Secrets of the Boss

I bask in the stillness of the empty library. These stolen moments alone with the books make me forget that most of my day will be spent under a pile of barcodes. I don’t linger too long in the stacks as my coworkers will arrive soon and morning greetings tend to distract me from my routine of opening all the programs I need on my computer and deleting all the junk mail that fills my inbox the second I step away from my desk. I flip the switch to send light flooding over the office and make my way to my desk. As I enter my cubicle, a flashing red light greets me.

“Come on. I just got here.” I mumble as I hit the message button on my phone and go through the motions of retrieving my voicemail.

“Theresa, I need your help with something. Meet me at the batting cages on First Avenue.” My boss’s voice fills my cubicle.

“This message was left at 5:55am.” The stilted robotic voice informs me before listing my options.

I push a button to save the message for later, since I can’t imagine what library business would require a visit to the batting cages. I pull my coat back over my shoulders, grabbing my bag. I offer one lingering backward glance to the neatly arranged piles on my desk and start toward the door.

“Theresa, where are you going?” My friend and coworker Cara asks as I pass her in the hallway.

“Special assignment from the boss.” I offer with a grin.

She shakes her head. “Those are never good. Headed to the dungeon to box up books that are too trashy even for this place?”

“Don’t know yet.” I say.

“That means it’s even worse. Sorry about that, but you know…”

“Better me than you.” I finish her sentence.

“You know it. Have fun anyway.” She pats me on the shoulder and steps into the staff lounge.

I make my way back through the book labyrinth and into the light of day. My eyelids blink as the sunlight strikes my eyes. Shaking my head, I find my car and open the door. With a regretful look at the 8:21 blinking on the display of the parking meter, I turn the key and slowly back out of the spot.

“He better reimburse me for parking since I probably won’t even find a spot when I get back.” I mutter.

*

As I slow enough to turn into the narrow parking lot for the batting cages, the driver behind me leans on his horn. Despite my closed windows and blaring radio, I hear him scream obscenities on his way past. I don’t have time to respond as I slam on my brakes to avoid hitting a large black van that sits in the middle of the lot.

“What in the world?”

As I edge into the nearest spot, I notice blinking red and blue lights closer to the row of cages. My heart starts to hammer. My mouth grows dry. I turn off the car on autopilot and watch the lights swirl and blink before me. Despite my fears, I open the door and step out of the car. Slow footsteps carry me toward the van with “coroner” etched across the back in large, white letters.

“Hold up there, honey.” A deep voice brings my head up and to the left.

A police officer towers over me, looking down at me with questioning eyes. He raises one of his muscular hands to stop me from taking another step.

I freeze to offer a timid smile and a squeaky, “Yes, officer?”

“This is a crime scene. You can’t come in here.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t see the lights?”

“I did, but…”

His right hand slowly seeks out the butt of his pistol as he waits for me to finish.

“…I’m supposed to meet my boss here.”

“Does he know that the batting cages aren’t open this early?”

“I don’t know.” I feel my cheeks begin to flush.

His eyes narrow as he contemplates this. “How about you describe your boss to me.”

“Umm…well…he has short dark hair…”

“…that’s starting to thin?”

“Um…yes…and…”

“He’s a little shy of six foot tall?”

“Uh….yes…” My voice fades away as a heavy weight seems to fall upon my mind, crushing out all 

sensible thought.

“Ma’am?” I see those meaty hands coming toward me.

As the world spins into blackness, I feel strong hands snatch me from midair and gently lower me to the ground. Not much time passes before the clouds smothering my mind begin to dissipate.

“So she says she knows the victim?” A higher, grittier voice breaks through to my garbled mind.

“Sounds like it, sir.”

“Looks like she’s coming to.” Slender fingers wave in front of my face before gently striking my cheek. 

“You awake.”

I mumble something even I don’t understand as he gently rubs my hands.

“Help me sit her up.”

Two sets of hands push me into a sitting position. I open my eyes, feeling the pull on my neck as my head slumps to my right shoulder. Bleary eyes take in the new officer’s pinched face. He smiles reassuringly.

“That’s right. Wake up. We need to ask you a few questions and then we’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out. Okay?”

I push my head up with my shoulder and nod slowly as my stomach pitches slightly.

“Can you stand up?”

“I don’t know?”

With their help, I manage to regain my feet, but my knees feel like melted butter. I cling to the arms supporting me, willing my strength to return.

“We know this may be hard for you, but I was hoping you could take a quick peek at the face of our victim and let us know if he is your boss. Can you do that?” The older officer watches my face intently.

“I think so.”

They turn me gently to face a stretcher with a body in a plastic bag. The zipper has been pulled down enough to show a familiar face. Someone pulled his eyelids down to cover dark brown eyes, but the pallid face me belongs to my boss. My stomach lurches again. As I turn away from the body and bend slightly, they step away from me, releasing my arms. I manage to stay upright but the contents of my stomach come out in a vile flood between my feet. My stomach continues to lurch until nothing remains inside to be forced free.

A lightly perfumed handkerchief appears before my eyes as I dry heave one last time. “I’m so sorry about that, ma’am. Is that him?”

I nod as I take the handkerchief and gently wipe my mouth.

“And what was your boss’s name, ma’am?” The first officer’s gruff voice asks with as much sympathy as it can offer.

“Larry Chase.”

“Does he have family?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s okay.” The older officer pats my arm gently, then offers me his. “Come with me. I’ll give you a ride to the hospital.”

As I weakly lean into his arm, I hear the other officer ask. “So what are we looking at?”

“He’s been dead since sometime last night.” The coroner responds as she zips up the body bag. “I’ll give you more information when I have a chance to properly examine the body.”

Continue here!

Looks like this story gets a continuation to next week. Feel free to offer comments, input, criticism, praise, etc. Where? Right there:

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In the Works

Another entry about the blog instead of the writing? Really?

Indeed. Sometimes I need to expound on the thoughts in my head and make myself accountable to more than just me. So here are a few thoughts that keep bouncing around in my head. Feel free to offer your help to make my blog dreams come true.

1) I'd love to add links to blogs for other writers like myself. My recent trips to the gym prove that sometimes we work better when we are offering and receiving support from people who truly want to help us succeed. Do you have a blog for your writing (poetry, verse, essays on life)? Feel free to send me a link so I can take a peek.

2) I've been posting a mix of stories inspired by writing prompts and pieces that came out of my own twisted grey matter. I believe I shall no longer post the ones from my own head here. Instead, I plan to write them, revise them, re-revise them, and then work toward getting them published, so you can hold a physical copy of my work in your hands. Once I get to that point, I shall have a giveaway.

3) Speaking of, I still want to share the love with one lucky reader by sending them a dozen cookies. Would it help if I made that giveaway at 15 followers? That requires only 5 more followers though two of my followers are invisible. I know who one of you is.... Go ahead, follow my blog. I plan to make it worth your while.

4) If I find other writers who will permit me to do so, I may feature some of my fellow writers in special posts from time to time. We all need to expand our horizons :)

5) As my faithful readers, what do you think would improve this site for you?

Asking You Again

Hello, dear readers,

I wanted to take this opportunity to beg for your feedback. Due to a sudden obsession with tidying up my house, I don't have anything worthy of your beautiful eyes today, and I want to make sure that I am posting pieces that you want to read, so what tickles your fancy.

BOO!
Do you want me to try to scare you?

Knock knock...
Should I make you laugh?

Daaawww!
Do you want to feel all warm at fuzzy when you reach the end?

Um? What just happened?
Should I attempt to write a mystery?

Is there something else you'd like to see?

Use the fancy comment space below, send me an email if you don't want the world to see, or post on facebook if you must. I prefer that you use the comments though. So let me know what you'd like to see or you'll be subject to my whims and fancies.

I Will Love You

The last two posts didn't seem to pull my readers into a new year full of words and excitement, so here is another offering from the confused mind of sugar-laden lady. What do you think?

Some days, I realized I needed to be more organized. On this particular day, I had already searched all of the logical places for a receipt that I needed. Without it, the office wouldn’t reimburse the cost of my recent business trip. My search finally brought me to my hall closet where all my scraps of paper went to be forgotten. I grabbed the top box, quickly setting it aside as removing the lid sent up a cloud of glitter from Christmas cards of years past.

Stepping further into the closet, I pulled another shoebox from the stack. The boxes on top of it plopped to the floor, spilling papers around my feet. I glanced at them before opening the box in my hand, tossing the lid to the floor as I scanned the contents. Only a couple of receipts nestled among old letters and newspaper clippings.

“Where did I put that receipt?” I grumbled as I knelt down to reclaim the box lid.

My name leaped out from one of the spilled papers. I frowned at the unfamiliar handwriting, reaching for the folded page with one hand as the box slipped from the other. My mouth twisted as I scanned the tightly penned words on the page.

My beloved Bella,

Thank you so much for teaching me what love is. I cannot wait to hold you in my arms again. I know my words will never be as eloquent as yours, so I close this brief letter with the three most important words I have ever said: I Love You.

Always,

James

I scanned the letter again. Who is James? I’ve never seen this letter before.

I picked up the envelope on top of the pile and looked at it. My mouth dropped open. JUL 15 2020

I rubbed my eyes, and looked at the date again. JUL 15 2020 BALTIMORE

“How can that be?”

As I pushed myself up from the floor, a cascade of boxes tumbled toward me. My own voice falsely echoed my words.

“Where can that be?”

As I turned toward the voice, which could not be mine, a hazy form snapped into focus. My own face with seven more years of living parodied my mother’s except for the laughter in those dark eyes.

“Oh?” My aged self surveyed me for a moment. “Is this the day that happens?”

My own tongue remained glued to the top of my mouth.

“I know you’re confused and a little scared, Bella, but I have five minutes to tell you how to make your dreams come true, so listen to me. First, never ever completely clean this closet. Those jokes about marines being lost in here aren’t true, but something else seems to be happening. Don’t fall in love with the first guy who claims he loves you or the second or the third. Wait until work sends you on a trip to Baltimore. You’ll meet James there. Don’t sweat it, he’ll get your number.”

As her words gushed out, she began to fade. Offering one final piece of advice, she disappeared. “Don’t worry so much. I will love you no matter what, and so will he.”

I looked back down at my hand but found it empty. Papers still lined the floor of the closet, but each one possessed a date from the past not the future.

“Don’t sweat it?” I asked myself as I began raking the pages together and stuffing them untidily into shoe boxes.

Stunned I stepped back into the smaller bedroom I used as an office. As I sank heavily into the wooden chair in front of my ancient desktop, I noticed a slip of paper draped across the monitor. I picked it up, idly realizing I had found my receipt. My confused mind noted it before wandering back to the advice of my future self.

In seven years, I’ll be in love…with a man from Baltimore?

...To Old Stories

Hopefully, this piece answers questions raised in the previous post. Feel free to use the comments to express your thoughts, my friends.

Kirsten falls into bed without bothering to free herself of the sequined dress that wraps around her like plastic wrap. It clings to every curve as she falls back against the pillows. Her phone finally falls from her hand as she breathes gently. She tosses and turns as memories become dreams.

~~~

“Tonight? What’s happening tonight?” Kirsten looks up from carefully unfolding the wax paper covering the sandwich her boyfriend brought from their favorite deli.

John grins at her over his pastrami on wheat. “Don’t try to pretend you’ve forgotten. The year is almost over.”

“Really?” She smiles back at him over ham on rye that has yet to reach her mouth.

“Well, it is a little late, but maybe I can find another date for the Changing of Years Gala.” He takes another bite of his sandwich.

“I wouldn’t want you to do that. I did buy the perfect dress the other day.” She winks at him and takes a tentative bite out of her own sandwich.

As they continue to eat, their conversation dies down, but they have become used to their comfortable silences. Too used to them, in Kirsten’s opinion, but she doesn’t want to get into that now. John has been looking forward to this evening for the past few months, and she doesn’t want to be the one to ruin it for him.

~~~

“Just one more look.” Kirsten whispers to herself as she turns back to the mirror.

The dress hangs just loose enough to be modest without hiding her curves. Created from burgundy velvet, it glitters from the softly rounded neckline to the wide hem that stops just above her ankle. Paired with black slingbacks and diamond drop earrings, she feels ready to celebrate the birth of the new year and her renewed life. As she steps away from the mirror, a knock draws her to the living room door. She pulls it open to find John with a corsage in hand.

“Are we going to prom?” She smiles and holds out her wrist.

He fumbles with the plastic case, sighing with relief as it opens. As he slides the bracelet over her wrist, he says. “I wanted to get you a bouquet, but this way you can admire your flowers all night.”

Kirsten looks down at the mix of tiny red and white roses and smiles. “I guess I’ll have to save you a few dances for this.”

“I hope so.” He offers her his elbow.

She giggles, taking his arm and leaning her head lightly on his shoulder.

~~~

“Ladies and gentlemen, you only have one more hour to enjoy 2011. Let’s see how many great songs we can squeeze in for you.” The DJ’s voice booms out of the speakers.

As the music begins again, John reaches into his pocket. “I guess we have one more hour to work on our resolutions for the coming year.”

As he pauses, Kirsten puts her hand on his elbow. “John, please…”

Tears well up in her eyes and she turns away. Startled John releases his grip on whatever resides in his pocket and reaches for her instead. She shakes off his hand and starts walking. Short, tentative steps grow to become strong, long strides away from him. As his surprise wears off, he finds his own feet. He catches her easily. This time, he refuses to let her shake off his gentle hand.

“Kirsten, what’s going on?”

“I wanted to wait until tomorrow to tell you. Can’t we just enjoy tonight?” Her eyes plead with him as much as her voice.

He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t think we can, but I don’t know why.”

Kirsten gazes into his eyes for a moment before looking away. “I’ve accepted a job in California.”

“Oh.” John’s hand falls from her arm. He clears his throat and continues. “When do you leave?”

“In two weeks. I was going to tell you in the morning. I didn’t want to ruin tonight for you.”

“I wish you had told me…”

“So I ruined tonight anyway.” Her eyes slide down to the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“Maybe, a little.” He offers her a tentative smile. “But maybe another dance will make it better.”

As she steps into his arms, he begins to lead her gently to the floor. She leans her head against his chest, breathing in the scent of him. She doesn’t see the slow tears tracing the outline of his cheek. Her hair soaks them in as he leans closer to her.

New Beginnings...

Before you get started, I must confess that my brain seems to be determined to write a novel now that I have neglected this oasis on the web for two whole months. So I ABSOLUTELY MUST post something to ring in the new year. As I worked on this little tale, I realized I have questions that I want to answer. Some precede this token of my affection for my readers, others follow. I shall work to answer those questions and post at least half of them next week. In the meantime, read, enjoy, and post questions. Maybe I missed one. XOXO!

Even with the roaring of music and laughter that rages around her, subtle ringing finally sends Kirsten’s hand sliding down into her date’s pocket. He smiles for a moment until her hand reappears with her cell phone. She keeps step with her dance partner even as her eyes focus on the phone. A frown creases her face as she reads a name amid a soft, blue glow.

“Sorry.” She mouths as she pushes a button.

She lifts the phone to her ear. Hearing nothing, she shrugs, and slips the phone back into his pocket. Her date tightens his grip, pulling her further into an awkward embrace. As she leans into his chest, smelling the soft nuances of his cologne, the tiniest bit of her lip slips into her mouth. She gnaws worriedly for a minute as a soft tone indicates a message waiting for her.

Her hand seeks out her phone again. Her date loosens his hold as she hits buttons on the touchscreen. She waits a few seconds before hitting a few numbers followed by the pound key. Then she rests the phone against her ear.

The usually bubbly voice of her best friend greets her with muted tones. “I won’t be alive in three hours to wish you a happy new year, but I know you’ll make the best of it. Happy new year, Kirsten.”

A chill runs through her as a heavy click cuts off April’s voice. Kirsten slowly pushes a button to put out the soft glow of the screen. She looks into the questioning face of her dance partner. She mouths her apologies again.

“I have to go.” She leans in to whisper but gives him no time to respond.

Hurried footsteps carry her out of the warmth of the hotel. She had hoped to ring in the new year with her blind date, but they hadn’t really clicked. Both clung to the hope that maybe letting their date last until after midnight would change that, but she knows April needs her right now. This helps her ignore the guilt that tries to gnaw at her. Since the countdown clock blinks 3:30, she has less than half an hour to figure out how to help her friend…if that.

As she steps out onto the snowy sidewalk, the noise she hoped to escape meets the dissonance of rival revelries up and down the street. She places the phone to one ear and covers the other with her free hand. The phone on the other end rings again and again and again. Finally, she reaches her friend’s voicemail. She shivers slightly as she waits for the message to end.

“April, call me back. I have to talk to you.” She forces words through chattering teeth before stepping back into the building and claiming her coat from the overflowing coat closet.

Her coat hangs heavy about her shoulders as she steps back into the chill. After slipping a glove on one hand, she scrolls through her contacts with the other.

“No. No. No.” She keeps repeating this as names fly across the tiny screen.

She lowers the phone, looking out over the street encrusted in crystal snow.  Her shoulders slump as if she accepts defeat, but her face still contorts in concentration. Finally, she sighs and raises the phone again. Punching in a number from memory, she takes a deep breath and hits the send button. The phone on the other end begins to ring. She pulls her coat closer around her. The ringing stops to be replaced by the sounds of laughter and loud music.

“Hello?” A questioning voice screams to be heard.

“John?”

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

“Kirsten.”

While the party rages on, no distinct voice comes through.

“Still there?” She asks after only a few seconds.

“Just surprised to hear from you…”

“…especially tonight.” She finishes his sentence and pushes on. “I need your help.”

“You in New York?” Hope infuses every word.

“No, but April is. You remember April?”

“Your crazy friend with the boyfriend no one likes? She’s hard to forget.” He forces a laugh.

“Well, she broke up with him a while back, but she just left me a weird message and won’t answer her phone.”

He sighs. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Could you forgive me long enough to check on her?”

He pauses and she feels a vise closing in on her heart. When he finally speaks, warm tears have begun to course down her cheek.

“Okay, Kir. Where does she live?”

“She sublet my old place.”

“Okay. I better hurry. Call you when I get to her place.”

The sound from the other end of the phone disappears in an instant. Kirsten leans against the wall, pulling on her other glove. Then she wipes away the tears that freeze on her cheeks and waits, willing the tears not to flow again.

Her eyes grow heavy. She dozes despite the cold and the noise pouring from every building on the street. Her eyes flutter open with every passing couple that walks past her. Sometimes they pause to kiss and she looks away, not wanting to be reminded that she left her blind date alone for New Year’s. The phone rings and she fumbles with her glove, tapping the screen emphatically until the call gets picked up.

“John?”

The soft laugh from the other end of the phone reassures her before the voice follows. “Kir, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you call him of all people.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said. I smashed my phone so I couldn’t take your call. Then I realized I didn’t want to end things that way, but I can’t get a new phone until tomorrow.”

She hears a voice in the background, then April says. “I’ll call you tomorrow. You and John should talk. This is his phone.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, Kirsten. Even if I have to beg the old lady next door to let me use her phone.”

“Okay. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“Kir.” John’s voice makes her heart start hammering all over again. “You owe me.”

“I know.”

“So let me take you to dinner the next time you’re in New York. We need to talk.”

He pauses. Fireworks pop on his end.

“It’s New Year’s here, can I trouble you for a kiss?” He asks with a soft laugh.

“Of course.” She blows a loud kiss into the phone.

“You still owe me a dinner.” He says after returning her long distance kiss.

“I know. I have your number.”

“I look forward to your call.”

Kirsten clicks the end call button. Now that she knows April will be around to call her in the morning, weariness sets in. She’ll worry about her promise to John in 2013.