by KT Morrison
She turned her back to them and left the room, stubbing her toe on the chair as she stumbled out. She walked down the hall to the elevators and had to support herself to stop from falling. She was dizzy, she was overwhelmed, and she couldn't believe this was happening to her. She pressed the down arrow and put her hand up on the aluminum plate to steady herself. She looked at her hand spread out on the metal, the streak that her fingerprints had left there from her sweaty palms. She was trembling, she could feel it in her jaw, she could hear her teeth chattering against each other.
What was she going to do? If there was an investigation would it not turn out the truth? Jay seemed like the kind of guy who if pressed would tell them everything—his version of the things that happened. She got drunk in his hot tub. She was naked and then to top it all off she went to his apartment and she ended up putting her hands down his pants and kissing him when maybe he didn't want her to do that. But how would she know that he didn't want her to if she didn't try. She wasn't some gold-digger who was after his money, who just went after him because he was some rich doctor. She could've done that at any point at any time during the last few years with him, why would she do it now? She didn't think of him that way. How could he think she was like that? What the fuck was wrong with Jay? Her hand spread on the elevator, clenched into a fist and she punched the array of buttons.
*
Brody Dixon kicked down over sixty-five front doors when he was a Ranger serving in Iraq. Probably wouldn't need to today since he made a copy of Omar’s key the last time he had to get in to the apartment.
That time five months ago he was instructed to be discreet. Today's visit was a matter of urgency. Today's mission was time-sensitive. He looked through the windows of the Range Rover parked outside of Omar's apartment. They were liquid black and he just saw himself in them. He got all he needed from that vehicle already anyway he figured, didn’t need to gain access. Too much trouble.
It was one-thirty in the afternoon on a workday but Omar's neighbours were out on the patio drinking beer. They were eyeballing him. Six twenty-year old men, unshaven, track pants, and undershirts. He made his way up to the front door, hoping the key worked.
He got to the door put his gloved hand on the handle and cranked the key. He shoved his bodyweight against it in case the key didn't work, perhaps he could still just muscle his way through. It unlocked and he was in the apartment in a second, the door closed behind him letting his eyes get adjusted to the dim room.
He had no time to arrange for a pistol since he got to France this morning but he didn't think he'd need one. This was pretty straightforward. He'd stopped at a hardware store in Montpellier and bought a hammer and he pulled it out from the small of his back where it was tucked into his waistband.
The apartment was perfectly still, perfectly quiet. He unhinged his jaw and took another moment to listen. No sounds from anywhere in the apartment. He could hear the guys out on the patio laughing and arguing drunkenly, shouting, slurring their French. He stepped to the bedroom and pushed the door open with the hammer. It was empty. He went and checked the bathroom and then the other room and felt the place was clear.
Brody went to the back of the apartment, wanted to start there and work clockwise through the sparse place, find some evidence of her. So in the bathroom he tipped over the waste basket with the hammer and then used the claw to sort through the items spilled on the linoleum. The last time he was here he took photos of everything before he moved it so he could get it back in place when he was done but he was free to mess about today, it might be good for this Lothario to know someone had been here. He pulled out four filled up condoms—he'd been busy—an empty toothbrush package, someone had bought a new one. He looked up at the sink. There were no toothbrushes. The rest of the stuff was just dirty trash, so he went back to the sink, curious now. No toothbrushes, no toiletries of any kind. He went right to the bedroom and checked the dresser. Underwear and sock drawer looked empty. Unless he only had two pairs of underwear in service. Had they taken off? Did they know he might be coming?
In the kitchen he found some empty shopping bags. He dumped them out looking into the living area as he did. The computer was gone. The bags gave up some paper receipts onto the kitchen counter and he looked through them. Women's clothing, pants and shirts and lingerie, women's toiletries, toothbrush, toothpaste, feminine products.
Her Rover was out front but the M3 was gone. None of the items purchased and brought home in these bags are here, Omar's things packed up as well. They didn't want to make this easy for him, did they?
*
When the elevator doors opened and Kiley stepped out into the underground parking she remembered she left her keys in her desk. She thought a moment if she could just leave and come back later when they were closed. Sneak upstairs and grab her keys when no one else was there. It was stupid. Her apartment key was there, everything; what she going to do, sit in a Denny's for eight hours and wait until the coast was clear? She looked up through the concrete ceiling, imagining all the people bustling up there on the fifth floor she might run into. She started to cry. A little bit, one stream from her left eye, but she brushed it away and sniffed. She stabbed her finger for the elevator and waited for it to come back down.
She rode it up readying herself to meet her colleagues. Did any of them know of this yet? Some might. No, some of them definitely would. God, how could she face them?
The doors slid open onto the sales floor and she strode as confidently as she could making her way straight for her office. She could feel the bounce of her hair and it gave her strength, it made her feel a little less meek.
She got into her office without running into anyone and she went around to her desk. Everything on her desk was as she left it. She looked at her computer screen, her calendar left open in a window there, all her pending appointments in the next two weeks. What would happen to those? Who would take care of her customers? What would her customers think when they were met with some surrogate? She felt so ashamed. Another tear streamed down her cheek and she flicked it away with her finger and sniffled again. What would everyone think of her absence?
She opened the top drawer of her desk and grabbed her keys. She looked at them, the leather fob with the Mercedes logo. She would have to give up that car. She loved that car. It had meant so much to her when she qualified for the lease. That was a really big day. Just a stupid car that cost her too much but it stood for something bigger.
“Going out for lunch?” Ida asked her.
Kiley looked up, startled, saw her standing in the doorway with a pen and notepad in her hand. Ida was a secretary from the other end of the sales floor and she would take lunch orders this time of day if Kiley was in the office.
Kiley looked to the keys in her own hand. She said, “No, no, I am…” Then she realized she wouldn't be placing a lunch order with her friend. Most likely never again. She put her keys in her pocket.
She said, “No, just not hungry,” her voice got quieter as she tried not to let it break. “Thanks though, Ida,” she said, and picked up some things from her desk she didn't even need, just trying to look busy.
“Are you okay?” Ida asked her.
“Oh yeah, I think. Yeah, just going to go out for a bit, you know.”
Ida stepped into her office as another tear started.
“Kiley, what's wrong?”
“Oh, nothing, it's nothing really,” and she tried to get past her, she just wanted to be gone.
Ida held her arm, she said, “Kiley, are you crying?”
“No, don't be silly,” she said as fresh tears went down both cheeks and she lowered her head and pulled her arm from Ida. She was sobbing as she left, loud enough for her to hear. This was how rumours started. And once this one caught fire how would Ida’s report to the others about what she saw paint everyone's opinion?
Did her leaving in a blubbering mess mean she was guilty or would they all think she was a victim? Hard to say, she thought
as she ran down the stairs to the parking, crying as she went. Her tears came with laughter at that ridiculous thought. She was crying and laughing as she made her way to her silver C-class. It still could go either way: She was pretty, so she was a slut and deserved it, but she was also a genuinely nice person so she could've been taken advantage of. It could be pretty evenly split.
She was laughing through her tears as she slammed herself into the car. She beat on the horn five or six times and shouted out to the interior as she did it, yelling along with her vehicle as she cried. She might have gone completely mad.
4
In the afternoon, somewhere along the A8 near Cagnes-sur-Mer, Kate had to pee so badly that she couldn't even think straight. Omar thought it was funny and he had been saying he would pull off soon. It had to be now or there was going to be an accident. She kept her eyes to the side of the road not even enjoying the scenery anymore. She was checking pictograms looking for an Aire-de-service as Omar called it.
“Oi, there,” she said to him when she read the sign as they passed it.
Omar didn't say anything, face blank as if he hadn't heard her. He headed straight, one arm draped over the top of the steering wheel.
“Omar?”
He went past it.
“Jesus, Omar, I have to pee, I'm not joking!”
He swerved at the last moment, driving across the lines, coming very near the guard rail that split the exit from the highway.
“You asshole,” she laughed at him, watched him smiling, his eyes still on the road.
He drove into the rest area, a big Total gas station on one side and a huge Autogrill right next to it. He pulled up to the main building to let her out and told her to find him at the gas station when she was done. She grabbed her purse and got out.
The Autogrill looked like three Swiss chalets mashed together with their tall peaked A-frame roofs and Tudor stylings. It was an absolutely beautiful summer day out and the place was packed.
She went in and was desperate to find the loo. She saw an arrow and followed it, looking in at the café as she passed. They stopped at a McDrive about two hours ago but she really would have loved a cappuccino and a cornetto right about now.
The bathrooms were down a long busy hall, she smiled at the attendant as she went in, absolutely bursting. She closed herself in the stall and got herself on the bowl just in time.
This was such an odd experience. Everything seemed so new and exciting, even if it wasn't ideal. She loved being with Omar, even just sitting in the car with him. She didn't know how it was going to work out once they were in Florence and his guy friends were about. The whole thing gave her a funny, hard feeling in the pit of her stomach, made her nervous. She loved it.
“Oh, no, fuck,” she said as she cleaned up. She saw that her period had come. Her shoulders slumped. Three days early.
“Shit,” she said, going through her purse and looking for a tampon. The fucking timing was unreal. She got herself together, threw the wrapper into her purse and grabbed some coins from the bottom of her bag. She washed up then dropped the coins in the basket for the attendant as she left. She squeezed through the crowds to get back, cutting through the shop and walking down the aisles of provolone and olive oil and preserved meats, to come out on the other side, back into the crowd by the café.
She thought to go in and stopped herself. There was no more cash in her wallet. She'd given the last of the coins to the attendant. She didn't have enough money to even buy a coffee and a pastry. It felt a little scary. She could use a card but she wouldn't. She didn't want to exist right now. She felt like someone else. And if she swiped that card she would be Kate Sutton again, and her loving husband would see where she was, pinpoint her on a map. She thought of him watching his computer waiting for a sign from her, refreshing his screen, looking for something that would tell him where she was. She felt her hands start to shake.
She turned from the café, that knot in her stomach tightening. She got out in the sunlight in the fresh air and she looked frantically for Omar. Just needed to see him right now. She saw the bright blue roof crawling along the crowded parking and she walked out quickly to meet him. She jumped in the car when he stopped for her.
“You okay now?” he asked her.
“Yeah,” she said. She swiped at her face and felt a tear, wet on her hand. She sniffled, embarrassed, surprised, and she put her seatbelt on, avoiding Omar.
“What's wrong, what happened?”
“Nothing,” she said. “I'm fine. I'm fine.”
They weren't moving, sitting at a standstill in the busy parking. He wasn't looking away from her.
She looked over, said, “What?”
“What's wrong?”
She felt urgent that things get moving, she couldn't be still right now.
“Nothing, let's just go.”
“Kate…”
She turned to him, she didn't know what to say to get him going. “I just… My period came early,” she said. “I'm… I'm disappointed is all.”
Someone honked behind them and he got them going in first gear.
“Oh,” he said.
She felt better already, felt better moving away.
“That's not a problem, is it?” he said.
“I'm not really at my sexiest am I?” she said as he got them up to speed, getting back on the highway.
“I think you are. I don't think this news has… affected me at all.”
“Well, we'll have to see how I feel,” she said quietly, looking out the window, catching a glimpse of the sea.
She watched the palm trees pass, the tall grass, it was a clear blue sky, one or two comically puffy clouds out there. She took a deep breath. She was okay.
She looked back to him and she reminded him, “There are lots of other things we can do to be intimate.”
“Yes, there are,” he said.
She put her left hand down and rested it on his thigh.
“Do you mean right now?” he asked, and she looked over at him and she smiled.
“It could be right now.” She moved her hand up and down his thigh. “Call me crazy,” she said, “but you don't strike me as the kind of guy who has never gotten a blowjob while he's driving before.”
He just smiled, chewing gum, and didn't answer. She undid her belt and shifted a bit in her seat. They were doing more than 120km an hour, racing along the highway. They weren't in public, closed in the little BMW, but somehow she felt like she was on display, visible to the taller vehicles they were rushing past. That was exciting.
She put her hand between his legs felt his huge thing behind his cotton pants. She reached up a little bit higher felt his flat stomach and then undid his fly with both hands. She reached in and felt him warm and soft and hairy and she pulled his penis out and let it hang from his fly and rest on the leather of his car seat. She admired it, turned her head slightly and watched her fingers running on it. It was soft, not hard at all, big and thick and wrinkled. She put her hand around it and she gently shook it, watched the floppy end wobble at the edge of her fist. She gave it a few strokes and looked at it in her hand.
“Lift your elbow,” she asked him, and he did, giving her room and she bent down putting her head between his legs.
“You just keep your eyes on the road, yeah?” she said into his lap as she took up his soft thing in her hand and pushed it past her lips. She worked it around in her mouth, kind of enjoying the soft feel of it. She sucked on his foreskin and she ran her tongue under it, trying to touch his glans. She heard him moan above her, a low animal sound against the loud hiss of the outside rushing past. She squeezed the base, plumping him up a bit so she could bob her head on him, stroke him with her lips.
“Ah, fuck,” she heard him say, and he shifted lower in his seat. He was getting harder as she pulled on it, trying to get as much of him outside of his fly as she could. She stroked him quickly with her hand, he was slippery from her mouth. She could hear that he liked that. She got her mouth
around him again. He was bigger and harder now, and she had to open wider for him. She could really suck on him now, moving her head up and down on him. He got hard very swiftly, filling her mouth up with his size until she couldn’t open her teeth wide enough to get down his shaft. She got a hand on it, wrapped her fingers around him and worked it up and down with the motion of her head. God, he was so big her head was up at his chest, someone could see her if they slowed.
She could taste his semen in her mouth, knew he must be getting close. She pumped him harder, twisted her head with each stroke. She could feel his body stiffening and she knew she had him. She kept herself still and sucked on his fat head, and jerked him quickly with her hand. She couldn’t wait for him to erupt in her mouth, to feel him release himself inside her, to taste him. She liked his semen—he smelled like bleach but he tasted like olives and honey.
There was honking outside but she pushed it away. He was so close. She could feel his body moving around like he was doing something above her. The car swerved a bit, the honking persisted, and she felt distracted. She stopped her stroking and pulled her mouth off him, trying to cover his cock up with her hands while she looked out the window. They had caught up with the convoy, one of the crew, the one she thought might be Bertrand, had his head and arm out the window. He was beating the side of the truck they were in, and cheering encouragement, his dirty black hair whipping around him. She could see Herve trying to see as well, looking over his shoulder.