The Assistant's Secret

by Emerald O'Brien

  I nod. “And what it could do for my family.”

  She takes a deep breath and gets out of the car, rounding the back to my side, and waves for me to get out as a man a little younger than us walks across the lot in his uniform. Billy stops a few feet away and folds his arms over his chest.

  “Why are you here, Katie?” he asks in a high-pitched voice.

  “I want you to meet my friend. She works with me.”

  He scowls at her. “Why are you here?”

  “Because she’s thinking about getting out, and I’m bound by contract, but you’re not anymore. Tell her what they did to you.”

  “I can’t believe you’d bring a stranger here.” He searches the dark lot around us and stares at me. “Why do you wanna leave?”

  “Things have happened recently…” I don’t know what else to say.

  “She just needs to know what she’s getting herself into if she stays.” I can feel her eyes on my but I can’t stop staring at this guy. The dark circles under his eyes and his greasy hair beneath the visor hat he wears higher on his forehead. “She’s a good person. She needs to get out before—”

  “Before they do to her what they did to me? Uh huh.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns to me. “Well, I used to work with Katie, and I trust her with my life because we saw the same things together, and she helped me get through some things until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “Did you quit?” I ask in a meek voice.

  “Oh, I tried.” He shakes his head at Katie. “Sometimes I think I should have listened to you and stayed instead of putting in that complaint.”

  Katie lets out a shaky sigh. “Tell her what happened.”

  “I gave my two weeks’ notice, and because I’d made some complaints about the situations we were dealing with, they gave me this exit interview, which was really a way to bully me back into working there, but it didn’t work, so they threatened me. If I left, they’d discredit me, and no one would believe what I said anymore. They knew I smoked pot, and the next day, they planted bags of it in my car, and I got pulled over on the highway.”

  I look at Katie, and she stares at me with a blank expression.

  “You don’t believe me? Look up William Peterson. My name’s all over the place for a robbery I never did and possession with intent to distribute. All made up.”

  Katie looks at me with a straight face and folds her arms over her chest, kicking a stone in front of her toward the dumpster. “He got five years in prison.”

  “And the worst thing was, they were right. No one believed me.” He throws his hands up. “And now, this is my life. This will always be my life. Criminal record, probation, and some of my own family members still don’t believe I’m innocent.”

  “Are you sure it was them?”

  He cranes his neck back. “If you truly believe it could have been someone else, you might actually still have a shot at getting out unscathed.” He turns around and walks back across the lot, calling out, “Don’t ever bring anyone to see me again!”

  Katie rounds the car and gets back in. My body shakes as I climb into the driver’s seat. I don’t even think I can drive right now.

  “He’s telling the truth.”

  And if it’s true, it’s confirmed my worst fears.

  “They’re firing you, and you’ll go free. Let them.”

  Maybe I should… “But there’s nowhere I’d get better pay straight away. Especially not after my raise, and I need the money.” My cheeks grow hot, and I lean toward my open window. All the calls from the debt collectors seem more menacing than they did last week, and imagining an eviction notice hanging from our apartment door makes me sick. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I risked a lot bringing you out here to see Billy, and it sounds like it was for nothing.”

  “No, Katie.” I turn to her. “I appreciate what you did. I’m so glad you believe me. That you don’t think I’m overreacting.”

  “It sounds like your mind’s made up to stay,” she says, her tone defeated. “Maybe your next client won’t be like this one. Maybe none of the others will be.” She doesn’t believe that. Her dejected expression confirms it. “We have to do what we have to do to get by, Jo. Just be careful and watch out for yourself.”

  The rest of the drive back to her place is silent. I can’t think straight, and I can’t trust what Billy said, but I don’t know why he’d lie.

  I don’t know why I’m trying to justify working for these people who are sounding more like monsters, but with everything she knows, Katie stays too.

  “Do you feel trapped?” I ask.

  “In a sense. I’ve been good, though, and I think they’ll let me leave when it’s time, and they’d be right to, because I won’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Does John know what you do? What you see?”

  “No. I’ve never talked about it with anyone except the co-workers who see the same things I do.”

  But she tried to warn me. She stuck her neck out for me.

  I reach out and grab her arm, squeeze it, and give a faint smile. “Thank you for being here for me. I appreciate everything you’ve done, and you’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “I’m going to let them fire me. I need this job—or a job—but knowing what I’ve seen first-hand, I can’t find a good enough excuse to go along with any of it, never mind the things I don’t have proof of.”

  She lets out a huff of air, leans over the console, and wraps her arms around me. “That’s great.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t call getting fired great.” I give her a quick squeeze and relax in her arms.

  I’ll need to get another job straight away. And maybe Maggie can too. Something easy for her. Low stress. Just enough so we can make ends meet for a while, until I can make the kind of salary I had before the raise.

  “Drive safe,” she whispers, pulling away and opening her door. “And if you need to talk to me again, in person, okay?” I nod. “Be safe, Jo.”

  As she leaves, jogging up to her building, I feel my only lifeline fade away as I pull away from the curb and head home.

  Katie’s the only one who has an idea of what I’ve been through. The only one I speak to who’s seen things, who I can talk to, and we can’t even really share what we know. But I was right to call her for help. She was like an amplifier to my conscience, helping me hear it clearly, even through my fears.

  And what she said about helping people, that’s why I picked Locke Industries for my internship. They have power in this city, and they use it to make people feel secure, or that’s what I thought.

  Maybe I’m not as trapped as I feel, and the debt will have to take longer to pay off. This time next year, we could have a real chance at a better future.

  Let them fire me. I let the plan sink in as I ride the elevator up to my apartment and check my cell phone. It’s the usual time I come home on Saturdays, pretending I’ve been having fun at whatever group activity I was doing.

  I have to tell Maggie I’m losing my job. My heart sinks as I slide the key into the hole and grip the knob, hanging on the thought of the burden this decision places on both of us.

  I can’t support a dealer, a man who holds people hostage in his house, or a company who protects a man like that. I can’t let what happened to Billy eventually happen to me.

  We’ll make it work. Make do with what little we can get, like I always have. Maggie’s not as strong, but she’s better than she’s been in a long time, and maybe together, we can finally build a life for our family.

  I twist the knob, and as I step into the dark apartment, my sister’s silhouette sits at the kitchen table, staring at something in front of her.

  “Maggie?” I ask in a hushed tone, and my stomach twists.

  Something’s wrong.

  “I’m sorry, Jo,” she whimpers.

  I flip on the light, and my breath catches in my throat.

  Chapter Eleven

  Trapped

>   A bottle of whiskey sits on the table in front of Maggie, and she’s holding an empty glass.

  “What are you doing?” I blurt out.

  Her lips tremble as she presses them together, and I drop my purse, marching to the table and grabbing the bottle. I carry it to the sink, ready to pour it out, when I notice the lid is tight, fastened on, and the bottle is full.

  I sit it on the counter and turn around as she deadpans the table in front of her. “You didn’t?”

  She shakes her head. “But I want to. I called my sponsor, and they talked me down. They told me once you got home, I needed to let you know what I was trying to do. They told me I need to ask for help.”

  Help?

  I stare at her with eyes wide open, and although she’s not looking in my direction, I bet she feels my glare.

  What more could I possibly do for her? She’s staying with me for free; I’m taking care of her and Andy financially, I haven’t asked her to get a job, and I didn’t even want her to until now. I went into debt for her rehab stay and treatments, and I’ve been trying to help her for as long as I can remember—since I was barely a teenager.

  All she has to do is stay with Andy and go to meetings.

  “Maggie,” I huff, then count to three in my head with steady breaths before continuing, “I don’t understand.”

  She covers her mouth with her hands and mutters something I can’t make out. I round the table and stand in front of her, waiting. “Pardon?”

  “I’m a fuck up!” she shouts, and I turn to their bedroom. The door’s shut, but she could still wake him up. “He’s at a friend’s, okay?” Thank God. “I took him there after my interview, well, after the run to the liquor store.”

  “And then you came here ready to throw away everything you’ve worked for?”

  “Yep, pretty much, or at least that’s as far as your understanding will take you.” She glances at me with anger in her eyes. “Can’t blame you. You’ve done all you can for me and Andy. I’m a lost cause, Jo. You know it. I know it.”

  I shake my head and pull out the chair, but lean against it instead of sitting, the heavy hit of her words crashing against me in waves. “You’re not. You’re a mom. Your son needs you.”

  “He’d be better off without me.”

  “Whoa, that’s enough!” I hold my hand up to stop her. “That’s not true!”

  “I know that’s what you think, and I have to agree. You’ve done everything for me—us—and I can’t even get it right. When I was gone, Andy had a stable home; you had reliable care for him, and he didn’t have to watch me ruin our lives anymore.”

  I imagine her pulling up to a liquor store with him in the passenger seat, wondering where they are, what they’re doing. Maybe he even knew it was wrong. He must have sensed it with her. He’s been through this before. At least she had the sense to drop him off at a friend’s.

  Maybe I can tell her how I really feel.

  “Admit it!” She points at me. “You think you could do a better job of raising Andy! With your fancy job and big fat paycheck, apartment in the city...” She has no clue—and I can’t tell her, or it’ll send her off the deep end. “You should be the one.”

  “Yeah, maybe I could do a better job, but it’s not my job! He’s my nephew, not my son. There’s a difference between providing for a child and raising a child, and you can’t leave both up to me. I’m not his mom. You had him, and he’s yours, and you need to take some responsibility. He loves you. He needs you. You think he was so much better off while you were in rehab? He asked about you every day. He worried about you at night. He wasn’t really happy—I’ve seen him happy—and he’s happiest with you when you’re healthy. I love him, but I’m not a good substitute for a mom.”

  “Pfft, you walk around like you are. Like you know what’s best for him. As if I was never there for him. I was!”

  “Yeah, and you were there for me too. Sometimes. Andy deserves to be more than a sometime, and I should have had a big sister who looked out for me and took care of me. Not someone I have to watch over and worry sick about.”

  “Don’t you get it? I feel sick from all the shame festering inside me. For all the slack you’ve had to pick up and for putting you through what we went through with Mom and Dad. For not being the mom Andy deserves,” she chokes on his name as she bursts into tears and hides her face in her hands, trying to speak, but it all comes out muddled and wet.

  I want to go to her. Comfort her, because I hate seeing her this way, so trapped. I can’t get inside her head. I don’t know what she’s thinking or how she got here, but I’ve been left to pick up the pieces, and I’m tired of it. I can’t even hug my sister because I’m scared if I let her in, it could be the last time.

  I wish I could feel numb to her pain and to the worry accompanying her choices, but I feel every bit of it, and it’s too much to take, but I have no choice. My body aches as I watch her aching.

  “I tried to get a job today,” she chokes out. “I know the pressure you’re under with my debt, and just—just everything—and I got an interview, and I was so damn excited. The woman said with my history, they couldn’t accept me. I didn’t know they’d do a background check, and they saw the drug charges against me. The way she looked at me, Jo.” She shakes her head and covers her eyes.

  I remember the shame from our childhood, and I know exactly what look she’s talking about—full of judgment and sometimes pity.

  I walk to her side and rest a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off to my dismay and stares up at me with mascara-stained cheeks and pain-filled eyes. “It’s how you look at me.”

  The punch of truth to the gut hits hard and fast and I release an instinctive, incredulous breath of defense.

  Because I can’t be who she sees me as. I’ve been here for her. I’ve taken care of her and her son, and this is what she wants? The drugs and alcohol? To tell me I make her feel ashamed?

  She storms from the table and through the living room to her room, reaching out for the door. “And don’t worry. I’m not going to use. I just can’t take that look anymore!” She slams the door behind her, and I slump down, falling as my tears do, plunking down on the kitchen floor and covering my mouth to hide my cries.

  What more can I do for her? For Andy?

  I’m doing the best I can—the best I know how—and nothing helps her. She’ll do what she wants no matter what I try, and I wish I could take her place. I wish it were me who went into the bedroom and found our parents. I wish I could take her pain as my own, but it fills me up with suffering, and she still suffers too.

  There’s no winning with her. The best I can do. All I can do is try to keep her alive when she doesn’t want to be here, and it’s a losing fight every time.

  But I have to try. I have to keep her and Andy safe. They’re all I have.

  And there’s only one way to do that right now.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Boss

  I ride the elevator past my floor for the first time, and it clicks into place on the penthouse suite. The heavy door rolls open to reveal an airy layout of what must be the whole floor, separated by glass, somewhat like Cathrine’s office, but you can see everything here.

  The far-left wall is the exterior to the building, wall-to-ceiling glass. It’s a reminder of Tackman’s kitchen—the broken glass with the woman’s lipstick on it and the strong smell of vodka from the puddle on the floor.

  In the penthouse, the air smells of leather and flowers like car air fresheners, but with richer, deeper notes. I step off the elevator and scan the space, immediately feeling the difference between the modern feel of one side, and the dark, leather, and masculine touches of the other—Orrick’s office.

  I stride down the hallway, my legs trembling beneath me. Each wobbly step I take clicks with my heel, echoing in the huge space.

  Click. Turn around.

  Clack. I can’t.

  Click. I need this job.

  Clack. I need to
run.

  Orrick sits behind his large, L-shaped wooden desk in the middle of the room. On the other side, two dark leather chairs.

  I’ll be sitting in one of them when my fate will be decided for me.

  Stay or go. Employed or homeless. Debt-free or continue drowning in it.

  My emotions bubble up to the surface as I press forward and catch a better look of Orrick Locke as I get closer. He’s dressed in his sharp suit, his fit frame leaning over the desk, broad shoulders intimidating me in a primal way. No other noises or people. We’re alone up here.

  As I reach his office, he checks the expensive watch on his wrist and presses his lips together as he stands, making eye contact with me. I pull the glass door open, and his expression is unreadable, so I break into a nervous smile.

  “Good morning, Josephine. It’s lovely to see you again.”

  Lovely? Really? Maybe I’m not in trouble. Maybe he understands I’ve done nothing wrong. “Good morning, Mr. Locke.”

  He knows my name now, and not for the reasons I’d always hoped.

  He waves a hand toward himself. “Please come in. Have a seat.”

  I walk toward the center of the room.

  Click. Cathrine seemed so upset.

  Clack. Why doesn’t he?

  Click. Maybe he’ll be on my side.

  My tight chest opens enough to draw in quick breaths as he smiles at me, moving around to the front of the desk and leaning against it, more like Cathrine. When I sit, I’ll be feet from him.

  I take a seat, crossing my legs at the ankles, and grab on to the arms of the chair, bracing myself for impact. I turn my body away from him while maintaining eye contact, letting an awkward smile remain on my lips as I fuss with the collar of my blouse. Do my clothes please him? What must he think of me?

  “So, Josephine, Cathrine tells me you’re having an issue with a client of yours. Would you like to tell me what’s going on?” He folds his arms across his chest, waiting.

  The barrier it creates between us is welcome, less intimidating.