Walking into the office for the first time in over two months felt a bit odd. It didn’t help that there was a new receptionist behind the front desk, either. I’d never seen her before, but that didn’t stop her from recognizing me.
“Ms Farmer!” she said as I entered. “Should I let Mr Robertson know you’re in the office today?”
“Yeah, him and Nash and Sandy,” I said. “I’ll be in my office if anybody needs to talk with me today.”
“I’ll let them know,” she chirped, all smiles. The new girl certainly had a much better attitude than Marisa did, I thought as I made my way up to my office.
Other than getting some face time in, I had no real compelling reason to come in to work at all that week. Still, it’s good to remind people every now and then that you actually exist, right? Nash was the first one to knock on my open door’s frame to announce himself. After knocking he strolled right in and took a seat facing my desk.
“How are you and Emmy doing?” were his first words.
“Coping, I guess,” I said with a shrug.
“It’s a crazy thing that happened,” he said. “It just doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that actually happens in real life, you know?”
“It’s been really tough,” I told him. “Really tough.”
“I can’t even imagine,” Nash said, shaking his head. “And then to keep on touring after that? I don’t think I could’ve done that.”
“Emmy was right, though. Running away and hiding would have been handing a complete win to the people behind the attack. It was really important to her to deny them their victory,” I replied.
“It seems to me that you, um, actually killing all of them might have prevented any celebrations they might have planned.”
“Nash, we’ve worked together for a few years now, and you know me best of anybody here. What is everybody saying about what happened?”
Leaning back and thinking about it, he said, “Well, I guess there are two main, um, themes, I guess, about what happened. As far as office gossip, I mean. The first is that everybody is shocked by what happened, and by Angela’s death. I don’t think very many people working here knew her, you know, but she was always really nice and friendly whenever she did stop by the office, so I think everybody had a really good impression of her, if you know what I mean. Hearing she was killed in some sort of premeditated attack… That’s just hard for everybody to wrap their brains around.”
“Honestly, it still is for me, too,” I admitted.
“I can’t even imagine,” Nash commiserated. “The, um, second theme of the office gossip that I’ve heard is that a lot of people talk about you, and how you, well…”
“What’s the consensus on that?” I asked.
“I’ve heard a lot of people say they aren’t surprised that you, um…”
“That I killed six people with my bare hands?” I supplied.
“Yeah, that,” he agreed. “I think the exact words I heard somebody say were, ‘She’s the stone coldest person I’ve ever met.’ I think they meant it as a compliment. But yeah, there’s been a general agreement that if anybody was going to be able to do something like that, it would have been you.”
“And how does everyone feel working for a stone cold killer?” I asked.
“Well, nobody’s quit as far as I know,” Nash said. “I’m pretty sure some of the younger guys think it’s cool.”
“How do you feel about it?” I asked. “I’m sure you’ve talked about the whole thing with Jackie. Will we be invited to your next backyard barbecue?”
“Jackie really liked Angela,” Nash said. “She actually cried when she heard the news. It hit her pretty hard.” Taking a moment to think about his wife’s reaction to the news of Angela’s murder, he continued. “But yeah, I don’t think anything changed as far as, um, you guys being friends, you know?”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I told him, meaning it.
“Um, Leah, I was talking to Sheryl in San Jose the other day, and she mentioned that a lot of money has been pouring in…”
“Yeah, she told me that a lot of the younger tech bros think it’s cool that my reputation turned out to be true,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“And you know Sandy has been trying to figure out ways to capitalize…” Nash said.
“I can only imagine. He hasn’t said anything to me about it, though,” I replied, rolling my eyes again.
“He told me you almost bit his head off when he mentioned trying to work the angle with that UFC fighter incident. He said that he might be your next victim if he brought it up without a really solid plan,” Nash said with a chuckle.
“Next time he mentions it to you, tell him he’s right about being the next one who gets slammed to the ground.”
Shaking his head, Nash said, “I’m guessing you did that to one of the people you fought with?”
“You haven’t seen the videos?” I asked, surprised.
“I haven’t wanted to,” he admitted.
“When people tell you it was brutal, they aren’t exaggerating,” I told him.
“Nash said your bodyguards took out three of the attackers, but you actually killed six of them in under a minute,” Nash said. “Is that really true?”
“I just heard today that it was a hundred and fourteen seconds, but yeah, it’s true.”
“With your bare hands, right? That’s what everyone is saying.”
“There were a few kicks in there, so some of it was my feet, but yeah. I wasn’t armed,” I agreed.
“How is that even possible?” Nash wondered.
“A combination of a whole lot of training and natural gifts, I guess,” I said with a shrug.
“Training to what? Kill people with your bare hands?”
I looked him right in the eyes and said, “Yes. Exactly.” I paused for a moment to let that sink in. “You know Emmy was beaten up by some skinheads in San Francisco, right? They had knives. That’s how I got this scar right here,” I said, touching my cheek.
“That was right before I hired on, wasn’t it?” Nash asked.
“Yeah, maybe six months. But ever since then I’ve been training my ass off to be ready if anything like that ever happened again.”
“And it did.”
“And it did,” I agreed.
Jake was the next one to stop in, pretty much immediately after Nash left.
“I didn’t think you were going to come in to the office until the tour had finished,” he said, dropping into one of the chairs facing my desk.
“I can leave, if that’s what you want,” I said.
“No, no, I’m glad you’re here. How long are you going to be in town?”
“We have to be in Phoenix by lunchtime on Friday,” I told him. “So I’ll probably come in the rest of the week until then.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Good,” he said, nodding. “You said you wanted to spend some money- I have a few potential buys I want to talk to you about.”
“They look good?”
“Well, I wouldn’t even bring them to your attention if they didn’t, now would I?” Jake asked.
“No, I trust you on that,” I told him.
“Any time you’re ready to take a look, let me know,” he said.
“Are they time-sensitive?” I asked.
“Not in the sense of a day or two, no, but I think moving sooner rather than later is a good idea, if we want to jump on them.”
“Alright. I don’t have any meetings scheduled this week, so let’s take a look tomorrow,” I said. “I suspect the rest of today is going to be a waste.”
“Yeah, probably,” Jake admitted. “Everybody is gonna want a piece of you now you’re actually here. Sure, you’ve been reasonably responsive by email while you’ve been gallivanting around, but it just isn’t the same. Are you going to be back full-time after the tour is over?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Emmy’s still going to need some recovery time, so we may just go to some hidden, undisclosed location for a while where she can get the rest she needs. I’ll try to maintain normal working hours while remote, though.”
“I guess that’ll have to do,” Jake grumbled.
Changing the topic, I asked, “Have you gotten any feedback from any of our owner clients about my recent notoriety?”
“Not really,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s hardly come up at all. Really, I don’t think very many are too likely to connect you to the news stories in the tabloids.”
“You know all that capital flooding into the REIT is coming from Silicon Valley tech bros who think it’s cool,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, but my clients are a completely different crowd,” Jake said. “Different town, different class of rich people.”
“What did you do all day?” I asked Emmy when I got home that afternoon. She was sitting at the kitchen counter, Angela’s laptop open in front of her.
“I have been cleaning up Angela’s affairs,” she said. “Did you know she was sending money to a scholarship fund for poor students in Cartagena?”
“Yeah,” I said, getting myself a sparkling water from the fridge. “We talked about it a while back.”
“I would like to continue it in her name,” Emmy said.
“I sent them their monthly last week,” I told her, leaning down and giving her a kiss on the cheek.
“That reminds me,” Emmy said. “Talking with Grace, you two discussed money she sends to her mother. How long has she been doing that?”
“Since we started giving her an allowance when she moved in with us. Pretty much immediately,” I said.
“You knew she was doing that?” Emmy asked, amazed.
“You have to remember, I helped her set up her bank account. Since she was a minor I had to be on the account with her, so I got to see all her transactions. Still do, actually, since she’s never bothered to change the status on the account,” I said, sipping my La Croix.
“Really? What does she spend her money on?” Emmy asked, intrigued.
“Besides school expenses- most of which I pay, but she covers the minor incidentals- and general cost of living stuff, she spends a lot of money on sporting goods, and of course, gas and travel. A few months ago, for example, she paid a good chunk of money to a Grand Canyon rafting company. I was a little curious at the big number, so I got on their website and saw the number corresponded to two twelve-day trips. Presumably her and Rosie, would be my guess,” I said.
Leaning back and thinking about it for a moment, Emmy indicated the laptop and said, “Angela has not spent very much money at all since she moved in with us. I do not know what she was saving for, but she had a surprisingly large amount of money saved.”
“That goes to her parents,” I said.
“Of course,” Emmy agreed. “But I am left wondering why she had so much saved.”
“We can guess all we want,” I said with a shrug. “Unless you find some clues, that’s all it would be.”
“I miss her so very much,” Emmy said, her shoulders drooping.
“I do too, babe. Very much.”
“I have not wanted to ask about your plans on exacting retribution…” Emmy said.
“They’re proceeding,” I assured her. “At this point it’s simply a matter of waiting for the right moment.”
“How will you know?”
“We’re keeping eyes on them,” I said. “We know their movements. We’re just waiting for them to relax their vigilance and to let their guard down.”
“Then what happens?”
“Things will turn very bad for them in a hurry,” I told her.
“You are being evasive,” Emmy complained.
“I’m just sparing you the details,” I said, resting my hand on hers. “You don’t need, or probably even want, the details.”
“All of this is happening while you are here?”
“My being very visibly with you on the rest of the tour helps create a cover story,” I told her.
“How much thought have you put into this?” Emmy asked, her brow wrinkled.
“It isn’t just me doing the planning,” I said. “But yeah, we’ve been working out the details pretty carefully.”
“Be careful. Revenge is not worth dying for. Or going to prison,” she added.
“Neither of those things are going to happen,” I assured her. “This is going to be a very clean op.”
“Please be careful,” Emmy said again.
It was back to the gym and then the office again the next day. Jake and I spent the morning huddled over the property information on a number of apartment complexes that he thought were good prospects, and for the most part I had to agree they looked like good investments, so we headed out for an afternoon of site inspections.
“Leah, I hope I’m not straying into HR infraction territory here when I tell you that you look really sharp these days,” Jake said as we sat down for lunch at a ‘New American Bistro’ in Santa Monica. “I mean, you always dressed real professional, but the suit you had on yesterday, and this one- they look like pure class. Like they were made for you, if you know what I mean.”
“They were,” I said, wondering if I should order the pork belly tacos or the tarragon chicken pasta. “Emmy had them made for me on Savile Row in London.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I got five different suits made.”
“What does something like that cost?” Jake asked. Glancing down at his own off-the-rack suit, he said, “Probably a lot more than this thing from Men’s Wearhouse.”
“These were very, very custom, so yeah- a Hell of a lot more than anything you’d find at a department store.”
“Custom like how?” Jake asked, curious.
“Well, O.K., let’s start with the fact that I’m not built like most women, right? So that’s a start. The second is that we live in California, and it gets a lot hotter here than it ever does in the UK, so they need to use lighter, more breathable materials- but one of the suits is wool gabardine, for when the weather is a bit cooler.”
“I don’t even know what wool gabardine even is,” Jake said.
“Trust me- if you went through the fitting process there at that tailor’s shop, you would know perfectly well by the end of it,” I told him with a laugh.
“O.K, so custom sizing, non-standard materials… what else?” Jake asked, still curious to learn more.
“Well, let’s talk a little about the non-standard materials,” I said, leaning in. “These suits Emmy had made for me? They actually have a liner that’s like kevlar, to make them slash-proof. That stuff is kinda thick and heavy, as far as cloth goes, so they had to figure out how to accommodate that extra bulk but still keep the silhouette sleek.”
“This is because of the attack in Atlanta?”
“No, these were finished a couple of months ago, before all that happened. I wish I’d been wearing one of these suits when the attack actually happened- I wouldn’t have gotten stabbed in the leg. Well, I mean, I would have gotten stabbed, but the material would have prevented the blade from actually going in, you know?” I said.
“I’m missing something here,” Jake said as the waitress set down our drinks. “Maybe more than one thing. First off, why would you specify your new suits to be stab-proof? I mean, O.K., what happened in Atlanta shows it was a good idea, and would have been a better idea if you, Emmy and Angela had been wearing them when you guys were jumped, but…”
“You see this scar?” I asked, pointing at my cheek. “Knife attack.”
“I’m more than twice your age,” Jake said, shaking his head, “and never, not once in my fifty-four years, have I ever been stabbed, or cut, or anything like that.”
“Must be nice,” I said with a shrug. “Which brings me to the next especially custom part of these suits. They were designed to allow full range of motion so I can fight in them. They have extra gussets and pleats to allow mobility, and super stout stitching so they don’t tear.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “You remember when that UFC chick jumped me in my gym’s parking lot? It tore up my Armani suit pretty bad. I had to throw the thing away, but this suit here? If something like that happens again, worse comes to worst I send it back to the tailors to replace any of the material that might have gotten scuffed.”
“You lead a very, very different life than I do,” Jake said, shaking his head.
When I got home from an afternoon of looking at apartment complexes, I saw that Emmy’s X6 was in the garage, but I didn’t find her in any of the usual places, either in the house or the studio. I had to look for quite a while before I finally found her, curled up asleep on the floor of the room that would have been our nursery. I didn’t wake her, just let her stay there. I sat down on the floor next to her, thinking about how I’d maybe been a bit too optimistic about her emotional state. In the late afternoon light coming through the open blinds I could clearly see the tracks of tears that had dried on her cheeks, but that really wasn’t a clue I’d needed to guess how she’d been feeling.
When she finally stirred an hour or so later I reached out and took her hand, just holding it to let her know I was there and that I loved her. Emmy didn’t say anything as she held my hand tightly, but those strange, silent sobs of hers wracked her body as she let the anguish take her again.
I resisted the urge to pull her into my arms- I didn’t think that was what was needed just then. I simply held her hand and gently stroked her hair, letting her express her grief in her own way.
I cried, too. For me, the babies were a lot more abstract than they’d been for Emmy, but losing Angela was very, very real, and it hurt more than I was willing to face. Holding Emmy’s hand while she cried herself back to sleep, I recognized that I’d been using Emmy’s condition, my plans for revenge, dealing with Angela’s things, and so on as distractions so I could put aside my misery and ignore my own pain, only letting myself feel the sorrow at convenient times such as this. It was easy for me to keep myself task-oriented instead of dwelling on how much I hurt inside.
I’d long ago realized that Emmy hid her negative emotions as best she could, even from me. Seeing herself lost in anguish like this broke my heart too, but there was nothing I could do to help her feel any better other than just being there for her.
Of course I realized that I had absolutely not been doing that the last couple of days, what with leaving the house before she woke and coming home in the late afternoon. She’d been alone with her thoughts and it hadn’t occurred to me that might be a bad idea.
When Emmy woke up again I helped her get up and gently led her upstairs to the kitchen for something to eat. She had no appetite, but had some of the pasta salad because I insisted that she had to eat something.
Since it had gotten late I bathed Emmy, then dried her off and tucked her into our bed that had grown fifty per cent too large. I held her in my big spoon until she fell asleep again. She’d barely said a word all evening, but I hadn’t tried to get her to, either. She would talk when she was ready, and not before.