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If we were going to work well together, I’d have to drop myowndefenses, first. I hoped it would be just as worth it this time as it had been when we’d first fallen in love.
Luna
The night I slept with Sylvester, I went home, showered, and slept. I didn’t cry. Anger stopped the tears from coming. It also bottled up that feeling deep inside me, where it would bubble away as it had done for decades. I needed it as my motivation. There was no point in turning to despair. Despair didn’t help anyone.
When I awoke the next morning, my mouth was dry from dehydration, a headache just starting to form behind my eyes. I grasped around for my water bottle, chugged half of it, then located my glasses so I could see the world in high definition, let the details of it force my crusty eyes to awaken and hydrate.
When I was awake enough to bear the contact with the wider world that my phone invited, I checked for messages. No messages, but a voicemail from Apollo. I played it.
“I bet you expected I might have left some helpful thoughts here after my call to you last night. But you have been fooled. This is in fact just an invitation to join me in the daytime, whenever you are awake and free, as the thoughts that were in my brain last night still remain there, and it would be good to get them recorded and put down onto paper...”
The message went on, but I’d gotten the key point of it: Apollo wanted me to set up a meeting.
I wasn’t awake enough to talk on the phone, yet, so I sent him a text.
Luna:Hi, I got your message. How’s 12 noon?
Apollodetestedthe usage of ‘12pm’ or ‘12am’ to mean noon or midnight. I never wanted to listen to another of his linguistic rants again.
Apollo:Perfect. I’ll see you at my office.
I showered once again for good measure, to get the smell of Sylvesterthoroughlyoff my skin. Even then, his phantom scent lurked around me, if only in my imagination. There was something intoxicating about how he smelled, like he could lay possession to my heart and soul just by pressing himself against me, leaving his imprint.
But I was older now, wiser. I wouldn’t be taken in by his charm. I could conquer my own feelings. Mind over matter.
In the back of the cab on my way to Apollo, I got a text from Sylvester. My heart started racing. I pulled the bandaid and opened it.
Sylvester:Apologies again about our meeting yesterday. Can we reschedule for today? Anytime.
It was just a professional message about our meeting. I was a little disappointed, but I knew it was for the best. From now on, things would have to be strictly professional.
Luna:Sure. I’m just going into a meeting with another client now. I’ll let you know when I’m done?
Sylvester:Perfect
Apollo was waiting in his office for me, after I’d been approved by reception and escorted to the top floor by his armed security. It was quite a high-security affair, and security had been heightened recently since the extra attention Apollo had been receiving from the popularity of his memoirs.
I shut the door behind me. “Good afternoon.”
He checked his watch. “Yes. A minute past twelve. I commend your ability to tell the time, unlike most of the population.”
I smirked and started setting up my recording equipment. As soon as I was ready, he was sure to launch straight into some odd tale. I barely had to prompt anything out of him in our sessions. The stories just spilled out of him, detailed and witty. It was actually one of my easier gigs, which made it all the sweeter that I was getting paid so much for it.
I’d no sooner hitrecordthen the door swung open behind us. One of Sylvester’s lackeys, as I called them in my mind, for I didn’t know what position in the company they actually occupied, entered the room.
Apollo looked up sharply. “What is it, Abigail? I said I was not to be disturbed except in the case of emergency. I hope you have an emergency for me.”
Abigail was a tall, broad woman with muscles bigger than most men’s. “It’s an emergency, sir. The Briggs situation has gotten out of hand. Scenario D has occurred, just five minutes ago, sir.”
I had no idea what they were talking about, but apparently Apollo did, because he leapt to his feet and screamed at the ceiling in a pitch I assumed, up until that moment, no fully grown man could possibly emit from his lungs.
Then, he picked up his computer monitor and threw it with great force against the far wall of the office, over my head. I ducked, tensing. I was in his warpath.
I felt a sudden firm pair of hands on my shoulder’s – Abigail’s. She pulled me to my feet and walked me backwards until I was nestled in a corner of the room. The fact that she knew what was happening here told me that Apollo had these freakouts frequently enough that it wasn’t unusual.
I watched, shielded by a filing cabinet, as Apollo roared and smashed most of his office to smithereens. Abigail calmly watched. Anytime a piece of debris came near her, whether it be a folded sheet of paper or a weighty gold statue, she simply raised an arm to block it and it bounced off like it were light as a feather.
When Apollo was finished, he stood, panting, in the midst of the destruction. Then an eerie calm entered him – he stood up straight, arranged his face until it was creepily impassive, and smiled. “Would you be so kind as to deal with the situation, Abigail?”
