After work, she and Talia head to the parking lot. Meera’s car is in the shop again—her check engine light keeps flashing, because that’s just her fucking luck—and Talia promised to drive her home. Always a dependable friend, even while being harassed by a total psychopath.
“Did that seminar make you feel nervous at all?” Meera asks, referring to the end-of-day all-staff meeting. “Do you think the company is doing a security audit for a reason? Like, they know something?”
“Know something?”
“About”—Meera glances around the parking lot, then lowers her voice—“us reading Townsend’s messages.”
“Oh.” Talia frowns, fishing her keys out of her purse. “I doubt it. Don’t they do one every year?”
“I guess so. It’s just something about the way the announcement was made. Like they expect to find something.” Meera sighs. “I’m probably just feeling extra neurotic.”
It isn’t often that the Cuff staff is corralled into the auditorium. The last time was earlier in the year, after Cuff introduced an AI-based chat feature and company shares fell nearly 50 percent. During that meeting,Cuff’s COO, Betty Jeong—a pink-haired MIT grad with a penchant for colorful power suits—appeared jumpy, chastened; this time, she was as cool and commanding as a seasoned schoolteacher. And though Meera can’t say for sure, she could haveswornthat when Betty delivered her final warning (“Any breaches in security will be detected, and they will not be tolerated”), she looked Meera dead in the eye. As though she knew exactly what Meera had done.
Talia pats her shoulder. “I wouldn’t stress about it.”
“Right. Like you said, the security audit is probably just a routine thing.”You’ve been careful about using your credentials to hack Townsend’s messages,she tells herself.You’ve covered your tracks. There’s no reason you should be caught.Still, the thought of the company unearthing her illicit activity makes her feel itchy all over.
“Oh, my God,” Talia stops short. “Do you see that?”
“See what?”
“My car. Look at my car.”
It takes Meera a moment to spot Talia’s silver Volkswagen Jetta in the lot, but when she does, she lets out an involuntary gasp. All four tires have been slashed.
Talia approaches the car slowly, as though afraid it might detonate—or afraid someone is hiding behind it, waiting for her.
Meera follows close behind, noticing something as she nears. “Is that a note on the windshield?”
“Better than a parking ticket.” Talia laughs, but the sound is hollow; she’s clearly shaken.
Meera waits a moment, giving Talia a chance to grab the note, but when she doesn’t, Meera picks it up instead. Trying to keep her voice steady—it feels important to be the strong one right now, for Talia’s sake—she reads it out loud.
“‘First your tires, next your throat.’”
Talia’s hand flies to her neck, clutching it protectively. “Is it signed?”
“No, but I think we both know who wrote it.” Meera folds the paper in half and hands it to her friend to see for herself.
Talia takes it without looking at it. “What should I do?”
“Tal, we don’t have a choice here. We have to call the police.”
“But Townsend—”
“—is being selfish,” Meera finishes for her. “You two are out of your depth here. If he really cares about you, he will recognize that.”
Talia considers this. “Okay,” she says finally. “Let’s call.” She gestures to the car. “Doesn’t seem like I’ll be able to give you a ride home, though.”
“That’s the least of my concerns, Tal,” says Meera. “My concern right now is getting this person to leave you the fuck alone.”
Talia gives her a weak smile, and Meera feels a strange swell of pride. She knows she shouldn’t think like this—she and Townsend are not competitors, vying for Talia’s affection—but still, the thought bubbles up unprompted:I’ve won this round.
The Austin Police Department is too far from the Seaholm District to walk, so they take an Uber. On the ride there, Talia is silent, and Meera fears Talia might be resentful she’s making her do this—but then she notices her friend picking at her cuticles. She’s not angry; she’s nervous. That’s understandable. Meera sets her hand on top of Talia’s, her way of sayingI’m here. And when Talia takes her hand, giving it an appreciative squeeze, all the anxiety that’s been fluttering in Meera’s gut since the employee seminar ebbs away. Right now, she needs to be present, with Talia, not lost in her own worries.
Once inside, Meera feels less certain than she did in the parking lot, but she doesn’t let Talia see her doubt. Instead, she charges ahead with conviction, like she’s here every day reporting threats posed by an unhinged stalker.
“Can I help you?” The man behind the front desk seems bored with them already, though it’s hard to read his tone through the thick layer of bulletproof glass that separates him from them. It’s insulting, really,that glass. Like Meera and Talia are a threat to this man, rather than victims in need of an authority figure’s help.
