Ignite Me (The Annihilate Me Series)

by Ross, Christina

  “You could have asked.”

  “I didn’t want to look like an idiot.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “And look at how well you’ve succeeded at that. . . .”

  And that made me bristle.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Blackwell, but I’m not an idiot.”

  “You don’t say?”

  “On the spot, I had to decide whether trying on the necklace was part of the inspection process. After all, you gave me no specific instructions about what to even look for when it came to inspecting a piece of jewelry, and since I’ve never been asked to do anything like that, I had to wing it. But you are right—I should have asked you what you expected from me. And you’re also right when it comes to a certain comment I made. I come from a working-class background, and when I looked at myself in the mirror, that necklace did make me feel like a princess, as corny as that word sounds—though it should be noted that Sophia is the one who used it first. Not me.”

  “I couldn’t care less who used it first. What all of this comes down to, Madison, is that on your first day on the job, I gave you two tasks to complete in a reasonable amount of time. . . .”

  “A reasonable amount of time?” I said.

  “That’s right. Reasonable. I could have done each within an hour because trust me on this, girl, I have done so countless of times before.”

  “In the middle of the day? When traffic is at its worst?”

  “With ease. And yet you blew it by five minutes. Some lackeys might think that being five minutes late to anything isn’t a big deal—but I’m here to tell you that, for me, it’s a very big deal. And do you want to know why?”

  “I do.”

  “Because as I told you when we first met, I loathe inefficiency. Worse, because you were late, you’ve cut into my lunch hour, which I won’t have. Ever. Today, I tested you—and you failed. Keep it up and we’ll be having a parting of ways.”

  “I’m sorry that I’ve disappointed you.”

  “I don’t have time for apologies. Just consider yourself on notice.” She held out her hand. “Give me the necklace.”

  I handed her the bag, which she tossed onto the table behind her.

  “Now, my lunch. And let’s both say a silent prayer that at least you came through with that for me, because at this point in my day, when I usually need to stab something, it’s better if my fork lands in a pile of lettuce rather than a person, wouldn’t you say?”

  Feeling as if I had already been forked by her, I handed her the other bag, and then she just looked up at me.

  “Do you expect me to remove the salad on my own?” she asked.

  She’s worse than any story I ever read about her.

  As upset as I was, I did my best to conceal how I was feeling and carefully removed the large, clear plastic container that was inside the bag, along with two sealed smaller cups, one of which had olive oil in it, and the other of which contained balsamic vinegar.

  “I was going to pour each on the salad for you at Le Salade, but it’s so hot out right now, I was afraid that by the time I got back here, the greens would have become wilted and saturated with the liquid.”

  “Well,” she said. “At least you were thinking there, even if there is a chance that the greens—especially the spinach—have become shriveled-up versions of their former selves at this point. So, for your sake, let’s hope that isn’t the case. The cover?”

  I removed it and felt a flood of relief when I saw that everything appeared fresh and crisp. Meanwhile, Blackwell inspected the contents.

  “Too much buttercrunch, not enough roquette, so keep that in mind. Otherwise, the salad looks surprisingly fine. Who would have guessed? And since you apparently need instruction, why don’t you pour the oil and vinegar on for me, and I’ll tell you when to stop so you’ll know exactly how I like it going forward?”

  “That would be helpful,” I said.

  “Yes,” she said. “I suppose it would, wouldn’t it?”

  When I was finished, Blackwell glanced up at me.

  “Close the door behind you when you leave,” she said. “For the next forty-one minutes—not the hour you’ve robbed me of—it’s just going to be me and this salad. And then I’ll open my door to let everyone know that I’m back on for the day. Intercept any calls—I’m not to be disturbed, even by those on the list I sent to you earlier. If Alex or Jennifer need me, they have my direct line, so don’t worry about them.”

  “Of course.”

  “And Madison,” she said when she removed a fork from her desk drawer and pierced a heap of roughage with it. “You’re likely thinking that I’ve just been unnecessarily hard on you, but I can tell you that I wasn’t. I have very high expectations from everyone I work closely with. You are no exception. As I said yesterday, mistakes will be made, so consider this your first, princess. Try not to make another. Now go so I can eat.”

  * * *

  When I left her office and closed the door behind me, I felt alone and unnerved, and I was trembling from our exchange. There was a moment when I felt certain that she was going to fire me. And I had to wonder—if this is how it was going to be with her, maybe it would have been best if she’d just axed me right then and there. Because that kind of abuse was uncalled for.

  Suck it up. You came here to win. There are opportunities for you at Wenn. Just stick it out with her, prove her wrong, and don’t get distracted for any reason. This is your chance, Madison. Make it happen.

  After my little subconscious pep talk, I walked over to my desk and heard my computer ding as I sat down. I looked at the monitor and saw that there was an IM waiting for me. “I’m sorry,” Brock wrote. “I’m afraid that’s just who she is, but I can tell you that it will get better. It’s not going to be easy at first, because that just isn’t who she is—but I know that you can do it.”

  That’s the thing, Brock, I thought. If I get involved with you, the question is whether I’ll have the focus to do any of this. I’m not so sure that I will. But I do know this—I can’t blow this opportunity. It means too much to me and my future. And I’ll do anything in my power not to blow it, even if it means I need to give up on getting to know you.

  I looked up from the screen and into his office and saw that, even though he was on the phone, he was nevertheless looking straight at me. I nodded at him—and then I turned my back as I swung around in my chair, chose a few more of Blackwell’s red folders, and again began to study their contents.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It took me a solid forty minutes to arrive home by subway, and when I did, I was relieved to find that Rhoda was back from work.

  When I stepped into our apartment, I found her sitting on the couch in shorts and a tie-dyed T-shirt, her plump bare feet resting in front of her on the coffee table while she wiggled her toes in the air and said, “That’s right, Bessie. Do your thing, girl—cool off Mama.”

  Bessie the air conditioner was rattling the window with such force that I thought, if it were a person, it would be smack in the middle of an anxiety attack. But at least cool air was flowing freely into the room, a blessing after being trapped in a sweltering, crowded subway car and then having to walk several blocks in the late-afternoon heat in heels before I finally reached our apartment building.

  Exhausted from the day, I dropped my bag on a side table, kicked off my heels in the entryway—and half-expected my feet to send me a thank-you note because of how much they ached. With my clothes sticking to me and my hair clinging to the back of my neck in ways that grossed me out, I new that I literally and figuratively had to wash the day off.

  “Toots,” Rhoda called out. “Get in here and sit down where it’s cool.”

  “I’m afraid that if I did sit down, we’d never dry off the sofa. Let me take a quick shower first and then we’ll catch up on our days.”

  “About your day,” she said as I came into the room. “I’m sorry, Madison. You’ve had a shit go of it. I don’t know everything that happened, but I sa
w some of it.”

  “Today can bite my ass.”

  “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

  “I haven’t, and that’s probably a good thing. If I had, I would have just thrown it up anyway.”

  “How are you feeling now?”

  “Overwhelmed, but I’ll be fine after taking a shower.”

  “If you’re going to battle that old battle axe Blackwell, you need to eat. So, how about if I order us a pizza? My treat.”

  “When have I ever turned down a pizza?” I said. “And you’re right—I do need to eat. Tony’s?”

  “Where else? They’re not cheap when it comes to the cheese, but they’ve also got the cutest delivery boys in town. Even though it’s only three years before Barry and I will meet and fall into each other’s arms, I’m still allowed to look because at this point, Barry doesn’t even know that I exist. He’s stuck with some blonde right now. Her name is either Irene or Irena—I can’t get a read on it. But in just eighteen months, he’s about to get a full read on her—and dump her sorry, cheating ass when he catches her with another man. Oh, how I hate that my man’s heart will one day be crushed!”

  “The world is full of cheaters,” I said after I gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I know that all too well. But you’ll heal his heart. That’s why the universe put you on this earth, lovey.”

  She looked up at me with her sparkling brown eyes. “Thanks, toots. And by the way, you smell like patchouli.”

  “That would just be the stink of sweat on me,” I said. “Which I’m about to wash off. I’ll catch you in ten minutes.”

  * * *

  When I emerged from the shower, I felt cool and clean. My hair was still damp, it fell straight down my back, and I wore nothing more than a pair of black shorts and a white tank top.

  “Someone’s a bit chilly,” Rhoda said slyly when she glanced at my breasts.

  I knew by the tone of her voice that she was just trying to lift my spirits, and I was grateful for it. “Very funny,” I said. “This is the best I’ve felt all day.”

  She leaned toward me after I sat down on one of the two overstuffed chairs facing the sofa. “Here’s what I say—when our pizza is delivered, you need to answer the door looking like that. If you poke that delivery boy in the chest with one of those torpedoes of yours, we might get a freebie, because I can tell you this—he’s sure as hell about to get an eyeful, and that young man should have to pay for it in pizza.”

  I looked down at the two little tents protruding from my tank top and would have felt embarrassed by them if it hadn’t been Rhoda pointing them out to me. “Stop it,” I said. “I took a cold shower—how do you expect them to react? They’ll calm down in a minute or so.”

  “Not with Bessie blowing on them, they won’t.”

  I cleared my throat at that and got on with our usual end-of-the-day chat. Generally, Rhoda wanted me to go first, but right now I needed a distraction. “How about if we discuss my day later?” I said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I couldn’t be more sure. Tell me about your day.”

  “Today was completely unremarkable except for one reading.”

  “So, tell me about it. . . .”

  “Middle of the day,” she said. “Never saw it coming. In fact, I’ve never have had anything like this happen to me before. I had just finished lunch when this older dude walked in. And I’m talking old—like ninety. Or maybe ninety-one. Something like that—I’m close. Total cutie. Dressed in a light brown suit, freshly shined shoes, his white hair slicked back as if he was going to either a wedding or a funeral. He had this really charming, almost shy demeanor about him that was immediately endearing. I liked him at once. I also could sense that he’d come to talk about his deceased wife, whom I knew at my core this man loved in ways that all of us should be loved, Madison.”

  “Is this story going to make me cry?”

  “Just let me talk before the cute guy with the pizza gets here. Because I’ve already seen him, and he’s more than cute.”

  “Go on.”

  “So, anyways, I was right. All about the dead wife. He sits down opposite me, says his name is Ed Nickerson, and asks me in this totally gentle voice if I am just here to take his money, or if I really do have the kind of gift that might put him in touch with his wife, who died thirteen years ago. He told me that today was her birthday, and that if my business was a sham, would I please take pity on him and just tell him now so that he could go to church and talk to her there, like he usually did.”

  “What did you say to him?” I asked.

  “I told him that Helen was already in the room with us. And when I said that to him—oh, my God, Madison—I thought I was going to cry. Because he knew at that very moment that I wasn’t a sham since I knew her name. Through me, he knew that Helen was there with us, which she was. I asked him if he’d like to stay, he said that there was no way he was going to leave now, and then he took the seat across from me.” She paused—and then threw up her hands. “And that’s when things went batshit crazy!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I channeled Helen!”

  “What do you mean you ‘channeled’ Helen?”

  “Her voice came out of my mouth!”

  “No, it didn’t.”

  “It did. I swear it did. First time ever, like I said. I. Spoke. In. Her. Voice! She completely overtook my body, which I can only assume is a testament to their love for each other because that’s how powerful her presence was inside of me. Helen wedged herself in deep, and I was turned into her vessel.”

  “What in the hell did you say?”

  “I didn’t say a thing. My trap might have been yapping, but Helen had full control over what was coming out of my mouth. It kind of freaked me out. I knew that I could have forced her out if I wanted to, but I didn’t because of the tears I saw filling Ed’s eyes. And so I just gave my body over to her and allowed them to talk to each other for the first time in thirteen years. Just thinking about what happened is starting to make me get all weirded out again.”

  “What did she sound like?”

  “Like a young woman. Probably the woman he wanted to remember most.”

  “I can’t believe this. What did they say to each other?”

  “It was mostly Helen who did the talking. She wanted to reassure him that she still loved him, that he was the love of her life, and that she didn’t blame him for putting her into a nursing home when he could no longer care for her. Over and over again, she said that it wasn’t his fault. He said, ‘You do remember me, then? You really do, Helen?’ And she said that of course she did, that she was with him every day. She said, ‘I no longer have Alzheimer’s. All of that’s gone. What I have now is clarity and peace, and my love for you. You must know that I love you, Eddy, and that I’m so sorry to have left you when I did. It was too early for us, but what could I do? It was out of my hands. And yet here you are with me now. Finally—at last.’”

  “Now, I am going to cry.”

  “I felt so conflicted,” Rhoda said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I knew that I was bringing Ed great joy and great pain all at the same time. Joy from hearing the woman he still loved and missed, and pain from not being able to reach out and touch her. To kiss her and to hold her again in ways that the rotten disease had denied him when she was still alive.” She threw up her hands again. “And then Helen asked him to kiss her!”

  “I can’t take any more. What did you do?”

  “I did what was right. At that point, I knew that my body wasn’t my own. So, I let him kiss me. And when he did, he wasn’t kissing me—he was kissing Helen. His kiss was so soft, tender, and meaningful, I could feel both of them coursing through me to the point that I felt faint. Helen said, ‘I need to go now, Eddy. I’ve already put this young woman through enough.’ And then Ed, who was a wreck at that point, said, ‘It’s your birthday, baby girl. Happy birthday. I wanted to come here in hopes of wishing you
that, and to let you know just how much I love and miss you.’ She thanked him for coming, she told him that she would love him forever and be at his side just as she always was, and that one day in the future, they would be together again. And then, just like that, she was gone, and I pretty much collapsed in my chair. I’ve never felt so drained.”

  “What you did for that man is nothing short of remarkable,” I said to her through moist, blurry eyes. “To be loved like that? Can you even imagine?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I can imagine it. I long for it. And I know that you do too. We all want the kind of love that Ed and Helen continue to share, but so many of us are so cynical, we don’t believe that we can obtain it. And that comes down to so many reasons—many of which are justified, some of which aren’t. But we have to hope for that kind of love, don’t we? We need to press on and pray that we can be as lucky as Ed and Helen.” She shook her head at me and seemed undone by what had happened to her. “Today, I had a profound experience that will stay with me forever. It was that intense.”

  “Do you think that he’ll come back?”

  “I’m not sure. I think that might have been enough for him because I could tell that the experience was just as trying for him as it was for me. But who knows? I can’t get a read on everything. So, whether he decides to return for another session remains a mystery.”

  “Why do you think you can see some things and not others?”

  “No idea. But this gift—or this curse, or however you want to label it—was stronger today than I’d ever experienced. Today we’ll call it a gift, because it was a gift. I was able to help Ed reconnect with Helen. He thought that he’d never hear her voice again. He thought that he’d never speak to her, let alone kiss her again. But he did. I don’t know how, but it happened. Helen Nickerson plunged into my body, she claimed it for herself, and she seized the moment to be with her Eddy again. That’s the power of love, and I’m here to tell you that it’s more humbling and awesome than either of us ever realized.”