by Daisy Allen
“Shut the fuck up,” I say as I duck my head under the water, feeling it open the pores in my scalp.
“What? I said nothing.”
“It’s when you’re quiet that I’m most afraid. What am I going to do?”
“About what? There’s nothing to do. She’s looking for a guy about 6”3 who wears a hoodie all the time. That’s three quarters of Harlem.”
“She mentioned the hospital bill.”
“Well, you and I are the only two people who know about that, and you’re not going to talk, and you pay me too much for me to talk, so you’re safe.”
“Fuck. What a mess. I do NOT want this out, Xavier.”
“Where are you?” he asks, ignoring my stress.
“In the shower,” I reply as I squeeze some body wash into my palm and lather up my chest and arms, letting the heat from the shower massage my aching body.
“Yeah. I’m going to call back. When you’re done being naked while I speak to you.”
“Don’t you fucking go anywhere until we’re done. Take care of this, Xavier,” I warn him.
“Okay, okay. Geez. You think she’s going to find you in city of 8 million? Based on a HOODIE? Egotistical much?” he chuckles, enjoying my pain.
I am not impressed.
“Take care of it,” I tell him one last time before hanging up the phone to finish my shower.
Truth is, I wish there was a way I could see her, without being found out.
Seeing her, albeit on screen, reawakened, or to the completely honest, amplified, my inexplicable obsession with her. Before, I had only seen her dazed, confused and drugged up. But watching her come completely alive and so animated, breathes life into my thoughts. I feel a strange sensation dig its nails into the darkest pit of my stomach, and I claw at my abs to try to dislodge it.
This is out of my control and that is not allowed. I don’t have a place for it in my life.
I rest my head gently against the cool shower wall, letting the water fall over my neck and shoulders, hoping it’ll wash this weird feeling away.
***
Dressing in the spare clothes I keep in my private bathroom in the small apartment I keep on the second highest floor, I take a glance in the mirror before I go to my office. I run my fingers over my left cheek, feeling the bumps and lines there. It’s been a while since I’ve studied them, but something makes me scrutinize my face more than usual. For a split second, I ponder how Jade will react if she ever saw me without my hoodie, but I banish the thought from my mind before the indulgent idea runs too far.
Running my fingers through my hair, I pull the hood over my head and ride the elevator to my office.
The floor is dark when I arrive. Except for the faint row of solar powered LED lights around the edges of the windows, I prefer that the building is kept dark outside of office hours, to preserve electricity. I press the button on the keypad, to illuminate just the area around my desk and go for a walk around the perimeter of the floor, looking out at the city before it floods with life.
She is out there somewhere.
And she is looking for me.
It seems like the plot for a story of star-crossed lovers, but there is nothing romantic about me. And I know better than to let my thoughts go down this road.
I walk back to my desk, passing the workstation on my way.
On the desk lays a plain white envelope, my name written on the front. The hand writing matches the one on the parcel I received the day before.
I turn and look around me, instinctively, wondering if I am being watched.
The envelope is sealed and I slide a finger under the flap, pulling out the single piece of card.
“Tick tock. You can’t stop me, if you don’t know who I am.
Your launch is in four weeks...I wonder when I should schedule mine?
The day before yours? Next week? Tomorrow?
Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.
J.”
My jaw tightens. Who is this guy? And how did he get this note here? Only one person has unlimited access to this floor, and that is me. Even Jemima is only allowed in after she receives the daily passcode from me when she arrives in the mornings.
I call down to the security office. “Carlos. I want to see the security footage of the workshop for the last 12 hours. Now. Call me when it’s ready and I’ll come down.”
I am going to get to the bottom of this. No one threatens me, and no one puts my company at risk.
I am going to find this ‘J’ and I am going to crush him.
Chapter Seven
HER
I am being recognized everywhere I go. I hadn’t realized how many people would see my segment on TV. Visitors to the library are recognising me all day, on the subway, and even the staff at the local bagel and coffee shops talk my ear off, wanting to hear about my experience and what they can do to find my “hooded hero.” The show has run clips of my plea multiple times since the original airing a few days ago.
And it isn’t just in person. Just hours after the interview on the morning show, I started getting emails and texts from strangers telling me they know who my mystery man is. But it doesn’t take too many questions to know that they don’t have the right person. I’ve even met with some who claim that they are him. But instantly I know they’re not him; they are either too tall, too short (apparently 6’3” has as many variations as there are people), too old, just too... wrong.
I don’t know much about him, but I know his voice. And if it is the only thing to go on, it’d be enough. It is the glass slipper. Only one voice will be able to elicit the right response in me. That unequivocal feeling of safety. And if I have to talk to a thousand wrong men to find the right one, I’ll happily do it.
Whether he wants to be found or not, I’m not going to give up.
“Jade!” Harriet yells at me as I return to the office from my lunch break.
“Wha?” I yell back, startled.
“Pick up the bloody phone or put it on silent for God’s sake. It’s been ringing non-stop for the last hour. I haven’t been able to get any work done all day,” she grumbles.
I grab the phone and send the call to voice mail, switching it over to vibrate for a while for both of our sanity’s sakes. “Hey! You’re the one who was all, ‘oooh, find your mystery man,’ so now I’m looking, and you’re going to have to help me.”
“Ugh, what’s in it for me?”
“First hand gossip?”
Harriet pauses and glares at me. Then turns back to her desk, a sign of surrender.
I giggle and turn my attention back to the phone. There are 32 missed calls and 6 voice mails. Yikes! No wonder Harriet is pissed. I scroll through the numbers; among the unfamiliar numbers there is a missed call from the TV station and one from my grandma. I cringe, I haven’t called to tell them about the attack, and now they’ve probably heard about it about from someone else. I decide to save that phone call for later tonight... after I’ve had some wine. I scroll to the top of the list again and notice that one number has called 11 times in the one hour I’ve been gone.
“Wow. That’s persistent,” I mumble to myself.
“What’s that?” Harriet asks.
“Oh, nothing, just that one number called 11 times.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“Must be urgent,” she rolls over to me on her office chair. “Call ‘em!”
“Oh, sure... so now you’re interested.” I tease her.
“Shut up.” She reaches over and presses ‘call’ on the phone.
“Hey!” I push her arm away.
“Hello?” the faint voice says through the earpiece.
“Oh! Um... yes, hello. This is Jade Sinclair. I have some missed calls from you on my phone.”
“Yes. I recognize the number. Ms. Sinclair...”
“Oh, please call me Jade.”
“As you wish. Jade, my name is Xavier.” He pauses. As if that should me
an something to me. And then it strikes me.
“Xavier! You’re the man who paid for my hospital bill.” I screech into the phone.
Harriet jumps out of her chair and pushes her ear up against the phone. I swat her away in vain.
“Well, I physically paid for it, yes. But I’m not that generous,” he says. “My boss, K, is the one who paid.”
“Who is he?” I blurt out. Not caring for the small talk.
“Ms Sincl-, er Jade. I think you know the answer to that.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The answer is that, you’re never going to know. You must understand by now that my boss is not the sort of man who wants you to know who he is and has done a lot to ensure that that doesn’t happen. So, I’m just calling to ask that you respect his wish to remain anonymous. And that you stop trying to find him.”
Harriet looks at me, watching my expression. But I am prepared for this.
“Mr., um, Xavier. Please listen to me very carefully and convey my exact message to your boss. I am not a complete dunce. I noticed how he disappeared as soon as I regained consciousness but not before making sure he’d paid my hospital bill, in cash as to not leave a paper trail. So, yes, I understand that he is doing everything he can to stay hidden. But he saved my life. Have you ever had your life threatened, and in your absolute scariest moment, have someone come as if out of nowhere and save you?
“Well, actually, K...”
“Well, I have,” I cut him off so I can continue, before I lose my nerve. “And it was your boss who did it. So, no. I will not stop trying to find him. I will find him and I will look him in the eye, give him a hug, and tell him, from the absolute bottom of my heart and soul, that I appreciate what he did, and forever in my mind he will be a hero. That every moment of joy, laugher, love and life that I am blessed to experience from here on out is due to his bravery. And then I will walk away and leave him alone. I will not share his identity with anyone else, and I will not call any more attention to him. So. The faster he comes to talk to me, the sooner all this will be over for him. But I will not give up. Until I find him. So I can say two words, ‘thank you’”
I stop and let my words sink in.
Harriet smiles softly, hugs my shoulders and kisses me on the forehead as we wait for his response.
I hear him mutter something like ‘she’s just like him,’ and sigh.
“I will convey the message. And Jade? God bless you.”
Chapter Eight
HIM
The day’s meetings drag and by 5 o’clock I want to jump out of my own office window. We finish discussing our partnership with Dupont to match their most popular pain colors with our new product and move onto the results of the focus group on the marketing material.
“Daniel, when you get the report, I want you to hand deliver it to me. It goes straight from you to me, got it?” I stare my marketing executive down.
“Well, don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid? It looks like they’ve already gotten all the information they need, they’re probably not spying any more, just in case they get found out,” referring to the one we all know only as ‘J.’
I pivot on my heel to face the window. The sky is filled with grey clouds and looks heavy and tired, mirroring my mood.
“How long have you worked here, Daniel?”
“About five years now, Mr. Ashley.”
“Do you like it here?”
“Yes, of course. Very much so.”
“Where did you work before?”
“This was actually my first job in Manhattan. I was pretty inexperienced when you hired me, but you liked my story about my parents owning a corner store in Connecticut. I used to work there for pocket money.”
“Yes, of course, I remember now. I guess they love that store of theirs.”
“Yes, sir, they’ve had it most of their lives, they wouldn’t do anything else for the world. They get there early in the morning and leave every night after dark. They know every nook and cranny of that place. Sometimes I think they love it more than they love us kids.”
I turn back to him. He looks confused at my line of questioning. I don’t blame him. People who haven’t lost everything tend not to understand the doggedness of people who’ve stood bare handed with nothing but the air in their lungs to call their own.
“Well, this is my corner store.” I gesture to the four glass windows around us. “This building and this business. In one month we are launching a smoke detector that is going to revolutionize fire detection, and save tens of thousands of lives a year all around the world. And because of one person’s vendetta, that could all come crashing to the ground. So, no, I do not think I’m being a little paranoid. You can go. I’ll see you in half an hour with that report on my desk.”
“Yes, sir,” he says, then hesitates.
“Is there something else?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to imply... I just. I hope you find him, Mr. Ashley.”
“You and me both, Daniel. Thank you.” I go back to my desk as he leaves.
I sit down on my desk chair, leaning back, surveying my workstation and the floor in front of me. Since I received the parcel from J I’ve tightened the security of my office floor, the brain of the company where the ideas form and new products are born.
My sanctuary.
It makes me almost physically sick to think that this space has been tainted, infiltrated by an enemy.
I close my eyes and breathe deep, controlling the heat and loathing rising up in me.
Who is he? And what does he fucking want with me, with my company?
Stop it. Stop dwelling, stop worrying, it’s not going to do any good. You can’t solve anything if you’re too busy burying your head in the hatred. Calm down and work it out, I tell myself.
Except that the voice isn’t mine.
It’s hers.
Somehow, she’s become the voice of calm for me.
I need to see her.
No. You can’t. Now it’s my voice.
“Fuck you,” I tell myself.
I jump to my feet and slide my phone into my pocket, grabbing my hoodie as I rush out the door.
Chapter Nine
HER
“Dude. I. Am. Out.” I sigh, exhausted, resting my head on my desk.
Harriet’s chair creaks as she turns around to face me. “That last solitaire game got the better of you, did it?”
I hear Harold snort from his office.
“Excuse me, I’ll have you know...it was Bubble Witch Saga and I’ve run out of lives,” I raise my voice for Harold’s sake. “Anyway, it’s my cue that it’s time to split. I’ll see you at home.” I get up and shove my phone into my handbag, waiting for my computer to shut down.
“Just give me a minute to finish this file and I’ll come with you.”
“No!” I throw both hands out in front of me, like a traffic cop trying to stop three lanes of cars during peak hour.
The shock on her face makes me laugh.
“Sorry.” I bite my tongue, trying to push down the giggles as she continues to look confused, her eyelids working overtime as she blinks, waiting for my explanation. “I just need to be by myself for ONE minute. I am so grateful for your help and relentless, continuous surveillance, but I really need to...you know, not be breathing the same air as you. Just for a little while.”
Harriet’s confusion changes to concern.
“And before you say anything, you’ve been watching me like a hawk at work for the last three days, and even you have to admit, I’m fine!”
She opens her mouth just as the gruff male voice speaks up from the office next door.
“Oh, just let her go, Harriet. Go! Jade! Before she can catch up with you! But be back at Harriet’s apartment in two hours!”
I grin and grab my bag, I run over to press a quick kiss to Harriet’s cheek before she can even react and skip out of the office, yelling a “I owe you, Harold!” as I pass his open door and make
for the exit.
I push on the heavy door with both hands and take a deep breath of the cooling air.
Freedom!
“JADE!” A chorus of voice suddenly calls out to me and I turn to notice a throng of people and the blinding light of flashbulbs to my left. By sheer instinct, I pivot to my right to escape them, only to be greeted by a similar group of about ten to fifteen people yelling my name, phones and cameras in their hands. The mob meet in the middle and crowd around me. Closing in a circle around me, blocking my path and escape, all I can see is a flurry of arms and faces, each one getting blurrier and blurrier.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to focus on what is happening. Over the pounding in my ears, I can barely make out any words. Only the fuzzy, familiar sound of my own name. I need air. Badly. And my head is starting to throb.
I push forward with my body and arms, but that only seems to strengthen the mass of bodies. They push back against me, still throwing questions and queries at me in waves and waves of sound that I can’t process. Where have they come from? And what did they want?
“Please. Please,” I beg, trying to shield my face with my arms. “I need some air... I’m going to faint. Please.” The sky suddenly grows dark and the sun becomes the size of a pinpoint.
“Get the fuck out of the way!” I hear a voice say.
A voice.
His voice.
I feel my body being lifted, weightless.
And then the voice, his voice speaks again, in a whisper, quiet, just for me to hear.
“Jade, can’t you ever stay out of trouble?”
And then the sun disappears altogether.
***
“What a sweet little neck you have.” His voice grates over my ears, scaring me to my bones, like the aural equivalent of nightmare. “It’s a good thing you’re not wearing any jewellery, I wouldn’t want it to get stained by your blood when my knife slits it.”
My hand immediately goes around my neck. Protecting it.
“Please. Please,” I hear myself beg.
“It won’t hurt a bit... well, maybe just a little. Or it could hurt a lot.”
