Every year the SEA held a meet and greet event where only the fourth and fifth floor agents were invited to join in. The event consisted of the chief of staff, the chief, defense team, the head of the departments, managers from every floor, retired agents, and of course, the head of the agency. The event allowed the fourth floor agents to ask questions and have one-on-one conversations with the higher levels, who would fill the empty positions on the fifth floor as they saw fit. However, the turnover rates weren’t very high. For a fourth floor agent to land a spot on the fifth floor was therefore very limited and competitive.
Marvin examined the floor, seeing first floor agents drowned in their work. Some were on the phone screening potential clients for upper level agents and others were looking at data and gathered evidence given by the upper level. Each agent worked closely with their client, making sure the two parties were satisfied at the end of the mission.
Marvin pressed for the elevator. Within seconds the doors opened. He stepped in, thankful there was no one else accompanying him up to the fourth floor. Marvin despised small talk. If he didn’t have any interest, there was no point for any sort of conversation. He rarely uttered hellos and goodbyes to anyone, unless it was a client or someone higher up the chain. Other than that, Marvin kept to himself when at work.
As he stepped off onto his floor, he could see straight ahead a man in his fifties, judging by the gray hair, sitting in his office. He walked with stride, unsure whether this person would give him good news about the assignment he’d taken on or trouble that he wasn’t quite ready to handle yet.
As he pulled the door toward him, the man rose from his seat.
“Agent 513, Bruce Storm, chief of staff,” he said, extending his hand for a handshake.
Marvin, a little curious as to what brought one of the highest respected agents down to his floor, cautiously shook his hand.
“I’m well aware of your work, sir,” Marvin said, slowly pulling out his chair from underneath his desk. “What can I do for you?” Marvin made himself comfortable as he awaited an answer.
“Can you explain to me about the assignment you’re on? Assignment 01-02.”
Marvin was stunned. This wasn’t Bruce’s area of interest or expertise. This had nothing to do with Bruce.
“My personal assignment?” he asked.
“I looked into your file and you’ve put in this assignment once before but it was terminated.”
“No disrespect to you sir, but this assignment was already approved by the board of directors. I’m sure you know how it works around here,” he said, leaning back in his chair. Something didn’t quite add up to Marvin as he studied Bruce. “You don’t have the authority to come in here and question why I do what I do.”
“I’m well aware of my duties and boundaries,” he said slyly. Bruce unbuttoned his blazer and pulled out a folded piece of paper from the inside pocket. He placed it on his desk, with confidence. “That’s why I had this document drawn up and signed for approval.”
Marvin was overcome with a deep, bubbling anger. He loathed being questioned about his work. Marvin snatched the document from his desk. He read in detail about Bruce’s concern for this specific assignment Marvin was going to carry out. It gave Bruce permission to take whatever files he felt necessary in order to review them.
Taking another agent’s file with documentation only meant one thing: It would slow down the process to have the assignment completed. Assignments took more time to get approved than the missions agents carried out for their clients.
Marvin looked at Bruce with a smile, but his eyes twinkled with rage.
“You took the time to have one of the rookies write up this bullshit?” He was still smiling as he spoke, making sure not to let any sign of discontent appear.
“Drawing up documents for assignments is not something listed under my job description.”
Marvin knew something. Even though he was just a fourth-floor agent with no authority, he knew how people worked. He could tell when someone was lying. He knew when someone was hiding something, which Bruce clearly was. This had just made his assignment more interesting. His curiosity about Bruce rose.
“That’s true,” he replied, folding the paper back into its original form, “but why would you take out the time to have this document written up, signed, and then hand deliver it? There is a level of concern for you, which raises questions in my mind. People only go out of their way if something matters. You care about something or someone,” he said, pointing at Bruce. Marvin grinned, knowing he was on to something here.
“I’m here to take files associated with this assignment. That’s all.”
Marvin, completely ignoring Bruce, had his own questions he wanted to ask. “You could have just left this document on my desk. Why did you wait for me? I’m sure you have other important things to do. Why is this more important?”
“I wanted to get a sense of the kind of person you were. The profiles on the database only do so much justice. It’s different when you meet the person and get a feeling firsthand.”
“What kind of person am I?” he asked with a mischievous smile across his face.
Marvin smiled as he leaned forward, folding his hands together. He was intrigued by Bruce.
“What kind of person am I, Bruce?” he repeated.
Without any hesitation, Bruce replied, “I think you’re a paranoid psychopath.”
Marvin snorted. “You think I’m a psychopath? What makes you think that?” He chuckled, trying to contain his laugh, but it was the only way Marvin knew how to contain the real beast that lay hidden. He rested his elbow on the armrest of his chair, his chin on his fist while he gazed at Bruce.
Marvin was going to figure out what it was that Bruce cared so much about. He had all the information he needed. It was just a matter of cross-referencing his current assignment with the previous one. Something was different in this assignment and Marvin was sure going to catch whatever it was. He was going to create hell on earth just for Bruce.
No one got in the way of Marvin. No one.
“I’ve heard worse,” he said. “Here, let me give you what you’re looking for. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, sir.”
Marvin unlocked the desk drawer that contained the last few missions he was working on and pulled out the assignment Bruce requested.
“Here you go, sir,” Marvin said, rising from his chair. He held out the black folder in front of Bruce.
As Bruce rose, there was a difference of height. Marvin happened to be slightly taller than Bruce. But that wasn’t the intimidating part. Bruce had no idea what scheme Marvin was working up in his mind at this very moment. If he knew any better, staying out of Marvin’s business would have been the best option. It wasn’t until now that Evan’s life was in danger.
Bruce buttoned his blazer as he took the folder Marvin held out for him. “Thank you.”
Marvin looked deep into his soul and said, “No, thank you.”
Marvin was still smiling as Bruce left his office. When Bruce was off in the distance, Marvin sat back in his chair and went to work. He pulled up the agency’s database, knowing everything he needed to know about Bruce was available.
“Agent 513, I will destroy you,” Marvin said under his breath.
Marvin typed in Bruce’s agent number in the database. Every piece of information on Bruce pulled up in front of him. He carefully looked into Bruce’s profile with great thirst to find what it was that he cared so much. Marvin pulled up his personal files from his database and crosschecked the two files to find what was different from the last time he started his assignment. Who was involved this time around? The change of place? Something was definitely different. He couldn’t put a finger on it.
He scrolled further and further as he crosschecked everything that had been the same. After a couple of more scrolls down the pages,
he noticed one thing different. And this was going to give him the answer he was looking for. It would unlock the history of Bruce’s past, which Bruce kept secret.
Marvin grinned. Today Bruce stepped into his territory, and now, Marvin was going to destroy his.
Chapter 8
Shadow stood patiently in front of the door to Mr. and Mrs. Pence’s home. She held a blue folder in her arm, ready to present the various designs she’d been working on all morning. As seconds passed, the more anxious she became. This was the first time she worked on a nursery. Shadow’s portfolio consisted of mainly bedrooms and bathrooms, sometimes kitchens. Her designs were purely meeting the Pence’s requirements intertwined with how she would have designed her own nursery.
As she waited, Shadow studied her surroundings. The homes in MidView were more close together in proximity compared to Lake View. It was a cozy town to say the least. Medium sized front lawns and picket fences seemed like the trend. Some homeowners had put in obvious effort. Shadow noticed a home across had Spanish garage doors and a driveway made of bricks. Some lawns had more landscaping done than others. The Pences’ home was traditional from the outside. It had the white picket fence that surrounded the Egyptian blue-colored two-story house.
Before Shadow could ponder any longer, the front door gradually opened and Mrs. Pence, whose dark skin glowed, peeked behind the door.
“You must be Shadow,” she said with a smile.
Shadow nodded, feeling a little relaxed.
“Please come in. It’s freezing out!”
Shadow stepped inside, feeling the warm air hugging her body.
“Thank you. This weather is kind of lovely, to be honest.”
Mrs. Pence shot a confused look. “It’s below thirty degrees out there. How on earth is that weather lovely?! And you’re wearing a skirt?”
Shadow chuckled. “I’m originally from Pool View. The temperatures drop close to twenty degrees, even more sometimes and it snows on top of that. So I’m used to it.”
“Ah, okay, that makes sense,” Mrs. Pence said as she rubbed her stomach. “Let me show you the nursery.”
***
Denise walked through the front door, followed by Ryan. After Ryan closed the door behind him, he stood still for a moment. A part of him hoped that coming back home would ignite a sensor in his brain that would cause a domino effect of regaining lost memories. Nothing. Ryan walked into the kitchen where he found Denise pouring a glass of wine.
“Wine in the afternoon?”
She smirked. “Do you want me to pour you a glass?”
“No, but do we have beer?”
The corners of her eyes crinkled. “I’m sorry,” she said, plugging the cork back into the top. “We have Coke…and some lemonade left.”
“Lemonade it is,” he said as he moved to the refrigerator. He came to a halt as he reached for the handle. There was a picture of him and Nate at Nate’s kindergarten graduation. It was a day filled with joy and excitement but Ryan didn’t remember it. He didn’t remember his eyes welled up out of happiness as Nate walked across the stage to get his certificate. He didn’t remember his heart flooding with joy, seeing his little boy growing up so quickly.
Denise took a sip before setting her glass down. She wrinkled her forehead, wondering what was going on in Ryan’s mind at the very moment. For the past month, whenever she showed him pictures of him and Nate or just family pictures in general, he wanted the reminiscing part of it to be over. She knew Ryan didn’t like being reminded that he had lost his memory.
“Does that picture remind you of something?”
There was silence.
“Babe…”
Ryan’s eyes flooded with tears. “I want to remember,” he cried. “Why don’t I remember him? Why?” He looked over his shoulder and gazed at Denise helplessly. “I’m his father. I’m supposed to remember.”
Denise dashed to Ryan’s side, accidently knocking her wine glass over with her elbow. Her heart sank hearing him cry. She wrapped her arms around Ryan, feeling helpless herself.
The red wine spilled over to the edge of the counter, dripping onto the floor, one droplet at a time.
“I know, honey,” she managed to say, sobbing.
Denise still felt the guilt from that night. She couldn’t help but feel it was all her fault.
Chapter 9
Shadow stood in the vacant room, jotting down ideas on her notepad as Mrs. Pence stood leaning on one leg scanning through the sketches.
“See, for this one,” she said holding up the second sketch, “I really like the ceiling but I don’t like the layout of the closet or the moldings. I like the closet in the first design, especially the built-in changing table.”
“I liked that one too. Don’t worry, I’m going to make sure you get the perfect nursery for your baby. When is your due date?”
Mrs. Pence looked at her stomach and rubbed it in parallel. “One month from today.”
“Oh wow. Kinda cutting it close, huh?”
“Tell me about it. My husband, bless his heart…I love him, but sometimes he just doesn’t listen! We were supposed to already have the nursery ready by now.”
“Do men ever listen?” she offered.
Shadow and Mrs. Pence shared a good laugh together. For the next half an hour Shadow went over the changes and other items on the list that the Pence’s had under their requirements.
***
Bruce sat across from Venice in her office. He looked down at his laps for a brief second before meeting her eyes. They hadn’t said a word to one another after Candice had let Bruce in.
“How are you?” Bruce asked, breaking the silence.
Venice nodded. “Times have been better, but that’s life.”
Bruce let out a sigh, feeling there was still some resentment and tension toward him.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“I need to talk to you about Evan,” he began. “He may be in danger but I’m not a hundred percent sure yet.”
The unsettling feeling Venice had tried to avoid for the past month was now making its way to her gut.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Bruce shifted in his seat.
Venice stood up and walked over to the corner where she had her cappuccino machine set up. It was a gift given by Denise three Christmases ago. Never did she believe she needed such a materialistic product that complicated the beauty of simple coffee. But after she made her first cup, she felt rather differently about her miracle machine.
“Would you like some?” she asked, turning on the machine.
“I’m good, thanks though,” Bruce said, craning his neck in her direction.
“Okay, suit yourself.”
“Do you know anything about this?” he asked, referring to Evan. “If you do, you need to let me know, so I can do what I need to do on my end.”
“No.”
“You sure? ’Cause you tend to hide these kinda things away from your family.”
Venice pursed her lips. “You know exactly why I keep my mouth shut about these things.”
Bruce scoffed.
The room fell in awkward silence, neither of them knowing what to say next.
She peered over at Bruce. “Don’t beat around the bush. Say what you want to say.”
Bruce scratched his jaw as he raised an eyebrow. Venice walked back to the couch with her mug in hand.
“You could have saved her, you know? Evan and Denise would still have their mother today.”
“She was a drug addict, Bruce,” she said in a stern voice. “You knew that going in and I know you believed she changed because I did too. But sometimes people’s addictions are so powerful, there’s really nothing you can do. Even after getting help, which you did, people relapse. That’s what happened with Geneva. She slipped and her addic
tion to cocaine and meth was powerful enough to make her think there was nothing left for her to live for. You don’t want to believe it and I don’t blame you. She was the love of your life.” Venice took a sip from her mug. “What really locked Geneva in that path were the people she started spending time with—her old buddies. They didn’t care about her well-being or her family,” she said, pausing for a moment. “That’s around the time she started having the affair.”
“If I had known, I could’ve saved her.”
Venice saw the sorrow in Bruce’s eyes. “Oh darlin’, there was absolutely nothing you could have done. She was going through stuff of her own before you even met her. There’s nothing you could have done to save her.”
She took another steaming sip.
Bruce frowned. “Life really screws with you sometimes, doesn’t it?”
“When you truly love someone, then yeah, it does,” she replied.
The moment of silence between Bruce and Venice that felt comfortable. Bruce scanned the beige walls and then the rest of the room. A plant was placed near the window and the curtains had been draped. A painting hung in front of him of a cabin in the woods, with a river flowing in front of it. He remembered when Venice first bought this space. It stayed the same ever since.
“I thought a lot about seeing Denise and Evan.”
“Yeah?” Venice leaned forward to place her mug on the table. “And?”
“The timing isn’t right,” he confessed.
Evan’s life was in jeopardy. Before Bruce created more chaos, he wanted to make sure whatever Marvin was up to would be put to an end.
Venice was relieved. “I’m really glad to hear that.”
“I’m going to head out. I’ve got a lot of things that I need to do,” he said, rising from the couch.
STORM: IT'S A CURSE TO REMEMBER Page 6
