Complex City

by G H Edwards

  “Terry!” Sharon said, mock scolding him. “Of course she trusted her husband. That’s what a good wife does. Am I right?” She smiled, petting Claire’s arm. Claire smiled and nodded.

  “I don’t mean anything bad about your late husband, of course. It’s just such a bold decision that I was curious why you went along with it,” Allen said.

  “Well, I guess when you’re desperate and you read something, no matter how crazy it might be, you take a chance that could get you killed.”

  “Yeah, I like the way you put that Claire. When there are fake and dangerous articles or news stories out there, it can lead people to do irrational things that could get them hurt,” Allen said with a smile.

  “You’re right, Mr. Allen. Whatever Michael read probably got him killed far too early. If there had been a better control of this kind of false news, then maybe he could still be alive today,” Claire said nodding excitedly.

  Allen smiled almost proudly, for the moment appearing satisfied enough to stop the interrogation. “So, what Complex do you live in?”

  Claire thought about it for a second then realized he must be talking about the Blocks. “Thirty-three,” she said.

  “Ah, one of the originals. Lots of history there. That’s on the north side, right?”

  Claire nodded. “Yes, High Island Ward.”

  “Of course, and how do you like the area?”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “It can be a pain being on the other side of the bay, but it really isn’t bad.”

  “With all your interviews and photo shoots, I imagine you must spend a lot of time driving through the city,” Allen said. “Do you have your own car?”

  “Oh no, well I have the car I brought back from Miami, but I don’t have a license or anything like that, so I usually just take a taxi.”

  “That must cost a lot of money.”

  “Yeah, it does add up.”

  “That’s like having an extra bill added to your rent,” Allen said. “I don’t see why you should have an extra bill just because you live on the north side. That’s the beauty of the Complexes; they all cost the same, but for you it costs more, because you live far away from your work. And I don’t see how that’s fair.”

  Claire shrugged. She was slightly thrown off by Allen calling the blocks complexes. She’d only ever heard people on TV call them that. She remained quiet, letting him speak.

  “As I’m sure you know, I own the complexes, and as the owner I can grease the wheels with the counsel that moves the tenants. Since I see you’re being unduly tacked with an extra bill because of the location you live in, I can try to help you move closer to downtown. That is, of course, if you’d like to.”

  “Yes, that would be great. Oh, my gosh,” Claire gushed.

  “Terrific. I’ll make some calls tomorrow and see what I can do,” Allen said with a slick smile.

  Claire thanked him again as the crowd began to appear on their level and converge on the tables. She noticed Allen was looking at a few photographers who were snapping shots of the three of them talking. “It looks like it’s time for dinner, so we’ll let you go back to your friends,” he said. “It was great talking to you, and I’ll be in contact with you about the move.”

  “Yes it was great meeting you,” Sharon said disappointedly, following her husband’s lead. “Maybe we can have you over for dinner sometime soon.”

  Claire smiled nervously. “That would be wonderful. It was so nice to meet you both.”

  They finished their goodbyes and parted ways. Claire was extremely relieved and overjoyed that she’d held herself together so well. As she walked away, she thought about how Allen had said he would contact her, but he didn’t ask for her phone number or address. Carefully she made her way downstairs and looked for Heather. She made a lap around the shrinking crowd on the ground floor but couldn’t find her. After the walk she had decided that she had gotten what she wanted from the evening so it would be best to leave. She made her way to the exit and quietly snuck out.

  CHAPTER 48

  Claire awoke the next morning, rolled over, and looked at her thousand-dollar-dress on the floor next to her old couch. She shuffled to the kitchen, retrieved a bottle of grapefruit juice, and mentally reviewed last night. She felt surprised by how well she had done. She had met Mr. Allen and was able to answer his questions. As she thought back to him, her face began to feel hot, and she felt the knot in her stomach that she had from last night.

  She sat on the couch and saw she had a new message from Heather. She opened the message expecting to be scolded for leaving the party early but laughed when she saw that Heather was asking her to describe what Mr. Allen’s breath smelled like. She turned on her boxy TV and was greeted by images of herself at the last night’s event. She hadn’t even noticed the video cameras inside the hall. She barely recognized herself. The voiceover was raving about Claire’s appearance at the event and how she “rubbed shoulders” with the top people in the city. Film of her and Mr. and Mrs. Allen chatting on the balcony was played. To her embarrassment, she looked very nervous and intimated—like she was a minor player playing in the big show.

  She continued to watch the TV even after the piece about her had ended. She was deep in a trance when her cell phone pinged to life, telling her she had a message. She fully expected it to be from Heather, saying some more inappropriate things about Mr. Allen. But when she looked at the screen, it was from an unknown number. She opened it and was shocked by the message:

  Hello. This is Terry Allen. We met last night. I mentioned your possibly moving out of your complex soon. We can meet at my office and discuss. Let me know what time works for you.’

  Claire’s jaw dropped open. She thought she had made a good impression, and this is what she was hoping for, but she was surprised at the speed and ease with which it was happening. After reading over the message a few times, she sensed there was more to his desire to meet than just her moving. People moved all the time, and she was sure he didn’t text all of them. Especially after only meeting them a few hours before. Was it because she was a new celebrity or was he interested in her? Or maybe, she feared, he had unanswered questions about her story regarding the trip to Miami. Either way, she was going to have to prepare herself for this meeting.

  CHAPTER 49

  Allen’s office building was a huge glass structure right along the beach on the south side of the bay. The south side was where all the big business buildings and the nicest blocks were. Claire had been in the area before but hadn’t noticed the Allen Corp. Building among the hundreds of thousands of other colossal buildings in the ward. She stepped out of the private car Allen had sent for her and headed for the lobby.

  Just after she had received the text from Allen, Claire had called Heather, who had sped to her apartment. Once Heather arrived, they brainstormed what Claire should wear. Claire wanted to look mature and respectable, but Heather insisted that she look “hot and innocent.” Finally, after much debate they agreed on a professional/innocent look and went with a black pencil skirt and a snug blue button-up top. Heather physically blocked the door, refusing to let Claire leave until she unbuttoned the top three buttons of the blouse, revealing a dangerous amount of cleavage. After a slight scuffle, Claire relented and undid the buttons. Heather prep talked her on the trip down. As the sleek black car sped through the mega city, Claire rebuttoned her blouse.

  Walking toward the Allen Corp. buildings glass doors, two doormen appeared, welcoming her in. She was met by a beautiful young lady who greeted Claire by name. Claire already was feeling intimidated as they crossed the busy, modern lobby. Claire glanced at the large Allen Corp. logo on the wall and nodded in approval. When they reached the opposite side of the lobby, an open elevator waited for them. As they approched, an assistant motioned for Claire to enter and wished her a good afternoon. Claire glanced to the right and saw there were no buttons for any floors; this elevator had only one destination. Her stomach dropped as the elevator rocketed up.
She barely had enough time to look around the small shiny box before the elevator pinged and the doors opened. As she shyly stepped out of the elevator, she was met by a short hallway that led to a door. mr. terry allen, ceo. Claire walked forward and turned the knob. Through the door was a staircase that led up to a bright floor above. She climbed the stairs, and even before she reached the top, she was facing an astonishing view from high over the city. The floor-to-ceiling windows were just in front of her, allowing her an unobstructed view of the huge city, which stretched for miles. Her stomach dropped, and she felt nauseous. She felt her heartbeat increase and temperature spike. She tried to calm herself with deep breathing as she turned away from the window. When she looked, she found that she was in a gigantic, nearly empty office. All the exterior walls were glass, allowing a 360-degree floor-to-ceiling view. She’d never been anywhere this high above the mega city before. For miles all she could see were the buildings of her hometown. She felt dizzy, like she was going to fall off the edge at any second. Behind her was the ocean like she had only seen in pictures. It was a clear day, and Claire was speechless as she looked out at boats, oilrigs, and wind-powered turbines just past the barrier islands. Looking out at the water calmed her slightly.

  “I’m guessing you like the view,” Mr. Allen said as he met Claire at the top of the staircase. He wore an impressive fitted gray suit with a light-purple tie. Claire thought he looked like a model from a suit-store commercial. As he stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek, she wondered if he could feel the heat coming from her face. He exuded a confidence that a handsome face and several billion dollars can give you. The oaky smell of his cologne momentarily made her forget the heights.

  “Yes, it’s…wow,” she said, her legs feeling wobbly and her stomach tight.

  Allen laughed. “Yeah, I still feel the same every time I enter that way.”

  Focusing on just the room, she noticed the entire floor was nearly empty, minus a sitting area in a corner and a dining-room table with chairs in a different far-off corner. A glass staircase led to a higher floor, where Claire saw a futuristic office through a door. The shiny white floor and ceiling reflected the sunlight, giving the entire space a floating feeling that disoriented her slightly. The floor was clearly only there to impress, and it was working.

  “Let’s take a walk around,” Allen said, motioning for her to walk alongside him.

  Tentatively walking a few paces behind him, she looked at the buildings, which reached up and stuck out as far as she could see. On one side the view was blocked by even taller buildings. Allen walked to the glass and looked down. Claire stopped about ten feet back and felt slightly dizzy, like she was falling. It reminded her of the bridge over the Mississippi River.

  “Have you ever been up to the top of a building before?” Allen asked, looking back at her.

  “No, this is a first,” Claire said with a slight quaver.

  “Come up here. It’s a better view from up close.”

  “Okay” she replied robotically, forcing herself to take a few more steps.

  Allen watched her intently. She had an overwhelming feeling that he was somehow testing her. She continued forward slowly until she reached the glass. She felt her whole body tighten but kept her eyes straight forward, locked on to the building in front of them.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m just not a huge fan of heights.”

  “Ah, is that why you lived on the fifth floor of your complex?”

  The fog of fear cleared for a moment while Claire processed what he had just said. How did he know what floor she lived on? Well, she thought, he owns the blocks. Of course he would have access to that information. But what it did show her was that he had researched her.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s what we’re here to talk about,” Allen said, as he turned and started to walk. Just then his cell phone rang from his hip. He retrieved it and looked at the screen. “Can you give me a minute? I have to take this.”

  “Sure,” she squeaked, mentally scolding herself for sounding ridiculous.

  “Make yourself at home,” Allen said with a smirk as he pressed a button on his large phone and headed for the clear staircase.

  “Okay,” Claire said, backing away from the window.

  She turned and walked toward the corner that faced the ocean while attempting to listen to the phone call. Unfortunately he told the caller to hold on until he closed the door. Facing the ocean, Claire felt much more relaxed. Something about the ocean always calmed her. She even had the courage to look down along the beach, which was full of colorful umbrellas as far as she could see. She saw the tiny dots of children splashing in the shallow waves and concerned parents hovering close. It was a bright hot day—perfect for the beach.

  Not like it was the day she found the ad. That seemed like ten years ago. She remembered the wind of that morning. She remembered the feeling of that wet page in her hands. The shock, thrill, and hope she had felt when reading the page. She imagined standing on this high perch, watching herself running across the street as the police car approached. Was she brave or stupid? Was finding that page a blessing or a curse? What would Michael think of this? She couldn’t decide.

  “Claire, are you okay?” Allen asked as he walked toward her from the staircase.

  “Yes, sorry, Mr. Allen. I’m just so…blown away by this view,” Claire stuttered, turning toward him.

  Allen smiled. “Please call me ‘Terry.’”

  “Okay,” Claire said with a coy smile as she brushed some strands of loose hair behind her ear.

  There was a moment of charged silence between them.

  “I have some lunch ready if you’d like to sit down,” Allen finally said, motioning toward the table and chairs in the nearby corner.

  “Sure. That sounds great.”

  As they sat, a small army of what appeared to be waiters came out of virtually nowhere and, in a fury, set up the table. Claire still wasn’t sure what this meeting was actually about. On the surface it was to discuss her move, but she still wasn’t sure. The tension between them was obvious to her, and she thought he must have felt it also. Leading up to the meeting she had gone over every scenario in her head. She knew there would be a lunch, so she decided to use Ben’s theory from the restaurant in Miami. Whatever drinks were ordered told you what kind of meeting it was. If they had water or something similar, then it was a business meeting or, even worse, an interrogation. But if he ordered something like wine, that could be a different story. Claire had a plan to find out.

  “What would you like to drink Claire?” Allen asked, as the wait staff set the flatware in front of them.

  “Um…I’ll just have whatever you’re having,” she said, anticipating the question.

  Allen told the waiter, “We’ll both have a glass of grapefruit juice.”

  Claire felt her body tighten in shock. Grapefruit juice was her and Michael’s favorite drink; it was basically the only thing they ever drank. Thoughts rushed through her head in hyper speed. Did Allen know that? If so, how did he know that? Could it be a coincidence? What was he trying to say by ordering that? Plus, his comment about her living on the fifth floor. He was trying to tell her he knew all about her, she thought. She felt like a fly in a spider’s web.

  “Is that okay with you?” Mr. Allen asked, observing her eyes but smiling nicely.

  Her mind was scrambled and trying to catch up. She had thought this whole lunch through in her head, but now she was caught off guard before the food even arrived. She was careful not to let her flood of anxiety show in her face. She reminded herself that she was prepared, and it was time to shake things up.

  “No. I’ll just have some water. Thanks,” she said, attempting to sound confident.

  “Okay. Two waters, please,” Allen told the waiter with an unfazed smile.

  What did that all mean? She wondered if she was in over her head or was she overanalyzing everything. She decided she needed to assume h
e knew more than she thought. Between the heights and the possible mind games, she already was exhausted. But she also was relieved and proud of herself for the quick response. She thought perhaps ordering water might throw him off and maybe make him question if he had incorrect information about her. She put on a fake smile.

  “So, I was able to move you up to a complex closer to the downtown if you’re still interested in it,” Allen said.

  “Yes, of course. It’s so nice of you to do that for me.”

  “Oh, it’s no big deal. I mean we can’t have Houston’s newest celebrity living so far away from all the action.”

  “That’s wonderful. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said with an arrogant wave.

  The water arrived and was poured. The waiter told them they had a special lunch today and began to list off the items—which sounded like a foreign language to Claire. She smiled and nodded as Allen watched her reaction.

  “Sounds lovely,” Allen said, looking to Claire to respond.

  “Ah, yeah, no onions on mine, please,” Claire said.

  The waiter nodded looking slightly confused. Allen was smiling and using his hand to cover his snickering. When the waiter left, they both shared a laugh.

  Claire chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t know what that man just said.”

  “I could tell,” Allen responded, laughing.

  They discussed Claire’s new living arrangements and decided it was possible for her to move within the week. She was happy about the speed but had only one problem. “Do you think it would be possible for me to keep my old apartment for a while?”

  “Why would you want to keep it? I assure you, your new complex will have more than enough space.”

  “Oh, I know, but I just feel bad leaving the old place so suddenly. I know it sounds weird.”

  “Well, I hate to leave a home sitting empty. I mean, someone else might want to move in there.”