The Hunt, Page 3

  He watched her turn and dart through the happy hour crowd. Drew tilted his mug to the bartender, applying liquid salve to an open wound.

  ***

  Drew knew better than to check company email after a night of drinking.

  At first he gasped. The language and tone felt wrong, like she had written the message in another language and then ran it through a translating website.

  “It’s not true,” he said to Molly.

  “Then she has a hell of an imagination,” she replied. Molly never responded positively to things when shaken from sleep, but that night Drew felt he had to be direct.

  “She’s been hinting at an affair for months, but I never pursued it, I swear.”

  Molly swung a pillow behind her back and stared at Drew through bed-tussled hair.

  “We met at Sully’s after work. She insisted and I knew it was not going to be pretty. I ordered a beer, she asked me to leave you, and I told her no. I told her that I love you.”

  Drew’s wife took a deep breath and waited, her fingers clutching and releasing the sheet. “And she sent this to Johnson, too?”

  Drew exhaled and slid closer to Molly. “Yes. Vivian isn’t stupid. She knows the company policy on harassment, knows what procedures have to be put in play, and knows the amount of pain this is going to cause.”

  “Then you need to get into his office first thing in the morning.”

  The blaring horn jarred Drew from the memory. The transparent wax paper lay on the passenger seat like the discarded shroud of the bagel. The cup of coffee in his hand felt warm, the bitter tang no longer subdued by the heat. He pulled up to the intersection and turned right, looking at the dashboard clock and realizing that he had driven the entire route to the office on autopilot.

  Probably would be safer if I texted while driving. At least I’d still be paying some attention to the road, he thought.

  “Hey, D!”

  “Sup, Charlie?”

  The security guard smiled at Drew from inside the frosted pane of the vertical coffin he called a booth. Drew could see the flickering images of the portable DVD player through the icy glaze of the window.

  “Same old shit. When we movin’ to Florida?”

  Drew chuckled. “Soon as you win the lottery, my man.”

  Charlie smiled and hit the button. The red arm rose with a cranky squeal of half-frozen gears until it pointed skyward. Drew drove through the security check and towards his office building in the industrial park, glancing in his rear view as the arm came down again with a forbidding shake.

  ***

  “Did you see her today?”

  Drew dropped the messenger bag to the floor and looked over his desk. Brian’s eyes sparkled. “No. I’m not looking for her, asshole.”

  “You should be. She’s got this tight black skirt on. Heels, of course. And her blouse dips low enough to sport serious cleavage. I still can’t believe you passed on that.”

  Drew turned around towards Johnson’s office and allowed his eyes to drift left, to Vivian’s cubicle.

  Nothing wrong with looking, he said to himself. “You oughta hit that.”

  Brian squealed like a kid who already knew what Santa left under the tree. “She ain’t into me, man. She’s into you.”

  “Did you forget about the whole shitstorm?”

  “My penis has a short memory.”

  With that, Brian sauntered towards the coffee machine, leaving Drew with a wink and an opportunity to recall the meeting with Johnson and their discussion of Vivian.

  ***

  “I think I’m going to need to see it.”

  “Taken out of context, it could cause me a lot of problems.”

  “Seems like you already have a lot of problems.”

  Drew snarled at Johnson and swallowed his anger like recurring heartburn. “I showed it to my wife and I told her it’s not true.”

  “She believes you?”

  “Of course.”

  “For now.”

  Drew stood and considered dragging Vivian into the room. Johnson stepped in front of the office door and closed the blinds.

  “I need to know. Don’t hand me any bullshit.”

  “I did not touch her. Ever.”

  Johnson sighed and nodded his head. “Then we should probably get HR in on this as soon as possible. After I hear Vivian’s story, of course.” Drew smiled with his eyebrows furrowed and a snarled lip. “Don’t do this to me, Drew. You know I have procedures to follow.”

  Johnson opened the office door. Drew stepped close enough to smell his cheap aftershave and the remains of greasy hash browns on his face.

  “I’ll forward you the email from Vivian, according to procedure.” Drew spit the last word from his mouth like a swig of sour milk. He walked through the rows of cubicles as if in slow motion, seeing every keystroke on a keyboard and every number punched into a phone. Vivian looked up at him and then back towards Johnson’s office. She dropped her head to her chest.

  When he got back to his desk, Drew looked at the framed picture of his family. He shuddered and wondered if they could ever be them again, smiling, happy, whole. He clicked through the screens until he came to his password-protected desktop. Drew opened his email in search of Vivian’s message. He scrolled through the list, reordered by sender, then by date, and then by status. Nothing. Her email was gone. Drew scrolled through again, line by line. He picked up the phone and dialed the IT desk.

  “Frank. Hey, it’s Drew in design. I’ve got a really important email that’s disappeared.”

  “They don’t do that on their own, Drewy-boy.”

  Drew winced. “Listen to me, Frank. I had an email in my inbox and now it’s not there.”

  “Hold on.”

  Drew heard the phone clink off a hard surface, followed by the pounding keys begging for mercy under the plump fingers of the head of IT.

  “Got a retraction on your account.”

  “Frank?”

  “Right. Dumb it down for ya. Whoever sent that email pulled it back. Our system gives you twelve hours to do that as long as the recipient is on our network.”

  “You mean inter-office.”

  “Yeah.”

  Drew sighed. “Can you tell me if the message was retracted from all recipients or just me?”

  “C’mon Drew. You know I can’t breach privacy—“

  “All or just me, Frank,” Drew said, cutting off Frank’s canned response.

  “All. Two recipients, two retractions. Don’t bother asking who the other recipient was.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it, Frank. You’re such a champion of privacy.” He heard the huff through the phone before the line went dead.

  ***

  Vivian walked past Drew’s desk. He inhaled her perfume, making the memory of that day visceral. She dropped a manila folder on his desk from an elevation that caused other papers to flutter.

  “Johnson needs your signatures on these before the end of the day.”

  Drew tried making eye contact with her, but failed. He wondered how many more years it would be before they would speak again. “Thanks, Vivian.”

  She paused, opened her mouth, and then closed it before walking back to her desk. Drew flipped through the folder and counted the number of lines requiring his signature before he shut it and walked across the row to Brian’s cubicle. Brian held one finger up to him with a handset tucked under his chin.

  “The CSS code. Yep, got it. How about the link tags? Good? Okay. Yep, will do.” Brian hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair.

  “Can I talk to you?” Drew asked. Brian twirled his fingers while sipping bottled water. “It’s not work related,” Drew added.

  “Never stopped us before.”

  “Did you ever think someone was in your apartment?”

  “Once I thought I had two women in my bed, but it was just a dream.”

  “Never mind,” said Drew as he turned back towards his cubicle.

  “Sorry. Sit down, ma
n.” Brian kicked the edge of another chair, which sent it flying towards Drew’s knees. He stopped it with his left hand and sat down at the desk opposite Brian. “You mean like ghosts?”

  “Not exactly. A feeling like someone else is in the room with you.”

  Brian tilted his head towards the panels of the suspended ceiling dotted with emergency sprinkler heads.

  “Honestly, I don’t think so. I remember being scared shitless as a kid when my folks made me go upstairs to bed. We had a family room in the basement with our television and toys. My parents would stay up watching shows and at my bedtime they’d send me upstairs to brush my teeth and go to bed. I used to leap over steps on the way up, convinced something was going to get me. I’d run down the hall and turn on my bedroom light. When I got into my bed, I felt safer under the covers, but getting there was always a bitch. And it was the same thing, night after night.” Drew paused and smirked at Brian. “You looked serious. I didn’t want to fuck with you.”

  “Sorry man. I’m not used to seeing this side of you.”

  Brian shrugged and tapped a pencil on his phone. “What’s going on, Drew?”

  Drew took a deep breath and placed his elbows on his knees. He hunched over and looked left to right before replying. “Had a strange feeling last night.” Brian waited, pencil tapping. “I was on the computer around 3:30.”

  “First mistake.”

  Drew ignored the comment and continued. “It felt like there was someone else in the room. I felt different. The shadows didn’t act like normal shadows do.”

  “Gimme the money shot,” said Brian.

  “I heard words. Something about ‘short,’ but I fucking heard them, man. I am not kidding.”

  Brian whistled and made the loco gesture next to his right temple.

  “I knew you’d be an asshole about it,” said Drew.

  “What do you want me to say? What if I had come to you with this story?” Brian’s extension buzzed and lights flashed across the surface of the phone. He reached out with the left hand and snagged the receiver. “No. No, I have not gotten to the CSS code yet.”

  Brian looked at Drew and shrugged his shoulders. Drew stood and walked back to his cubicle.

  ***

  He cranked the radio the entire way home. As “the big 4-0” came closer, he found himself splitting time between heavy metal and afternoon talk shows, an unthinkable compromise to the teenager he once was. The clouds suffocated the landscape, swallowing the snow-covered lawns of suburbia. Spring would arrive in less than forty days through the seemingly eternal vise-grip of winter. As the disembodied voices continued to chatter through the stereo speakers, Drew’s mind floated back to her.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Retract it?”

  “No. Send it. Why did you send it in the first place?”

  Vivian pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear and crossed her legs in the chair. “I was hurt. I lashed out.”

  “You could have ruined my career, my marriage, my life.”

  Again, Vivian uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. Drew caught glimpses of the garter straps at the top of her thighs. He looked around as if he could will another human to enter the break room. The microwave and mini-fridge sat silently, offering no help.

  “I’ll be here,” she said.

  “You have to let this be, Vivian. Please.”

  “You and I are fated, Drew. I felt it the first time we met. You’ll come to me and I’ll be here. I promise.”

  She stood and placed a benign kiss on his left cheek. He felt the moist, warm touch of her lips that made his entire upper body twitch. She let her breath linger on his skin long enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck, before she tossed her hair to the side, opened the break room door, and strutted back to her cubicle.

  Other Titles From J. Thorn

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  About the Author

  J. Thorn believes in the imaginative power of the horror novel and the escape from reality it provides. He knows that embracing the entire spectrum of human emotion, even its dark realms, makes for a more meaningful and authentic life.

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