When she doesn’t answer right away, I assume she’s gotten busy at work.At least, that’s what I tell myself so I don’t call her, demand to know why she’s ignoring me, and make this already weird situation awkward beyond repair.
Instead, I text Atlas who is one chair to my right.
Did Adrian talk to you?
Atlas:
About babysitting your toy, yeah.
She’s not a toy, dick muncher.
Atlas:
Chill bro.I’ve got her covered.I’ll find out anything there is to know.
Start today at lunch.She’s going out with a coworker.
Atlas:
So we are going stalker.I owe Adrian a hundred bucks.
I close out of my messages again, can’t be making too big a scene in this boring-ass meeting.I don’t bother telling Atlas where Melinda works.He’s insane.He probably already knows where she’s going to lunch, even ifshehasn’t decided yet.His ability to catch minute details and weave them into something useful can only be described as magic.
Another hour passes before I hear from Melinda.Atlas slips out to do his finder thing, and I expect to hear from him after lunch.He knows that.Which is exactly why he’ll go home and make me go tohimafter work.Just to drive me nuts.
Lindy Girl:
What do you do Cassius?
I read Melinda’s message three times, trying to decide whether or not to lie.I don’t want to lie to her.I don’t want this surprising ray of sun to ever dim because of the pain that comes with a lie.I never want to have to hear, or in this case read,you lied to me.Not from her.
I own a security firm with my brothers.You can Google it.Ashenhart Defense Agency.
I hit send.I can’t exactly text that I'm in the permanent sleep arrangement business.This isn’t lying.It’s saving information for a more appropriate time.
Lindy Girl:
You’re not worried I’ll see what you look like or find out where you live?
Lindy girl, my address is 7425 Desert-Willow Drive.I’ll leave the door unlocked.
I’m not being reckless.Anyone who’s a threat,Spiderwebor the cops, already has my address.What they don’t have is my permission.That’s the difference.The risk isn’t leaving my door open.It’s trusting her.
Lindy Girl:
Why are you so…
Blunt?
Lindy Girl:
I was going to say intense.
Let’s just say I learned early that if you want something, you gotta speak up.Say that shit out loud.Otherwise the world pretends it didn’t hear you.
She quits answering again, likely because she’s at lunch with some douche canoe.I breathe easy knowing Atlas is watching her, and turn to the hellscape that is our shared inbox.Adrian CCs all of us on everything.I don’t do much, truly, other than cut flesh, but when I can send or file a contract, answer a client question, or some other flavor of menial bullshit, I do it.Because Lord knows Adrian does the bulk around here.
After forcing myself to look at a contract packet for half an hour, the letters start to crawl.Atlas texts a photo and I abandon all thoughts of work.Her reflection in a deli’s glass, hair tucked behind one ear, eyes lifted like she’s listening harder than everyone else.
