Ruthless

by Myers, Kelly

  Urgent: Call me asap.

  That’s the subject of an empty email from Albert Gibson, my eyes and ears in the media monitoring world. Since it’s a media-related matter, I know it can wait.

  Stepping under the water, I press ‘play’ on the first playlist I see and set the phone down on the holder secured on the wall. Ani DiFranco’s sweet, broken voice fills the atmosphere, cleansing my ears and purifying my soul.

  The full extent of your knowledge on that matter is reduced solely to our bodies.

  I don’t know what got a hold of my brain, pulling back this line from Nicky’s text. So, as I shampoo my hair, I fiercely knead my scalp with my fingertips. It’s as though applying more pressure will cause the thoughts to ooze out and get washed down the drain.

  These dirty, self-deprecating thoughts. Contemplations that aim to paint me in an ugly light. The man who doesn’t “get” women. The resourceful misogynist who enjoys exercising power over those who don’t possess it. The playboy. The heartless billionaire. The desire freak. The robot.

  Nicky doesn’t know me. No woman does. But that’s partly my fault.

  Exhaling deeply, I close my eyes and try to enjoy the brief massage. These deliberations aren’t going to sprout any epiphanies, of that I’m sure. I need to stop wasting my precious time questioning myself and my purpose. I already know what I’m here for. It’s Nicky who doesn’t know her place.

  The bigger picture is far more sacred than to be corrupted by such trivialities.

  When I open my eyes again, the entire space around me is absolutely drenched in vapor. My visibility is next to none, and I sort of relish the sensation. For an instant, I feel like I’m floating in space.

  No worries. No troubles. No Nicky and no resentment. No ugliness in the world.

  Everything’s alright now.

  I swing my hand in slow motion, watching the suspended particles of this trance dance their way between my fingers and all around them.

  This is beautiful.

  My phone begins to ring, interrupting my fantasy and disrupting my peace. I see that it’s Albert, so I swipe red. I wonder what he’s doing up so early in the morning. If it’s another tabloid making up stories about my love life, then they can have at it. Who cares?

  Drying myself with a robe, I check my phone again and see a message from him: I’m going to the office now. Really gotta talk.

  The world must be ending.

  As I head over to the gym, I dial his number, and I’m directed to voicemail.

  “Hey, man. Where’s the fire? I’ll be at the office around seven, does that work for you? If not, call me.”

  I set down the phone and put on my workout clothes. The woods outside look different today—there’s a thick fog out there that renders everything hazy. The once sharp outlines have been reduced to a pulp of brown and green mist. Though it looks mostly gray to the untrained eye.

  And in the blink of an eye, I’m entering my office with a half-finished coffee cup and steps leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

  Gloria parts her lips. “Good m—”

  “Tell Albert I’m here,” I address Amanda, grinding my teeth.

  I step into the room and slam the door shut. A minute later, Amanda comes in with my second cup that Gloria brought. “Do you want…?” she gestures with it, still standing by the door.

  “Yes, thanks,” I gulp down what’s left of the one in my right hand and reach for the other with the left. She steps closer and hands it to me. Her apprehension, however, keeps her at a perceivably safe distance. “Is everything okay?”

  “We’ll find out,” I hastily turn on my laptop. “Albert?”

  “In the elevator as we speak.”

  “Hold all calls and meetings until he leaves this room.”

  “Understood.”

  “Actually, push all the meetings till after lunch.”

  “Consider it done.”

  As soon as she leaves, I pick up a blank sheet of paper and crumple it up, throwing it in the air and wishing it were a bomb. My eyes scan the knick-knacks on my desk, and I wonder… if I start throwing everything around in a frenzy, will the glass break? Will the walls develop notches and dents? Will it even matter?

  I close my eyes and recall an old meditation audio an old girlfriend once gave me. What was the voice saying?

  “Focus on your toes…”

  Fuck my toes. Now isn’t the time to be serene. It’s time to pull the brakes—all the brakes—on whatever threatens to halt my plans for this world.

  The knock on the door prompts me to instinctively straighten my shoulders. “Come in.”

  Albert comes through, looking pale with circles around his eyes that suggest a lack of sleep.

  “Tell me you were wrong on the phone,” I order, seeing red.

  “I wasn’t,” he sits down, placing a large file on the table with a heavy thump. “Have you checked the link I sent you?”

  “Yes,” I hiss. “Who the fuck is that cockroach?”

  “He’s not, Palanick. Unfortunately, the B-Gazette is—”

  “I know who they are and what they do, but that Derek…”

  “Peele. Yes, he’s a senior journalist there.”

  “How long?”

  “A few years now.”

  “Price tag?”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Sounds like he knows too much,” I warn.

  “By the looks of it, that’s not all. At the bottom—”

  “At the bottom,” I raise my voice an octave, reading off my screen: “This is a developing story. We are now working toward sourcing more details from government officials and other authorities. Watch this column for more updates.” I pause, glaring at him. “This means he has more to say, Albert.”

  “Yes, and Patel informed me of the emerging concerns. Will we initiate the first step of the protocol?”

  “I don’t see another choice, do you?” I dip my head, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Go and instruct the PR team to stay quiet. I’ll be emailing them a confirmation.”

  “Of course,” he stands up, picking up his file.

  “What’s that?” I quickly point.

  “Everything we have on Derek Peele.”

  “Send me a copy.”

  “Already in your inbox.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  The moment he closes the door behind him, I pick up the landline and call Amanda. “Phase one of the protocol is being activated. We’re on a cyber lockdown. Await my instructions.”

  “Alright, boss,” her determined tone comes through like music to my ears.

  Amanda is no ordinary woman, and her loyalty knows no bounds. That’s why I know that I can count on her against whatever the wind may bring our way.

  My fingertips hit the keys like ruthless shots of hail descending from merciless winter skies. I start drafting an email to every department announcing that we are now in a state of red alert. Everyone is now forced to drop whatever they’re doing to allow the IT experts to perform an emergency scan of all their devices, reporting back to me personally via email.

  This is not a drill. Palanick Holding is under attack, and we must catch the culprit before it causes more damage.

  I conclude my email and attach the encrypted protocol document, hitting ‘send’ as I sharply exhale.

  Suddenly, my phone is ringing off the hook, and the email notifications threaten to blow up my laptop. I pick up my phone and get up, walking out onto the terrace as I swipe to dial Quentin’s number.

  “Palanick?” he angrily answers.

  I instantly take over. “Who did you tell?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Who… did you… tell, Quentin?” I enunciate. “Because we sure as hell didn’t leak this.”

  “Don’t be outrageous, Gabriel. You know I would never—”

  “Then who did? Are you being followed?”

  “I don’t know,” he scoffs. “Do I walk around looking over my shoulder?”

&nbs
p; “Did you perform your security scans?”

  “You most certainly don’t believe that you can tell me how to do my job, Palanick!”

  “This project is mine, Ford,” I viciously hiss. “and I’ll be damned if I let you fuck it up this time.”

  “I’m on your side,” he reassures me. “We’re both facing an unknown enemy, and I’ll do whatever it takes to—

  “You’re gonna start by listening to me, then. Since it’s clear to me that your men don’t know what they were doing.”

  “Don’t push it,” he warns.

  “Don’t make me,” I challenge. “Now listen!” I raise my voice a couple of octaves, just enough to stun him into submission. “We’re gonna handle that loser who thinks he can twist our arms. This call is merely to align you on what’s happening here.”

  “Our department—”

  “Your department doesn’t mean shit at this point, so rest assured, your names will not be mentioned. But I’m warning you: one comment to the press and—”

  “You’re handling this,” he impatiently interrupts. “I’m out of the picture, and they won’t get anything out of this office.”

  “Wait for my updates and my updates only.”

  “You got it.”

  Hanging up, I exasperatedly drop my phone into my pocket and grip the fence rail with both hands until my knuckles turn white. I stare down the tower, the streets forming horizontal and vertical lines perfectly interlinked through and through.

  For a moment, I try to imagine what it would feel like to drop. To see the vista turning upside down. To feel my weight carried by air as it swiftly descends against the frail resistance, assisted by gravity. I try to sense the pressure ease by the second as I near the polished marble tiles at the bottom. My shoulders tense up, so I lift a hand and press tightly, squeezing the muscle between my fingers until it hurts.

  Forcing my eyes shut, I take a deep breath and a few backward steps, hitting my back against the wall.

  “This won’t happen again,” I whisper to myself. “I promise you.”

  I feel my uneven breathing push up my chest, and I force it to slow down, turning around and stepping back into my office. The phone rings and rings but I’m not ready yet.

  Wouldn’t it be nice to accept defeat? To let go? To go back to being normal?

  My mind bargains with the destructive thoughts that raid through it like fire through hay.

  When was I ever normal?

  I fail to remember the time.

  Picking up the cup of coffee, I chug down a mouthful and make a mental note that the caffeine won’t help my racing heart. But it doesn’t matter. Not until I nip this in the bud.

  Sitting behind my desk, I grab the phone and dial Ramone’s number. He answers almost instantly. “Got your instructions, boss,” he confirms.

  “I’m spearheading this operation. I’m your only source. Copy that?”

  “Gotcha. It’s only a little slap on the hand.”

  “For now. I foresee resistance.”

  “Would you like me to go directly to phase two?”

  “No. This crescendo has a purpose, you know that.”

  “Right, boss.”

  “Keep me posted.”

  “Certainly.”

  Taking a deep breath, I put down the phone and squeeze my eyes shut, feeling the familiar tension headache attack as it always inevitably does.

  6

  Dina

  When my phone rings with one foot out the door, my heart drops, and I assume the worst. As I fish it out of my purse in a hurry, dropping my keys in the process, I pray that my father’s heart isn’t acting up again.

  I finally grab it, letting out a sigh of relief when I realize that it’s only Derek.

  “Hey, man,” I quickly answer as I bend over to pick up my keys and lock the door.

  “Are you sitting down?” his tone is more excited than usual.

  “No? I’m fiddling with my door lock. What is it?”

  “We’re getting to them.”

  “Who?”

  “Palanick and his partners. I just got a strange call from a private number and a clearly automated voice ordering me to retract the article.”

  “Retract? What are we, a college paper?”

  “I’m telling you!” he speaks faster. “I pick up, and there are these strange man-woman hybrid vocals informing me that my source is lying and their information is fabricated.”

  “What did you say?”

  “Well, first I laughed, asking who it is. Obviously, they weren’t going to tell me. But it’s Palanick’s men, I’m sure it is. Who else could it be?”

  I roll my eyes. “Derek, I mean: what did you say to their request?”

  “I said that it’s not my call and that the truth will reveal itself eventually.”

  “Well, I’m heading over to the office as we speak,” I rush to my car. “Let’s go to Duvall first thing and see what he thinks.”

  “What do you think?”

  I turn the key in the ignition. “There’s no way I’m retracting shit. Not on account of a lousy phone call. If they wanna fight, the least they should do is offer proper dialogue. This isn’t some fictional city in a comic book.”

  “Yet you’re acting like the masked hero.”

  “I’m doing my job, and so are you.”

  “Fine,” he scoffs. “I’m in the building. Call me when you get here.”

  I’m driving frantically, abruptly switching lanes and speeding past slower cars in morning traffic. Derek’s piece is promising a greater quake now that we’ve got their attention. There’s no question about whether or not we should run the follow-up piece, and I’m certain that Armin will share my opinion on this.

  Nonetheless, this is Derek’s first threat contact, and he must be intimidated. That’s why I need to take his feelings into consideration and show some empathy.

  As soon as I arrive on the floor, I march over to Armin’s office, dialing Derek’s number on the way.

  “Meet me at Duvall’s,” I order before hanging up.

  After a swift knock on the door, I open the door and enter my boss’s office. He’s still working on his first cup of tea of the day. He lifts up his gaze from the laptop and stares at me, perplexed. “Good morning?”

  “Palanick’s threatening Derek.”

  “Ah, not such a good morning, then,” he chuckles, sitting back and interlinking his fingers over his bulging belly. “What happened?”

  “Good morning, sir!” Derek launches into the room as if propelled by an invisible force. “Did she tell you?”

  “Just beginning to,” Armin tilts his head. “Looks like you both need to sit down and take a breath.”

  I quickly comply while Derek fidgets. “Sir, we’ve struck a nerve.”

  “Yes, yes,” Armin calmly reaches for his cup, taking a sip and eyeing me from under his eyebrows. “Peele? Sit.”

  “Yes, sir,” he lands on the edge of the seat across from mine, his hands wringing in his lap as his leg restlessly twitches.

  “Now, listen,” Armin addresses me. “this isn’t your first rodeo. These things tend to happen from time to time.”

  I quietly nod.

  “And you,” he turns to Derek with a kind look. “you need to calm down. It’s only natural since we’ve mentioned their name in such a scheme.”

  “But, Mr. Duvall,” Derek nervously taps his fingers on the edge of the desk. “They claimed that my source is misleading me.”

  “But you do trust them, don’t you?”

  “So far, they’ve never given me a bad lead.”

  “It’s the oldest trick in our book, so don’t fret.” Armin cradles the cup with both hands, his golden wedding band catching a ray of sunlight and shining brightly. “From what I understand, you’re working on a second piece?”

  “Yes,” he quickly nods. “A follow-up with some technical details that my team and I have been researching for accuracy.”

  “We’ll run it and see
how it plays out.”

  “But, sir—

  “Derek,” he interrupts, furrowing his eyebrows as he leans forward. “Do you really have doubts that the B-Gazette will be stingy with efforts in defending its team?”

  “Of course not.”

  “And have you ever heard of one of our journalists getting harmed because of a piece we published?”

  “N—Not that I know of, no.”

  “That’s because it never happened,” he confidently states. “Palanick and their partners may have powerful connections, but so do we. We’re not afraid of telling the world the truth—granted,” he lifts a finger. “that it is the truth.”

  He stops talking, and their eyes link for a moment.

  Armin then dips his head. “Understood, Peele?”

  “Completely, Mr. Duvall.”

  “Now,” he smiles, sitting back once more. “get back to work and report any further harassments directly to me. And, Cormack?”

  I smile, straightening my shoulders.

  “You’re still committed to giving Derek whatever he needs for this.”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  We walk out of Armin’s office with renewed dedication, although Derek’s unease is not lost on me.

  The workday goes smoothly from there, with me adding a third researcher to Derek’s team. He originally works with the cyber technology section, but I managed to source his efforts on a part-time basis as a loan.

  I’m bored. Wanna hang out tonight? Zoe texts me at around five-thirty.

  I’d never say no to dinner. Around eight? I respond.

  Okay. Maria’s? I need more guacamole in my life.

  Sure, I miss their enchiladas.

  And this time, I manage not to be late.

  “Oh, wow,” Zoe chuckles as she licks her finger. “We never get that action.”

  “Shocking,” I mock, nodding. “You should be hanged in the middle of City Hall Plaza for your ‘Who Wore It Better?’ segment.”

  “How dare you? Do you know how many people wrongly assume that they can pull off the pastel trend?”

  “Unforgivable,” I jokingly furrow my eyebrows before attacking my steaming roll.