Hell Bent

by Heather Killough-Walden

  To her relief and, admittedly, concern, Max didn’t say anything at all. Instead, he simply nodded and his face took on a clouded expression. His green eyes virtually shuttered themselves against her as he took a slow, deep breath and then straightened, turning his attention to the folders in his hands.

  “I know you’ve got a full load already, but we got a great offer late last night from Dobson. The firm is adding two new attorneys and changing their name. They decided to go ahead and change their entire site while they were at it, since it was rather outdated. They’re paying us well, so there’s a bonus in it if you can get it done by next Friday.” He moved forward and handed her a file folder. She took it without saying anything, knowing he wasn’t done yet.

  “Great work on the Fresh Foods file. They really loved the logo. They’re wondering, though, whether you could change the color of the background to green. They feel it would better represent their ‘theme’.”

  “No problem, but I’ll have to switch out a few things to make sure everything is contrasting properly after the change. Any particular shade of green they have in mind?”

  “Nope,” Max smiled. “Just pick a ‘freshy’ one.” He handed her another folder and then turned his attention to the last one in his hands.

  “Mackenzie is a whole different story.”

  “Let me guess. They didn’t like it.”

  “They like it enough, but they’ve added another three pages of required data, more than thirty new links and two rather complex inter-active charts.” Max shook his head, squinting his gorgeous eyes as if he suddenly felt pain behind them. “They want it by Thursday.”

  Annabelle bit the inside of her cheek and slowly drew in a breath through her nose. She was a graphic designer, not a web page designer, but The Mackenzie Corporation had pretty much managed to turn her into one over the last four months. The CIO was impossible to deal with, demanding and fickle, and both Max and Annabelle had quickly come to regret Max’s decision to contract with them. So, with this new information, Annabelle’s initial instinct was to hastily retort, “There’s no way it’s going to happen.” But she could see the tension in Max’s expression and his posture was rigid with it. So, instead, she said, “Can we get an extension?”

  “I’ve tried. They scheduled a staff meeting for Friday morning and the new material is its focus.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Anna. We’re stuck in this contract with them. Either we finish it and see it all the way through, or we get nothing. And you’ve already done so much.”

  Annabelle continued to chew on her cheek, considering her next words. “Okay,” she began slowly. “But Fresh Foods is going to have to wait. As is Dobson. Will they mind?”

  “Not as much as Mackenzie.” He handed her the last file folder, which was brimming with so many sheets that it barely folded any longer. “Good luck.”

  Cassie cleared her throat beside them and turned to Annabelle. “I’ll take Fresh Foods for you if you’ll just pick a color.”

  “Thank you,” Annabelle smiled, handing her the appropriate folder. Cassie and Annabelle had been friends for so many years, Annabelle had quit counting them. Three years ago, Cassie was working as a medical assistant in a primary care physician’s office. One morning, she’d had the audacity and courage to tell one of her boss’s patients that he may not have to take so much blood pressure medication if he would simply stop eating cheese and fried chicken and exercise once in a while. Consequently, Cassie had been fired. And then black-listed from every doctor’s office in the state.

  Fortunately for her, she’d already known Annabelle a long time. Also fortunately, one of her favorite hobbies and pastimes was photography. The combination of photography and Annabelle’s friendship inevitably led to Annabelle teaching her how to use Photoshop. So, when Cassie was fired, she was ecstatic, if not all that surprised, when Annabelle finagled an extra position out of her boss, Max Anderson. She’d convinced Max that they could use the help. And as things would turn out, they really did need the help after all.

  “I was already thinking along the lines of something like a light forest. If that helps.” Annabelle smiled sheepishly and Cassie nodded.

  “I can see it. I’ll go ahead and give it a shot and let you take a look.”

  As Annabelle nodded, Max took another deep breath, sighing. “Great. Thanks, ladies.”

  They turned to face him as he then looked down at the laptop he removed from beneath his arm. It wasn’t Max’s laptop, or at least not his newest model. In fact, Annabelle didn’t recognize it. It was a Mac and Max owned a Toshiba.

  “Whose laptop?” she asked casually.

  He didn’t answer for a moment, simply staring at the machine in his hands. And then, in a voice tainted distant and soft with memories, he replied, “Teresa’s.”

  Max’s dead wife. She’d been a designer for a pharmaceutical company when she’d died. She and Max had met in a mutual class for design basics and had fallen in love. Supposedly, Teresa had been quite talented.

  “I found it last night while I was going through some old boxes of stuff in the attic because we found a leak a few weeks ago.” He ran one hand over the lid of the laptop, his expression growing steadily more distant. “I thought MedicArt had appropriated this when she died, but it was in a separate box with some old kitchen things. One that I’d always thought had a coffee pot in it.” He smiled strangely. “No coffee pot.”

  The room grew silent as he stared at the machine in his hands. And then Cassie cleared her throat and Annabelle straightened. Max seemed to pull himself out of his temporary stupor and adjusted the glasses on his face. “Well, I’m going to see if I can clean it off a little and use it for work. Shouldn’t take too long, I think. Then I’ll help you with the Mackenzie file.” He nodded at Annabelle and she nodded back, smiling gently.

  Max turned and headed back down the hallway and then ducked into his office.

  Cassie and Annabelle turned to look at one another. Neither spoke, as words weren’t necessary. They each knew what was on the others’ mind.

  Then, as one, they turned to their computer screens and began to work.

  A few hours later, Annabelle returned from a break and headed down the hallway toward Max’s office. She thought she would check on him.

  At the doorway to his office, she caught the last few words of something he was uttering just under his breath.

  “…one point seven…”

  She knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar. Max’s head snapped up, his attention pulled from the laptop’s computer screen, which he’d been staring at intently.

  “Everything going okay?” Annabelle asked.

  “Uh… yes. Yes. Come in. Are you and Cassie about to head out to lunch?”

  “In a few minutes. Would you like me to pick you up anything?”

  Max blinked. His glasses were slightly crooked on his nose. His brow was furrowed and the cup of coffee he’d most likely poured himself that morning sat untouched on his desk, alongside piles of paper and Teresa’s laptop.

  Annabelle frowned at the coffee. Max never let it get cold. He always downed the brew before it had a chance to stop steaming.

  She turned her attention back to her boss and entered the small office, pulling the door softly shut behind her. “How is it going with Teresa’s computer?”

  “It’s…” Max cleared his throat, glancing from the screen to Annabelle. Then he straightened, closed the lid on the laptop and turned his full attention to her. “It’s going well. I should have it cleaned off by tonight. Maybe you can even use it to work on a few things.”

  Annabelle’s brow shot up. “Oh?” He was going to give her homework? Not on her watch. One thing Annabelle prided herself on was her ability to leave her work at work. She never went home with her troubles. There were always enough waiting for her there.

  Max watched her for a moment and then broke into a smile. He chuckled softly, his green eyes sparkling. He pulled his glasses off and placed them on the d
esk, not taking his gaze from hers. “Okay, no. Never mind that. Forget I said it. Change of subject.”

  Annabelle nodded, once.

  “When are you going to come back over for dinner?”

  Annabelle blinked. Then she straightened, stuffing her fingers in the back pockets of her jeans. “Are you going to cook, or is Dylan?”

  Max looked down at his hands and then back up at her, his gaze intense, his eyes like green fires in the handsome frame of his face. “Dylan won’t be there.”

  Annabelle stared at him, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. So, here it was. Her boss was finally making that move. She’d wondered when it would happen. A part of her had been afraid of it. He was her boss. It was awkward. But, a part of her – a bigger part – had not been so afraid. In fact, that part of her had more or less fantasized…

  “I guess… Whenever you take it upon yourself to invite me.” Annabelle answered softly.

  Max stood then, and moved around the desk. Suddenly, the air in the office seemed thicker than normal. Annabelle prevented herself from taking a step back. Max was well-built and a good amount taller than her, as were most of the men she knew. And his presence suddenly filled the space between them with something akin to a kind of heat.

  He came to stand before her, a mere foot away. “You’re invited,” he said, his voice low, his tone warm. “How about Friday night?” He smiled then, flashing perfect white teeth. He raised a hand to take a lock of her long strawberry hair between his fingers. But his eyes never left hers. “We can celebrate getting Mackenzie off of our backs.”

  Annabelle drew in a somewhat unsteady breath and licked her lips. Which automatically made her think of his. So close. She closed her eyes and forced a little laugh. “You really think we’ll be rid of them after this job?”

  “If not, then we’ll just get drunk for the sake of it.”

  This time, Annabelle really did laugh, and Max let go of her hair and took a step back. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling?”

  Annabelle’s eyes widened. Her blush deepened. “You knew all along, didn’t you?”

  “That you’d gone on a bender and had a rough morning for it? That your car was impounded yesterday and that Jack drove you home and then lent you his bike? That you slugged someone for insulting your hockey hero?” His grin turned playful. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Annabelle stared at him, shaking her head in silence. She wasn’t even going to ask him how he’d known about the hockey squabble. Everything else was a good enough guess, and the impounded car, he could have gotten a call about that morning, since it was her work number she’d put on the sheet she’d had to sign. But the fight, he would had to have seen or been told about. He was a Minnesota Wild fan too. She was guessing he’d had a friend at the bar.

  “Okay, you got me. And I’m feeling better, thank you.”

  Max nodded. “You know you don’t have to lie to me, Anna. I may be your employer, but I’m also human.”

  She stared up at him in silence for a long moment. And then she nodded. “I’ll try to remind myself of that fact.”

  “Good,” he said softly, really no more than a whisper.

  “I’ll let you get back to it,” she said then, turning away to face the door. She opened it and then glanced back over her shoulder at him. He’d turned his attention back to the laptop and his brow was once again furrowed, his expression one of deep, perhaps troubled thought.

  Annabelle decided not to say anything further. Instead, she stepped out of the office, into the hallway beyond. The last thing she saw before she’d pulled the door closed was Max reaching for the phone.

  Chapter Three

  At lunch, Annabelle logged off of her computer and headed outside to the parking lot. It was busy with employees moving to their cars and pulling out for lunch. Everyone in the building lunched at the same time. It was like some strange sort of cult practice. The human body was lorded over by the long and short hands of the clock. Never mind when you might actually get hungry. You ate at noon, take it or leave it. It was simply understood.

  It was also understood that this was May. In Minnesota. And, so, naturally, lunch hours would run a little longer than they did in January. Minnesotans took full advantage of the few weeks of splendid weather they were afforded every year.

  Annabelle was halfway across the lot when she heard her friend shout at her from the side-door of the building behind her.

  She turned and watched as Cassie ran across the tarmac, joining her ten meters from the Night Train, where it was parked in one of the two motorcycle spaces available.

  “Any way you could give me a ride to Mickey-D’s?”

  “You hate Mac Donald’s. You just want a ride.” Annabelle smiled, shaking her head and continuing toward the bike.

  Cassie fell into step beside her. “Okay. You got me. I like the vibration between my legs.”

  “Don’t we all,” Annabelle retorted with resigned humor. She mounted the bike, handing the helmet to her friend. “Put the helmet on. I won’t be responsible for your squashed-in head when a cell phone driver cuts us off.”

  Cassie looked at the helmet in her hands. “Uh, to be honest, I’d rather have the squashed-in head than face the almighty wrath of Jack if we do wreck and I’m wearing the helmet he told you to wear.”

  “Tough. Put it on.”

  “Okay, but I don’t ever want to hear you giving Jack a hard time about not wearing one again.”

  Annabelle smiled again, turning the key and pressing the ignition switch. The bike roared to life. She pulled back on the throttle, giving it some gas. It was music to her ears. Over the noise, she hollered back at Cassie. “Fair enough! Get on!”

  Cassie didn’t have to be told twice. She braced herself on Annabelle, who had ridden with plenty of passengers before and was skilled at the extra strength and balance it required to do so. She held the bike steady, flat-footing it while her friend mounted up behind her.

  “Where to?” Cassie asked over her shoulder.

  “Spoonriver!” Annabelle shouted back at her. She twisted the throttle again, just to hear the sound, and then slowly power walked it back out of the space. Once they’d turned around, she notched it into first gear and let off the brakes, taking them smoothly out of the lot.

  The two-mile ride was far too short for Annabelle’s tastes, but the traffic was heavy, as it always was during the lunch hour, and though Minnesota drivers were courteous, a motorcycle was not a mini-van and simply couldn’t compete with one for space on the road.

  Annabelle pulled the bike into the full lot and was fortunate to find that two other bikes, one a sport bike and one a Kawasaki Vulcan, had already parked in the single designated space for motorcycles. There was room for one more. She pulled the Night Train along side the other two bikes and shut it down, tucking the key into her jacket pocket and zipping the pocket closed.

  She waited for Cassie to get off and then she kicked the stand down, turned the handlebars to the left, and dismounted.

  Annabelle helped her friend pull the helmet from her head. “I hope you’re in the mood for vegetarian,” she told her as she took the helmet and then turned toward the restaurant.

  “Whatever’s fine,” Cassie replied, once more falling into step beside her. “I’m surprised, though, that you’re hungry. You said you had a bad night. You were late coming into work. I can put two and two together and come up with hangover.”

  “I do still feel a little green, but the ride helped.” As had the one that morning. Annabelle looked up at the line waiting outside the door. “Crap. It’s always packed on Tuesdays since they’re closed on Mondays. This may not work.”

  “Taco Bell’s around the corner.”

  Annabelle turned to look at Cassie, who was smiling knowingly. Cassie’s gaze slid to the bike parked several meters away. “There’s also one in St. Paul.” Cassie’s smile turned mischievous. She knew where Annabelle’s heart was. St. Paul would be a twelve
mile round-trip drive, and all Annabelle really wanted to do at the moment was ride. And since Max set no limits on their lunch break – so long as their work got done, and it always did – then getting back to work at a certain time wasn’t an issue. “And the Taco Bell employees won’t pick on you for wearing your leathers.”

  “Good point. You’re a genius.”

  They turned back around and re-mounted the bike. Now that Annabelle had her right fist wrapped around the throttle, she noticed that her knuckles were a bit tender where they pressed against the leather of her gloves. That would be from punching cheese-head boy the night before. Oh well. She hoped that his mouth hurt more than her hand.

  Half way there, the cell phone in Annabelle’s jacket pocket buzzed against her chest. She ignored it, not taking her attention away from the road ahead of her. She never answered the phone while on the road, and doing so while on a bike was as good as suicide. When they arrived at their destination, she parked, Cassie got off, and Annabelle checked the phone at last.

  She’d missed the call, but she had a text message waiting for her. It was from Max.

  “Got a message from Max,” she told Cassie as she dismounted and they walked into the Taco Bell together.

  “What’s it say?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll check it inside. But this is bizarre. He never calls us on our lunch break. In fact, he doesn’t call me at all if he knows I’m gonna to be on the bike.”