Ruthless

by Myers, Kelly

My body’s wrecked.

  Pride, destroyed.

  Credibility, tainted.

  Feelings, haywire.

  Mind, who even knows anymore?

  The concepts of time and direction are hazy for me now, so when the car slows down and stops to a halt, I don’t realize that we’ve arrived. One’s hand grabs the bag at the top and pulls it up, disheveling my hair a little, and my fingers instinctively move to fix it.

  He holds up my metal nail file and hands it to me, smirking. “Godspeed, doll.”

  31

  Gabriel

  Through the guest bedroom window, I watch as the luxury bullet-proof van emerges from the underground parking and slows down at the driveway. My team of bodyguards and security personnel in their enforced vehicles soon line up and follow Ramone’s car as they drive away in an ominous cortège, carrying Dina out of my estate… and my life.

  When the cars completely disappear, I sit down as my eyes continue to stare out the window. Of course, I suddenly feel empty. What did I expect? For the past few days, the frail yet feisty Dina Cormack has provided ample substance that challenged my mind and reinvigorated my spirit.

  It’s nothing else. It can’t be.

  I stare at my phone and examine the calendar appointments. I should be going to the office within the hour, but I can’t even get myself to stay inside this suit. Somehow, it itches. It feels tight. It’s smothering me. Loosening my tie, I launch the secure communication app and send Amanda a voice message:

  “Good morning. Another day of working remotely for me, I’m afraid. Please redirect all my meetings to the conferencing software. Those who can’t make it will have to wait to be rescheduled.”

  I send it and continue to undress, putting on a pair of comfortable sweatpants and a hooded sweater instead. Shaking my head in dismay at my own sloppiness, I stop to read Amanda’s response.

  Consider it done. All clear at the fort?

  Yes. Everything is back to normal, and I should be on top of tomorrow’s agenda at eight a.m.

  No rush at all… except for the one I had when I was working on our little project.

  That’s a corny pun.

  I know, I couldn’t resist. So, how come you’re not coming today?

  Reading her message over and over again, my mind seems to be frozen in overdrive. Why am I not able to answer this simple question of hers? Why can’t I even tolerate my own clothes on my skin? Why does everything feel so irritating all of a sudden? The mere thought of going back to the office and back to my old routine… it’s making my heart race and not in a good way.

  Out of the blue, my fingers automatically hit the letters and save me.

  I gotta go prep for my first call. Catch you later, Mandy.

  Picking up my laptop, I storm out of the room and march toward the office. Agitated and touchy, I close the door behind me and lock it from inside.

  What exactly is this feeling? Am I starting to miss Dina? This is preposterous.

  I pour myself a glass of whiskey and settle behind my desk, launching the conferencing software and waiting for my first call to begin. This should be a good distraction. I take a big gulp and scrunch my nose, rubbing my hand against my thigh and mentally firing myself up for the workday ahead. Taking a deep breath, I begin to lead the meeting.

  Liu Guitian and his team are all there, eager to hear the updates.

  “Well, gentlemen,” I chuckle into the camera. Their baffled stares at my unusual attire aren’t lost on me. “Great news: our latest reports confirm that we’re receiving enough support to promise a win.”

  Skeptical as always, Liu furrows his eyebrows as his fingers interlink under his chin. “Does this mean that everything will go according to schedule?”

  “Positive,” I gleam with my best grin.

  “That’s great,” he chortles with a low voice and looks down at something out of the camera’s frame. “Because the current version has passed the User Acceptance Testing with minimal bugs that should be out of the way in less than forty-eight hours.”

  I can’t believe the nearly impossible news. “Are you certain?”

  “Our teams have been working double shifts on this,” he exults. “You’re not the only one looking forward to the launch, Mr. Palanick.”

  “This calls for a celebration.”

  “We would be pleased if you would honor us with a visit to Beijing. Your favorite hotel, of course.”

  “Let’s iron out the details later,” I quickly nod, secretly impatient to get the call done and over with. “I’m very excited.”

  “Likewise.”

  After the call with China is finally concluded, I swallow a big gulp of my drink and move on to the next on the list. Tucker the Hacker and Hamish.

  “Hello, boys,” I greet them with a forced smile.

  “Hey, Mr. P!” Hamish smiles while Tucker continues to punch the keys on his keyboard. “Hey, boss.”

  “Updates.”

  “We’re done,” Hamish explains. “UI testing is complete, waiting on the plugins from Beijing to seal the deal.”

  “And the compatibility issue that you reported two days ago?”

  “Tackled,” Tucker answers without removing his eyes from the other screen that has the entirety of his attention. “It now works as seamlessly as if it came with the factory settings.”

  “Remaining bugs?”

  “Zero,” Hamish apprehensively raises his eyebrows. “however… we are going to need twenty-four hours after the plugins are in place. We forecast some glitches in the beginning. It’s only natural, nothing we can’t work through.”

  “Twenty-four hours,” I jot down a note in the pad in front of me. “Not thirty-six? Not forty-eight?”

  “Twelve to twenty-four to be fully transparent.”

  “Twenty-four, let’s leave a buffer. The controls?”

  “They work like magic.”

  “Language?”

  “Classic. Still, I’m gonna have to recalibrate with the Chinese component.”

  “They have their instructions, but I trust you guys more.”

  “Noted,” Tucker enunciates, quickly winking at the camera before going back to what he’s doing on the side.

  “Thanks, boys. Keep up the great work.”

  I hit the red button, subsequently ending the call. My chest somehow feels tighter, and I don’t want to let it hinder my flow, so I go over to freshen up my drink before it’s time for the next meeting. I will be speaking with some government officials who will doubtlessly throw a snide remark regarding my choice of apparel.

  Fucking parasites, I shake my head as I sit back, cracking my knuckles before rubbing my palms together in anticipation.

  Work goes on and on with no visible end in sight. If it wasn’t for the whiskey, my mouth would be dry by now. As I put down my third empty glass, I remember that I haven’t eaten anything. That’s when my phone buzzes with a text message from Nicky. How peculiar.

  Just checking to see if you’re still alive.

  I begin to type a response, but the phone immediately begins to ring. It’s Ramone. I swipe to answer. “Hello?”

  “Elena just told me you’ve been hauled up in the office all day. Have you eaten yet?”

  “No. Too busy,” I mindlessly speak while my eyes go over my email inbox.

  “Want me to come?”

  “Where are you?”

  “Here. Kitchen.”

  “No, I’ll be working some more.”

  “I can bring up the food if you want.”

  “I’m not hungry, man. Thanks. Gotta go, catch you later.”

  I think I hear him murmur “suit yourself” before hanging up.

  Yes. This is me suiting myself. None of this was supposed to happen.

  I wasn’t planning on sleeping with Dina Cormack the first time when I had turned off the camera in the basement. Nor did I see it coming the second time when I let the device record, watching my prisoner in my bedroom at all times.

  Non
e of this was supposed to happen.

  I didn’t expect our conversations to last as long as they did, let alone the scenario of us bonding and feeling…feeling. What am I feeling? Without much thought, I scroll through the contacts until I find her number. I swipe to call and wait as the line unhurriedly rings. How would I expect the machines to know how restless I am at this moment?

  The ringing stops.

  Of course, my number is confidential and, accordingly, is regularly blocked from those who don’t have it programmed into their phones. She must be sleeping. Eating. Fucking.

  That last one makes my jaws clench.

  Going over my to-do list and inbox one more time, I see that I don’t have any more calls or meetings set for the day. Naturally, the long line of emails that need a response never ends, unlike my will to indulge in such a tedious task. I unlock one of the drawers underneath my desk and pull it open, selecting an indica joint as I pick up the lighter.

  I blaze it up.

  With a swipe of my finger, the voice of Ani DiFranco and her music flow through the room, straining to keep me company. I take one drag after the other, leisurely as I push backward, testing the limits of my chair and enjoying a boyish moment of unadulterated ridiculousness.

  Dina, what are you doing now?

  The delicious smoke diffuses through the particles of air that surround me, rendering every breath a booster to my progressively elating state. I take my phone and stare at it again, opening Nicky’s message and finding no trace of interest to reply. I close her chat and search for Dina’s name for the first time. The little circular thumbnail with her face on it greets me. I type…

  Hello. I hope you ate something.

  And I shoot it into cyberspace. A few moments pass with me smoking and humming along before the device vibrates.

  Who’s this?

  Who else knows that you’ve been starving yourself, Didi?

  Fuck you.

  I chuckle, having already missed her sass. I reply, Don’t go making a habit of it now.

  I’m blocking this number.

  I’d love to see you try.

  Haven’t you already won? What more do you want from me?

  I’ve missed you.

  I tell the truth, knowing that she will only perceive it as mockery.

  You don’t have that right.

  I beg to differ. We’ve had some really good times together.

  Why don’t you play that pathetic video and reminisce alone, you sad little psycho?

  You, of all people, can’t possibly mean that. Besides, what would Marks say if she hears you harshly judging a fellow survivor like this?

  We’re nothing alike, so don’t delude yourself.

  I take another drag, feeling my nerves dissolve under the influence of its soothing remedy, typing. You also don’t mean that.

  What do you want, Gabriel?

  I just want to talk.

  I don’t. The world doesn’t revolve around you and your whims. You can’t possibly be this demented.

  Strong words. Is your boyfriend there?

  That’s none of your business. And if you think that your lousy video will grant you the right to continue to harass me, you’re wrong. If you don’t stop contacting me, I’ll go to the police.

  And risk exposing our dirty little secret?

  What’s one more escapade on your filthy record? Nobody will be surprised.

  And your reputation? Your private little life?

  You’ve ruined one and shook the other to lengths I am yet to learn. I have nothing to lose.

  That’s what I admire about you. You’re fearless.

  Then don’t push it. Goodbye, Gabriel.

  Smiling when I should be frowning, I toss the phone onto the desk and throw my head back. My fingers lead the joint to my lips, and I inhale the last of the smoke greedily. Holding it in, I close my eyes and try to picture the world Dina knows as it falls to pieces.

  Will she try to stand in my way again, now that she believes she has hit the lowest point? Most of her attempts to disrupt our plans will now be futile since we were awarded the backing and trust of the most influential people in The Office. It’s only a matter of time now before everything falls into place. But until then, I need to wean myself off of the memory of her.

  I pull open a drawer and pick up the flash drive, holding it up and wondering if I will ever want to watch what it beholds.

  32

  Dina

  “Gee, who’s the unlucky recipient of that?” Zoe chuckles before she bites into a fried onion ring.

  I exhale, putting my phone face down on the dining table and reaching for my salad. I had earlier told her about my supposed “health issues.” “Just my boss,” I lie, shaking my head. “I’m in so much trouble.”

  “Maybe you should send the fucker a picture,” she snorts. “You don’t look sick. You look dead.”

  “I feel dead.” With dread, I eye my plate and pick up the fork. “I’m not even hungry.” I lie again, scared to take a bite of lettuce lest it disturb my stomach.

  “You have to eat,” she shakes her head. “You sure you don’t want some of this?”

  I stare at her burger with all the heavy toppings, fried sides and milkshake and almost feel the vomit rise up my throat. “I’m certain,” I raise my eyebrows. “It’s just that I had something earlier.”

  Yes. Baby food. I had bought baby food from the grocery store down the road and ate it straight from the jar with a spoon. That’s how terrified I am of chewing something.

  “So, what else did you do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In New York? Come on, I know you. You couldn’t have possibly stayed with your folks the entire time.”

  And then it hits me—this may be my only opportunity to share a version of the truth with my best friend without revealing any of the ghastly details.

  “There was this guy,” I tilt my head, busying myself with forking through my salad to avoid eye-contact.

  “Oh,” she draws it out with a bubbly tone. “Do tell.”

  “It really doesn’t end the way you want it to.”

  “I still wanna know.”

  “He’s an asshole.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Most of them are. Next?”

  “That’s not healthy.”

  “Sure,” she scoffs. “Because you’re the queen of wholesomeness.”

  “We slept together,” I blurt out. “Twice.”

  “While you were sick?” she squeals with an unsettled expression on her face. “How fugly is he?”

  “He’s actually...” I slowly nod. “really hot.”

  “But why?”

  “He already caught it when he was little, so it wasn’t such a big deal.”

  “So you didn’t look like a total ghoul?”

  “The spots weren’t so bad when we met.”

  “Score!” she giggles, biting into her burger while I apprehensively insert a single piece of tomato into my mouth. “And?” she asks mid-chew.

  “Nothing,” I shrug, still looking at my plate. “He’s confusing and moody and… I don’t get him. I don’t agree with a lot of things that he stands for, even though he blows my mind sometimes.”

  There, I am telling the truth.

  She lifts an eyebrow. “So?”

  “So?” I glare at her from under my eyebrows. “I cheated on Michael, Zoe! Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “He’s a big boy, and he doesn’t even have to know—”

  “What?”

  “Listen to me,” she puts down her sandwich and looks at me with a serious expression on her face. “I’m not gonna lie to you or sugarcoat this… I saw it coming.”

  “Excu—”

  “You… Dina?” she sternly interrupts with her finger in the air. “No relationship with a man like Michael is ever going to satisfy you. Is this news? ‘Cause I remember barking about this a thousand times before.”

  “Yes, but he’s even more fucked up than I am!�
��

  “And just might be what you need in your life,” she insists. “Sweetie,” she softens her tone, tilting her head. “You’re the most complicated woman I’ve ever known. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

  I press my lips together and stare into her eyes, feeling naked and exposed.

  “Your attempts at working through your trauma and medicating your… complex mind are,” she continues. “Therapy? Prescription drugs? Obscene amounts of alcohol? I’ve watched you try all of it, but has it been working?”

  Swallowing with difficulty, I take another bite and viciously chew, letting her finish.

  “Dina, the only thing you’ve been avoiding is men who challenge you. Who drive you crazy, both in the good ways and the bad. Say, what’s his name?”

  “Who?”

  “The fucked up guy, what’s his name?”

  I have to think fast. “Gabe.”

  “Gabe, okay,” she nods. “Not the sexiest of names, but…” she sighs with a smile. “How was he?” she whispers.

  I chuckle honestly for the first time in days. “Mind-blowing?” I hesitantly mumble, hoping that she doesn’t catch it.

  “Ha!” she loudly laughs, slamming her palms on the table. “And how did that feel like?” she presses her palms together. “Be honest, for fuck’s sake.”

  Deeply exhaling, I aimlessly look around the room. I remember my last time with Gabriel, once again in excruciating detail. I lick my lips. “Vivid,” I mindlessly whisper. “Like I was coming back to life after a long coma.”

  I look at her to see that her expression has completely softened.

  “You feeling sorry for me or something?” I giggle, scrunching my nose.

  “No,” she titters and shakes her head. “It’s the opposite, you idiot! I’m happy for you.”

  “Happy?”

  Oblivion is bliss, my friend.

  “Dina,” she pauses and shakes her head, gesturing with both hands as she searches for the words. “At the risk of sounding like freaking Shakespeare, ‘No great love comes without great pain.’ And if the hand you’re dealt is a ‘Gabe’ with mommy issues, who knows how to fucking bring you back to life? Jesus, your words, not mine! Honey, you’re not perfect, either. Go to counseling, do some yoga, drop some acid for all I care. Just let it happen and see where it goes for once!”