HIM
I am wrong. Extreme fatigue does NOT bring on sleep. It just makes you bone tired and cranky. I climb out of bed for thesixth morning in a row, awake before the alarm, more tired than the day before. This hasn’t happened for a while, but it’s not entirely new. Sleep is the first of my essentials to go out the window when my mind is preoccupied by something I can’t solve. And this week, I have any number of problems for my mind to take its pick from to obsess over.
The head of departments’ meeting turned up a complete bust. No one has any concrete clue who ‘J’ is, what he wants (other than the obvious, to ruin our company/money), and why he has started this vendetta. And that’s what it is. This isn’t a cold, calculated business strategy. He wants this to hurt me personally.
Contemplating the day ahead, I decide it won’t hurt to start early. It’s 5:32 a.m. to be precise, my clock tells me. Even I’m not heartless enough to wake Henry, my driver, this early. Turning on the light as I enter my dressing room, I pull the switch to rotate my wardrobe to my track pants and sweaters. I quickly dress in a matching charcoal grey pants and hoodie set, tie the laces of my new shoes, and leave the apartment.
Nodding to the doorman on my way out, I realize that it’s still dark out, the city is waking, yawning and stretching into the new day, the sidewalks still carryings the dirty evidence of last night’s charades, and the streets are scattered with the wandering homeless and those hiding from their homes. I start my jog at a brisk pace, my warm breath already exhaling little white clouds of steam against the dark sky. It shouldn’t take more than about 20 minutes to get to the office, I calculate, just enough time for me to organize my thoughts for the day.
I glance at my Rolex as I turn the corner the block before my building. 6:00 a.m. on the dot, just as I’d predicted. The time flew by as I focused on work, hardly noticing my body dripping with sweat, my lungs begging for air. Despite the fatigue, old and new, I can’t help but smile when I see my building. It may be the home of my business, but it has been built from the very first brick up, by my blood, sweat, and yes, even though I hate to admit it, tears. And there are times I’ve spent more time here than my actual home.
Now into its fourth year as a part of the Manhattan skyline, I can’t imagine this magnificent city being without it. Sleek and modern, it juts up into the sky like an almost invisible glass portal into another world, mirrored glass from top to bottom, reflecting the sky and city back on itself, a perfect, seamless melting into its surroundings. The three letters ASH stand one story tall on the 50th floor in an understated muted grey.
I paid a premium for the most technologically advanced materials and design for my building. Completely energy self-sufficient, with solar cells built into every available surface and structure of the outer windows and walls, and the glass insulated against the elements, creating a harmonious temperature, requiring only the most minimal of air-conditioning for comfort. The rooftop is home to the company helipad, a garden for employees’ lunch and a 1000 square foot community garden for the nearby schools and youth centres.
The building is everything I want Ash industries to exude; modesty, strength, integrity, and a constructive contribution to society.
She is my pride and joy.
I pull my hoodie tight over my head, adjusting it, as I usually do to cover my face as I approach the building.
“Mr. Ashley, what are you doing here so early?” the security guard asks from the other side of the door as I slide my card through the slot and press my finger against the pad.
“Good morning, Carlos. If only I knew.” I throw up my hands as he chuckles before giving me a small finger salute and returning back to his station.
I walk to my personal elevator and turn the key, waiting for the doors to open. It might be early, but it’s actually my favorite time to arrive. It’s almost completely empty except for the skeleton security and cleaning staff. I can make my way to my company’s floors and offices without too much scrutiny. The elevator door opens and I step in, taking this opportunity to glance over the floors and offices through the glass as I ascend to the gym floor.
The gym is empty when I arrive, but I know that soon it will be teeming with Ash Industries employees getting in a workout before the start of their day. Every one of Ash Industries’ employees has full access to the gym and I encourage them to use it. It’s fully equipped with all the best equipment, sauna and steam rooms, and each employee is allotted a monthly allowance of 60 minutes with the house masseuses.
I’d decided during my run to take advantage of the empty gym to use one of the weight machines. I find the remote at the trainer’s station and turn on the TV system. The 16 screens mounted around the gym come to life and I select the saved setting for a different channel for each one.
Taking a swig from my water bottle, I settle next to the bench press and start my reps, zoning out the chatter as white noise.
“One, two, three...” I count as I exhale with deliberation, focusing on my breath and bicep muscle fibres firing to lift the heavier-than-normal weights. The last few days I’ve had to work harder than usual to focus. All my thoughts keep turning to her.
I haven’t heard anything about her since running into Ruby at the hospital two days ago. Xavier reported that he had taken care of her hospital bill, and there’s really no reason to think about or care about her any more. But I do. It isn’t a specific thought, but there she is all the time. Replaying the sound of her scream when I ran across her and her attackers. Wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been there. No use dwelling on it, I remind myself and concentrate on my exercises again. “...9, 10.” I let go of the bar gently, setting the weights down without too much noise. Wiping my face with my towel, my body suddenly freezes, a split second even before I realize it has.
“...and thankfully, I’m fine now. But the real lesson here, I think, is that everyone should always be as alert as possible, and travel together at night if you can.”
That voice.
No, it can’t be.
I know that voice.
It’s haunted me for the last week.
I pull the towel from my face and let my hoodie fall away.
It is her. On TV.
Looking as fucking beautiful as I remember her.
What is she doing on the Channel 7 morning show?
“Well, that’s about all we have time for, but is there one last message you’d like to say to our viewers, about your attack? Or some word of advice?” the host asks her.
I’m transfixed on the screen, holding my breath as the camera zooms close up on her face. Her cheek is still bruised, but it is fading into the yellow-green hue of the final healing stages. But I barely notice it. All I see are her plump cherry red lips and her creamy porcelain skin. Her eyes are bright and alive as she prepares to speak, a look that lights a spark inside me that I didn’t realize has lain dormant for as long as I can remember.
“Well, there is ONE thing I was hoping your viewers could help me with.” She speaks in her silky sweet voice.
“Anything!” The hosts look excited, they seem to be prepared for what she is going to say. I can’t imagine what it is going to be, but I don’t care. I just want to hear her speak again.
“Well, as you know, I probably would NOT be sitting here today, if it weren’t for the man who risked his own life to save me.”
Oh, no.
I bite my lip, hoping I am wrong about what I predict is about to happen.
“Well, as you can imagine, I would dearly love to thank him for saving me from my attackers, making sure I was taken to the hospital and taken care of, as well as... this you probably don’t know from the news stories, but he also paid for my hospital stay and treatment. 100%”
The female host looks about ready to leap out of her chair in suspense. I feel like I’m about to throw up. “Wow, he’s a real hero! You couldn’t get him to come today? We’d love to interview him, he sounds like a man who knows how to defend himself... and his loved ones.” The words make me swallow hard.
“That’s just it,” Jade slides to the edge of her seat, her hand waving in the air, her voice bright and cheerful – so different to the soft whimpers I heard from her that first day I met her. No, this is how she should sound, this is a woman who is filled with life. “I don’t know who he is!”
“NO! You don’t? How can that be?” The host plays the devil’s advocate, and I want to strangle her.
“He was wearing a grey hoodie when I first saw him before I fainted, and the nurses and doctors at the hospital told me that he wore the hoodie hiding his face the entire time he was there. And no one knows his real name, we just know him as ‘Mr. K.’”
“Fuck.” I say to the empty room.
“And now all I want to do is to be able to thank him. Thank him for saving my life.”
She turns to face the camera right on. It focuses unmoving on her doll-like features. Her eyes widen and her face opens like a blossom.
“Please. If anyone out there has any information on who this hooded hero is that saved me, please get in touch with me. Please. If you were in my position, you’d want to be able to thank your guardian angel as well. And that’s what he is. People like this need to be acknowledged and recognized as heroes. Please help me find him.”
Her mouth trembles a bit, and her eyes sparkle with tears threatening to spill out onto her bone china white cheeks.
She is good. I am almost inclined to give her information to find me myself.
“Ugh,” my head falls into my hands. It’s the first time I’ve torn my eyes from the screen. This is not good. This is going to fuck with the perfect harmony I prefer my life to exist in.
I force myself to lift my eyes back to the screen and watch the rest of the interview.
“...so you’ve got all the information that Jade has on her hooded hero. Come on, New York! Let’s reunite this lovely woman with her savior. You can contact us on...”
The hosts jarring voice fades into the background as I watch Jade wave and smile at the camera.
“What’ve you done now, Kaine?” I groan and grab my towel and retreat to the showers, bracing for what the day is going to bring. As if I don’t already have enough to deal with.
The phone rings as I strip my body of my clothes and prepare to step under the steaming hot water.
“What?” I answer, my voice accurately displaying the gruffness of my mood.
“Oh. So, you’ve heard,” Xavier’s voice echoes in the shower chamber, the phone on speaker.
“About what? The citywide search for a guy in a hoodie fitting my exact description?”
He is quiet. I know he’s grinning.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say as I duck my head under the water, feeling it open the pores in my scalp.
“What? I said nothing.”
“It’s when you’re quiet that I’m most afraid. What am I going to do?”
“About what? There’s nothing to do. She’s looking for a guy about 6”3 who wears a hoodie all the time. That’s three quarters of Harlem.”
“She mentioned the hospital bill.”
“Well, you and I are the only two people who know about that, and you’re not going to talk, and you pay me too much for me to talk, so you’re safe.”
“Fuck. What a mess. I do NOT want this out, Xavier.”
“Where are you?” he asks, ignoring my stress.
“In the shower,” I reply as I squeeze some body wash into my palm and lather up my chest and arms, letting the heat from the shower massage my aching body.
“Yeah. I’m going to call back. When you’re done being naked while I speak to you.”
“Don’t you fucking go anywhere until we’re done. Take care of this, Xavier,” I warn him.
“Okay, okay. Geez. You think she’s going to find you in city of 8 million? Based on a HOODIE? Egotistical much?” he chuckles, enjoying my pain.
I am not impressed.
“Take care of it,” I tell him one last time before hanging up the phone to finish my shower.
Truth is, I wish there was a way I could see her, without being found out.
Seeing her, albeit on screen, reawakened, or to the completely honest, amplified, my inexplicable obsession with her. Before, I had only seen her dazed, confused and drugged up. But watching her come completely alive and so animated, breathes life into my thoughts. I feel a strange sensation dig its nails into the darkest pit of my stomach, and I claw at my abs to try to dislodge it.
This is out of my control and that is not allowed. I don’t have a place for it in my life.
I rest my head gently against the cool shower wall, letting the water fall over my neck and shoulders, hoping it’ll wash this weird feeling away.
***
Dressing in the spare clothes I keep in my private bathroom in the small apartment I keep on the second highest floor, I take a glance in the mirror before I go to my office. I run my fingers over my left cheek, feeling the bumps and lines there. It’s been a while since I’ve studied them, but something makes me scrutinize my face more than usual. For a split second, I ponder how Jade will react if she ever saw me without my hoodie, but I banish the thought from my mind before the indulgent idea runs too far.
Running my fingers through my hair, I pull the hood over my head and ride the elevator to my office.
The floor is dark when I arrive. Except for the faint row of solar powered LED lights around the edges of the windows, I prefer that the building is kept dark outside of office hours, to preserve electricity. I press the button on the keypad, to illuminate just the area around my desk and go for a walk around the perimeter of the floor, looking out at the city before it floods with life.
She is out there somewhere.
And she is looking for me.
It seems like the plot for a story of star-crossed lovers, but there is nothing romantic about me. And I know better than to let my thoughts go down this road.
I walk back to my desk, passing the workstation on my way.
On the desk lays a plain white envelope, my name written on the front. The hand writing matches the one on the parcel I received the day before.
I turn and look around me, instinctively, wondering if I am being watched.
The envelope is sealed and I slide a finger under the flap, pulling out the single piece of card.
“Tick tock. You can’t stop me, if you don’t know who I am.
Your launch is in four weeks...I wonder when I should schedule mine?
The day before yours? Next week? Tomorrow?
Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.
J.”
My jaw tightens. Who is this guy? And how did he get this note here? Only one person has unlimited access to this floor, and that is me. Even Jemima is only allowed in after she receives the daily passcode from me when she arrives in the mornings.
I call down to the security office. “Carlos. I want to see the security footage of the workshop for the last 12 hours. Now. Call me when it’s ready and I’ll come down.”
I am going to get to the bottom of this. No one threatens me, and no one puts my company at risk.
I am going to find this ‘J’ and I am going to crush him.