Let Me Go

by L. L. Akers

  “You are spoilin’ me, girl,” Jake said over a mouthful of his favorite chicken pot pie casserole. “I should be the one spoilin’ you this weekend. You’re the one that’s makin’ the big bucks now... Gonna make things a lot easier on us.”

  “I want to spoil you too, Jake. I wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for you pushing me along. I’d still be bagging groceries if it wasn’t for you.”

  “That’s not true, Gabby. You’ve done everything yourself. You just needed someone to believe in you,” Jake said, smiling.

  Gabby cringed at that comment... Believe in me. If he found out about that one night, he’d never believe in her again. She guiltily jumped up to grab the cherry cobbler before the memory of that night could weasel its way into their evening. She wanted to keep it hidden, far back in her memory, and maybe it would grow old and covered with dust, where she would never have to look at it again.

  CHAPTER 24

  ONE MONTH LATER:

  “Good morning!” Mr. Arnaud said as Gabby stood in the kitchenette, adding sugar to her tea, while he reached around her for the coffee creamer.

  “Morning, Mr. Arnaud,” Gabby answered, turning to walk back to her office.

  “Gabby, wait. I told you to call me René,” he said with a firm voice.

  “Okay. René... good morning, René,” Gabby said in a blasé voice, following his orders, but not even bothering to turn around. She wouldn’t let him see how uneasy she was.

  He came into her office, where she’d just settled herself and turned toward her computer to begin her day. He sat down in her visitor chair after pulling it right up next to the front of her desk, closing the gap between them as much as possible. No one would think this odd, as they’d seen both Mr. Arnaud and Danny sit even closer than this when going over reports and accounting information, as well as when they were training her in the beginning.

  “Gabby, we need to talk. It’s been a month since the night at The Pub. You’ve seemed distant. Sometimes you even come across as being outright insubordinate to me. You do realize that in here, I am your boss, right?”

  “Yes... sir,” Gabby added evenly, staring straight ahead at her computer. “And I am your employee. I’m doing my work and doing it well. Do you or Mr. Hinson have a problem with my performance?”

  “No, we don’t. But I want this wall you’ve built between us to come down. This is a small office. People here will feel the difference and wonder why. They’ve already noticed your standoffish demeanor lately—eating your lunch in your office, not making small talk with me or anyone else... You need to be more mature about this, Gabby,” he said firmly. “You and I have to work closely as a team, just as Danny and I did. If you’re not able to continue to do that, you may want to find another job,” he threatened.

  Gabby could feel the tears well up in her eyes. She wouldn’t give Mr. Arnaud the satisfaction of seeing the same, though. She turned around, opening her two-drawer file, appearing to look for a certain folder. She cleared her throat.

  “Yes, sir,” she responded, hoping that would end the conversation and he’d just get out of her office and leave her in peace to do her job.

  “Okay, then. I need you to stay an hour or so late tonight. We’ve got P&L reports to go over and I’d rather do it after everyone leaves. That will be all,” he said, getting up to leave.

  “Goodnight, Eileen. Please lock the door behind you,” Gabby heard Mr. Arnaud instruct Eileen, as she was the last to leave.

  She gathered up her files and headed to the conference room, where they normally went over such reports. She was first in. She chose the chair closest to the door, at the end of the table.

  “Gabby, sit on one side or the other. We can’t see the same report at the same time if you’re sitting at the end. You know that,” he gently reprimanded as he walked through the door.

  Gabby got up and reluctantly moved to a chair at the side of the table, slapping her folders down in front of her, knowing her attitude was showing through her body language, but with the last of the staff gone, she didn’t feel the need to play the charade of “Nothing happening here, folks. Move along...”

  Mr. Arnaud ignored the attitude and began to work. They stayed at it for over half an hour, strictly businesslike, and Gabby was starting to let down her guard, feeling more comfortable doing the same routine they’d done dozens of times, with no mention of that night. Maybe she was making too much of what had happened. Maybe he felt as bad about it as she did. He did, after all, have a beautiful wife and three kids. Maybe they both really could chalk it up as a bad night and forget it ever happened.

  Mr. Arnaud stood and stretched. “Gabby, I’m going to get some caffeine. Do you want anything?” he asked.

  “Umm... I’ll take a Pepsi, please,” Gabby answered, still lost in the analysis of the report in front of her. Something didn’t add up and she wanted to find it before Mr. Arnaud did, proving to him she was still doing fine.

  She didn’t even notice when he came back in, he’d shed his cufflinks, rolled up his sleeves, and removed his tie. He put her soda in front of her and opened his own, standing up looking over the report Gabby was going through and sipping on his own Pepsi.

  A long stretch of silence filled the room, covered only by low fizz and popping sounds coming from the cans and the sounds of each of them swallowing as they quickly drained the cool drinks.

  “Gabriella, you smell wonderful,” Mr. Arnaud said.

  Gabby stood up fast, so fast her chair rolled into the wall behind her, slamming against the drywall. She turned to head straight out the door, but Mr. Arnaud was standing directly in front of it.

  He shut the door.

  “Mr. Arnaud, it’s too hot in here with the door shut,” Gabby snapped, getting nervous. Mr. Arnaud’s face had transformed. His eyes were fixed on Gabby with a glassy stare, his forehead showing beads of sweat and his normally perfectly groomed hair mussed, as if he’d run his fingers through it. All this coupled with the missing cuffs and tie and with the top three buttons undone made him look like a different person, unlike his normal distinguished self.

  “René. Call me René,” he said in a whisper as he stepped closer to Gabby.

  A sense of foreboding filled the air. Fear in the form of ice ran through Gabby’s blood.

  “I’ve got to go. Jake’s waiting for me. I just called him a few minutes ago and told him I was on my way. We’ve got plans this weekend... starting in an hour,” Gabby lied, her heart beginning to beat faster and her legs feeling wobbly. She felt like a lamb in front of the lion, about to be slaughtered.

  “That’s a lie, Gabriella. You haven’t left this room. You didn’t call Jake,” he said, smiling insidiously.

  He’s right, Gabby thought. There’s no phone in this room. I can’t even call 9-1-1. I’m going to have to talk myself out of here.

  “Mr. Arnaud—René—now seems to be a good time to discuss that night. I know we’ve both pretended it didn’t happen, but I have to be honest here. It did happen and I’m still bothered by it. I want to be sure we’re both on the same page here. I love Jake, and I would never cheat on him knowingly. You have a beautiful wife and three children. What happened that night can never happen again,” Gabby said firmly, trying to sound confident and professional.

  “Now, if you’ll move out of the way of the door, I do need to call my husband and tell him I’m on my way,” she finished determinedly.

  “Sure, Gabriella,” Mr. Arnaud said, moving aside to allow Gabby access to the door, but not nearly enough room to squeeze through without being in very close proximity.

  Gabby hesitated, feeling her nerves flutter. This felt like a trap, but it was the only way out. She held her head up high and started for the door, trying to appear aloof. Just as she had her hand on the knob, Mr. Arnaud grabbed her waist, turning her toward the table, and in one fluid movement bent her over it. Gabby slammed her palms down flat in front of her to avoid slamming her face against the table.

 
; “What are you doing!?” Gabby said, not quite screaming yet, but not calm either.

  “Gabriella, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about that night... It’s all I’ve been able to think about,” Mr. Arnaud whispered into her ear, leaning over directly behind her with his body pressed to hers.

  “Let me up!”

  “Gabby, you know you enjoyed it too. The way you were moving your hips, moaning... You were so fucking wet I had to dry the seat with a towel after you got out,” he said, rubbing his groin against her ass in a circular motion.

  “I didn’t know it was you! I thought it was Jake. Please... stop!”

  “You knew it was me. You weren’t that drunk, Gabriella.”

  “Yes, I was! I was passed out. When I woke up and saw it was you, I tried to stop you! You know I did!” Gabby bellowed desperately.

  “That sounds like a good story, Gabriella... but we both know that’s not the way it ended, ma chérie,” he said seductively while reaching down with one hand, unfastening his belt and pulling down his zipper in one rapid movement.

  Gabby heard the zipper and struggled to get out from under him. Her every movement was mirrored by him, the hardness crushed between them, their hips swinging back and forth together, as if they were already locked together in the throes of a dark sexual dance.

  She couldn’t get out from under him. If she moved her hands from the table, she would have no freedom or defense, lying flat, face first. She had to keep her torso off the table or he would take it for submission. The only thing that prevented his penetration now was her skirt and panties between them. She could feel the heat of him smashing up against her as her small arms were getting weaker, holding their weight off the table.

  She collapsed, her hip bones slamming into the table, sending shards of pain radiating through her body as the air was pushed out of her lungs from Mr. Arnaud dropping right on top of her.

  “Oh yes, Gabriella... Good girl,” he said, assuming she was surrendering and reaching down to pull up her skirt.

  Gabby tried to scream, but she didn’t have her breath back. She was frozen in that position, barely able to move at all with him on top of her. She heard her panties rip before she felt their absence.

  “NO!” she finally was able to force out. “Stop!”

  It was too late; he entered her from behind, awkwardly sliding his body back and forth over hers while trying to thrust and jab deep inside her, sticking his disgusting tongue in her ear, moaning and whispering in tandem, “Oh my God, Gabriella. Ohhh... you feel so good. You were made for me. We are so good together,” he murmured against her face, his sweat mingling with hers, mistaking it for passion, not the sweat of exertion from trying to get away from him.

  Gabby stilled. There was no use in fighting anymore, but at least she could let him see he was dancing all alone. She lay with the side of her face flat on the table, pointed away from his, and tried not to move a muscle. There was pain, her hipbones digging into the table, and there was discomfort, her legs numbing and her face rubbing against the wood with each thrust. But the feeling of humiliation overrode every other sense. She closed her eyes against the tears trying to squeeze out. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

  “Gabriella, come out of the bathroom!” Mr. Arnaud yelled again while pounding on the door. “Stop acting like a silly child!”

  After Mr. Arnaud had released himself into Gabby, he’d freed her from the table, asking if she’d been uncomfortable. Gabby looked at him, dumbfounded, as she pulled down her skirt and rushed out of the room, running to the bathroom and locking herself in. She wished she’d grabbed her cell phone out of her purse but was afraid to stop in her office first. She just wanted away from him.

  “Stop calling me that!” Gabby screamed back. “Leave me alone!”

  She’d hoped he would leave. She had her own keys; she could lock up the office. She’d been in the bathroom for almost thirty minutes now, running water over one paper towel after another, first soaping, then rinsing... then repeating until she’d nearly filled the trashcan to overflowing. Her mind was fixed on one thing and would not deviate: get clean. Wash him off. The thoughts of Jake, rape, and police kept trying to poke in to distract her, and she would push them back out in rejection, focusing on scrubbing and rinsing herself even harder, until she was raw and sore.

  She finally stopped, patted herself dry, and leaned against the wall... sliding to the floor with her head in her hands.

  “Gabriella, I know you are sitting in there feeling badly about Jake. You don’t have to feel this way. Let me take the blame and feel the guilt,” he said sympathetically. “It was my fault that we started this, not yours.”

  He spoke as if she were a partner in this, a willing partner—his lover—caught up with him in a torrid affair. How could he be so confused?

  Gabby’s mind tried to un-jumble itself, flipping over question after question. How could he possibly think that? How could he not know? What the hell was wrong with him? He was such a distinguished, solicitous, overly professional boss—to everyone—wasn’t he? Who was this disturbed man she just met in the conference room—sweaty, overbearing, and rutting like a confused wild animal? Did she encourage this in some way? Was it her fault?

  Abruptly her mind clicked into place, and Gabby felt justified—angry. This was not her fault. She wasn’t drunk and could remember what led up to this perfectly as if it were a slow-motion movie playing in her mind.

  She jumped up and pushed the door open, coming face-to-face with Mr. Arnaud. His face wore a mask of caring empathy; he held his arms open as if to welcome Gabby into his embrace.

  “Are you fucking kidding me, you psycho? You just forced yourself onto me... again. You think I’m going to willingly touch you?” Gabby said with disgust and marched toward her office.

  Mr. Arnaud stood there stunned for a moment, and then quickly followed behind.

  “Gabriella, are you angry, ma chérie?” he asked, looking confused. “What has angered you? Tell me and I will fix it for the next time.”

  Gabby turned around, the blood boiling in her veins now.

  “Next time?! There will be no next time, you stinkin’ French pig. You keep your fucking paws off of me or I swear I’ll call the police and tell them you raped me... because you did—twice. Call it whatever you want, René, but if a woman says no, it means no!” Gabby screamed at him, her anger having absorbed her humiliation and fear.

  Gabby stood her ground, hands on her hips, not breaking her stare directly into his eyes.

  Mr. Arnaud changed right in front of her; his face transforming into a frightening mask of intimidation and aggression.

  “You want this job, yes?” he asked ominously.

  “I have this job, Mr. Arnaud. And I earned it. If you try to use this job to threaten me, I’ll go to Mr. Hinson. I’ll tell him what you did.”

  “Gabriella... Gabriella... I’m sorry it has to be like this. See, you have no choice, ma chérie. I chose you, and I’m going to keep you. We can continue to do it this way—you can continue to enjoy your job and your husband, your life—or we can do it the other way... which I don’t think you will relish at all.”

  “What are you talking about, ma chérie?” Gabby said, mocking his words back to him in her wrath.

  “I’m talking about my cabin, Gabriella. You know I’ve been working on it for many years now. No one has ever seen it, not even my wife. The deed is buried under many layers of corporations, none leading back to me. I think it’s safe to tell you it is in Georgia, a beautiful state known for its peaches—not that you’d see much of it—and I am ready for you there,” he said slowly with a look of madness reflecting from his eyes.

  “I’m not going to live in Georgia with you! Are you out of your fucking mind? What are you, some kind of sociopath?”

  “You wouldn’t be living with me... but I would visit, frequently,” he answered. “You would be living like this girl—alone,” he said, pulling something f
rom his back pocket and tossing it on her desk, but Gabby didn’t look, afraid to break eye contact and show weakness. He continued, “And Jake... he wouldn’t worry about you. After I told him what a giving lover you have been, how your body sings for me... Jake would not care about you anymore,” he threatened.

  “Think about it, Gabriella. It isn’t so bad, is it... using our bodies together to release the stress of the week before going home to our families? This is good for them too. They do not have to see our stress. We make it go away before we get there.” He paused. “You know we make sweet music together.”

  He turned around and left her office to go into his own. Gabby stood frozen as she listened to the click of his briefcase where he’d gathered his things, then warily watched him as he appeared back in front of her office a few moments later.

  The mask was back on: crisp white button-up shirt buttoned all the way up and tucked in, sophisticated blue tie straightened and adjusted to the perfect length, his expensive gold cufflinks once again shining from his wrists—and not a hair out of place. He looked like the Mr. Arnaud Gabby had seen from the innocent eyes of before: the epitome of a distinguished professional member of upper management.

  “Enjoy your weekend, Gabriella. Be sure to read that book!” he said, smiling cheerfully and giving her a quick wave good-bye as he walked out the door. She just stared at him, trying to understand his madness; his drastic flip in personalities, both visually and mentally. It truly was as if he had two completely different faces: the face of a madman, and the face of an executive middle-aged businessman. For the first time in her life, she knew true fear—cold and sharp—as it ran through her. She knew this was no act; he was truly dangerous.