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“No?” Seer repeats with a skeptical frown. “It could be dangerous.”
“I doubt he’ll try anything in his workplace,” I say to a worried Seer. “He’s a corporate bastard. Men like him thrive on reputation and public validation. I just want to sniff him out…he must want something. I need to get Bones out of that place before he gets antsy enough to commit murder at the police station.”
“Are you sure about this?” Seer asks. “I could….”
“Tell Graveyard to give me some fucking Advil or something,” I say without much heat. I give Seer a reassuring look. “I’ll be fine.”
I’m not so sure about my last statement – not when I feel another onslaught of IED clawing at my chest.
Graveyard hands me a small case of meds; his eyes suspiciously narrowed as he looks into mine. “That should do the job.”
The doctor is definitely onto me.
* * *
Pocus
Ikill the engine of my customized Kawasaki Z1000, immediately missing its beastly rev and the powerful feel of its engine beneath me. My motorcycle is my most precious possession.
I look around the huge parking lot of The Anderson Group, taking in the assortment of luxury vehicles parked neatly in rows with growing indifference.
None of them beatmy sweet baby.
I get off my motorcycle and fondly pat its tank. I adjust the bandana around my neck and head toward the building of The Anderson Group. I stop inside the door to take in the huge space with extravagant decor and people who look too busy to look at the world around them. The heels of their expensive shoes click against the high-end floors in strangely rhythmic harmony.
I could feel a rusty mélange of frustration and other varying degrees of emotions – mostly negative, in the air. This whole place reeks of misery and desperation. A pretty brunette with wide brown eyes stands behind a huge counter a few feet away from where I’m standing. She keeps smiling at everyone who passes by her. Sometimes some people stop to speak to her, and she’ll respond to them while maintaining a smile on her face. I walk up to her, flinching from the degree of melancholy and loneliness rolling off her despite her sunny smile. Sometimes, I wish I didn’t have this gift of sensing other people's emotions. It just goes a long way to emphasize the pretentious nature of humans. Why pretend to be happy when you’re not?
“Hello,” I say to the smiling receptionist, stopping directly in front of her desk. My eyes slide to her name tag. “Amanda,” I add with a flirtatious smile.
Amanda’s signature artificial smile seems to waver a bit as her eyes fall on me. I immediately notice the interest in her luminous brown eyes.
Her smile becomes a little more genuine, and a soft blush rises on her cheeks. “How may I help you, sir,” she asks politely.
I’ll never understand why innocent women like her are drawn to dangerous men like me, but, oh well…their foolery is useful at times like this. “Could you direct me to Mr. Anderson Grey’s office?”
“Do you have an appointment, sir?” Amanda asks with a slight frown. “Mr. Anderson doesn’t take visitors at this time of the day.”
“I’ll see him, nonetheless,” I say, maintaining eye contact with Amanda. “Now.”
Amanda clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “I can’t….”
“Has anyone ever told you that you have such incredible eyes, Amanda?” I ask, smiling into her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a pair so uniquely gorgeous.”
Amanda goes completely red. She chuckles softly and pushes her hair shyly behind her right ear. “Thank you. I…I get that sometimes.”
Bullshit! But I’m not about to call her out. “Of course you do,” I reply. “I’d like to stay here all day and compliment every gorgeous inch of you, but it’s imperative that I speak to Mr. Anderson immediately. Would you be kind enough to direct me to his office?”
“Oh, sure!” Amanda says immediately, her eyes glazed over with brimming pleasure. “Mr. Anderson’s office is on the eighteenth floor. If you’ll just give me your name, I’ll call his office to inform them of your presence.”
“Pocus,” I reply simply.
“Pocus?” Amanda repeats as if testing my name on her tongue. “I…I’ll let them know you’re coming up.”
“Thanks, Amanda,” I say with a small wink, and she blushes harder. I catch the dreamy look in her eyes as I turn toward the elevator.Poor thing…I bet she’s already imagining some romantic future with me in it. She’ll take comfort in that illusion and the rush that comes with it until another charmer walks up to her desk. Women like Amanda would rather live a dream than face the reality of their existence. There’s no way a man like me would ever be with an untainted woman like her without corrupting her soul and breaking her spirit, but I won’t be the one to tell her that.
The 18thfloor is nothing like I imagined. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it’s definitely not a large empty space with only a row of gray waiting chairs pushed against the wall in a corner. The stark white walls immediately make me think of mental hospitals with their resounding echoes of clamoring pain and lost memories. This is no office space…I think to myself as I look around me, wondering if Amanda pulled a fast one on me. I suddenly hear a familiar clicking sound, and I turn around to see a tall, gorgeous woman walk out of a door I hadn’t noticed earlier – it must be because it’s made to blend in with the walls. The woman walks toward me in long confident strides, her hips swaying from side to side in tune with the clicking rhythm of her heels against the ground. She has the same mechanical smile as Amanda, which makes me wonder if everyone around here is miserable because of the work environment or if they all just have shitty lives – it’s hard to tell.
“Hello, sir. I’m Rachel, Mr. Grey’s assistant,” she introduces herself with a stiffly polite smile. “Mr. Grey will see you in a few minutes if you’ll just wait over there.” She points toward the waiting chairs.
