The Job
Looking around the plain, sterile office, I couldn’t help but think how odd it was that within these walls, personal anguish triggered the unraveling of lives. I bypassed the polished women uncomfortably browsing magazines from an appropriate five seats away from one another, quickly nodding at the tall dark figure of Tasha, smiling brightly from her perch behind the sterile counter. Pushing through the door, I blankly made my way through the halls I had come to know so well, slowing with a soft knock at the corner door.
The perfect figure of the brunette behind the glass door absently gestured for me to come in before returning her attention to her perfectly manicured nails and the voice on the phone wedged against her perfectly-tailored shoulder. I took a seat in the leather armchair sweeping my long blonde, loose curls in front of my shoulders and lengthening my posture by habit. I unbuttoned my blazer and smoothed my hands over my button-up and pants before gazing out to the sharp outlines of the city, avoiding as much as possible the shapely legs that extended out from the short, deep red Armani skirt suit in front of me and squelching down any heat they inspired. No. Do not go there. Again.
Quickly ending her call with a dismissive wave which I’m sure the voice on the other end of the line could feel, Evony turned her attention to me, one eyebrow raised. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the ‘Doctor’, my favorite Apollyon.” She had been referring to me as the Greek god of destruction for some time now, but I still flinched a little each time before schooling my features back into my neutral mask.
I’m sure her perfectly-angled, dark features and cockiness were a huge part of her allure, but I couldn’t help but want to scratch the smirk off her face. Breathing in slowly as I’ve trained myself to do over the years, I let out, “I thought 1 month after a long assignment was typical so I don’t know why you’ve insisted on my presence today.” My last case took six months and I was drained. Six months of infiltrating a brash twenty-something year old dancer’s life and slowly picking off her relationships one fabricated lie or—even worse and more powerful—hidden betrayal at a time. Almost every relationship has a dark kink in its armor, a keystone which, with its removal, will destroy its foundation and I, Lauren Lewis, was a master at finding and manipulating it. Some of the other hunters used other methods, like bankrupting businesses or ruining reputations, but I had a much more insidious style. It’s not what a little girl dreams of, but it pays well and it allows me to escape from the emptiness of my life while doing it. Even better I was righting this off-kiltered world one seductress at a time, leaving her isolated and alone. So what if it wasn’t only the mistress’ fault? I stopped thinking about that injustice long ago.
Seeing my resistance, the lithe body prowled over to me leaning over my seat seductively. Taking a brief pause to leer over my body slowly, she purred, “You’re the best Lauren and I need the best for this client,” punctuating each work with a firm finger climbing up my arm. Dismissing my cold silence, Evony continued, “This particular client has a lot of resources at her disposal and she wants this little tramp wrapped up in a ribbon of loneliness and depression by the holidays. Her husband is altogether too wrapped up in this women’s legs and is losing her family corporation an enormous amount of money with his distraction.” Noting my continued hard gaze she added, “You are going to do this Dr. Lewis…with a smile…or do I have to remind you of the ‘retirement’ package you’ve been clamoring for.”
Damn she’s good. I’ve been half-heartedly wanting out for a while now, always convincing myself to take another case for just a little more cushion. If she was really offering me the package, I could really get out…though to what I have no idea. “Fine. But I want the retirement arrangement in writing. I want out...and soon,” I smiled tightly. I didn’t know where this confident voice was coming from, but maybe it was the irritation that those smoldering eyes always inspired.
Before I even finished, a thick brown envelope was being slid into my hands. Evony’s hands lingering on mine a little too long. “You know Lewis, my offer for another arrangement is always on the table.” I don’t know what was more annoying, the persistence or the shard in me that considered it. Ugh.
I quickly left the nondescript downtown building, only waving a quick goodbye to Tasha who looked like she wanted to say something to me. I felt bad but reasoned that now is not a good time for me and interacting with people. I was feeling more irritated than ever now that I was not getting to wallow in my apartment for an uninterrupted month reading an alternating diet of science fiction and random internet gossip. At least I walked so I could stop by my favorite bagel shop down the street. Small bits of happiness.
After arriving back at the muted palate of my apartment and sliding my shoes on their shelf, I collapsed in the soft cavernous gray of my biggest splurge. The place looked like a furnished apartment, not in the wonderful universal way of magazine photoshoots, but rather in an impersonal and lackluster way. The living room was sparse with a coffee table and my deep, well-loved plush couch that sat on cheap vinyl flooring. I had never bothered to decorate or personalize, though it was tidy and clean. The walls were still standard white, the counters unencumbered, and the only décor was my vast collection of books.
Slowly closing my eyes in delirious happiness as the oil dripped down the wax paper sheltering the most perfect pastrami sandwich in the world, I sighed contentedly stretching out my legs. I always indulged myself in this tasty sin before an assignment. Salads and other raw staples awaited me in work mode. My complete relaxation didn’t last long as I noticed an errant drop on the dark surface of the coffee table centering my modest, but ordered apartment. I quickly wiped up the spot and with it my compulsive tendencies screaming at me to be more careful. While sparse, the modern furnishings were comfortable and the order relaxing. As I scanned across the papers divided in neat piles across the table making sure no other errant drops were cast, my eyes caught again on the beautiful, dimpled-brunette smiling widely at the tousle-haired blonde husband of my client. Something about her warm, chocolate eyes kept distracting me from my research. I shook my head, “C’mon self, get a grip. Faster you get this done, faster you can be free.” Free. I should feel relief, but all I felt was an underlying, creeping anxiety.