I felt sure that Rhonda didn't realize how dark and sadistic Mike's book was. I couldn't believe she'd have assigned it to me if she had since she knew my history. Wanting to find out, at lunch I mentioned that I'd been reading it and wondered what she'd thought, and sure enough she had been told what it was about by my predecessor, who'd acquired it, but she hadn't read any of it.
Relieved that I'd been right about her, I sat at my desk post-lunch and forced myself to keep reading. I was hoping for a major comeuppance for the character at the end, for him to be caught and jailed, maybe even roughed up a little in the process as some sort of compensation for what he'd done to his victims. When he escaped cleanly and was obviously about to claim another victim on the last page, I fell back in my chair and barely managed to keep from crying.
So unsatisfying, and yet frighteningly realistic. Mike had somehow managed to make it clear that even if the monster had been captured and brought to trial it wouldn't have changed anything for his victims, and he was right. Christophe's conviction meant he couldn't find me in person but he was still with me every day. He would be forever. He'd seen to that.
I pulled my hands away from my thighs, where they'd gone without my conscious thought, and pushed my chair back. I needed a break from this room, from what I'd gone through with Mike's characters.
Howard was on the phone, so I said to Rosanna, "Got a second? I want to get a coffee and show you pictures of the cat I got Thursday night." I'd been so excited to show her on Friday, and to go to yoga with her on Saturday, but her boyfriend's grandfather had passed away unexpectedly Thursday night and so she'd missed work Friday and we'd postponed our first yoga class together for a week.
Her eyes lit up. "You got a cat? And you've been here all day without showing me pictures? I hate you. Let's go."
We laughed and headed for the door, but she turned back and said, "Jake, want to come along? Or would you rather not see what's probably a million cat pictures?"
He looked doubtful, not surprising given how we'd left things, and I surprised myself by feeling bad. He'd been open and honest with me, and though I'd hated what he'd told me I did respect him for the telling. "It's not more than a thousand. Come with us if you'd like."
His eyes warmed and he smiled and got to his feet. "Five hundred is my limit, but okay."
I only had twenty or so pictures, and my coworkers oohed and aahed appropriately as we sat at the coffee shop. "She's gorgeous," Rosanna said, then sighed. "Someday. Six more months and I'll move, and six months and a day I'll have a cat again."
"You're going to wait a whole day?"
She smiled at Jake. "No, probably not. Six months and two minutes?"
"Two full minutes?" I put in, and we all laughed.
"For now I will live vicariously through you. Tell me all about her. Let's bore Jake to tears."
I did tell, but Jake was either interested or did a good job of pretending.
"You a closet cat lover?" Rosanna asked him when I finished.
He shrugged. "I like them fine. I just know that my apartment feels kind of empty since it's just me there, and I'm glad for Alexa that hers isn't any more."
"You should get a cat too," Rosanna said, then launched into how she could come visit both of our cats on alternating days and thereby almost be able to say she had one herself, but I wasn't really listening.
I was trying to work up the courage to smile at Jake.
I still didn't trust him, but his understanding of how lonely I'd felt touched me. I didn't manage to show it, though, before Rosanna noticed the time and cut off her plans to take over my cat and Jake's non-existent one because we needed to return to the office.
On our walk back, she said, "Seriously, Jake, why not get one? If your place feels empty."
"I'm not sure that cats and wet clay go together," he said, "and I really don't want to see my sculptures covered in cat fur."
We laughed, and I managed to look at him as I did. It wasn't quite the smile I'd wanted to give, but his smile when he saw I could stand to look at him showed me I'd made him happy anyhow.
Back at the office, I made myself dig deeply into Mike's book, page by painful page. Making notes on exactly which depravities needed to be rewritten and where he could expand upon the descriptions of injuries that were far too close to my own was the hardest thing I'd ever had to do at work, and I tried to hold Jake's kind understanding around me as a sort of shield to help me get through it.
I'd need more than that tomorrow, though. I'd need a miracle.
How else would I be able to stand sitting in the same room with Mike?
Chapter Eleven
To my surprise, we got along great. When he came in, Rosanna warned him, "If Alexa tries to show you cat pictures, run!", and he burst out laughing. Mike was about an inch taller than me and probably only a few pounds heavier, and though he was a small man he had the biggest laugh I'd ever heard. When he laughed, we all did too because it was impossible not to, and from that moment on I felt comfortable with him.
I didn't want to, of course, given what his mind had produced, but I couldn't help it. How easily I found myself relating to someone with that depth of darkness in him worried me, and I promised myself that I would not go anywhere or do anything with Mike other than perhaps the occasional coffee run at work. My judgment was clearly still out of whack and I wouldn't risk myself.
We sat in the small conference room, and I left the door slightly open claiming that it got too hot in there otherwise, and we worked through my notes about his book together. He didn't seem embarrassed or uncomfortable about discussing the awful details with me, and that made me feel worse about how I didn't feel afraid of him at all, but it did at least make working with him easier.
As time went on, I managed to step my personal self back a little so the work one could take over, and analyzing his words on a purely literal level rather than relating them to myself made the job easier. If anything, I found myself becoming more relaxed and comfortable with him as time went on, not less, and that worried me.
When we finished, he said, "I like how you think, Alexa. You're exactly the editor I need. I think we'll be great together," and held out his hand for me to shake.
I had made sure my hands were full of his manuscript and my notebook when he arrived so I wouldn't be able to shake hands because I didn't want to touch him, but now I couldn't see any way around it. His hand in mine, though, didn't feel bad at all, and when he smiled at me I smiled back without having to force it.
As I walked him back to the front door I again thought I needed to be careful of how I related to him, and when I saw Howard smiling at me I extended that thought to him as well. I needed to take things slow with him, and with my newly developing friendships with Rosanna and Jillian, and especially in gradually releasing my fear of Jake.
I wasn't sure I was capable of knowing who to trust.
*****
Jillian and I sat in my apartment that night drinking the wine I'd picked up on the way home to be ready for her next visit and admiring Stella.
"She's still pretty shy," I said, "but she came over to be patted for the first time while I was answering my email."
Or deleting it, in the case of reporter Lance's latest appeal. He'd acknowledged that I wasn't comfortable yet telling my story, had claimed he understood, but had then laid out a brief plan for how the book could go "when you're ready". I'd been annoyed by his presumption, but noticing Stella creeping closer to me until she was right beside me had distracted me enough that I'd simply deleted the email without bothering to reply.
"Good sign," Jillian said, and held out her hand to the cat. "C'mere, honey. Want a pat from me?"
Stella sat in the middle of the floor studying her unblinkingly, then yawned and lay down.
Jillian laughed. "Nap time."
Something occurred to me and I tried to figure out if I was right.
"Problem?"
I looked at Jillian and shook my head. "Nope, j
ust realized that she's never actually taken a nap in front of me. I've never seen her sleep."
"But don't cats sleep all the time?"
I'd read lots about cats online since bringing Stella home, to make sure I could take good care of her, and I nodded. "She goes under the couch, though, or under my bed."
Sure enough, after another few yawns Stella got up and wandered off into my bedroom.
"Interesting. I guess she isn't quite sure it's safe to sleep out in the open."
Since I could only sleep with all the doors and windows securely locked, and hadn't even been able to put in the window air conditioner in my New York apartment during last summer's blinding heat because that would have meant I couldn't lock that window, I understood. "I hope she gets there eventually."
Jillian smiled. "Sure she will. She'll forget why she's worried. Don't they only remember things for three seconds or something like that?"
"I think that's goldfish. And she's worried because some jerk tried to drown her. I doubt she'll forget something like that."
"But she knows you weren't involved. That's why she let you pat her today. She'll be fine. Hey, look, since we're talking about animals, can I pick your brain again?"
"Sure," I said, before realizing I might not like whatever a defense attorney wanted to discuss about animals. "I mean, what about?"
"My book," she said, confirming my fears. "I've done the theft section and I think the outline's pretty good. Could you take a quick look?"
Relieved that she wanted me reading about thefts instead of discussing animal abuse, I nodded, and she nipped back to her apartment and returned in moments with several sheets of paper.
She'd done a good job with the outline, and I told her so while also pointing out a few areas to improve.
"Got it," she said when I finished. "Thanks. So the next section is going to be about animal-related crimes, since they're often gateways to more serious offenses. You were such a great help with choosing the theft cases so I was hoping we could chat a little about these ones too."
Sit in my apartment, with my cat under the bed because she didn't feel safe sleeping anywhere else, and chat about animal abuse? "I'm not sure about that," I said. "Feels a little too personal, with Stella and everything."
She blinked. "But that's why I was hoping you'd be able to help. Maybe the book will help other animals not be hurt like she was."
The book had a long way to go before there was any chance of that, but she could be right. Still, I didn't want to.
When I didn't answer, she said, "How about this? I've written out brief summaries of a few cases. Maybe you could tell me whether I absolutely should not use any of them."
I didn't much want to do that either but I didn't think she'd be taking no for an answer, so I said, "Okay, I can do that."
She again went home and came back with papers, and I read through them and we ended up discussing them anyhow. She had definitely learned from our first work session, and this time had picked only cases that were particularly unusual. Unfortunately, that made them even more horrific to read.
When we'd finally talked about them all, I shook my head. "People can be such monsters. Those poor animals."
She nodded. "Thanks for the help. I know it wasn't much fun. For me either."
I blinked. She hadn't seemed bothered in the slightest. "No?"
She frowned. "You think none of this affects me? Of course it does. That's why I want to write the book. I have to--" She glanced at her watch and cut herself off. "Is that the time? I should get home. Early meeting tomorrow."
There'd been a passion in her voice as she began to talk about the book that I'd never heard from her before, but she'd stifled it after the watch check and the way she was briskly gathering up her papers suggested she didn't want me to comment on it. So I simply said, "Okay."
She smiled. "Thanks again. Say bye to Stella for me whenever you see her next."
We laughed and Jillian departed.
I washed and put away the wine glasses in case Stella woke up during the night and decided to wander around on the kitchen counters and then checked that all the windows and the door were locked and went to bed.
Lying in the dark, trying as always to push away what I knew was the irrational fear that when I woke up I would again be with Christophe in that awful apartment tied up and in pain, I heard a faint sound. I stiffened in fear, then relaxed against my pillow when it came again and again and I realized what it was.
Stella, on the floor beneath my bed, was snoring.
I smiled, and let the soft peaceful sound carry me off to sleep too.
Chapter Twelve
The rest of the week passed without much incident. I spent two difficult hours with our cover designer trying to pick exactly the right tortured-looking face for Mike's book's cover, and though I scribbled all my sad feelings into my notebook before I went to bed I still had a nightmare that night of all those faces staring at me and begging me to help them. That one miserable situation aside, I worked and got to know my coworkers better and had the joy of seeing Stella hurry to meet me instead of rushing to hide when I came home on Friday.
Rosanna and I went to yoga on Saturday morning, and I loved the relaxing atmosphere and the friendliness of the teacher and other students. What I didn't love was the dressing room afterwards. Rosanna didn't flaunt her body but she also didn't bother trying to hide it as she stripped off her yoga gear and put on her street clothes, and I felt her wondering why I took my clothes into a bathroom stall to change instead of getting undressed in front of her.
She didn't question me, though, and I certainly didn't volunteer why I wouldn't show my body, and the momentary awkwardness passed quickly as we had a great lunch together before her boyfriend Todd showed up to take her to see some friends visiting from out of town.
Todd seemed nice, even sitting patiently while at Rosanna's insistence I showed him pictures of Stella, and as they left together I wondered if someday I'd be as relaxed with a boyfriend of my own.
Howard and I spent Sunday together wandering around Toronto, and though I wasn't as relaxed as I wanted to be I did feel more comfortable with him every time I saw him, and with his kiss at the end of the day too. He wasn't my boyfriend, but I was getting closer to being ready.
All of that had me in a good mood Monday morning when I walked into the office. Jake and Rosanna and Howard and Rhonda were at the coffee machine as usual, but another woman stood with them. She had long wavy brown hair swept up into a ponytail and brown eyes behind red-framed glasses that matched her short-sleeved blouse. Her black skirt was shorter than I'd have worn even before the assault and her red spike heels made her bare legs look ridiculously long, and when the door closed behind me Howard jerked his eyes away from those legs and looked guiltily in my direction.
"Hey, Alexa," he said. "Good morning. Come meet Carly."
When I reached him he slipped his arm around my shoulders and gave me a little squeeze. I still wasn't so sure about that sort of thing in the office, but nobody else seemed bothered so I stayed put for a second before easing myself away from him.
Carly smiled at me and I noticed with fascination that her lipstick exactly matched her glasses and blouse. "Nice to meet you, Alexa. I've heard so much about you already."
We shook hands, and I tried not to show my surprise. Hers was ice cold and damp and felt terrible in mine.
She laughed. "Sorry, I was just holding my water bottle. Hope I wasn't too clammy."
I smiled. "No problem. Nice to meet you too."
"How about the three of us go chat about what's been happening?" Rhonda said. "Alexa's made a few changes that I'm sure you'll like, Carly."
"If you don't, of course you can change them back." When I'd been making the changes I'd felt fine about it but now that I was face-to-face with the person who really owned the job I felt like I'd been presumptuous.
"No, she can't." Rhonda smiled first at me then at Carly and waved her hand toward her
office. "Because it works better this way."
We went into Rhonda's office and spent the next hour or so going through what I'd done. Carly was full of appreciation and said again and again how impressed she was with how quickly I'd seen what needed to be changed. With a little laugh, she even said, "Doesn't look like you need me any more, Rhonda."
I was about to protest but Rhonda got there first. "Of course we do. No question."
Carly looked pleased and proud, but the expression flickered when Rhonda added, "Alexa's going back to editing full-time, so without you I'd have no assistant at all."
"Oh, she's an editor?" Carly turned to me, smiling. "Sorry if that sounded bad, I didn't mean it to."
It hadn't, but now I wondered how it could have.
"You're just starting out editing?"
I shook my head. "Did it for several years in New York."
"Nice." Carly smiled again. "Looks like I've got lots I can learn from you."
Rhonda smiled at her fondly. "I love that about you, Carly." To me, she added, "She's so open to learning things from other people. Smart way to be."
I nodded, and tried to hide that I was finding myself disliking Carly despite how wonderful she seemed.
*****
Rhonda sent us out for drinks on her after work but refused to come along "so you can bitch about me". We didn't bitch, but we did have a good time together, and by the end of the evening I was trying hard to revise my earlier opinion of Carly. Everyone seemed to like her and it seemed like they were right to do so. She'd been nothing but fun and friendly the whole night.
When we all left the bar, the slightly drunk Howard pulled me close and kissed me good night before I could stop him, and I tried not to feel awkward about him doing so in front of the others. None of them seemed bothered, so I didn't need to be either.
Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13) Page 58
