“I just got transferred to the Raleigh office. So we’ll be working more closely together.”
“That’s great. Let me know if you need any help finding your way around.” My mind’s already elsewhere as I sit down to switch shoes. The boxes in the cube across from me make me pause. But it’s what he says next that stops me in my tracks.
“So I thought I’d take you up on your dinner offer.”
By the way he’s looking at me, he’s not just asking me as a coworker or friend—he’s asking me on a date.
Can’t he see I’m becoming someone else? Or is he the type of guy who’s drawn to women with darkness around them? I am no longer a nice person.
“I’d be happy to, and forgive me if I’m reading you wrong…I’d get together with you as a friend. Coworkers.” I smile at him. “It’s really sweet of you to ask, but I’m seeing someone.”
“No. It was me. I’m always thinking there’s something there and the girl’s only being nice.” He looks sheepish. “Of course you’re seeing some lucky guy. I should have known.”
I smile to show him there’s no hard feelings. “I’ll introduce you to Angela. She’s really sweet and she’s not seeing anyone. I think the two of you would hit it off.”
He smiles a little too brightly as he nods. “That’s really nice of you.”
No, it’s not nice. But if I don’t do something, he’ll be a problem. He’s nice enough but he’s nosy to the nines. And nosy is the last thing I need from a guy who sits across from me.
The day flies by. I try to catch up on all my projects. I’m behind, and that has never happened. It’s usually pretty quiet on my floor. Other than the sound of people talking in low voices. Emails are answered or trashed, documents updated and created, and meetings accepted or rejected. I am a machine.
A loud bang sounds from somewhere to my left. I bolt out of my chair, and my hand strikes a full cup of tea, which goes flying off the desk. Papers flutter down around me. My dress is wet and my heart is about to take wing and fly out of me.
Laughter sounds. I step out into the aisle and see a group of heads over the dark blue cube walls.
“One of the mailroom guys dropped a box of flyers on the floor.” Lewis peers into my cube. “Wow, you must have been totally focused.” He laughs. “Did you think we had an active shooter?”
I stuff my shaking hands into the pockets of my dress. “You shouldn’t joke about workplace shootings. There are too many of them nowadays.”
He looks uncertain, then sees something in my face and relaxes. “You’re funny. We have to joke or we’d all turn into robots.” He spins around in the navy chair. “Sounded like a gunshot, didn’t it?”
Blood crashes through my veins. The ocean pounds over my chest and lungs. I swallow hard.
“I’m always spilling stuff, so I keep a roll in my desk drawer.” Lewis thrusts a handful of paper towels at me. “I hate when that happens. I spilled a full can of Mountain Dew on my keyboard about a month ago and the IT guys acted like I’d smashed a room full of their toys.” He eyes my desk. “At least you didn’t get it in your keyboard and get sent to IT jail.”
“Now you know my secret…when I’m completely focused on work, it’s easy to scare me.” I shake a finger at him. “Startle me and I’ll tell IT you take your laptop to the beach. The thought of all that sand will give them heart palpitations.”
He holds up his hands, laughing. “I swear I won’t scare you. Don’t get IT on my case any more than they already are.”
As I put on my best wide-eyed and innocent look, I say, “How do you know what gunshots sound like? That’s a seriously scary noise.” You big faker.
“I like to go duck hunting. The noise did sound like a gun going off. No wonder you jumped.”
He’s standing too close as he helps me mop up the mess. When he picks up my purse, I don’t think, just snatch it out of his hands.
“Sorry. I guess I shouldn’t touch a woman’s purse without asking.”
I force a laugh and quickly glance to see if he saw the receipt sticking out. It’s to the sporting goods store for the last box of ammo I bought. I can’t really say I don’t know what a gun sounds like if he sees that receipt, now can I?
“You know how women are about their purses.” The massive wad of soggy paper towels goes into the trash. “Thanks again for your help. Let’s have lunch one day next week when things calm down.”
His face brightens and I almost cringe.
“That would be great.” He’s whistling when he goes back to his desk.
In the restroom, the tile floor and wall are cool as ice. I put a paper liner on the seat and sit, staring at the wooden slats of the door in front of me, resting my cheek against the cool tile. Saliva pools in my mouth, I’m sweaty and clammy, and purple spots float in front of me. It’s the only warning I have. Grabbing my hair with one hand, I lean over, throwing up into the toilet.
Dry-heaving a few more times convinces me there’s nothing left. It’s incredibly disgusting to watch your lunch come back up. Guess that’s what I get for eating tacos.
At the sink, I look in the mirror and cringe. The harsh fluorescent lighting makes my face look slightly green.
One of the stall doors open and a girl from marketing steps out. “Are you okay? I thought I heard someone throwing up.”
I press a wet paper towel to my forehead. Run it over my face and neck. “I think it’s food poisoning. Bad ranch dressing.”
She cringes. “The absolute worst. That happened to me once about four years ago, and to this day I can’t stand the smell or sight of ranch dressing. Don’t think I’ll ever eat it again.” She looks slightly ill.
“I hope not. It’s my favorite.” I rinse my mouth and clean myself up with the paper towels.
“You should go home and rest.” She hands me a compact. “You look a little pale.”
I dab powder foundation around my face where I’ve wiped all my makeup off then hand it back to her with a sheepish smile.
“Really appreciate it. I wish I could go home, but I’ve got a meeting with the client from hell. You might want to avoid the bathroom on this floor.”
“Ugh. Sorry you can’t leave.” She rolls her eyes. “Good luck with them. I met with them yesterday. They made me do seven different storyboards. Talk about a pain in the ass.” She laughs, and I laugh with her as we exit the bathroom.
On a break that afternoon, the story catches my eye. I know I shouldn’t do it at work, but sometimes I can’t help myself and I browse through all the news sites on the black phone, looking for any indication I’ve been found out. Any heads-up they’re coming for me.
The story reads: Cumberland County sheriff’s investigators were working Friday to determine how a man died in Cross Creek, where a family member found him late Saturday night, a spokesman said.
Captain Tony Fitz said the investigators had termed the case a “death investigation.” The sheriff’s office did not disclose how the man died or when. They did say a significant amount of marijuana was found at the scene. Investigators are looking into a possible connection. Deputies did not disclose the identity of the victim.
A snort escapes and I look around to see if my nosy coworker heard me. He’s on a conference call and isn’t paying me any attention. With five more minutes before I have to be in another meeting, I wonder about what they left out. How Walt deserved it. Got away with what he did to those horses. But the article doesn’t say. That’s okay. Justice has been served.
With Sean, police found a makeshift meth lab in the house where little Elsa played. They believe it was a drug deal gone bad. Every time I see a plastic bag from the grocery store, I picture Bruiser, Elsa’s beloved dog. I’ve started bringing my own reusable bags, no longer able to stand having plastic bags in my house.
CHAPTER 26
IT’S FUNNY. AFTER GETTING USED to no longer leaving my windows open—in my house or car, the heat is oppressive. I seriously think about looking into bulletproo
f glass for the car but figure I’ll be flagged on all kinds of lists I don’t want to be on. Paranoia fills me whenever I’m in the car or a public place. It’s ridiculously easy to get to someone if you put your mind to it. I park the vehicle at Crabtree Valley Mall and make sure I lock the doors using the button on the door, not the fob. I read thieves can somehow capture the fob code and unlock your vehicle doors. Stepping outside is like swimming in the bathtub. How quickly we adapt.
I despise running errands on the weekends. Everyone’s out and about, the stores are crowded, and by the time I get home I’m a nervous wreck from being on constant guard. It’s easier to take a long lunch or leave a little early. With a bit of trial and error, I’ve found Tuesday is the best day to shop. Usually the old folks and me. The mall is crowded in the food court area, but otherwise there aren’t many people here. Once school’s out that will change and I’ll have to figure out the best times to shop. Anything to avoid the crowds.
Inside the store, I peruse the cases, not sure what I’m looking for yet. A charm calls out to me. So many people wear these bracelets, heavy with charms, carrying meaning to the wearer.
“Hi there. Is it still horribly hot out there?”
“Awful. Supposed to be worse tomorrow.”
The saleswoman smiles. “Can I help you find something?”
“My boyfriend offered to buy me one of these to celebrate a work accomplishment, but I’d rather buy the first one myself.”
“We get a lot of people buying their own. Did you have anything in particular in mind?”
I point. “I think that for the actual bracelet.”
She takes it out of the case and I try it on, admiring the way the clasp catches the light. As I’m perusing the overwhelming amount of choices, the helpful clerk is asking questions and placing charms on a tray.
“That one. Definitely.” It’s a charm in the shape of a paw print with little crystals.
“Paw Prints. Do you have a cat or a dog?”
“I wish. Too busy traveling for work. But we always had pets growing up.”
It would be totally obvious to select all animal-themed charms. Grayson is way too perceptive and would definitely notice a bracelet full of animal charms. Especially since I don’t have any pets. The inquisitive part of him makes me nervous. Whether it’s the thing inside me reacting to his goodness or paranoia, I don’t know. Then again, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is I recognize it. So I will vary my choices.
She shows me another. “This one’s called Galaxy.”
It reminds me of a never-ending knot. “It’s perfect.” She places it on a separate tray. There’s a dizzying array of choices laid out before me.
“I think the green and purple for color. That’ll be a great start.”
“We’ll have to add you to our mailing list. Make sure you know when we have new collections.”
“Let’s hold off on that. I want my boyfriend to think it was his idea. I’ll have him come in and sign up.”
There are several nice choices. As I meander by the displays, a charm called Geometric Facets catches my eye. It reminds me of the water. A cool, clear blue as I hold it up and look through it.
“A great choice,” she says, waiting for my reaction.
“This is definitely the one. Thanks for all your help.”
Her smile stretches wider. She’s clearly happy with the sale. Later on, at home, I line up the five charms on the table and look at them. Three go onto the bracelet, the clasp closing with a click. The green and purple I put away for later. Admiring the bracelet, I like how the sunlight turns the blue charm to the color of the sky.
There’s a great deal of blank space waiting to be filled.
For whatever reason, I’m restless today. I throw on a pair of jeans, and they slide back down my hips. Did I button them? The full-length mirror in the bedroom shows me the changes I haven’t noticed. Ever since college I’ve been ten pounds overweight. Now, though…I can see my hipbones. My stomach is concave and I can see the faint outline of my ribs and spine.
There’s been so much to do between my day job and what I’ve come to consider as my night job that there hasn’t been much time to eat. Evenings are my favorite snack time. Curling up on the sofa with a carton of ice cream, binge-watching an entire TV series, was my idea of a perfect night. But everything’s changed. Now I spend every moment outside of work, when I’m not with Jackson, hunting down the worst of humanity.
All the clothes in the closet come out. Wearing dresses to work, I didn’t notice how loose they’d gotten. Everything is practically falling off my frame. Even the leggings are baggy. Normally I’d be thrilled, but now I sigh. One more thing to add to my list. There’s no putting it off. I can’t go to work looking like a bag lady.
If I put it off, who knows when I’ll get around to going. On a Saturday, no less. Ugh. As has become my norm, the next thing I know, I’m parked at Walmart. It’s becoming more and more frequent, this loss of time. Driving on autopilot.
Even my sneakers are big. I need a half size smaller, and three sizes smaller in t-shirts and leggings. Not so good is the fact I also require a smaller bra. Guess I’ve lost weight all over. Next stop is Belk.
I have to grab several sizes off the racks, as I have no idea what size I am. Shock ripples through me as I realize I’ve dropped a size in Lilly Pulitzer too. A few dresses and skirts and tops to get me through the summer and a few outfits to wear out with Jackson and I’m good. Oh, right. Undergarments and shoes. My Belk card got a workout today.
Coming out of the store, laden with bags, I look at the pile in the back of the car. How can manufacturers even afford to make the clothes for what you can buy them for at the mart? There always seems to be a sale, and the clothing at Walmart is so cheap it almost seems like the fabric itself should cost more than the garment.
Sweet tea is calling my name. As I leave the drive-thru, I spy one of those chain haircut places, and before I can change my mind, I’m in the front door.
“I don’t have an appointment…”
The girl behind the desk looks young. Fresh out of school. She’s perky and happy as she jumps up. “Doesn’t matter. We take walk-ins, and I’m free. What did you have in mind?”
I can’t believe it. I’m cheating on my hairdresser. I’ve been with him for years. If he saw what I was about to do, he would have a heart attack. In all the years he’s known me, never once have I cut more than an inch at a time. Usually more like a dusting off the ends. Long hair has always been my security blanket, not to mention my best feature. Change is in the air. Seems I’ve been making lots of changes lately.
“I was thinking a bob?”
The girl raises her eyebrows. “Are you sure? Most women I know would kill for your hair.” She lifts up the strands. “It’s so thick. We could cut it a bit past your shoulders?”
I take a deep breath. “Cut it off.”
Her eyes soften. “Bad breakup?”
“Something like that,” I whisper.
It feels so good when someone else washes your hair. When the scissors come out, my nerves take over.
“Would you mind turning the chair away from the mirror?”
“They say you should never cut your hair after a breakup. Wait a few months.”
Her voice sounds so kind. She’s one of the good ones. “I’m sure. If I don’t do it now, I’ll never do it.”
“I hear you, honey.” She’s quiet as she works.
And me? After I catch sight of the strands falling all around me like leaves falling from a tree in autumn, I focus on the wallpaper.
The blow dryer comes out, the air warm on the back of my neck. I feel exposed. Vulnerable. Naked.
She turns me around and pulls off the cape, her eyes shining. “What do you think? It really brings out your eyes.”
The face is mine, the fingers touching the ends of my hair belong to me…and yet…the woman staring back can’t be me. Her eyes look huge in her face. Like one of those cr
azy anime characters.
I turn my head from side to side. “I feel naked and so much lighter.”
The girl laughs. “Wait until you take a shower. I’m warning you, you’ll feel really strange the first time the water hits your neck.”
“It was past time for a change. Thank you for making it look so good.”
When I pay her, I add a generous tip to my card.
“You look amazing. Your ex is going to cry. He’ll be begging you to take him back.”
I fake a smile. “Don’t you know it, girl.”
On the walk to my car, the sultry breeze blows and I feel it across my neck. It’s an unsettling feeling having your neck exposed.
This new cut is practical. No more long hair worries. One minute you’re cooking and the next thing you know, you find a long hair in your baked beans or in your cake. But let’s be honest: I constantly worried about leaving behind strands of my hair at the scenes of my crimes. At least now it’ll be a heckuva lot easier to put up in a baseball cap.
Who’s next on the list? the seductive voice whispers. Looks like I’m headed to the outer banks.
CHAPTER 27
“HEY, GRAYSON.” I’M LAZING AROUND on a Sunday waiting for Jackson to get back with bagels.
He stops and blinks. “Your hair. What happened?”
Self-conscious, I touch my neck. “That bad?”
“No. You look so different. When did you chop it all off?”
“Yesterday. Then I cleaned out all my closets and cabinets. A bit of summer cleaning.”
He looks dubious. “If you say so. It’s nice.”
“Come on. Jackson will be back soon with bagels. Have you eaten? I’m making Bloody Marys.”
“I can always eat. Listen, the reason I stopped by. I’m dating this girl and she likes zucchini bread. It’s her favorite. So I thought I’d make some. Only I don’t have any sugar or one of those things you use to grate the zucchini with. Can you help me out?”
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