Predictably, Sarah was next through the door. She stopped in the doorway and looked at me. We watched each other for a few seconds, and then she burst out laughing and went and put her bag in her drawer.
Bree, I thought, remembering when I'd said goodbye to Sarah yesterday. “Sorry about last night,” I said mildly. “Bree is...” I searched for a good adjective, but I didn't find one. “Well, you saw what she's like.”
Sarah was still laughing away. “I actually have a confession,” she told me, turning her laptop on and spending ten seconds trying to get her USB into one of the slots. She printed something out and then walked over and dumped it on my keyboard. “I'm a bad person.”
I picked it up; it was a marketing analytics report from social media. Facebook, this time. Only instead of analysing a demographic, it was just analysing a single person. “'Briana Dejanovic',” I read, pretty sure I was pronouncing it wrong. Was this... I looked up at Sarah. “Bree?”
Sarah looked very guilty. “I shouldn't have, I know. Her profile's public, though, and I have all those really powerful search and analytic tools...”
I probably would have been a whole lot angrier if I wasn't really, really interested in what was on the report. It might help me figure out what was up with Bree and if everything was okay.
I pretended to glare at her. “Using your powers for evil?” She nodded meekly, and that made me laugh. “How the hell did you find her, though? I wouldn't have told you her surname, because I didn't even know it.”
Sarah looked like she couldn’t believe that. “She was all over you and you don't even know her surname?” At my expression she held up her hands, bracelets jingling. “I didn't mean anything by that, by the way. You two just seem too close for you to not know those kind of details.”
There were a lot of details I didn't know about Bree, but I still enjoyed her company. I shrugged at Sarah. “I met her online and it didn't seem important. So how did you find her profile?”
Sarah leant over and flipped to a print-out of her 'about' page. It was pretty bare, but did have her school listed. “It was actually a no-brainer, I didn't even have to filter by themes until I got her. I just tabbed through photos of kids in her school and stopped when I saw curls.” She stood up, taking a couple of pages with her. Then, clearing her throat dramatically, she spoke in the same voice she'd use to deliver a series of analytics in a project meeting.
“Briana Dejanovic, 411 friends, 86% of them further than 25km from her hometown and current location which are both listed as Sydney. Her follows are unremarkable, really, nothing we wouldn't expect from the demographic. Her friends-of-friends is in the tens of thousands so she has excellent reach with her posts, and there are some,” Sarah glanced up at me, “very interesting topics on her recently liked list. Overall an interesting analytical exercise but unfortunately through examining her status updates, clicks and click-throughs, the likelihood of her being interested in purchasing a pink diamond or any other Frost merchandise is very low.”
I was too worried about this 'recently liked' list and what I'd seen on Bree's phone last night to laugh very hard at Sarah‘s consumer analysis of Bree. Fuck, I hoped Bree hadn't liked any of those gender-related blogs she'd been reading, because together with the things Bree had said last night, I wouldn't have put it past Sarah to guess. I didn't want to rouse her suspicion, though, so I just asked innocently, “‘recently liked'?”
Sarah showed me the list. There were a couple of pop stars, Girls' Generation again, and, unfortunately, some sort of queer blog with a big rainbow flag as its display picture. It was buried in amongst her other likes, though, so I just pretended not to notice it. “She likes Korean pop music?” I asked dryly. “That is concerning.”
Sarah looked wholly unconvinced, but didn't say anything. “Move over,” she said, glancing nervously over at the door. “I have to show you this girl's Facebook page.”
She reached across me and opened up Facebook in my browser, logging in as one of Frost's analytics usernames and then going to Bree's page.
Bree's display picture was a pretty unremarkable selfie, but as soon as Sarah clicked on the 'Photos of Briana' header, fuck, I had to look over myself to check the door was shut. Bree had probably... dozens of photos of herself there, and while none of them were actively pornographic or showing anything beyond a lot of thigh or a lot of cleavage, the positions she was in and the expressions she had on her face... Jesus.
Sarah and I scrolled through them with our jaws open.
“Yup,” Sarah told me as we reached the end, her eyes as wide as saucers, “it's still just as shocking the second time around.”
The last one was Bree with the two top buttons of her school uniform undone so you could see deep into her cleavage. She'd angled the camera accordingly and was pretending to bite her lip, like she was inviting the person behind the camera to reach out and touch her. Fortunately it was a selfie so there was no one behind the camera, but it was so sexual that I found it incredibly fucking uncomfortable to look at and had to close the page.
“Oh, my god,” I breathed, putting my face in my hands for a second. Even with my eyes closed I could see the echo of that cleavage on my retinas. “Why would anyone put photos like that on the internet? Is she trying to get stalked?” That seemed a pretty ironic question to be asking about Bree, Stalker Extraordinaire.
Sarah shrugged, leaning back in her chair, clearly finding my reaction very entertaining. “Well, I suppose she has got a great rack so she probably just wants to boast about it.” When I looked at her, she shrugged. “What? Objectively speaking, she has. I can say that, can't I?”
I groaned and put my face back in my hands again. “Oh my god...”
“Also, and I'm not drawing any conclusions, really,” Sarah said, giving me adequate time to prepare for more Bree, “but this,” she flipped through the pages and showed me a status update. “I found it on her friends-of-friends.”
I read through it. Someone had replied to a status last night with 'GAY', and then Bree had gone to town on him about how offensive that was, complete with all caps and zero punctuation. My first thought was she'd probably just been reading a whole lot of those queer blogs I'd found on her phone and was just playing white knight, but then I remembered that whole 'straighter' thing in the shopping centre yesterday. Could she be...?
I didn't even finish that thought because I was already panicking that maybe she was into me. Then I started telling myself off, because it was stupidly narcissistic to think that just because a girl was gay and I was also currently masquerading as a typical girl that she’d be into me. Especially because I kind of wasn’t a proper girl, and especially given that Bree’s assessment when I was dressed like a girl was: 'weird'. Bree probably didn't even really think of me as a peer, so that would mean we were safe, wouldn't it? Although, going over everything that had happened in the last few weeks didn't provide me with much comfort. Especially with what Sarah was implying.
Sarah patted me on the back, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Happy reading,” she said. “I'm going to get us some caffeine.”
While she was doing that, I flipped through some of the other pages looking to see if I could find actual confirmation that Bree was gay. In the process I found out a series of things I'd never ask Bree directly: her parents were still married and appeared to still live together because there were a number of recent photos of them together in the same house. Her brother's name was Andrej and he and Courtney had posted about the same number of suggestive photos Bree had except with each other. That was almost as bad. There was one photo where they almost looked like they were fucking and I got to the stage where I was actually asking existential questions to the universe about why anyone would ever voluntarily show that to people. There were no photos of Bree in any sort of suggestive fashion with other girls, but there weren't any with any boys, either. And in all the photos of her and her family, everyone was smiling. Even Bree. Despite all of that, there was not
hing else gay or queer or whatever on her Facebook.
I was probably making a big deal out of nothing. She was probably just being a nice person and standing up for the community.
I paused. 'The community', I thought, remembering my body issues. I was potentially secretly in that community, wasn't I? 'LBG'...'LBT'... Whatever it was. I couldn't remember the acronym, but I was certain there was a 'T' for 'trans' in there, somewhere. So maybe Bree was just standing up for me in the event that I did turn out to be? But then, Bree had specifically been defending the term 'gay', and I wasn't gay. Although... if I was supposed to be a guy, and I was with Henry, did that mean I was secretly gay?
I sat back and just stared out the window towards the Western Suburbs, completely spun out. I felt like I'd just been told I was adopted or something, and everything I'd thought I knew about myself was bullshit. Fuck, this was a headache, what the hell did anything mean anymore? I didn't even know where to start on this one. Bree's suggestion of running away to Canada was sounding great right now.
I think I may have torn out half my hair by the time Sarah came back with my Red Bull. She laughed at my expression as I accepted it from her and opened it.
“I think I hate you a little bit,” I told her as I took a sip. She had no idea about the can of worms she'd just opened. “Did you do this to my Facebook, too?”
She grinned. “There's nothing interesting on yours.”
I sighed heavily and took one last cursory look at Bree's profile before I closed the page. I had the print-outs, I could pour over them later for evidence about what was going on with her. “I'm beginning to understand why you hate social media.”
“Facebook's evil, I told you,” she said, which was very interesting to hear out of the mouth of a social media marketing specialist. “I'd delete my account but then I'd never get invited out. Speaking of which,” she said, “the girls are all going for drinks at that pub in The Rocks on Friday. Should I send you and your exhibitionist friend an invite?”
“Probably not worth it,” I said, closing the browser. “I'm going to go home and delete my account tonight.”
I'd swivelled back to face my monitor and I could feel her staring at the side of my head. When I glanced at her, she asked, “Okay, so you didn't know her surname, which kind of means you don't really know her that well, but she gets to take you out just like that? She doesn't even have to sic Henry on you?” She was smiling, but I could tell she wasn't just teasing me. I started to worry I was hurting her feelings, but then she added. “Like, is it a great rack you look for in a friend? Because, hello.”
She stuck her chest out, and I nearly spat Red Bull all over my monitor. While I was reaching for a tissue and my eyes were watering, she added, “Not that I want to nag you. I'm just wondering.”
I winced, blotting my nose. “I know how it looks, but it's not personal.” When she kept listening, I sighed. “Sarah, seriously, though, you keep trying to get me out of here. Why? What makes you so sure that I'm the type of fun you expect me to be?”
She shrugged. “I don't know,” she said. “Looking at you, you're this serious workaholic. But I know you play video games, prank your poor unsuspecting co-workers, you have this killer sense of humour and hang out with wild schoolgirls.” She crossed her arms as she considered me. “All is not what it seems. So I compiled the evidence, analysed it, and all signs point to you being stacks of fun.”
All isn't what it seems, Sarah, I thought, but I disagreed that it meant I was 'stacks of fun'. I probably would enjoy myself, though. Particularly if alcohol was involved. “Well, then, prepare for the incredible excitement of watching me sit and silently drink wine,” I told her. “I'll definitely go drinking with you on the day we close this. Mainly to shut you up, though.” I winked at her.
Sarah nodded once and looked victorious. “Good,” she said. “Just out of curiosity, though, how did that girl do it so easily?”
I exhaled audibly. That was a good question. “She'd have physically carried me out of here if she was strong enough, and I'm not exaggerating. 'No' wasn't an answer she was going to accept.”
Sarah nodded slowly. “I can't wait to get you really drunk,” she said cryptically, and then turned back to her spreadsheet, ending the conversation by doing some actual work. I followed her example.
As soon as the rest of my team got in, I needed to have a quiet word with John about him sending unencrypted emails. The discomfort of telling someone off, especially while the humiliation showed on his bright red face, was enough to distract me from Bree and the vortex of chaos surrounding her. Furthermore, Jason stuck his head in before lunch and told me that Diane wanted to speak briefly with me and him tomorrow morning before work.
While I was screaming internally and absolutely certain it was to do with that unencrypted email, Sarah gave me a look that basically said, 'You're our next CEO, right?'. I scoffed at her.
Jason had also approved my emails to the contacts he'd recommended, and so I spent an hour or two making sure I was completely happy with the vague wording and sent them off. Vladivostok got back to me quickly and teed up a teleconference for later in the week, but I'd have to wait overnight for Moscow.
It was productive day, but Sarah had been in and out of consumer profiling meetings for her other team which meant I had no one to bring me lunch and I hadn't eaten all day.
I was starving by dinner, to the point that I was considering drinking milk and/or eating sugar directly out of the kitchenette. When I was finally done with the requirements doc and Henry sent me an SMS, I was about ready to start going on the half-dead plant on my table.
“Want company tonight?” he'd texted. “I thought maybe we could go out for dinner, somewhere quiet and low key. What do you say?”
I was waiting for my laptop to shut down as I texted him back. It would actually be a great opportunity to pick his brains about Bree, and I was so hungry I would have said yes to just about any suggestion as long as it involved food. “I am DYING of hunger. I will literally eat ANYTHING as long as you can give it to me quickly.”
Of course, I shouldn't have left an opening for him. “I'm assuming that doesn't mean what I hope it does...?”
I groaned. I caught myself thinking ‘Men!’, but then had a sudden thought about how I felt about myself. Was I differentiating myself from them after all? It was such a strange, disorienting feeling. I just seriously had no idea what I was supposed to be. I was much too hungry to think further on it now, though. “Nope, it doesn’t mean you can give that to me,” I texted back. “Not unless you can serve it sliced in a baguette with mayonnaise and chips on the side, that is.”
“...Ouch. I'll be downstairs in five.”
I stuffed all of Bree's Facebook analytics into my handbag, and headed downstairs to meet him.
Henry had picked a boutique Japanese restaurant in The Rocks; it was a tiny little place I had no idea about despite living about three streets away. There were only a couple of people seated when we walked in, and so the waitress was able to show us to a table straight away. She put the menus in front of us as we sat down. “Drinks?”
“A glass each of house white and red,” Henry said, and then added, “If you want to hang around for a couple of seconds, I'm pretty sure my girlfriend wants to order straight away.” He grinned at me.
I literally picked the first thing on the menu, and as soon as the waitress was gone I started to undo my handbag. “Not that you’re not wonderful anyway, but I actually have an ulterior motive for going to dinner with you,” I said, heaping together all the Facebook analytics print-outs.
“I should have known being wonderful wasn't enough for you,” he told me with a completely straight face.
“Yeah, you should have. Some shrink you are,” I said and then showed him all the Facebook analytics, explaining everything I was worried about with Bree. The waitress came back with our wine halfway through it and gave me a really strange look about all the paper I’d spread everywhere.
>
When I was finished, Henry sat back with the wine in one hand–there was nowhere on the table to put it–and squinted at me. “So what are you actually asking me?” he said, “Because I’m getting a lot more about you than I am about Bree just at this moment.”
I wasn’t interested in hearing about how crazy he thought I was. “I really don’t know what to think,” I said. “But I’m kind of worried something terrible is happening. You don’t think anything… really bad is happening to her?” When he waited for me to elaborate, I added, “You know, do you think anyone’s abusing her?”
Henry’s eyebrows went right up, and he took a big mouthful of wine. “Wow,” he said, and then had another one. “Wow, that’s a heavy topic for a light dinner.” He spent a few seconds thinking over his answer. “To be honest, Min, unless you’re going to show me photos of bruises, I’m not going to be able to tell you anything without speaking with her one-on-one in a therapeutic setting.” I leant back in my chair and made a face. He winced. “I’m sorry, I know that’s not the answer you’re looking for.”
It really wasn't. “You don't have any idea at all? Not even a, ‘Well, that’s unlikely’?”
He shook his head. “If I knew the answer I'd just tell you.”
I frowned back down at the print-outs, and then gathered them all up and shoved them back into my handbag. While I was doing that, he commented, “But you’ve gone to a lot of effort to not just ask her what's happening in her life. Why is that? What are you afraid of?”
Wow, he always cut straight through things. I put my bag under the table, thinking. “What I’m going to do if she says yes,” I said, and then made a face. “And that I’m going to feel like absolute shit for spending two weeks trying to avoid her.”
He chuckled. “I’m not going to remind you what my initial advice about Bree was.”
Under My Skin Page 23
