the pain.
Then I hear sizzling.
This can’t be good.
I know this to be an irrefutable fact seconds before I smell my skin melting against white hot metal. Now instead of screams all that escapes past my lips are hysterical sobs.
“Please stop. Please. No more. Please.” I beg over and over, between cries, until I’ve become hoarse.
Why me? What have I done to deserve such torture? I let out one last plea while tears splash down my cheeks accompanied by hiccups.
When will this end?
****
In panic I awake from a nightmare I can’t quite piece together. Another nightmare. Usually when I have a nightmare, especially one that forces me back to consciousness, I can’t fall back asleep despite all efforts. I pace, or I lie staring at the ceiling for hours. As tonight’s departure from dreamland was so abrupt, I anticipate needing a great deal of caffeine tomorrow. But not even coffee can replace lost hours of needed restoration. Yet this time, though I can’t remember what I dreamt about, I feel myself fall back to sleep with minimal effort. No sheep or warmed milk required. I smile thinking maybe something has changed, and I’ll rest deeper the rest of the night, or maybe it wasn’t a nightmare.
****
“Hey, good morning. How was your evening?”
Fucking bitch, why does she feel the need to make small talk in the elevator? Does she not sense my boiling, acidic hatred for her? Is she that stupid?
Yep she probably is. Why are the hot ones always so bitchy or stupid? Or in Eva’s case, both.
Her incessant chatter and unpleasant voice are grating on my nerves more than normal, but I remind myself Eva’s my boss. She’s my boss. She is my boss. She is my boss. “Great, thanks for asking. You look lovely today. Did you sleep well?”
“Oh you charmer!” As a near squeal of delight escapes Eva’s throat, I know flattery will serve me well with her. Why I haven’t attempted more of this earlier, I have no idea.
I need to remember flattery.
As the elevator doors creak open on our floor, I look into her eyes and wink with just the ghost of a smile on my lips.
“Good work on those reports, Aid.”
It’s fucking Aidan. Not Aid. Can’t you ever get my name right? I’m not your friend. I’m your subordinate. Your subordinate who should actually be your boss. But, I’m not your boss because I didn’t suck old and flabby dick to stab you in the back. Lucky me you’re resourceful if you’re not smart. You should be watching your back too seeing as Aid is also your enemy.
I nod and smile as she flips her hair, batting her eyelashes. Some women are so damn easy to manipulate. Turning toward my office I’m happier knowing today I’ll be on her good side even if she’ll never be on mine.
I wonder how I could stay on her good side without driving myself insane. Not sure that’s actually possible. Can I compliment and charm her all of the time without making myself sick? Or is there some other way?
I let that question fester in the recesses of my mind while I sit down and get to work for the day.
I’ve always been proud of my capability to compartmentalize. I can do my work while thinking of other things. Still I never screw up. Numbers have always come so easily to me, which is why I chose this path, even graduating early. There’s always one true answer when it comes to numbers. There’s no guessing, no opinions, no argument. Either your answer is right or it’s wrong. You may have an extremely complicated equation, leading you to come up with an incorrect answer, but there’s always a way to tell you’re wrong. It’s nothing like English, Psychology, or Philosophy where you can argue your way into believability with any point. Nothing’s wrong, so the reverse can be true and nothing’s right either.
No, I like numbers. They’re easier.
With t
his being the case, I’ve always been able to have the math part of my brain working simultaneously while I use another compartment to work on something else. It’s a pretty sweet-ass ability. Who doesn’t love multitasking? So many people complain there’s too much to do in too little time.
I don’t have that problem.
Today as I go through various financial reports and spreadsheets, I think about my behavior last night. I need a new phone, but the oddest part is I feel no anger at myself for reacting so unexpectedly. I search deeper, expecting to find shame, embarrassment, or some form of discomfort regarding my reaction. But there’s nothing to find, nothing except a dull acceptance of what happened. The rushing spike in my system that led to the destruction of my cell, though unpredicted, was exhilarating. I acted without thinking. I did what I wanted to do before I even knew I wanted to do it.
Maybe I should practice letting my instincts take over more. Though, I’ve no idea how to go about that.
On the other hand, something that does bother me was my reaction to the man’s hands. Why did I care, in the least, about them? What exactly upset me? Even though I spend a great deal of reflection on these questions I don’t come up with any answer. Maybe I just felt weak in comparison to someone who’s tough, someone who works with his hands instead of in a comfortable office?
Maybe.
And what was that vibrating, that tingling, that numbing feeling? It spread through my system like a predator slinking through tall grass, toward juicy prey. What the fuck was that a reaction to? I’ve never felt anything like it before in my thirty something years. I don’t know if it was his toughness, or his dirty teeth. Or it could’ve been something changing in my body. Did Amelia poison something I ate? Possibly.
Or maybe I have a tumor.
Of course, I wasn’t’ fucking poisoned. And I doubt I have a tumor.
But maybe it was all some sort of lingering reaction to my peep show from Amelia. Maybe the adrenaline, and whatever other hormones, were still floating in excess around my body to combine for an unpleasant, ill-timed effect. Almost getting caught stroking the snake could have spiked my blood pressure too. Maybe, when I was startled, everything together just added up to a nasty shock.
That’s it. For sure. A shocked system is to blame for my unpredictable behavior and thoughts. Nothing more.
Don’t get paranoid. Weird things happen for no reason. Though, someone once told me just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t out to get you.
****
Around lunch time my kindness to Eva backfires. When I see her walking down the hall toward my office with a devilish smirk on her pouty, pink lips I have the urge to run. Or puke. Or both.
How I’d love to dig my teeth into those plump lips, drawing a metallic taste where the sharpest points meet.
“Knock, knock.” Why do some people say “knock” while they’re knocking? Redundant. Her smile is playful, and I’m annoyed.
She pauses to laugh, flashing her overly bleached teeth. “May I come in?”
I’d wholeheartedly love to say no. “Of course you may,” I say, faking a smile and nearly choke on the sour-tasting words scraping my throat on the way out.
Strangely, Eva closes my door behind her as she walks in past the frame. Hmmm, that’s odd. I doubt I’ll like what comes next.
“Please, sit. What can I do for you this afternoon?”
She’s already moving to sit before I start my gesture toward the plush leather chair across from my desk. Guess she didn’t need the invitation. I hate myself for it, but I notice how her skintight skirt rides up above her knees as she sits. Eva flashes soft skin as if it better establishes her position of dominance in the office. And who the fuck knows, maybe it does. She doesn’t cross her legs, simply holds them together at the knee with her feet tipped to one side of her frame. No matter how much I hate her, I’d love to look between those knees.
Shit.
Focus, Aidan.
She still hasn’t started speaking, let alone stated her purpose for this drop-in. I’m getting impatient. Then her lips part and she leans just a fraction forward, dipping the hem of her collar a millimeter lower. I’d give even more to see under that shirt.
Good job focusing, Idiot.
“I was wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch today. I have a few ideas for our department I’d like to run by you.”
Huh? What? Why me?
“I’d love to.” I give my best seductive smile. It works. Eva’s cheeks turn a shade warmer in appreciation. She’s too easy.
“Good. Don’t tell anyone else what we talk about today. I’m letting you into this first. I want your opinions before I solidify everything. I trust you, Aidan. I want you to know that.”
Seriously? She honestly trusts me? That’s both shocking and a terrible idea.
“I’m so glad to know that. You definitely can. Everything stays between us.” Yeah fucking right. Fat chance. I’ll stab you in the back the first chance I get, and I won’t hesitate to twist the knife after it’s deep between bones.
Eva smiles once more before standing, running her hands down her outfit. I can’t tell if she’s intentionally accentuating her curves or if this gesture has become a habit born from nervousness. Either way, when her fingers graze the sides of her ample breasts my mouth waters just a tad.
“Meet me downstairs in the lobby in an hour.” She states. She doesn’t ask. Although I’m glad to be on the inside, that way I can better watch her moves, her demanding instead of requesting rubs me the wrong way. My natural inclination is to do the exact opposite of what she orders me to do.
But I’ll never let her know that. I keep in mind: keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.
Perfect.
That’s just what I’ll do.
****
I ponder what Eva has to tell me for the next hour, getting little work done. That doesn’t matter, though, because I finished everything this morning. Ahead of schedule, per usual.
What could she have planned for our department? Is she going to stir the pot? The big bosses don’t often like boat-rockers. Maybe she’s unknowingly planning her own demise. God, that’d be wonderful. If she could kill her own career without my hands getting dirty I’d get the best of both worlds.
I stop to nod to Jason as I leave for my lobby rendezvous, giving him a mischievous grin.
“Where’re you going?”
“Boss lady requested my presence at lunch.” I stifle another smirk when Jason scoffs.
“Just you?” I wiggle my eyebrows to add to his, what I assume to be, incorrect assumption. I hope he’s wrong.
I whisper, “Maybe she’ll be walking funny by this afternoon. Keep an eye out.” With Jason’s shocked face behind me, I turn to head for the lobby.
Eva’s ready when the jerky doors slowly open on the first floor to let me out of the death trap. Her tight nude wool coat is cinched at her waist, accentuating her hourglass figure, and my resolve to continue hating her is not helped as she bends at that waist to sip from the water fountain, pointing her round ass toward me.
Holy fuck.
With more effort than it should take, I shift my line of sight toward the glass front doors before she straightens. She doesn’t need to know the effect she has on the flow and location of my blood. The more she has to vie for my attention the better.
Outside, the world is significantly different than the warm, clean lobby. The snow beyond the glass is gently falling on every surface it can reach. The sky is bleak, gray. Everything seems to have a dingy gloom stuck to it, clinging and taking over. Sounds are muted by the growing covering of flakes with mush coloring. Looking out there makes everything seem harder to accomplish than it does from indoors. I remember again why I put my back to the window in my office. Days like this make me want to crawl into bed.
“Damn snow.” Eva slips her slender fingers through the crook of my arm after startling me. She giggles with what I think is supposed
to be a flirtatious, youthful sound at my flinch. But the attempt just sounds pathetic, even desperate, to me, aging her.
At least she’s always reminding me why I hate her. She never lets me go long enough to second-guess that.
“Yeah, it always starts too early, doesn’t it?”
“And lasts too long,” she adds with a nod.
“Well, shall we venture out into it?” Without waiting for a response, I lead her outside to the frigid air and slick sidewalk.
Eva leaves her arm in mine, using it to steady herself on the slippery surface beneath our feet. Her footwear, though it wonderfully accentuates her bottom half, isn’t made for questionable terrain. I don’t envy women’s fashion. Yes it looks great, but most of the time it just can’t be comfortable.
We head for the restaurant without discussing where we plan to go. There’s only one place either of us considers. Delta’s Grill is two blocks away, making it the most convenient location, especially since Eva’s bare legs sprout goose bumps seconds after leaving the warmth behind. Plus Delta’s also has somewhat secluded booths, which seem beneficial for today’s discreet agenda.
“Thanks for consulting with me today. Your assistance won’t be forgotten.” Eva’s features border on boastful, as if she’s already moving up the ranks as we walk.
Not if I have anything to do about it, bitch.
“Absolutely. As the department progresses, so does everyone included in it. I may be helpful, but I’m certainly not selfless,” I say. Especially if you knew why I’m willing to “help” you.
“Well put. Very well put.” Eva laughs as I open the doors ahead.
We’re shown to a booth toward the rear corner that’s partially shielded by a wall of charcoal satin. I make sure to let Eva pick her seat first then sit across from her. I’m ready, sure this lunch will become interesting soon.
Our waitress makes an appearance quickly, ready for a generous tip. Her skin is almost orange with an obviously manufactured tan, and her hair frizzes outward in different angles, but her eyes are kind and her smile possesses genuine happiness.
Nothing but Darkness Page 4