“You’ve been flagged. Do not hire. I don’t know why. Sorry.” She stood back, hands on Briana’s shoulders. “Good luck out there, okay?”
Briana went back outside, the bell ringing overhead again. It sounded more like a taunt this time. The midday sun blazed down on her, but she felt cold. It made sense now why the same thing had played out over and over again, all morning long. She thought back over the places she’d worked since high school and couldn’t recall any major issues. One boss had come on to her, but he’d been understanding when she told him she had a boyfriend. Or so she thought.
How do you get flagged with a ‘Do not hire’ anyway?
It seemed illegal but everything unfair feels that way. She trudged back up Sunset past more help wanted signs then turned at the Whiskey A Go Go, toward the apartment.
As she stepped through the front door, she was almost knocked down by the booming sound of explosions and gunfire. Leish sat cross-legged in front of her computer screen wearing a scooped tank top, eyes wide and glassy, right arm twitching as she played a game.
“Be right with you, baby girl,” she called out without looking up.
Briana bristled at the pet name before she dropped onto the couch and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Mel had called her baby girl, too. Should’ve seen the connection. She was sweaty and thirsty, but too depressed to get up again.
Do not hire, she thought. What am I going to do?
“Oh, fuck that!” Leish said, slamming her desk with a fist. “Eat a dick, Hammerhedge73! You suck bleached ass.”
She yanked off her headphones and tossed them on the desk. “Oh hey,” she said to the camera perched atop a monitor. “You guys wanna meet my new friend?” She turned and waved Briana over.
“No,” Briana mouthed as she sat up.
“Oh, c’mon.”
She came over and grabbed Briana by the hands and tugged her over. “Say hi to Briana, guys.”
On the screen was a large window displaying the game Leish had been playing, some cartoony looking shooter game. To the right was a chat window suddenly alive with comments, scrolling up faster than Briana could read.
“What are they saying?” Briana said.
Leish peered closer. “They want us to make out. C’mere, momma!”
Briana pushed her away and with a frown and went back to the couch.
“Signing off, bitches,” said Leish as she closed the window and the game disappeared. She came over and flopped on the couch across from Briana.
“I was just teasing,” Leish said. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“No one will hire me. I spent all morning going up and down Hollywood Boulevard, then Sunset. ‘Help Wanted’ signs everywhere. Everyone turned me down. Finally, somebody told me I’d been flagged with a ‘Do not hire.’”
“Sounds illegal.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“What are you going to do?”
Briana sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Well, there’s other ways to make money.”
“I’m not like you, Leish,” Briana said, sounding more exasperated than she intended.
“Oh, you mean a THOT.” She gazed down at herself, nodding. “Titty streamer.” She snapped her fingers and pointed. “Camwhore!”
“I didn’t mean it like that. More like, comfortable in your own skin.”
“I know what you meant,” Leish said with a sly grin. “And you’re right. But I’m just using what I got while I got it. Girls got a shelf life and I don’t plan on being a MILF in my thirties. Even though the money is good, I hear.”
“Sounds like something Mel would say.”
Leish ignored her. “Oh shit, I almost forgot!” she said, jumping up and hurrying back to her computer. She scooped up her phone and typed, her thumbs a blur. Briana’s phone chimed and she slipped it from her purse. There was new email. She tapped with a finger and opened it up.
Yo Leish,
That girl is fire! Once you get a demo recorded, send it my way. I’ll make sure it gets to the right ears.
Dillon Travis
Briana stared up at Leish. She stood there, arms crossed over her chest, nodding slowly.
“Dillon Travis heard me sing?” Briana said.
“Oh, yeah,” Leish said. “Didn’t I tell you?”
Briana leapt to her feet and threw her arms around Leish, crushing her close. “Oh my god! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“It’s all you, girl. Of course, it takes money to record a demo.”
Briana pulled back from her with frown. “You said you’d take care of that.”
“And I will. But my finances are complicated, what with all my varied income streams. I don’t know shit about it. Mel takes care of all that stuff. He told me I could pay for it next month, but we really need to move on this now. This is like, a once in a lifetime thing.”
Briana sank down to the couch, staring at the floor. She had maybe four hundred left in the bank, besides two hundred or so in cash. The dream of recording a demo that could be heard by Dillon Travis seemed to shrink away from her and fade, drifting to the floor like ash.
She looked up at Leish. “You said there were other ways to make money. What did you mean exactly?”
CHAPTER 36
Trapped
Dante eased the Mako into the driveway and waited as the garage door rose. His eyes fell on the shield-shaped sign jutting up from the front lawn that read: This home protected by Dome Defense Smart Security.
Smart security, which meant it was connected to the Internet. He hadn’t thought of that last night as he’d raced around, shutting off devices before dumping them into a foil-lined box.
He eased the car into the garage and stopped when the windshield touched a tennis ball hanging from the ceiling. Abigail hopped out, opened the door and ran into the kitchen to get her afternoon snack, right past the security keypad. Dante couldn’t even remember the last time he turned it on and he felt a flash of anger at himself. He entered at least half a dozen codes at work every day.
A company rep had come out a few years ago and installed the security system. Motion and heat sensors had been placed at strategic positions throughout the house. Then came the cameras. A fisheye lens housed inside a plastic half-dome about the size of a softball. One was perched outside above the front door and another inside, covering the living room. Completely wireless, software updated regularly through the internet and easy to use.
Maybe too easy.
Dante touched the driver side door and watched it tighten into place. Everything was automatic now, motorized, monitored by smart software, electronic eyes and ears listening at all times. For the first time he could recall, it bothered him. The slow but inevitable takeover had happened in the background as daily life prattled on, operating under the premise of ease of use and increased security. Taking root like a worldwide Virginia creeper vine.
Dante frowned at the thought.
Some grew along the front of the house. It had been there when he and Michelle had first visited years ago while out house hunting.
Michelle had loved it.
He recalled how she reached out and plucked one of the small, blue berries and held it up close. The Realtor warned her they were poisonous and she’d thrown it at Dante, laughing, her voice like silver.
He smiled at the memory.
What had really sold her were the security features of the house itself. The previous owner had installed steel shutters over every door and window, turning the whole house into one giant panic room at the press of a button. Just inside the front door was a glass panel. A large push button was mounted inside, a glowing red eye dull and watchful at its center. A wicked looking fireman’s axe hung next to the button on hooks, all black except a silvery edge along the blade. Stenciled across the glass was the requisite: In case of emergency, break glass. Dante hadn’t really been sure they needed something like this but Michelle insisted, reminding him how much time he spent away.
> The corner had been pulled up again on Dad’s car cover and he went to tug it back down. Abigail loved to look at it. He didn’t quite know why. Maybe because she wasn’t supposed to. It had been a while since he’d seen it himself. He lifted the corner and flung the cover back to get a better look.
His eyes swept over the 1975 Porsche 911 turbo in Sahara Beige. He’d always hated the color but the thing could move. Dad had spun out the first time the turbo had kicked in. It was the one extravagance he’d allowed himself after the divorce. He said it was a write off, good for taking clients out for cocktails. He could even fit his golf clubs in the bonnet, he’d told Dante in a hokey British accent that dads the world over excelled at. Dad was an insurance salesman and had been good at it, enough to buy a classic Porsche post-divorce in California. Then again, mom hadn’t wanted much.
Just to get away.
But Dad had never been a car guy and when it showed, it was painful to witness. He told everyone about the bonnet, like it was a deep, dark secret of the car world. But he sure loved his 911. He’d talk Dante’s ear off about the simplicity and elegance of its design, the analog gages and hand crank windows, none of that digital or electronic crap. His favorite feature was the ignition on the left-hand side, so you could start the car while engaging first gear.
Extremely handy in the high-stakes world of life insurance, Dante thought.
Dante had considered many times of getting rid of it, but Dad had said not to sell it. Ever. He’d insisted on it in those last painful days at the assisted living facility confined to a bed, eyes staring, fingers curled into claws.
Dante rarely drove it anymore. The lack of power steering and the sticky clutch made it hard to drive. Yet, he still kept the key on his keyring. He used that key now to open the passenger door and sit inside. The smell of old leather and dust filled his nostrils, along with a sour smell that had survived countless shampooing. One of Dad’s clients had puked in here after a night of cocktails at the Hoff’s Hut bar.
There was another scent too. The faint odor of something sweet with a chemical undertone, but he couldn’t quite place it. It came to him as he breathed in deep. Hair spray. Covert or Convert or something. Dad used to shellac his hair with it every morning.
The smell triggered a memory.
It was what Dad had said to him as he lay dying, his hand clutching Dante’s, thinning hair combed back and held down with that damn hairspray.
“Bomb it,” Dad said, nodding as if it was the most important secret in the world. It was funny in a way and so terribly sad too, that his last thoughts and words were about his beloved 911’s trunk, what he thought was the bonnet. Dante had stayed through the night, holding his father’s hand as the life left his eyes and he slipped away. All his father had left him was the car, his beloved 911. Dante’s mother had insisted through her lawyer that dad had money socked away somewhere, hiding it from her. It was the last time he heard anything from her until she died a few years later.
So, he’d kept the car for Dad, but also for Abigail. If she liked it that much, she could have it when she got old enough to drive.
Pausing just inside the kitchen door, he hit the arm button on the alarm console. The crack of bolts shooting home on every window and door reverberated throughout the house.
“Daddy?” Abigail called out from her room.
“It’s okay. Just the security system.”
It had been a long time since he’d heard that sound. The sound that said everything was secure. That’s how it used to make him feel. But in that moment of silence that hung heavy in the air, another word came to mind.
Trapped.
CHAPTER 37
Silver Elephants
Dante knocked on the door frame and entered Abigail’s room. Her back was propped up on pillows and she was scribbling in her sketchbook, face tight with concentration. She looked up as Dante came in and sat on the edge of the bed.
“What are you drawing?”
“Robots versus skeletons,” she said as she turned her sketchbook around and held it up for him to see.
Grinning, his eyes followed a streak of rocket smoke that trailed from the boxy arm of a purple robot before ending in an explosion of fire and skulls.
“You should come work with me someday,” Dante said.
“How about tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sorry kid. School tomorrow. Everything seems to be back to normal.”
He took the sketchbook and her pencil box and placed them on the dresser. “Time to sleep,” he said, wincing as he placed his bare foot on the wooden floor. He lifted his foot up and gazed down at the hard growth that clung there. He saw Abigail staring at it, face serious. He wiggled his toes.
“Are you scared about going to the doctor’s tomorrow?” she said.
“A little nervous maybe.”
Abigail reached under her pillow and withdrew her hand, clenched in a tight fist. “Close your eyes and put out your hand.”
Dante did as she asked.
Something small and cool dropped onto his palm. He opened his eyes and looked down. It was a tiny, silver elephant pendant. Dante smiled, remembering when he’d bought it for Michelle. It was the day she’d called and said they were going to have a baby.
“Where did you get this?” Dante said.
Abigail pointed to the ornate wooden box on her dresser. “I found it in mom’s jewelry box.”
Dante fingered the small, shiny trunk, curved upward in the shape of an S. He peered closer at the tail and saw the small cleft etched there.
“You’re missing the baby.”
“There’s a baby?”
“The trunk snaps here, into the mamma’s tail,” Dante said as he held it closer to her and pointed. “See?”
She sat up but Dante placed a hand on her shoulder. He didn’t relish a walk down memory lane right then, digging through Michelle’s old jewelry box.
“It’s late. Tomorrow.”
“But I need to find the baby. It needs its mother!” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“No,” Dante said, louder than he intended. “It’s been a long day.”
Abigail’s lips trembled as she rolled over, hiding her face from him.
Dante sighed and walked over, rummaged in the jewelry box for a moment before closing the lid. Michelle’s engagement ring sat in a velvet tray to one side, and the sight of it caused an ache in his chest.
“We’ll look for it tomorrow,” Dante said. “I’ll leave the mommy right here.”
Abigail shot bolt upright. “No! You take it. If you get scared or nervous, you’ll have it with you. Okay?”
Dante nodded, not trusting his voice. This seemed to put her at ease. She blinked her sleepy eyes and lay back down once more. He turned off the light and sat on her bed again, staring at the little elephant under light that bled in from the hall. He waited until her breathing became slow and steady before slipping the pendant into his pocket and closing the door behind him.
CHAPTER 38
A Slight Pinch
“Now just lie still, Mr. Ellis. You’re going to feel a slight pinch,” came the soft voice of Dr. Benoit from the monitor suspended above him. Her large, brown eyes stared out from the screen as greenish orange light filtered in from outside. She wore surgical scrubs and cap, but the mask was pulled down from her face.
“Where are you right now?” Dante said.
“I’m in the Philippines helping with Operation Smile.”
“That’s wonderful,” Dante said, voice a bit slurred. “Pretty cool you can be there, but take care of me here.”
He heard the soft shushing of motors then the promised pinch as a needle eased into his foot. His sole went numb and all sensation became slight tugs and pressure as the Caduceus surgical robot went to work. He heard another sound, a harsh flitting that reminded him of something but he couldn’t recall what it was.
“Used properly, technology can be a wonderful thing. Just relax, Mr. Ellis. You’re doing fine,” Dr. Be
noit said. “Would you like some music?”
“No thanks,” Dante said, closing his eyes. “Might just take a nap.”
“That’d be the sedative we gave you. Should be fine as long as you hold very still.”
That wasn’t going to be a problem. They’d strapped his left leg to the table and held his foot in place with a plastic brace on either side. He’d eyed the Caduceus robot somewhat suspiciously as they prepped him, a mechanical hybrid of octopus and praying mantis painted medical white. It was one thing signing a release form to allow a robot to perform routine surgery, quite another to see it hulking silently in the corner as you were strapped down nearby. Dr. Benoit had assured him it was completely safe as he’d signed a release form. She just happened to be halfway around the world right now, Dante had noted with unease.
The soft sounds of the robot shushing back and forth were very soothing and he felt as if he might actually fall-
A gunshot jerked him awake.
A nurse appeared in the square window set in the door and jerked frantically on the handle, eyes wide, ponytail snapping back and forth. Not a gunshot, Dante realized. A door bolt racking home.
Why was the door locked?
Dr. Benoit’s eyes went wide and frantic before the screen went black. The robot sounded different now, higher pitched. The soft tugging at his foot had become rapid, insistent jerks, like a voracious animal was tearing at a kill.
Pushing himself up on his elbows, Dante froze. A metallic green dragonfly drone hovered above the robot, a red light blinking on its underside. The robotic limbs of the medical robot were flailing in a wild blur, all manner of instruments bristling at the tip of each one. One arm swung out and struck a light bar on the wall and it shattered in a hail of glass.
The room plunged into darkness.
Light bloomed at the tip of one snakelike appendage, throwing crazy shadows as it whipped through the air. Another arm lowered and rapidly flicked its tip in a tight pattern at his foot with a single-minded intensity.
Crucible of Fear Page 13
