Chapter Twelve
Jess
Snake is there, parked outside of my window, all night. I sleep on the couch, waking up every couple of hours to peek through the drapes. In the well-lit parking lot, I can clearly see the black BMW, and the outline of Snake’s head and shoulders. I can’t be sure, but it doesn't look like he’s sleeping. His gaze is unwavering on my window, watching.
Fuck, he’s never going away. I’ve really backed myself into a corner here. Snake will either watch me for my entire life, or kill me. I want to cry when I think of all the work I’ve put in to this plan. It wasn’t easy drying out in rehab, or going back to Stanford to complete my MBA. But I did it because Monty deserves to die.
The last time I wake up is around five am. The sun has just begun to rise. A dewy fog floats over the hood of the black car. I feel like shit. I’ve barely slept at all. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep, so I get up to make coffee.
While the coffee brews, I stew with anger. Why can’t Snake just fuck off? My beef with Monty has nothing to do with him, even if Snake is a so-called soldier. What a prick. He can’t see past his precious oath of loyalty to use his brain for one second. He does whatever that psychopath Monty says, for the sake of what? His reputation? Some kind of distorted sense of honor?
I take my coffee to the table and stare into the steaming mug. But Snake didn’t kill me. He didn’t tell anyone about what I did. Obviously he knows they’d kill me immediately. In a strange way, he’s protecting me. Is that why he’s watching me now?
I smack my forehead, groaning. Wishful thinking, much? The mobster outside will put a bullet in my head and bury me in the desert if I so much as look at him wrong. I need to get a grip.
And I need to figure out where my plan for revenge stands.
I shower and get dressed liked usual, then walk outside to my car. Snake is there, staring at me through the windshield. He doesn’t wave, he doesn’t smile, or nod. He just stares. My middle finger itches to salute him. I hold it down with my thumb.
Ignoring him, I walk to my car. I immediately notice a black, box-shaped object sticking out from under the car, near my back tires. It’s not conspicuous, but it’s not hidden either. He wants me to see this. A tracking device.
I get it, you’re going to be up my ass for while, I think, rolling my eyes. I walk up to the device, and give it a quick kick with the pointy toe of my black pump. I look back at Snake, sneering. I didn’t do any damage to the device. I just wanted him to see me do that.
I pull out of the parking lot, and start on my usual path to work. In the rearview mirror, I see Snake following a few cars behind. He follows me all the way to work. He parks on the curb while I walk up to the building and go inside. I look through the window on the first floor, and that’s when I see him finally drive away.
At first, I feel relief, then anxiety edges its way up my spine. Snake’s gone. He’s not watching me anymore. But he won’t be around if someone else decides to come and get me. A migraine crashes through my skull, making me pinch the top of my nose. The stress, disappointment, and fear has hit me all at once in the form of a mind crushing headache.
I walk quickly through the cubicles to my office, my head down to avoid the light. Sharon, the receptionist, calls my name when she sees me. I hold my hand out to her.
“Not now,” I bark.
The entire office heard this, and they cower in their seats as I pass them by. My office is dark, and I keep it that way. I close the blinds on the windows, and lock the doors. Sitting at my desk, the headache dissolves, escaping through my eyes as watery tears. Everything’s fallen apart. I fucked it up, everything I’ve worked for months to set up, right at the end.
I’m sorry, Jake.
The tears overwhelm me as I unlock the bottom drawer of my desk. I take out a small box that contains the last remaining evidence of the wedding I’d planned. There’s a swath of Italian silk from my wedding dress, one of the invitations I never got to send, and the engagement ring. It’s not shiny and new like in the picture I have at home. The diamond is cracked, and the white gold band is split. I was wearing it during the crash.
I slip the ring onto my finger, just to feel the weight of it again. I don’t want to be who I am right now, bitter, hard, and shouting at receptionists. The real me, the one who picked out the matte ivory invitation with gold foil lettering, is trapped in here somewhere. She’s the one who keeps this sentimental stuff, and convinces me to look at it. No matter what I do, or who I kill, I’ll never be her again. Nothing can bring my old life back, or the future I saw disappear before my eyes. I’m trapped with this grief, this loneliness. If Snake had ended my life last night in the desert, he would’ve been doing me a favor.
I remember, in vivid detail, the afternoon that wedding planning, champagne happy, designer label person I used to be died. I’d just gotten the call that morning, that Jake’s body had been found. By the time I arrived at the medical examiner’s office to identify him, the news hadn’t sunken in yet. I couldn’t quite believe that Jake was dead. Gone forever.
A pretty blonde woman in a white coat led me to a cold room. She squeezed my hand, then pulled the white sheet down, revealing Jake’s head. I couldn’t quite believe it was him, though I knew it was. His face was bruised, his cheeks sunken in, and his skin dry and cracked. The top of his head was misshapen. The wound was clean, but I could still see dark, congealed blood, almost the same color of his hair. Gray, bruised puncture wounds circled his lips.
“That’s him. Thank you,” I said, like she’d just given me the coffee I’d ordered. I tilted my chin up, and started to leave the room, only to collapse to the floor with my first step.
The blonde woman and a few other men rushed to my aid. They took me to an empty examination room and gave me a bottle of water and a cracker. They left the door open, and I could see Dr. Stone in the hallway, speaking with a man who I’d later learn was Monty Mariano. I watched in confusion as Monty handed Dr. Stone a thick envelope. Dr. Stone slipped the envelope into his jacket pocket, and shook Monty’s hand.
Moments later, Dr. Stone came to check on me. He told me that Jake’s death had been ruled accidental. When I brought up the wound on his head, and those around his mouth, Dr. Stone shrugged, mumbling something about wild coyotes, then offered his condolences before leaving me with my water and cracker.
I press my nails into my palm at the memory. I should’ve cursed at him, demanded the truth. I should’ve made him take out that envelope and count the hush money in front of me. Men have always kept me on the outside of their business, my father, Jake, Dr. Stone, while I lived in my tower, spoiled with jewelry and clothes. I was fine with the arrangement before Jake got himself killed. Now, I won’t ever be kept in the dark. Not again.
Where do I go from here? The tears finally dry up. I clean my face up as best I can, then pull up the quarterly reports. None of the numbers make sense. They all jumble together on the screen, taunting me. None of this matters.
There’s a quick, assertive knock on my door. I wipe my eyes, hoping my face isn’t too tear ravaged, and call them in.
“Good morning, Jess,” Steve says, taking measured steps inside of my office. He’s wearing a teal green shirt and gray slacks. He reaches to the lamp in on my desk. “Do you mind? It’s awfully dark in here.”
I wave my hand at him. “Go ahead.”
The lamp brightens the room. I squint, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Steve ignores the fact that I resemble a frayed, nocturnal animal. He folds his hands in his lap, peering at me over his glasses. He doesn’t look pleased.
“There’s something very sensitive I need to discuss with you,” he says in a low voice. “Apparently, there’s been a breech of protocol.”
He pauses, waiting for me fill in the gaps, and incriminate myself. But I’m too smart for that. I wait patiently for him to continue. He leans forward, cocking an eyebrow.
“The credit card numbers.” His voice is barely above a whisper.
A shock goes up my spine. Toby.
“I received an anonymous tip,” Steve says, as if reading my mind. “There’s no way of knowing where it could’ve come from. Now, I’m sure you realize that compiling information like that is against company policy, and grounds for termination.”
I keep my cool, even giving him a little smile. “I’m aware. I just wanted to look into something, to see if we could make things more efficient for the customer. The information was never saved, or stored in anyway.”
Steve looks hopeful. “Is that true? You’re absolutely sure no one else saw it, right?”
“I’m one hundred percent sure,” I lie. That CD-ROM is with Snake somewhere, along with a pair of my panties that I know he stole.
Steve collapses back, exhaling, revealing just how nervous he is. He takes off his glasses and rubs his temples. I can tell he wants to yell at me. He just doesn’t have it in him.
“Just don’t let it happen again, okay?” Steve says. “And let’s just keep this between us. If the execs find out I let this happen on my watch-“ His voice trails off.
I get up, and gently place my hand on his back, leading him to the door. “Of course, Steve. I apologize for going against company policy. It won’t happen again.”
“Good, good,” Steve says, mostly to himself.
Before I close my door, I get a glimpse of Toby, peeking at me from the water cooler. I glare at him, and and he scurries away.