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Annika.
“Come play, Annika! Come throw the ball!”
“Stop. Fucking. Talking, Annika.”
My throat works, swallowing back the lump in the back of it. My eyes close, and suddenly, I get another flash of the same scene: the warm sun and the smell of cut grass. The laughing, handsome man. The beautiful, smiling woman with the red hair.
“Come play, Annika…”
I flinch as I snap out of it. My eyes drift to my backup phone, and I frown at the time.
Amelia will be in soon. Probably best not to be sitting on a cot in a locked windowless room in my underwear.
I change back into the emergency outfit from my car and slide into my backup Louboutins. Peeking out of the documents locker, I see the office is still completely empty. I fold up my cot, tidy up the area, and head to my office to stow away the evidence of my workplace sleepover.
In my ensuite executive bathroom, I wash my face, do my makeup, comb my hair, brush my teeth, and generally try to make it look like I didn’t just spend the night in a glorified closet. Then I’m at my desk, some Van Morrison—which I love—playing on the desktop speaker, trying to focus on the legal papers in front of me.
“Oh!”
I smile and look up as Amelia stops short in the doorway, looking surprised. I mean, I’m usually here early. But I’m not sure there’s ever been a day where I’ve beaten her in.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Crown,” she frowns. “Is my clock off?—”
“Nope, not at all, Amelia,” I smile. “Just here extra early to get cracking on some of this.”
“Ah, perfect!” Amelia beams. “Can I get you a coffee?”
“That’d be great, thank you, Amelia.”
She grins and scurries off. The second she’s out of sight, my smile drops. I exhale, shuddering a little as I reach for my landline and buzz the front desk. I ask George, the head morning security officer, to be sure to screen any unscheduled guests for the firm, and to be on the lookout for any especially tall and built dark-haired men who may have European or maybe even Eastern European accents.
“Someone in particular you’re worried about, Ms. Crown?” George asks in a voice laden with concern.
“No, no,” I try and laugh it off. “It’s…”
George clears his throat. “I don’t mean to pry, Ms. Crown. But is this, uh, maybe a date who isn’t getting a second chance and might be upset about it?”
That times one million, yes.
I could lie, but why not just bend the truth a little instead?
I’m a lawyer, after all.
“Actually… Yeah,” I sigh. “That’s basically it.”
George clears his throat again, sounding extra official. “Anything we should call the authorities about, Ms. Crown?”
“No, nothing like that, George. I sincerely doubt he’d come here anyway. I just…you know.”
“Better safe than sorry, that’s what I always tell my daughters, Ms. Crown,” George says fiercely. “How big we talkin’?”
I shiver as I remember last night. I’m fairly tall for a woman, at five foot ten. But he still towered over me by…nearly a foot, it felt like.
“Maybe six-seven or eight?”
George whistles. “He play for the Knicks or somethin’?”
I grin. “Unfortunately, no. And again, I don’t think he’s dangerous or anything, and I doubt he’ll?—”
