by Nara Malone
Her hands were cool in his. Her pulse was hammering like a cornered rabbit’s. Allie didn’t wear glasses or contacts. But Marcus knew when to ask questions and when making himself useful would earn him points. He needed points right now a whole lot more than he needed answers.
“The one in the middle, in the lightest of the brown suits.”
“Do you know any of the others?”
He thought he knew them, but was certain Allie must. “Caroline to her right and Joyce to the left.”
Allie frowned. “How do you know the garden club?”
Was that a glint of jealousy in her eyes? Millennial being or not, his ego needed the boost her possessiveness gave it. He shrugged. “They don’t mind sharing a table with me when the diner is busy.”
“You have lunch with the garden club?”
“We chat about flowers, organics. Joyce suggested I join the club.”
“Joyce invited—”
“Allie? There you are.”
Allie rolled her eyes, muttered something he didn’t catch and turned to greet the ladies.
“Elaine, Caroline, Joyce.” Allie smiled at each in turn. Marcus was relieved they each responded appropriately. He knew for sure he had Elaine’s name right, the others were a little fuzzier, but all turned out well enough. Elaine told the others Allie would be heading up a gardening magazine project. Marcus smiled and promised to attend their next meeting when Joyce reissued her invitation. Then the ladies were off to Franny’s, and he was alone with Allie.
“You’re into flowers?” she asked.
She said it with a wrinkling of nose, as if antennae were suddenly protruding from his skull.
“One of many interests.”
“Right. You’re a monk or something too. A monk who likes sex with women he stalks in the park.” The rain chose to return at that moment. The rise in his cock, when she looked up at him, was hard and swift. He couldn’t read her mind, but he knew she was remembering the same rain-soaked kisses.
“Sex in the park in the rain,” he corrected. “And I said spiritual leader, not monk. Absolutely not monk.”
She cleared her throat. He could swear she felt rising sexual tension as keenly as he did.
“I have to get back,” she said and she turned, running down the street. At the last intersection she crossed against the red and ducked into the newspaper office. He’d accomplished almost nothing. She’d thrown him crumbs about herself and nothing about Hella. He’d have to see if the crumbs led anywhere interesting. He was going to start with why Allie could see a leopard in the snow, in the murky light of predawn, and yet insisted she needed glasses to recognize her boss a few feet away in the middle of the day.
* * * * *
Oliver sat back on his hind legs, pink nose twitching. The lid of the laptop was closed. He was looking intently at Marcus.
Marcus pointed at the computer. “Do you know anything about Googling?”
Oliver just stared, that steady, unwavering look.
Whenever Marcus needed research done, Jake said he’d Google it. Only this time, Marcus didn’t want Jake to know what he was researching. He couldn’t explain his need to protect Allie from people he trusted with his life or them from her. There was just a sense, a premonition of sorts, that she was his Pandora’s box. When he learned her secrets, there’d be no putting them back. He didn’t want blame for whatever might go wrong to fall on anyone but him.
Marcus lifted the laptop lid.
A round button just above the keyboard blinked red.
“What now?” Marcus wondered aloud.
Oliver looked from Marcus to the laptop. When Marcus did nothing, Oliver tapped the “enter” key. With a whir and some beeps the screen lit up. An empty box with password written above it appeared.
Oliver typed, hit enter, and the screen changed. A few more key taps and another box, very much like the password box appeared, only this box said Google.
Marcus nodded. “Now that is impressive.”
Oliver flicked his bunny ears and twitched his tail.
Marcus sat. He still didn’t know what to do, but he had his pride. If a rabbit could figure this out… He typed “face perception” in the box. If he knew more about how the recognition process worked, he might understand why the skill seemed absent in Allie’s case. He waited patiently for the computer to produce some kind of answer. Nothing happened. Oliver reached a paw across the keyboard and hit the enter key.
A list appeared on the screen.
“Ah,” Marcus said.
Oliver nudged the mouse with his nose.
“I know, I know,” Marcus said. Oliver looked at him, head tipped slightly sideways, contemplating. It was unacceptable that he had a rabbit doubting whether it was safe to leave him alone with the computer.
“I’ve got it from here.” He lifted Oliver from desk to floor and gave his furry backside a pat, which sent the little guy hopping off. Marcus chose the first suggested page from the list and started reading. Two hours later, he pushed back from the computer, eyes burning. He closed them and pressed cool fingertips to the lids, tried to decide how best to use what he had learned.
There was no doubt in his mind that Allie was prosopagnosic, or face blind. Not a psychological disorder but one either inherited or caused by head trauma. He’d seen her display the symptoms and employ several of the coping strategies he’d just read about. The way he understood it, it was something like colorblindness, only with faces. It wasn’t that she found him forgettable, or that her eyesight was deficient, but that she lacked a cognitive ability to process and commit to memory the unique patterns of features that comprised individual faces.
Clearly, it left her vulnerable, and she was wise not to reveal that chink in her armor to others. There was no solid treatment for the condition. All of that added up to the perfect excuse to get closer to her, the means to reach out. Medicine and science might not have the answer to Allie’s problem, but Marcus thought he did. Humans relied too much on sight to make sense of the world. Proper training could amplify the perception level of Allie’s other senses, teach her to see with more than her eyes.
* * * * *
The timer on her desktop beeped the one o’clock warning. Allie logged the project she was working on into her time-tracking software. The sleepless night and the roller coaster day were catching up with her. She wanted a nap in the worst way. Coffee would have to suffice.
In the break room Allie added sugar to her mug, watched the crystalline mound linger on the surface and then melt, resisting before dissolving. She stirred up a whirlpool with a red coffee straw, stared into swirling dark liquid, remembering the licorice black of his hair, her fingers feasting on the texture.
It was raining harder when Allie returned to her desk, rivulets streaming down the plate-glass window. The world on the other side wrapped in mist and glittering droplets. An ad layout waited on the computer desktop, carefully worked in black and white plus two shades of gray. She wanted to escape into the tidiness of the grayscale, the orderly march from black to white. Results easily controlled. Reliable.
She sat down at her desk, but her thoughts ran off, out the window and into the mists.
Marcus crept back into her thoughts with his dangerous smile—singing a nursery song, painting a rainbow of sound in unruly colors.
Playmate, come out and play with me.
In her fantasy his call lured her into the rain, back into the memory of him in the park, his voice going smoky when he pressed her against the broad trunk of an oak, dropping almost to a whisper when he unbuttoned her blouse.
Climb up my rainspout, I’ll slide down your cellar door.
He had the words all wrong, but how could she know that? Nursery songs weren’t something she’d learned at Eddie’s knee. The song seemed a part of another life, something from a time before she had words. Playmate? The thought nagged like a pebble in a shoe.
She pushed the irritation aside, returning to the daydream. A vision of h
is dark head bent low, his tongue catching a raindrop that trembled at the tip of her nipple, his lips closing around her flesh and the tug of gentle suction banished nursery songs from her mind.
Unlike that morning, in her fantasy neither of them was afraid to finish what he started. With rain pelting their bodies, wind moaning and rattling the branches, she had her legs wrapped around his hips and their bodies pounded out a primal rhythm. They moved on to a grownup song, wordless tones riding up and down a scale of pleasure.
She blinked. Turned her attention back to her task. Even in a fantasy, she couldn’t really let herself dissolve into Marcus. And why was that? More important, what had happened at the park that morning? She’d been ready to dissolve then. She’d even tried to push him into taking what she offered when he pulled away.
She picked up scattered drawing pencils, arranged them in a neat row, ordered from softest to hardest. She wished it was as easy to rearrange herself, go back to the Allie she had been yesterday.
A cold draft of moist air ruffled her hair. The hydraulic cylinder on the front door hissing as it closed warned Allie someone had come in. She hoped it wasn’t an ad customer.
“Hey there. Ms. Allison.”
Hopes dashed. But she smiled, because she knew this voice. Only one man in town with that slow John Wayne drawl.
“Hey yourself, Seth,” she said, swiveling her chair around.
He lifted his cowboy hat from his head and put it on the counter as he always did when he came in. He wore a white hat, said being a lawyer he needed all the help he could get convincing people he was one of the good guys.
She plucked a bright-orange file folder from her outbox. Orange seemed to suit Seth’s cheerful personality. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow, but I have the layout for next week’s ad just about ready if you want a look.”
“I have to go up to DC tomorrow.”
“You make it sound like you’re headed to prison.” Instantly she regretted the comment. She didn’t want him thinking she was familiar with people who were facing prison sentences. He didn’t seem to notice the slip.
“I just hate the city. It’s an interesting case though. On the rights of indigent citizens to use facilities in transit centers subsidized by the government.”
“Mmm, definitely has me on the edge of my seat waiting to hear more.” She joined him at the counter before he could launch into a dissertation. Lawyers tended to get long-winded. It didn’t take long to get the draft approved and him quickly out the door.
The phone rang. She dropped Seth’s file and answered it.
“Advertising department, this is Allison.”
“I understand your problem. I can help.”
“Marcus?”
“You see? You know who I am now.” He seemed incredibly pleased by that. His voice had a giddy tone.
“Err…yes. Have you been drinking?”
“Don’t evade. You don’t always know who I am.”
That statement left her feeling more naked than she had when Marcus stripped away her clothes. Dread tightened her stomach. “I’m sorry, Marcus, I’m really busy.”
“Deny it then. Tell me you aren’t face blind.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my vision.”
“A couple of hours ago you couldn’t see well without your glasses. But you don’t wear glasses, do you, Allie?”
“I don’t have time for this.” Allie sighed. “Like I said, I’m busy.”
She hung up, opened her web browser and Googled “face blindness”. She’d just clicked the most promising article in the list when Elaine breezed in, contract in hand, eyes sparkling.
“What are you still doing working over here? Your new office awaits. I had the janitor carry off the extraneous junk while you were at lunch.” Allie clicked and the browser closed just as Elaine reached her desk. “So, are you ready to move in?”
* * * * *
When Allie escaped Elaine an hour later, she had a cardboard packing box and a thick blue contract folder. Not that the contract would make a difference. Elaine had said take it home and read it over. Lila, the ad sales rep, was waiting for her. Things were getting too sticky and complicated. A growing friendship with Lila was another attachment Allie hadn’t planned on. Marcus wasn’t the only reason she had to move on and start again. Having an excuse to pack up her workspace fit right in with her plans.
Allie had concluded Eddie would never hire someone with Marcus’ personal power to charm. Someone able to convince those around him that his will was their will. If she set aside Marcus’ claims about a gardening hobby, the men were just too much alike to ever get along. And while Marcus hadn’t revealed he was involved in any illegal activities, guys who could charm the world and get away with whatever they wanted were always up to something they shouldn’t be. Allie hadn’t had any choice about growing up in Eddie’s world, but she had one now. Allie planned to log onto the bus site and reserve a ticket just as soon as she had gotten rid of Lila.
Lila’s eyes sparkled and she bounced with excitement over whatever the pink phone message slip in her hand said. She slapped it into Allie’s outstretched palm, folded her arms across her chest, leaned a hip against Allie’s desk and waited. If Lila expected fireworks, she was looking at the wrong woman.
Allie concentrated on keeping a calm exterior as she read, limbs stiff to conceal the shaking anger. “I can give you what you need, Allison. I can teach you the path to what you long for. Meet me at Pomodori Fritti’s at seven.”
“He wasn’t on the line long enough to ask his name,” Lila said, “but I had the impression you would know who he was.
“Must have been the wrong number,” Allie said, crumpling the message slip and letting it go above the wastebasket, but Lila’s nimble fingers snapped it out of the air before it could land in the intended receptacle.
Lila looked at Allie in a measuring way, as if she noticed qualities that Allie was certain she didn’t possess. “Pomodori’s—candlelight, cobblestone courtyard, fountains, violinist, very old world, very romantic. Sounds like you have a hot date lined up.”
“I don’t.”
“Honey, if you don’t go out with him, I’m gonna have to. And since I’m dating my boss that would make my life way too complicated.”
“You’re dating Cliff?”
Lila put a finger to her lips, light glinted on slick lavender polish, a hue one shade lighter than her outfit. “Shh. Now tell me, what are you going to wear tonight?”
“Nothing.”
“Well that should get his attention.”
“I’m not going out with him.”
“You don’t have anything to wear, do you?”
Allie shrugged. “I’m not into the dating thing. I don’t have time for it.” She plucked the contract folder from the box and waved it. “I have other, more important, things to do. Things that require my attention.”
“First, Elaine’s contracts are generous.” She snatched the folder from Allie’s hand and dropped it in Allie’s inbox. “Sign the thing and be done with it. You know you can’t turn down that job. Second, sweetie, this whole paint-it-black, suffering artist/waif look you’ve got going is great—it brings out that protective side of a guy. But this dude needs to be reeled in. You need to show up in a dress that will grab him by his short leash and keep him there for the rest of the night.”
“Uh…sorry, but my black latex mini is at the dry cleaners.”
“You don’t dry clean latex, silly.”
Lila grabbed Allie’s hand. “Come with me. I have just what you need.”
Allie looked at Lila’s dress, suede in a lilac shade, short skirt, tight in all the right places and plenty of cleavage displayed in the low cut of a shimmery silk blouse. Her heels were high enough to break an ankle while standing still. She imagined just what Lila might conjure from her closet. The woman did not own anything Allie could apply a low-key label to. She couldn’t suppress a shudder.
“I know, you’re ju
st shivering with anticipation. Right?”
“Right,” she said. Go along. Get along. Get out when the opportunity arises. That method had served Allie well up to this point. No sense in changing something that worked. She let Lila link an arm with hers and lead her toward the door.
“Cliff,” Lila shouted across the office, “I need Allie to help me land a big sales account. We’ll be back.”
Cliff waved them off from his office door, a phone tucked between his ear and shoulder.
Elaine leaned out of her office door. “Take the rest of the afternoon, ladies. I believe Allie has some celebrating to do.”
“You got it, boss lady,” Lila shouted back and hauled Allie toward the door. “Elaine’s a slave driver, but she always makes the grind worth it. She’s the kind of boss you don’t mind going the extra mile for.”
Allie felt a little pang of guilt. It really irked that she had to leave Elaine in the lurch. It was just that she felt trouble closing in, knew in her mitochondria that her time here was running out. If she didn’t go now, the lion—or should that be wolf?—would be at the door. She wished she had someone she could confide in.
A new worry had Allie hanging back. She was thinking she should unplug her office phone. Lila followed the direction of her gaze right into her thoughts.
“That was a leave-her-simmering call, sweetie. He won’t call back today.”
“I’d rather leave him simmering and not go.”
Lila tucked Allie’s hand under her arm and marched them forward. “This will be fun. I’ve got the guest room closet full of look-but-don’t-touch clothes my mother sent me. Nothing there I’ll ever wear. We’re about the same size.”
“No we aren’t. You have way more…um…assets.”
Lila grinned. “Thank you. But, madam artiste, you should be able to spot optical illusions. I use them to enhance. You use them to detract. You’ll fit. I know these things.”
“Why would your mother send you don’t-touch-me clothes?”
“You know mothers. She’d tattoo don’t touch me across my forehead if I’d let her.”
Allie didn’t know mothers, but Lila had given Allie a quick, affectionate hug when she said that, the kind of bubbly warm hug that makes you feel like you matter. Allie imagined that was how mothers made you feel.
