He knew it was the chickenshit thing to do, hiding out in his office until everyone left for the day. Too fucking bad. He’d had enough, and was more than ready for this damned thing to be over. He didn’t want to face any of them—laid off or not—or deal with any unnecessary emotions. Maybe there wouldn’t be any. Maybe that had worked itself out over the past several weeks, in all the ad hoc one-on-one meetings he’d had to endure with those on the cut list.
They all wanted to know why they’d been cut, and what were they going to do without their jobs, their income. At least he’d been able to truthfully tell them, hey, it came from the top. He was just following orders. He agreed with them, the whole damned thing was draconian, then sent them on their way. It had been exhausting, and on some level, he was glad this day had finally come. He and everyone left could adjust and move on. No more dirty looks in the hall from those on the cut list.
He glanced at his watch and shrugged. Five fifteen. Problem solved. No one was going to stick around after hours if they didn’t have to. Including him.
CHAPTER 11
Fourth Wednesday in June, 2021
Elias, Texas
Gil Balderas slumped on the edge of his bed, staring at the cracked cement floor. As he did most of the day. Every day. He wondered at what point his muscles and bones would turn to stone, trapping him in that position forever. And whether he would care—or even notice—when that happened.
His prison garb hung looser than it had when he first got there. Must be losing weight. Had to be muscle mass at this point—what little fat he’d had was long gone. No surprise, really. He hardly ever moved. The cell was cramped and there was nothing to do anyway, so he just sort of folded in on himself day after day. His ass got sore, sitting so much. The thin mattress did little to shield him from the hard metal shelf that supported it.
Gil raised his head and glanced through the bars. The guy in the cell across the corridor might as well be his mirror image, sitting on his bed, head hanging down, staring at the floor. He’d never seen him leave his cell. Not once. Maybe he had no one who cared for him, no one who wanted to visit.
He never got out of his cell, except when Aggie came to see him. Everything he needed was passed through the bars. Everything he had to do, he did in his cell. Eat. Shit and piss in the primitive can, in front of anyone who might be passing by. Wash himself and his hair in the sink, until he’d forgotten what it felt like to stand in a shower with hot, flowing water. Give himself a rushed, haphazard shave with a cheap disposable razor while a guard stands watching, waiting to take it away the moment he was done. Just in case he got any ideas for alternative uses for the blade.
If he didn’t hear the ever-present din of other men groaning, cursing, and shouting in the cells around him, he’d think he was in solitary. Might as well be. The only human interaction he had was with the guards who showed up to give him food or other necessities. And calling them human was generous. Too generous.
Worse, Aggie could only make it out there to see him every few weeks. The visiting hours were so limited and the drive so long, she couldn’t get the time away from work any more often. And she lived in justifiable fear of losing her job. Without his income, she already struggled to keep up the house payments and other bills. He closed his eyes, feeling helpless and humiliated on every level possible.
The squeak and rumble of metal wheels on concrete announced impending dinner. Gil didn’t even raise his head. The crap they gave him was barely edible. Barely identifiable, for that matter. Nothing ever appeared on his plate that required a fork—let alone a knife—to eat. One less thing for the guards to worry about. So it was usually some thin, salt-laden soup, maybe a hard roll that must have been bought on the cheap as restaurant waste. If he was lucky, there’d be some plain white rice. At least it was identifiable, and stayed with him better than a bowl of watery soup.
“Dinner.” The guard slid open the aperture in the bottom of the door, shoved the tray through it, closed it up and kept on going.
Gil pushed himself up off the bed and walked, stiff-legged, to the door. He set the tray on the bed, then sat down beside it. A plastic tumbler of water. Water that usually tasted like rust. Thin soup and a hard roll. No spoon. He sighed. Might as well get on with it. Not like there would be anything more coming. And the soup would probably taste even worse cold. He raised the bowl to his lips and took a careful sip of the tepid liquid.
Somewhat beef-flavored. Maybe. He drank some more, then gently shook the bowl. A couple of small pieces of gray, overcooked meat lurked at the bottom. He slurped the rest of the liquid, then tipped back the bowl to let the chunks of meat slide into his mouth. He started to chew, then crunched down on what felt and sounded like a sliver of bone.
Gil gagged, spit the meat back into the bowl. Before he could stop himself, he retched, then his stomach clenched and heaved up what little he’d eaten. Most of it hit the tray and soaked the one paper napkin he had, but some slopped onto the floor next to his bed. Horrible, shitty food, but it was all he had and he couldn’t even keep it down. He hung his head over the tray, drooling, feeling more defeated and beaten than he ever could have imagined.
He had no towels in his cell, nothing to clean up the mess. Not allowed. Suicide prevention, they’d told him. Once a day, the guard brought two towels: one to wet from the tap in his sink and wash himself with, and one to dry himself with. The guard stood, watching, waiting. Tapping his boot to hurry him along. As soon as he was done, the guard took the towels away.
Nothing left to do but try to ignore the sour stench of his own vomit and wait for the guard to come back for the tray. Maybe he could get some paper towels or something.
Gil kicked the tray toward the door, lay down on his bed and flung his forearm across his eyes to block out the flickering fluorescent light above him. Day by day, he felt himself crumbling away in this place. Not just physically. Mentally, spiritually. He’d always believed you could get through hard times if you just put your head down and slogged it out. But after only two months, he wasn’t so sure about that anymore. How could he survive another four months? Sometimes he wondered if he should even try—and just having that kind of thought scared him more than anything.
CHAPTER 12
Fourth Thursday in June, 2021
Seco, Texas
Aggie Balderas stared down into her margarita and aimlessly prodded the ice with her straw. Over the last couple of months, her life had turned into nothing but a series of empty, repetitive motions. Get up, go to work at the greenhouse. Go home, eat something. Take a Unisom, go to bed, and hope for sleep without nightmares. Do it all over again the next day.
At least during the week, she had her job to enforce some kind of schedule, some reason to get up and do something, no matter how meaningless. Not so on the weekends, when she usually slept until late morning, groggy from the sleeping pills. She couldn’t even summon the energy to work on the yard. Now it looked so unkempt and neglected, she couldn’t stand the sight of it. She missed Gil so much, all the joy of working with the plants and trees—and of life in general—had gone right out of her.
During a break earlier today, her work buddy Karen took her aside and asked her point-blank how she was doing. Oh, she tried to make it sound like she was handling everything just fine, no worries. Gil would be home soon enough and everything would be back to normal again. But she knew she was lying, and within minutes, she broke down sobbing right in front of Karen—something she didn’t think herself capable of. She liked her coworkers well enough, but always kept her private life to herself.
After helping her dry her tears, Karen told her she needed a change of scenery, to be around people and set aside her worries for a while. She insisted she join the gang at happy hour tonight. Aggie agreed to at least give it a try, to end the awkward conversation if nothing else.
She took a sip of her margarita and decided it had been a mistake for her to come out. Karen had left her to fend for herself while she was
over in the corner, dirty dancing with some guy she’d just met. The place was packed. Everyone talking and laughing at once. Couples, small groups, large groups. No one sitting off on their own. Except her.
The noise grated on her nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Might as well finish up her drink and slip out quietly. Tomorrow she could thank Karen and tell her she tried, but hanging out at a happy hour just didn’t do it for her. If anything, she felt more alone than ever, adrift in a sea of half-buzzed people all talking about their plans for the upcoming weekend.
“Hey, I don’t remember seeing you at happy hour before.”
Lennie Marks, the landscaping consultant from work, plunked down on the chair next to hers, downed the rest of his margarita, and signaled the waiter for two more. Without asking first.
Aggie set aside her glass and tried to think of what to say. She’d nearly escaped, and now this. “Lennie, I was—”
“Was what? You were sitting over here alone, looking like you could use some company.” He inclined his head and gave her a most disarming smile.
Embarrassed, Aggie studied the ice in her glass and sipped the last of her drink. The women at work generally agreed that Lennie presented a bit of a mystery. Tall, slim, tanned and undeniably good-looking, but unattached. No one had ever seen him with a girlfriend, or heard him so much as mention seeing anyone. Some speculated that maybe he had different interests, interests that weren’t as well-accepted in Seco as they might be in the big city.
Aggie shook her head and tried to smile. “Karen nearly ordered me to come.” She glanced around the crowded bar, at all the people milling around, jockeying for seats—or hookups. “I know she meant well, but this has never really been my thing.”
“Karen wouldn’t push that hard without a reason.” The grin disappeared from his face. “You’ve changed lately. You’re…a lot quieter, seem less into what you’re doing.”
Aggie had kept Gil’s situation on the down-low at work, only revealing it to Karen and a couple of other co-workers who covered for her when she took off to go visit him. Was her demeanor that obvious? And why should he care, anyway?
“I have some things I’m dealing with, is all.”
The server arrived with their margaritas. Lennie handed him a twenty, then slid Aggie’s drink a few inches closer to her, like an offering.
“It usually helps to talk about it—and a little tequila might make it easier.”
Unable to meet his gaze, Aggie stared down into her lap. Did he know about Gil already? What if she told him? Nothing he could do or say would change the situation. But there was nothing he could do that would make it worse, either.
He put his hand on hers. “Aggie?”
She took a sip of her drink. A good, long one. Maybe she would feel better if she talked about it. “Are you really sure you want to hear my troubles?”
“Absolutely.”
Aggie drew a deep breath and began. Lennie gave her his full attention, as if they were the only two people in the bar. He didn’t interrupt her once, as if he knew if he did, she might not be able to finish.
When she was done, he squeezed her hand gently. “That must be incredibly hard for you, not only to be separated, but by so much.”
“It is. You know, it’s strange. His things are all around the house, constant reminders. But sometimes, it seems like he’s been gone forever, or like he’s never been there. I don’t know how to describe it.” She went to take another sip of her drink, and realized it was empty.
Lennie glanced around the bar, then turned to her. “Want another drink? Or maybe go somewhere else, somewhere quieter?”
Aggie studied his face, tried to gauge his intentions. Maybe it was the margarita, but somehow, she felt at ease with him. It might be nice to have someone to talk to for a while longer, instead of going straight from the din of the bar to absolute silence and loneliness at home.
“I think that would be nice. I’ve done all the talking. Maybe we could talk about you for a while.”
Aggie felt both comforted and uncomfortable to see Lennie sitting on her couch, where Gil normally sat.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Sure, what do you have?”
“I have some wine in the fridge. You okay with white? It’s a pretty good chardonnay.”
“That’d be fine.”
Aggie brought the wine and two glasses and sat down next to Lennie. Strange, having someone in the house. She hadn’t had anyone over at all since Gil’s arrest, as if she were putting herself in a prison as some private show of support for him.
“Are you okay?”
“What? Oh, I was just…thinking.”
“If you’d rather I go—”
“No, no. It’s…nothing. Nothing.”
Lennie reached out and lightly rested his hand on her shoulder. “You sure?”
Ever since they’d led Gil out of the courtroom that horrible day, Aggie’d kept a firm rein on her emotions, afraid if she gave in, even a little, she’d never pull herself back together. And if her breakdown in front of Karen was any indication, she was right to be careful. She’d kept her distance from friends and acquaintances for the same reason. But something about telling Lennie what she’d been going through…something about his warm hand on her shoulder. He was right. The tequila made it easy to talk without falling apart. She felt so warm inside, more relaxed than she had in months. Pleasantly buzzed.
“I’m sure.” She traced her fingertips along his jawline.
Something wasn’t as it was supposed to be. Aggie’s eyes snapped open and the reality of what she’d done hit her like a physical blow.
Lennie Marks was lying in bed next to her. And she’d let it happen. Hell, she’d started it. She never should have invited him over after getting buzzed like that. Stupid!
He stirred, rolled over and opened his eyes. “Hey.” He propped himself up on one elbow and smiled.
“Hey.” Aggie drew the sheet up to her neck. “I’m…sorry. I shouldn’t have—”
His smiled faded. “What do you mean?”
“I let things get…out of hand…last night.”
He sat up and frowned, the sheet falling to his lap. “What are you saying? Thanks, and ’bye?”
“Please don’t take it like that.” She clutched the sheet tighter in her fist.
“How should I take it? You made the first move, and now you look at me like I’m the worst mistake you’ve ever made.”
Aggie sat up, still covering herself with the sheet, and looked away, embarrassed. “I’ve never been with anyone but Gil since we got married.” She turned to face him. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry…”
He slid his hand along the back of her neck and drew her close, no trace of shame or regret in his eyes. “Really? I think we both needed each other—and we still do. No one needs to know.”
“But—” Aggie willed herself to resist, to pull away before her self-control vanished. Too late.
CHAPTER 13
Third Monday in July, 2021
Washington, D.C.
Ed Walters was one happy CEO this morning. Good financials always made him—and his shareholders—happy. And today’s financials were through-the-roof good. He jabbed a finger at the report his CFO had just handed him.
“These numbers are fantastic. If I’m not mistaken, this quarter’s on track to break records.”
Steve Bixby leaned back in his chair, a wide grin spread across his face. “Yep. I fully expect this to be GSI’s best quarter ever. Better yet, I see only upside from here. It’s because of those new contracts, like the one you negotiated in Texas with LaRoux. The new occupancy requirements are making a huge difference to the bottom line.”
Ed flipped to another page, glanced at a chart, then set the report down on his desk. “The cuts to the medical staff in Elias have already paid off, too. I knew that was low-hanging fruit we could trim.”
“Have there been any problems so far with the cutbacks?”
&nbs
p; “Not that I’ve heard. There’ve been a couple of after-hours emergencies, but nothing that couldn’t wait for first responders. It’s great. We save a small fortune on salaries, and let the county provide services we’re already entitled to with all the taxes we pay.”
“Brilliant. Even better, we’ve had no bad press over it. I was a little worried if we dropped the twenty-four-seven coverage, that there might be an incident and some bleeding-heart reporter would run with it.”
“Nope, nothing. In fact, it’s worked so well in Elias, I want to roll out the same changes to all sites as soon as possible.”
Steve frowned and folded his arms. “You know, we’re already number one in the industry. If we keep this up, we’ll put under what little competition we have. Could be a problem.”
Ed spread out his arms, palms up. “Why share the pie if we don’t have to? We’ll just have to make sure the antitrust folks are properly…advised…so they don’t kick up a fuss.”
“Good. I’d hate to have the regulators step in and force us to spin off any of our operations.”
“Not gonna let that happen.” Ed gazed off into the distance. “I remember when I first started here. Right at the bottom. Just got out of the service, had to learn the ropes. Didn’t take me long to see that management then was a bunch of idiots. Had no idea what they had, what they could build it into. No vision. It was a long, hard road to get where we are today. Ungodly amount of capital. Buying the land, building the facilities. Encouraging the politicos to get behind us.”
“Must have been a hell of a lot of work, transforming the place like you did.”
“Sure was.” Ed downed the last of his coffee. “Doubt I’d have the energy to do it all over again, though.”
“Well, even in the short time I’ve been aboard, you’ve kept GSI’s performance on an amazing trajectory. The regulators would be crazy to break it up. It’d knock the share price in the tank, and it’s in so many mutual funds and pension funds, it’d take the market down with it.”
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