by J. L. Berg
Relax, he’d said.
Take deep breaths, he’d said.
Just let it happen, August, he’d said.
Sixty minutes had gone by and nothing had happened. Nothing at all. Not even an inkling or a single eye twitch that would suggest that I was making progress toward being put under Brick’s hypnosis, and the longer we tried the more and more frustrated I became.
“August, you can’t give up,” Brick said, offering encouragement through his soft-spoken words.
“Maybe this type of thing just doesn’t work on me. Aren’t there certain people who just can’t be influenced? Maybe I’m not made for this,” I remarked as I rose from the horizontal position I’d taken on the couch. Sitting up, I instinctively turned toward the windows, looking out at the water, hoping the sight of it would somehow calm my frazzled nerves.
“There are individuals who are more susceptible to suggestion and hypnosis than others. It does not surprise me that someone like you, with a strong will and a stubborn personality, would be a challenge.”
I threw a hard stare over my shoulder, letting him know the comment hadn’t gone unnoticed.
“But I don’t think it’s impossible,” he added. “You just need to be able to clear your mind—find your center and let go.”
Find my center? This was sounding weirder and weirder by the minute.
“And you think the hippie music you’re playing in the background is going to help me do that,” I said, waving my hand toward the portable boom box as it softly played one of the CDs he’d brought over.
I’d thought it was some sort of joke when I’d pulled open my door this morning and found him standing there holding a boom box and a brown bag filled to the top with groceries and CDs. Who listened to CDs anymore? Did they even sell them in stores? When he’d pulled out freshly baked croissants and began feeding me, though, I’d decided not to rib him over the ancient audio equipment and instead just enjoy the crazy ride.
But now, the sound of the high-pitched flute and that trippy guitar playing on and on were getting on my last nerve and I was left with nothing but frustration.
“I can put something else on if you want. This usually helps, but any type of mellow music will work,” he offered. The music cut off and my irritation dwindled slightly.
I was being a jerk, while Brick was offering nothing but kindness.
As always.
I fell back on the couch, my head hitting the pillow as I let the air deflate from my lungs.
Why he kept coming back, I’d never understand.
The doorbell rang at that moment, and I didn’t bother getting up. Brick already acted as though he owned half the place. He might as well answer the door, sign for packages, or whatever else was needed. I’d work on clearing my head so we could try again—because I desperately needed my memories.
I needed answers and I was tired of waiting.
With my eyes closed and my breath tempered, I focused on calming myself, emptying my mind as Brick had taught me to do. Errant thoughts kept swirling through my head, causing me to lose focus and become frustrated. The sound of Everly’s sweet-sounding voice echoed so loudly between my ears, I could almost swear it was real.
“Why is he laying down? Is he sick?”
My eyes blinked open. That wasn’t her voice in my head. Swiveling up and around, I came face to face with her for the first time in months.
So beautiful.
Nothing had changed. She looked just the same as the last day I’d seen her. A bit more covered up, however—wearing a long gray sweater and leggings, she proved she could wear anything and still look stunning. I watched as she took a hesitant step back, as if she were slightly shocked by my abrupt turnaround on the couch.
That, or she was afraid of me. That realization was like getting doused by a bucket of ice water as I suddenly remembered why she needed to be so distant and why I needed to be so cold.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, clearing my throat as I tried to compose myself.
She briefly closed her eyes, but when she reopened them there was a fire in them that had been missing previously. She held up her hand in front of her, basically dismissing me, and turned to Brick.
“I asked you a question,” she said, rather pointedly.
He seemed taken aback for a moment, but then a slight grin snuck upon his face. “No, not sick. We’re trying to hypnotize him.”
Great Brick, why don’t you tell her everything?
Her gaze snuck back to mine, and a mischievous smile spread across Brick’s face. He was enjoying this back and forth with Everly and the fact that I was decidedly not involved.
“Hypnotize? Why?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but she shh’d me again, holding up her hand. I found myself dumbfounded by her newfound spunk.
“I’m speaking with Brick right now. Not you,” she said firmly, ignoring my attempts to argue.
She was supposed to stay away. I’d done everything I could—broken her heart, put fear in her bones, and ice in her veins—yet here she was.
Brick’s eyes briefly connected with mine and in that moment I knew he wasn’t going to lie for me.
Not again.
The ruse was over.
“We’re trying to get his memories back,” he answered. Everly’s gaze widened, as the truth of my betrayal became a sudden reality.
“What? But why? What happened to them? He still has them, doesn’t he?” she asked softly, her hand finding the arm of the plush chair she’d always found herself in when she’d stayed here. I watched as she settled into its cushions, noticing the way her fingers trembled and the way she tried to hide it.
“I lied,” I responded. “In the dress shop.”
Her expression fell. “But you knew. Everything. The necklace—that night. You knew,” she said, her voice sounding desperate.
“I didn’t lie about that,” I said, remembering the cold way I’d explained to her how I’d collapsed with the resurfacing of my first memory. Everything I’d told her then was true. Everything but my anger. “I’m recovering fragments—bits and pieces at a time. That night—the memory of it was just the beginning. Since then, I’ve had dozens of memories push their way to the surface, but I don’t have everything—not by a long shot. I’m starting to wonder if I ever will.”
It was my gaze that fell then, but I found myself looking into a pair of brilliant blue eyes. Soft, warm and seeking—they were like pieces of my soul I’d lost somewhere along the way. Seeing her here felt like I’d come home, which only made the pain of knowing I couldn’t have her that much worse.
“Why did you lie to me?” she asked.
“To keep you away—to keep you safe,” I answered honestly.
“From what?” she asked, throwing her hands in the air as she stood in frustration. Brick, who had been silently watching our exchange, had backed off and stood in the corner with his arms crossed, watching everything from afar.
“It’s better if you know nothing, Everly. I don’t want you involved.”
“Oh my god, you really have no idea, do you?” she said, shaking her head back and forth as she began pacing the floor. She wrapped her arms around her sides and laughter poured out of her.
Pained laughter.
“Did you think this would all just stay with you, August? That by pushing me away, you’d somehow keep it contained? Did you lose your common sense when you went into that coma?”
My eyes narrowed as I stood as well.
“What are you talking about?”
“Trent,” she replied.
My vision went red as I nearly lunged for her, gripping her shoulders, feeling the need to check her for physical damage. “What has he done? Are you all right?”
“Not me,” she whispered, tears falling freely from my eyes. “Sarah. He’s been dating Sarah. For months—to get information, or maybe just for some sick twisted angle. I don’t know.”
She fell apart in my arms, sobbing as I held he
r. I tried to be a good person, to keep my feelings platonic as she cried for her friend, but feeling her tender body wrapped in mine was more than I could handle. I felt walls breaking down that I’d thought would never crumble.
“I should have met him sooner—I should have demanded to know who this mystery guy was she’s been seeing, but he’s been using the name Miles. Why would he do that? This is going to destroy her. She’s in love with him.”
“Miles is Trent’s middle name,” I explained. “He must be trying to mess with me by getting to you.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. This was probably all my fault as well.
The only problem was that I still didn’t know why. Trent was taking drastic measures to make sure I stayed within his grasp, and I needed to know why.
Looking over toward Brick, I took a deep breath. I hugged Everly one last time. “I think I’m ready to try again.”
I’d found my center, and it was about time I found some answers.
* * *
“You seem lighter, less disconnected,” Brick noted as I settled back down on the couch.
I smiled and let my head be gently cushioned by the fluffy feather pillows beneath me. “Did Everly seem different to you?” I asked, ignoring his comment altogether as I stared up at the ceiling.
She’d left about twenty minutes before. After her tears had dried and her emotions seemed to settle, her mood had returned to something closer to anger.
All directed toward me.
I guess I didn’t blame her. I had lied to her—over and over. And for what? Had it solved anything? Trent had still managed to weasel his way in—to threaten the one thing in my life that mattered.
I’d been so naïve, so simpleminded when it came to Trent. I thought his motivations were basic when it came to me. I had no idea he’d go so far to seek his revenge, and now I’d not only destroyed the one good thing in my life, I’d managed to bring the devil to her front door.
I’d fix this. I’d promised her that much before she’d left. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew it would end with Trent behind bars.
“She seemed more in control of herself, I guess,” he said, using his more official-sounding voice. “Less willing to put up with your shit,” he added with a slight chuckle.
“I know,” I answered with a grin.
“Okay, in order for this to work, you need to try and clear your mind—just like before. Let go of any lingering frustrations, and just concentrate on my voice.”
“Got it,” I confirmed, shaking out my legs and tweaking my neck one last time before I closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I let the events of the day fade away, focusing on just the sound of the air rising and falling within my lungs.
“Good, with your eyes open—still slowly breathing in and out—find something to focus on. One solid object to concentrate on.”
Within my focal range, there wasn’t much but a spot on the wall, and a black and white photo. It was one I’d never had the heart to take down—a memory I had yet to experience from a life I had yet to relive. In it, Everly was looking up at me with a happy, radiant smile.
It was the perfect focal spot. Looking at this image of Everly reminded me why I was doing this in the first place.
Talking several deep, cleansing breaths, I narrowed in on the photo and let the world disappear.
“Let yourself relax into the couch as I speak, focusing on the spot you’ve chosen. Soon you will begin to feel your eyes grow tired and heavy.”
His voice was beginning to sound distant, as if I’d traveled away from myself. My eyelids closed and the photo of Everly and me disappeared.
“Good, August, good,” Brick’s comforting voice praised me from afar. “I’m still here. You’re doing great. Keep relaxed, and let me guide you. You can imagine your focal spot if it helps.”
It did. Seeing the photo on the wall, even if it was now only in my mind, kept me anchored and calm as I fell deeper and deeper with the aid of Brick’s expertise.
“Okay, August,” Brick said. I felt myself floating around somewhere in my subconscious. “I want you to imagine yourself in a long hallway, with endless doors. Can you do that for me?”
Fixated on every word, I did exactly what he said. Tattered green wallpaper spread out before me; shabby wood doors appeared on either side. The hallway felt oddly familiar as I glanced around, noticing the blinking light fixtures and stained carpet.
This was where Everly had lived. Long ago—before our lives had collided. I’d never experienced being in this place, but she’d told me about it—described it in detail, and now my mind had somehow recreated it.
“Do you see the hallway?” Brick asked, his voice still calm and even.
“Yes,” I answered as my subconscious took a look around.
“Great. Now, each one of these doors represents a memory you have yet to unlock. I need you to concentrate on which type of memories you’d like to revisit today. Focus, August—I know this may be a challenge. When you have the direction you’d like to take in your mind, pick a door and walk in. I’ll be here if you need me.”
Temptation hit me square in the gut as I struggled to focus. The ability to choose a memory? Any memory? I’d choose one of Everly every single time.
But reliving a lifetime with Everly in my memories wouldn’t change a thing. She’d always be a ghost from my past…someone I could see but never again hold within my grasp. Using her like a beacon, however, I reentered and concentrated on exactly what I was hoping to accomplish. Only answers would help me now. With my mind clear, I took a mental leap and opened the first door.
“Come on, Kincaid, shut down that computer and come have a drink!” Trent yelled from the front lobby.
I shook my head, chuckling under my breath. Most companies sent a congratulatory e-mail when you reached an anniversary, or perhaps gave you a gift card or a small cake from the closest grocery store. Here, we celebrated with booze. Lots and lots of booze.
Doing as I was told, I closed out the account I was working on and headed out front.
“There’s our man!” Trent yelled, even going so far as to stand on top of the receptionist’s desk, who had long since left. “My partner in crime—my other half,” he laughed, throwing out grand theatrics in spades. I grabbed a highball of scotch, letting him soak up the limelight.
“We wouldn’t be here without him. Let’s all raise a glass to August!”
Everyone in the room—the guys I’d brought on to work under me and even Trent’s guys I didn’t know so well—held up glasses as we toasted a full year of accomplishment.
“Thanks, everyone,” I said, feeling awkward from all the attention. I rubbed the back of my neck and tried not to say anything that would embarrass myself. “Make sure to drink all of the scotch. It’s all on Trent tonight.” I laughed, finishing off the last of my drink with a swift shake of my head.
That was enough for tonight. I had another celebration to get home to and I wanted to arrive with all of my faculties intact.
Everyone dispersed, breaking into small groups, making sure to stop by and congratulate me. Many of these men had been around for nearly as long as I had since we were a new company, but because I was a partner, Trent felt that my anniversary with the firm should be a marked occasion.
And so I just smiled and went with it.
“Thanks for giving away all my liquor,” Trent said, coming up behind me, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife. He always had such a firm presence in a room. Turning, I gave him a smirk as I held up my empty glass. “Not like you can’t afford it,” I reminded him.
A moment passed between us before his mouth turned upwards, a huge grin splitting his face. “True—thanks to you,” he remarked, turning to grab the bottle of scotch to refill my glass. I took a deep breath, knowing better than to refuse him and just held my glass as he poured, nearly filling it to the top.
“Thanks to us,” I corrected him.
“Well, I can honestly say we weren’t
doing this well before I took you on as a partner.”
I shrugged, taking a heavy sip from my glass as we surveyed the room, watching the men laugh and joke around with each other.
“I don’t know why,” I said. “I really don’t know what difference I make. It’s you taking on the big accounts. You’re the one making the money.”
Something passed through his eyes just then—a glint of malice he didn’t want me to see, maybe. As quickly as it was there, it was gone again. “You’re doing important work, August. You’re bringing people into the practice—getting them hooked. And then, when they’re greed gets the better of them, I’m there to make them the big cash.”
I nodded, understanding the strategy we’d put in place. It’d worked over the last year—just like Trent had said it would. It wasn’t something I was all too comfortable with—the concept of capitalizing on someone’s greed, but when Trent had come to me, he’d simply stated that that was what we all did anyway. The game of finance was always based on greed, so why shouldn’t we utilize it?
We targeted well-to-do business owners—some more so than others, those who hadn’t branched into investing for whatever reason—too small, not enough skill, etc. I got them started with just a few small investments, made them some easy money, and then we waited. Sure enough, they’d come back wanting more, and that’s when Trent would step in, taking over to earn them even more. Before long, we’d had multibillionaires in here asking us to represent them. Business was booming.
“Oh, before I forget,” I said, remembering the client’s account I was working on before I’d clocked out. “I was trying to access files on the shared drive today and noticed some of the folders are password protected?”
Trent’s jaw ticked before he turned, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“An oversight. I’ll have someone fix it on Monday,” he said.
“Great.”
He held up his glass once again, as our eyes met. I joined in as the sound of our impromptu toast met my ears.
“Keep up the good work,” he said, but suddenly each word felt more like a threat than praise.
“Thanks,” I answered as I downed the rest of my drink, feeling it burn a fiery path all the way down to my belly.
