122 Rules

by Deek Rhew

  He sat down, placing a file in front of him. “Coffee okay?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him as if to say, really?

  He chuckled. “Budget cuts. Okay, so first thing’s first. Your identity.” He opened the file and pulled out some documents. He handed her an Arizona driver’s license.

  She squinted as studied it. “Susan Rosenberg? Really?”

  Jon shrugged. “Yes, we thought you’d enjoy the parallelism.”

  “She was a human rights activist.”

  “But if you recall, before that, she was a murderer and a thief. We, the FBI, caught her, and she was sentenced to fifty-eight years in prison. Are you saying there’s a difference between the two of you?”

  Monica saw no point in resuming that old argument, so she remained silent.

  He slid other pieces of identification across the table, naming each. Social security card. Voter registration. Insurance. On and on, all the little things that make a person who they are in a modern, electronic society.

  She interrupted his dry list. “So what do I do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For a living?”

  “Paralegal.”

  Monica sat up straight. “Um, no. I’m going to be a lawyer. I have plans. Other kids grew up like I did. I’m going to fight for them.”

  He relaxed into the back of his chair. “No, I’m sorry, that’s not going to happen. You’re going to have to adjust those plans.”

  “For how long?”

  “At least until the trial is over. Then once we feel it is safe for you to do so, we can discuss it.” A trap loomed.

  “How long will that be?”

  “Like I said. Until we feel it’s safe.” He slid another piece of paper across the desk.

  She glanced down at the paper, then back at the man who held her life in his hands. A white-hot flame of anger burned through her. They had done it, screwed her just as she always knew they would. “A certificate of paralegal studies from a backwater trade school in Arizona? What is this?”

  Jon smiled a knowing grin. “We examined your life’s ambitions and determined that this was as close to it as we felt comfortable. We found you a job and a house. You start next week at a law firm in your new hometown. It’s not a huge, prestigious place like you were hoping for, but there isn’t anything we can do about that. Your new life is different than what you’d planned. Not worse, not better… Except, of course, unlike other kids right out of school, you’ll be starting with a job and a very healthy stipend. Oh, and you’ll have to fly out on ‘vacation’ every so often to testify at the trial.”

  She stood and shouted in his face. “This is complete and utter bullshit! You promised me an education and a life. This is a certificate from a trade school.”

  “As I recall, you’ve been studying while you were sequestered. And I am delivering a life to you as promised. Do I have the facts wrong? Haven’t we given to you what we said we would?”

  So much anger flooded her veins that Monica couldn’t even formulate an argument. She lifted her leg and placed her foot on the desk, exposing her ankle and the monitor on it. “What about this?”

  “We discussed it at great length. For your own protection, I’m afraid that will have to stay. If all seems to be well and you’re behaving yourself, then we’ll discuss removing it. You’re a witness in a high-profile case. It’s in the best interests of everyone involved to ensure your security…by any means necessary.”

  Monica seethed. She wanted to explode with rage, but leaping across the desk and punching Jon in his stupid face would only give them a reason to lock her away and lose the key. Not that this seemed much different. She would play along…for now, because she didn’t have any choice. Wait them out and grab her chance. It would come. She knew it.

  Monica smiled at Jon. “When do we leave?”

  “There’s a private plane waiting to take you to Arizona.”

  6

  “Susan” stared at the pile of papers before her. The desk she’d been given at Bunder and Associates looked as though it had been ransacked. Lisa, her boss and the sole remaining owner, had been trying to make Susan organize the jumble since the new paralegal had arrived. But she had resisted, remaining adamant that order existed among the chaos. Each time Lisa had asked her for a document or slip of paper, Susan had extracted it with the ease of a magician pulling a bouquet of silk flowers from his sleeve, thus proving the filing system worked.

  She had only allowed herself this one little rebellion, because they were watching and listening. This wasn’t paranoia. When she’d moved in to her new little bungalow, she had searched the house and found listening devices hidden in the lamps of the living room, in the picture frames of the hallway, under her bed, and in the bathroom. Another had been found, along with a tracking device similar to the one on her ankle, under the driver’s seat of her car. A search of her office turned up several bugs randomly spread out around the small workspace, including one under her desk.

  To combat this constant monitoring, she’d developed a regimented routine, designed to drive any listeners to the brink of insanity with boredom.

  Monday through Saturday, she woke at six fifteen on the dot, showered, dressed, had breakfast, and arrived at the office at seven thirty. She ate lunch at her desk and went home at seven. She ate dinner and read or watched TV until ten then went to bed, where she often moaned as though masturbating enthusiastically, but usually just flipped through magazines until she “climaxed.”

  On Sunday, she had coffee alone at the little shop up the street. Then she grocery shopped and cleaned her house. She never went out and never met with friends. Lisa proved to be the only deviation from this schedule. She and her husband had a rough and volatile relationship, and she often stayed in Susan’s spare bedroom. Susan had considered refusing the first time Lisa had asked her to stay over but wanted the eavesdroppers to think she’d fully immersed herself into her new life.

  On the job, Susan performed her duties of paralegal with ease and diligence, taking on more and more of the responsibilities until Lisa simply rubberstamped her signature on anything Susan had worked on.

  This morning had started like any other, but as she sipped her coffee, preparing to leave, a solid knock on her front door echoed through the little house. Crew Cut stood on her stoop—no smile, no real greeting of any kind. He’d stayed for less than five minutes, leaving with as much fanfare as when he’d arrived.

  For the tenth time that day, Susan rubbed her ankle where the tracking device had been for the last six months. Now that she had freedom, she needed a distraction.

  * * *

  Susan heard the motorcycle long before she saw it pull up in front of the building. She went back to staring at the legal brief in front of her. A few minutes later, someone pushed through the door.

  “Have a seat,” Lisa called from behind her.

  Susan didn’t look up until she’d finished reading the document. “How can I help you?” she asked.

  The man stood and approached the desk. His well-loved leather jacket and faded jeans covered a superbly built frame, giving him a hard-working, salt-of-the-earth tone. His dark hair had been mussed up from the bike helmet. The imperfection on this otherwise unrivaled specimen gave him an almost palpable, aw-shucks vibe that sang to her heart. He smiled, his flat, blue eyes warm and inviting, and she couldn’t prevent a replying grin play across her lips.

  Taking the seat opposite hers, he said, “I’m thinking about signing a lease on a piece of property, and I wanted someone to review the paperwork for me before I do. The real estate agent seemed a little...” He seemed to be searching for just the right word.

  “Trustworthy and on the up and up?”

  “Ummm, not exactly what I was thinking.”

  She pretended to ponder it over for a moment then offered, “Smarmy?”

  “Exactly.”

  She crossed her legs and touched her
chin. “Yes, well, we only have one real estate agent in town, and as hard as it is to believe, Mr. Cooper has been known to try and take advantage from time to time. Let me see what you’ve got.”

  He handed her a thick stack of papers. “I’m Peter Morrell.” He extended his hand.

  She stood. “Susan Rosenberg. Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, Susan. You’re the other newbie in town.”

  For the first time since she’d arrived in Walberg, a bolt of fear flashed through her. She paused halfway into her chair, then resumed her seat. “And how exactly do you know this?” She tried to make her voice sound interested, but not too interested.

  The man laughed, the timbre both easy and relaxed. “The first place I went to when I got to town was the coffee shop, where I met the proprietor’s fiancée, Mary Beth. It took Cupid all of about five minutes before she was trying to pair us up. I probably have far more insight about your coffee habits, marital and dating status”—he ticked off the points on his fingers—“your new house, your job, basically your entire life.” He coughed into his hand. “It’s far more than I have any right to know.”

  Her shoulders and back relaxed, the tension easing its way out of her body as Susan laughed with him. Mary Beth. She should have known. The local gossip and busybody had her nose in everyone else’s business. “My god, that woman is presumptuous, isn’t she?” she said, shaking her head. “Guess I’m not really surprised. She has been trying to match me with just about every eligible bachelor in town. Now that we have about tapped that pool, she’s been hitting up random strangers.”

  “She is a fountain of information. Though, if my good friend Mr. Cooper is an example of the eligible bachelors, it’s no wonder you’re still single.”

  “Oh, I know, right?”

  “They all that bad?” he asked.

  “You have no idea. So nasty.”

  “On behalf of my gender, I apologize.”

  Susan laughed. “Well, thank you.” She turned back to the business at hand. “Let me review the documents, but you should be just fine. Bobby simply isn’t creative enough to do anything funky to the fine print of his contracts.”

  “That’s a relief. When can I come back for them?”

  She thumbed through the papers. “I should be able to get to this by late afternoon. Why don’t you stop by around five? I’ll have an answer for you then.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I can wait that long.” He shook his head. “A couple from Florida is real serious ’bout this place. It’ll be gone fer sure you know.”

  She laughed again at his impression of the smarmy little real estate agent. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to miss out on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’ll give it top priority and have it done by three.”

  “Perfect. See you then.” He got up and gave her one last smile before pushing through the door. Susan admired his physique and…well, just about everything else about him through the front glass of the office. Her heart skipped and her palms sweat as he climbed on his bike and drove away.

  7

  The office of Bunder and Associates still echoed with the sound of the closing door when Lisa came out from behind her wall of papers. “Who was that?”

  Lisa had become the sole owner of the law office when the last of the partners, Jesse Ridel, left three years before. Jesse, a frank, no-bullshit kinda of guy, had stayed on for two years after the previous partner cashed out his shares of stock. He had grown up in Walberg and openly admitted he hated the thought of abandoning his hometown. But Lisa thought he had really stayed because of his feelings for her. They had dated for a short time, and when she broke it off, he appeared to have never lost hope they would reunite. He brought her coffee in the morning, took her to lunch in the afternoon, and asked her to out more times that she could count. But as more businesses boarded up their windows, romantic prospects or not, he too abandoned the town.

  “Close the place down, move, and invest in something with a future.” He handed her his office keys. “The town is in a shit spiral, and in a few years there’ll be nothing left. Get out while you can.”

  “Thanks, Jesse, but I’m going to stay. Things will turn around. You’ll see.”

  He shook his head. “You’re either the world’s biggest optimist or the world’s worst business owner. Good luck.” And with that, he had packed his bag and left.

  It hadn’t just been optimism about the town’s prospects that kept Lisa in Walberg. Shortly after Jesse, she started dating a guy with good “husband potential,” and if she left, she didn’t think the man would follow her. Unlike Susan, who never seemed to want to talk about her past, Lisa spent hours reviewing the sordid details of her many failed relationships—who said what, who did what, and the underlying reasons for everything.

  Even after marrying her boyfriend who’d offered to run away with her, Lisa stayed because she liked being in charge. With everyone gone, she could make up all the rules and didn’t have to answer to anyone.

  Susan checked the contract still in her hand. “Peter Morrell.”

  “He’s really cute.”

  Susan waggled her finger at her boss. “Now, don’t you start. I have enough trouble with the lowlifes Mary Beth is always trying to hook me up with. Jesus, what’s up with that? Doesn’t she have anything better to do than meddle?”

  “Seriously?”

  Susan sighed, shaking her head.

  Lisa continued, “I’m just sayin’ you could do worse. It’s rare a good-looking stranger comes to town, and when it happens, you should try and make an impression. Come. Stand. Let’s have a look at you.”

  Susan rolled her eyes but did as instructed. Her boss inspected her, examining her shoes, her outfit, and her hair. Lisa scrutinized Susan’s makeup with the intensity of a biologist studying a new strain of bacteria. “It wouldn’t hurt to fix yourself up a bit, you know.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Hon, you don’t exactly look ready to be on The Bachelorette. You’re pretty, maybe not as pretty as me, but still, you’ve got something to offer.”

  Susan put her hand on her hip. “Gee, thanks.”

  “You know what I mean. Now turn around,” Lisa said.

  Susan rolled her eyes but spun. Lisa started fussing with Susan’s dark hair. She experimented with a braid. “Hmmm… What we really need is a brush. Go get me yours.”

  “I don’t have one with me.”

  Sighing, Lisa went to a nearby metal desk, opened one of the large bottom drawers, and started rummaging through it. In the original configuration, the office had been set up for eight employees, but with just the two of them left, she had been able to allocate one of the empty workspaces to house her many beauty products.

  “You know, I have these drawers for just such emergencies. You could”—Lisa stopped the search to look up—“and should use them.”

  Susan rolled her eyes again.

  Lisa found the brush and started running it through her friend’s tangled, twisted hair.

  “Ow!” Susan yelped as Lisa worked her head over with the industrial-sized implement.

  Lisa stopped to look at the brush. Black chunks and some kind of awful residue now coated its teeth. “What did you use for dye? Shoe polish?”

  “I don’t remember. Whatever was on sale.”

  Lisa threw her hands in the air. “Whatever was on sale? Really? Oh, honey, there’s no way this is going to be enough. Okay, we’re closing the office for a couple of hours. Time for an extreme makeover!”

  “But there’s so much to do.” Susan gestured toward the boxes of paperwork.

  “You’re right. I suppose I should run it by the board first. Wonder if I can get them all together on such short notice?” She put her hand to her chin as if thinking it over then nodded, as if by sheer determination she could make it happen. “Yes. Yes, I think I can. I summarily declare the board meeting in session. All in favor of closing the office to deal wi
th this emergency… Aye! All opposed?”

  Susan raised her hand.

  “Sorry, dear, you aren’t a voting member. Looks like the motion has been passed by an overwhelming one hundred percent of the senior staff.”

  “Lisa, I can take care of myself.”

  “Can you? You come and go and do and wear the exact same thing every single day. I’m tired of being the only one who has any fun around here.”

  Susan laughed. “Your life is fun?”

  “Well, honey,” she said while smiling mischievously and touching Susan’s nose with a finger tipped with a perfectly manicured nail, “it sure ain’t boring. Look, I’m not talking about kids and a white picket fence. That guy isn’t going to stick around. You saw him. He has ‘short-term’ written all over him. He was flirting with you, so use that. Have a little fun then cast him aside. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

  “You think he was flirting?”

  “Honey, you have been out of the game so long you forgot the rules. God, yes! He barely even glanced at me; his eyes were on you the entire time. Little more makeup, some different clothes, and a dash of charm, and he’ll be putty in your hands.”

  Susan nodded. “It has been a while since I’ve gone out.”

  Lisa’s newest employee had worked in the office for over half a year, and in that time, she had never gone out. Susan, both smart and a hell of a hard worker, epitomized the perfect employee but remained guarded about her past. She only gave the vaguest of answers when pushed for details of family and friends: deceased parents, no siblings, graduated from Phoenix High, only dated “sporadically” in college—whatever that meant—and no long-term relationships. It was odd the way her friend recited her history. As if she hadn’t lived it but instead memorized a list of facts and dates.

  Susan was the social equivalent of a court memorandum: dry and uninteresting. Maybe if the girl got a little action, she might be looser with the sordid details of her past. There had to be something, right? Besides, then they could focus on a different topic than Lisa’s own…spirited love life. “See, that’s what I’m saying.”