Three things happened that day at work.
The first two were almost innocuous, and they happened almost as soon as I sat down behind my desk and fired up the trio of monitors in front of me. I liked to work with multiple screens, a habit I'd gotten from a roommate back in college. I could code on one screen, open up online coding documentation and forums on the second, and run tests or communicate with my team on a third. It was the kind of thing that saved you a couple of seconds at a time, only those seconds eventually added up until you saved hours in the long run. At least, that was what my roommate had told me.
For me, there was just something so satisfying about having all those screens in front of me. I felt like a commander in charge of a futuristic space vessel.
My inbox chimed as soon as the computer was on, indicating that I'd received an email overnight. I was fairly strict with email, making sure to keep spam filtered out in various folders, so I clicked to open them, praying that it wasn't a late night rant from Allison about the Morrison project.
It wasn't.
In fact, it wasn't just one email but two.
As I read the subject line of the first, I couldn't help but feel my stomach tighten. The coffee in my belly churned uncomfortably. It was a message from Barbara's company.
A couple of months ago, Barbara had put my name down on the employee mailing list. It was a convenience thing, so she could keep me in the loop with company events, and I'd usually never looked at the emails before deleting them. But I hadn't heard from my wife in almost two full days, and I sat staring at the screen as the discomfort changed to numbness in my chest.
I bit the inside of my cheek thoughtfully, but before I could start brooding I clicked it open and started to read.
Dear employees and family!
It has been another great Spring Quarter for us and our team, and it's time to prepare for another. We would like to cordially invite you to a special Summer Quarter Kickoff party, this Friday night at the Regent hotel downtown.
If you received this email, we are excited to have you and a plus-one join us in celebrating our successes with a night of food, drink and socializing. Grow closer together with your friends and family here at Brown, Burns and Keohane.
Happy Summer!
There was a link at the bottom to RSVP to the event.
I was about to click away and send the message into my Trash when I hesitated.
What if this is my last chance to see Barbara?
I wondered.
If Adrianna and McKenzie are wrong, she may never come back to me.
The doubts whirled in my mind and I sighed heavily. I marked the email as Unread. I would call Kenz at lunch at get her opinion.
The second email was far more exciting, and actually pushed the first to the far corner of my mind.
RE: A Curious Customer
Dear John,
I am intrigued to hear the side effects you've been experiencing, but worry that email may not be the best avenue for giving you the information you want. You mentioned you'd be willing to hop on a video call sometime in the evening.
How about 6 o'clock tonight?
I'm eager to hear about your experience.
Cheers,
Oliver King
CEO and Founder, Brain Development Enterprises
The thought of getting to speak to Mr. Silver Fox — or, I suppose, Mr. Oliver King — was simultaneously exciting and daunting. The man and his products had practically made me who I was today. My life before BDE, when I looked back, seemed far away and almost imaginary, like I couldn't possibly have been that man.
I typed back rapidly.
Dear Mr. King,
6 o'clock it is!
I look forward to speaking with you.
I gave him my phone number and signed off, pressing Send and then sitting back with a long sigh. I had a strange feeling in my gut, like events were coming to a head, all the questions I had and the drama that had been plaguing my family suddenly rushing to an inevitable climax. When it was done, I would either be one of the happiest men alive or I would be even more confused than I was right now, and likely dealing with a second divorce.
But I shook my head and shoved the latter thought aside. "I'll call Kenz at lunch," I told myself, forcing my brain to shift gears into coding mode. For now, I had work to do.
* * *
I was several hours into my workday when Allison barged in and closed the door behind her. I was almost more surprised by the second act than the first. Since her promotion, Allison had been dropping by frequently to give me orders and put me in my place, but usually she wanted to make it a performance for whatever audience happened to be in earshot — asserting her dominance. Now, apparently, she wanted to talk in private.
She flipped a switch by the door and the big glass walls went from transparent to filmy grey in a second, impenetrable to the rest of the office. It was a feature I'd requested and had installed months ago. It let me work in complete privacy and separation, necessary when I needed to do work that required deep thinking and focus.
My boss leaned back against the door and narrowed her eyes at me.
For my part, I raised my eyebrows and pushed back from the desk, giving her a look of evident confusion. "Allison?" I asked, feeling my heart rate spike at her sudden appearance. "What's this about?"
The blonde woman had several pieces of paper folded together in her hand, printed on both sides, and she raised them at me. "I want to talk to you about these."
I shrugged. "I'm not sure what those are." As I spoke, I gave her a subtle up and down. Today, the gorgeous software developer was dressed in a grey, off-the-shoulders sweater and a navy skirt. The sweater was the clingy type that hugged her arms down to her wrists and accentuated her hefty tits, making my eyes twitch inadvertently to the dark shadow of her cleavage. The skirt was, as usual, smooth and tight around her athletic thighs. If she bent over, I would bet I'd have a fantastic view of her ass, and I might even get a flash of her panties.
That was Allison's dress code. Just a
little
bit too sexy for the office, but the boys upstairs didn't care. In fact, I'd always known that her sex appeal was one of the reasons for her swift ascension through the ranks.
Allison unfolded the papers with a flick of her wrists, the paper snapping taut between her fingers. "
These,
" she said with evident relish, "are emails sent from your company email address. They were flagged by the system for inappropriate language and, as your superior, I was the one notified."
I froze, suddenly, sitting very still.
You idiot, John,
I cursed. I hadn't even thought about the fact that my correspondence with Brain Development Enterprises had been from my company email and not my personal one.
The woman was watching me closely, and I saw from the smirk that curled across her mouth she'd noticed my sudden discomfort. "I think you
do
know what I'm talking about, John," my boss told me. "And I just wanted to come by to tell you that your time with this company is coming to an end." She smiled. "Just a little warning. Between friends." The smirk turned into a sneer, widening across her full lips.
I felt my stomach tighten and begin to churn. My jaw clenched.
Allison took several steps closer, like a predator stalking in for the kill. The printed emails rolled into a cylinder in her hand. "I always knew it, John. You were good at your job, sure. But never good at anything else. You lacked certain..." she shrugged "People skills. And then I find this trash..." My boss gestured with the papers in her hand. "Hypnosis? Mind control?
'Women find my scent irresistible'? 'They seem unable to resist my instructions'?
It's not just weird, it's offensive and totally insane."
