Nine Seconds of Jason

Alright. Cut me some slack because I haven't edited this rubbish or checked the formatting, but I'm fucking tired and lonely and talking to myself at this point. I thought this would be shorter and that I would finish sooner, but it wasn't, and I didn't. So you'll have to wait for more. That's if you're here. That's if you care. That's if you exist. Anyways. Thank you.

Nine Seconds of Jason

I — Work 

Mei was tired, and the problem with being tired is that if you tell anyone that you’re tired they will always one-up you, just like Serena was doing right now. 

“Look, it’s not that I don’t understand,” Serena was saying. “It’s just that we all get tired from time to time.”

From time to time. Mei choked back down the snipped words that threatened to escape her and formed a more pleasant response. “I know. We all do get tired. I guess I’m just feeling it a bit more today.”

Serena rewarded Mei with a smile, but somehow it seemed confrontational / condescending. “I understand.” Lie. “It happens to us all, doing all these crazy shifts.” Lie. “I can totally empathise.” Lie.

Mei’s phone rang with a startling TING that simultaneously woke her up and gave her relief — Serena finally had an excuse to leave. And as if on cue, the perky blonde waved with just her fingertips, turned on her Nike-clad heel, and departed down the cubicle lined hallway with the grace and pep akin to those in middle-fucking-management. MFM Mei said to herself, which always sounded like a B-rate radio station. 

Mei answered the phone and even if it was a memorable call she wouldn’t remember it within the hour. That was her life — call after call, complaint after complaint, shift after shift, change after change. She worked through until midnight (which was when she had been waking up the week before, and when she had been half-way through a shift the week before that, and when she had been deep in REM the week before that) and clocked off without eating her lunch. Mei exited the shiny matrix of glass and marble that was her workplace building and wondered how many of her lunch containers had grown old and festering in the cafeteria refrigerators while she clocked on and off without ever asserting herself and taking the breaks she was entitled to.

No point wondering she thought. The answer was All.

II — Home 

Mei caught the late train back to her apartment (or was it technically the early train), heaved herself over the arrangement of junkies on her front stoop, and bundled up the stairs to the emptiness that awaited her. Shift after shift left her a ghost. Perhaps that’s what she wanted to be. More likely it was just what The Man needed from her. Telling the difference was becoming harder and harder. People like Serena who worked nine-to-five pretty much every week of the year were different. People like that — people like Serena — who had consistency and regularity and most importantly normality, they didn’t know what it was like to be a ghost. An imprint of an imprint of an imprint of yourself. 

Mei walked through her apartment and found it to be just as lonely / empty as she had anticipated it to be. Todd had left more than six months ago but she’d still found herself expecting him to be there each time she got home. Who would stay she asked herself now, as she undressed and (barely) lifted her limbs into the shower. The water ran over her and while Mei wanted everything to wash away, it never did.

Mei was lost inside her head when someone asked her something.

“Hello?”

She jumped, righted herself, listened harder. Was someone at the bathroom door?

“Hey.” The voice again, but closer this time.

Mei felt her stomach lift in fear and her heart double it’s pace, but she knew that she’d heard the voice. Perhaps one of the junkies had come in through the front door after her, while she wasn’t paying attention.

“Can you hear me?” the voice asked. It was right above her and too loud — startling her and catching her off guard.

“CAN YOU HEAR ME?” it shouted this time. Mei turned too quickly, grabbed the shower curtain without thinking, and fell painfully onto the bathroom tiles like a sack of potatoes wrapped in a wet plastic bag. 

Fuuuuuuck. Her back smacked hard against the immovable floor. The cussing continued in her head as the wind had been knocked out of her and the pain clouded her mind — perhaps she had instantly forgotten all the words that weren’t Fuck. Or perhaps it was just the only word that she could remember right then and there. 

By the time Mei scraped herself off the tiles and got to a sitting position on the toilet she’d come to the conclusion that she had hallucinated. Wouldn’t have been the first time. On rotating shifts it was easy to forget where you’d been, who you’d seen, what you’d said, what you’d heard. Some days she would get to work and not even remember putting her uniform on, or getting on the train, or clocking in. Yep, that was it — just a hallucination. 

Mei stood and looked at herself in the mirror. There was already and ache in her back and the bags under eyes were those of an unseasoned international traveller. Still, she opened the medicine cupboard, took a pair of painkillers, and made eye contact with herself. “You’re going to brush your hair, paint on some eyes, slip into that blue dress, and go get a fucking drink.”

Her reflection frowned back. 

“Oh, don’t give me that look you lazy whore,” she scolded. Her reflection shrugged and smiled. A drink it would be. 

III — The Bar

The blue dress fit a treat — perhaps the shift work had helped her shed a couple of pounds — and Mei felt a little more comfortable behind the heavy makeup and the perfume and wad of twenties she had withdrawn from the cash machine a couple blocks back. 

The bar wasn’t seedy but it wasn’t too classy either. Mei hated classy. Seedy was fine but it wasn’t what she was after the day she’d had — she needed to feel good about herself, and if not good, then at least a little better. Definitely not seedy. The bar was just right and she could tell by the light. Not too dim (seedy), but not too ambient either (too classy). It was just a little more than ambient and made her feel a little woozy even before her first drink. She headed to the bar as she tried to ignore the pain that lingered in her back.

“Vodka tonic, with lime please.”

The bartender said nothing and nodded. He prepared her drink quickly and took her cash courteously. She told him to keep the change on a tab and keep the drinks coming. But also the water she added, hoping none of the other patrons would hear her. Getting home was something that she needed to do tonight because, of course, there was a shift awaiting her.

IV — The Toilet

Toilet — “You’re drinking.” 

Mei almost fell off the toilet. “What the fuck!?” 

It was the voice again. “Woah, potty mouth.”

“Dude, who are you?” Mei looked around the filthy bar toilet stall as if she expected to see someone in there with her. “Were you at my house earlier?”

“Yeah, that was me,” he said, and it sounded like he was right in front of her / above her(???).

“Um…okay.” Mei wasn’t really sure what else to say to the disembodied voice.

“You’re drinking,” he repeated.

“Uh, well, technically right now I’m peeing.”

“And on a school night.”

“Okay, mum. I can drink if I feel like drinking.” Mei finished up her business and hiked up her knickers underneath the blue dress. “Wait, can you see me right now?”

The voice was quiet / silent. 

Mei flushed and felt her cheeks flush with colour. “Fuck. How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you been able to see me?”

A pause, and then… “Not long. Since yesterd —”

There was sudden silence. “Since yesterday?” Mei asked the air in the toilet stall. There was no response. “Hello? Voice? Are you there?”

She shook her head (mostly to herself) and figured she either needed another drink or to go home to bed. She opened the stall door and washed her hands in the grimy sink / basin. She wondered if this was the kind of thing she was supposed to tell her therapist. Not that she had a therapist. Not that she had money for a therapist. 

The bartender, as requested, had another drink reader for her when she made it back to her seat. Mei drank it fast and then cut herself off, leaving the guy a generous tip before hightailing it back to her apartment. The night was still early but her lower back was starting to ache from the fall onto the bathroom tiles, and the Voice was right. It was indeed a school night.

V — Sleep

It was only a three hour shift change this time, but each one took it’s toll. Mei was awake, staring at the pale morning light that was only barely strong enough to push through the window. She wasn’t thinking of anything other than a strange dream she’d had during the night.

“You’re awake.” The voice didn’t startle her this time.

“And you’re not a dream, then.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You think, therefore you are.”

A pause. “I doubt.”

“Uhhhhhhrg. Gross. Do you correct your mother with that mouth?”

A laugh. Mei felt her ears twitch up in a smile of her own, and she too laughed. They were that way for a moment and then he was gone again. “Hello?” she asked the air. “Where did you go this time?”

Not long Mei thought to herself. 

VI — Work

It was late in the day and unfortunately for Mei, it felt late in the day. She’d had a double shot coffee before leaving her apartment but 7PM was no time to be starting anything other than an expensive multiple course meal. The train was full of people on their way home or on their way out to something fun. The only good thing would be the noticeable lack of Serena.

When she got there the office wasn’t empty but it was certainly filtering out. Ricky from HR stopped at Mei’s cubicle as he passed by. “Just getting in?”

Mei shrugged and clicked quickly through her login screen. “That’s life on rotation.”

Ricky looked legitimately concerned. “When was the last time you had AL?”

“I don’t know.” And it was the truth. 

Ricky scratched his beard, thinking. “Okay. Let me talk to Serena in the morning.”

Mei grimaced. “I’d prefer if you didn’t.

He smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell her it’s come from the top down. They hate when you have too much stocked, especially if they have to payout a resignation.” Ricky left with another smile and Mei was relieved when she realised that she was the only the one left on her level. Before she could enjoy it her phone rang.

VII — Jason

It was 1AM when the voice returned. “Hey.”

This time Mei wasn’t shocked or startled. She took off her headset and put a pause on her incoming calls. “Hey yourself.”

“I’m Jason.”

“Mei, but you probably already knew that.”

“Kind of, but not really.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“You should be asking better questions. / You’re not asking the right questions.”

“Oh my god. You’re pretty fucking pretentious for a ghostly voice, Jason.”

“You think I’m ghostly?”

Mei laughed. “No. I don’t know why I said that.”

But then there was no response. He was gone. Jason was gone. 

“Hello?” Mei felt lonely and stupid calling out to the empty air. Her screen lit up with incoming phone calls as she logged back in and adjusted her headset into place.

VIII — Home

It won’t surprise you to learn that nothing is open at 3AM except Mickey D’s. Mei didn’t particularly like take out food, but she stopped either way and grabbed an egg wrap and a coffee. The egg tasted of rubber, and the coffee of luke-warm chemicals. Seventeen minutes later she stepped off the train behind a few still-drunk sports fans and —  with bleary eyes — trudged up the road to her apartment. 

Once inside she turned on her coffee machine to make something actually drinkable and pulled out a leftover frozen lasagne. The microwave was still buzzing, it’s internal plate rotating, when her phone rang. It was Ricky, from HR.

“Listen kiddo, Serena is being…well…Serena. She’s cut me off at every angle, but she’s agreed to let me give you the next two days off. I know it’s not much but —”

“Oh!” Mei couldn’t stop herself. “Dude. Dude! Are you kidding me!? That’s amazing. That’s…”

“Don’t thank me just yet. I have no idea what she’ll do to your shift schedule after those two days. But at least you can sleep, right?”

Mei’s face hurt from the smile that had set up camp on it. Her ears twitched with happiness. “I owe you Ricky. I owe you a big one.”

He chuckled on the other end of the phone. “Just think of me when Christmas gifts are getting handed out.”

“I will,” she promised. 

Mei looked at the wall clock and noted that it was just past 5AM. Ricky must have worked on that shit overnight and then called her as early as he could. She didn’t just make a mental note, she took out her diary and wrote a reminder to get him something good within the week. There was an interesting desk piece she’d seen on the internet — perfectly carved crystal likeness of all the planets in a mahogany setting. Most people weren’t kind. But when some were, Mei dug deep, and that’s exactly what she would do this time. Ricky had gone out of his way. She noted the website and made sure to transfer some of her savings out to her credit card. 

She was half way through her coffee when she heard Jason. “Hey, you.”

Mei couldn’t stop her smile as she adjusted on the couch and faced where his voice had come from. “Hey yourself.”

“I didn’t think you’d still be awake.”

She hesitated. “I was waiting for you.”

“Were you now?”

Mei felt embarrassed. “Maybe. I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You’re cute when you get nervous like that.”

“I’m absolutely not cute.”

“You work weird hours.” It was a statement but still, he sounded confused when he said it, almost as if it was a question. 

“I know. No need to remind me.”

“What if you —”

But he was gone again. 

Not in the mood to finish her coffee and full to the brim with reheated lasagne, Mei spent the rest of the morning reading and catching up on personal paperwork. Now and again she’d stop and listen and wait for Jason, but he was never there and eventually she realised that all she was doing was torturing herself. 

~~~ more to come...

Soundless

Soundless

It was so much easier to be loved than to have to do any of the desperate work of loving.

Patrick Ness — Release (a novel)

Soundless

I whispered

And you whispered back

I think it was morning

Wrongly, perhaps

And the light filtered through windows

They weren’t mine

Demands and flames

Hot memories of you

Quick pressure, you knew it would work

On me, at least

Such weakness

Such submission; only ever yours

You were on top from word go

Just what I wanted

Marks burnt

Remnants of our mess

The fire that we started with fever

So quick to appear

All of it ruined

Fast and dark

Extinguished before the light returned

Perhaps it was morning

I whispered 

And you whispered back.

Christmas Eve



I died in the light of the morning. 
You died the next day.


Maya had bought the sweater with money from the last truck driver. It wasn’t for the warmth, though essentially that was good for keeping up appearances, but for the dirty great reindeer stitched to the front with the googly eyes and glittering antlers and stitched sequin nose.


She had always loved Christmas and even though last year hadn’t been ideal, Maya was determined to resurrect her longstanding habit of festive happiness. Or whatever.


She supposed she looked ridiculous in the sweater, but still, she'd bought a small, unsweetened coffee and set up camp at a grimy table in the corner. The girl behind the counter had been giving her the eye ever since. Jesus, Maya thought to herself, what was she gonna buy, a cow burger? Even that probably wouldn’t have satisfied the stupid slut who was still glaring Maya down like she was about to steal the cash register or just plain solicit right there in the diner.


After a while the girl behind the counter was distracted with one thing or another and Maya found herself free to get back to the hunt. More than a dozen truck drivers were milling around in the warm interior of the diner but one in particular had caught her eye. He was tall, lean, barely older than her, she guessed, and though clearly minding his own business over a cup of steaming soup, Maya could feel him buzzing with human need — he had already noticed her — she could hear the blood pumping through his veins.


Dark curly hair, rough fingers...her mind ran over their course surface and there was an echoing sound that boomed around her...a scraping so loud...


An unbuttoned flannel over a dirty grey shirt, hat on, its brim straight as an arrow but just as dirty as the shirt. A beard that sprouted in a thick carpet on his face. Maybe four days worth.


Maya could smell him on the air between them. Her hands were starting to shake from hunger.


***


She was tiny. And pretty.


He had seen her across the diner as soon as he came through the doors into the warmth. Out of the cold.


He had seen her, looked away immediately, and then found that he had memorised her in less than that moment. Jayden sighed. He was getting tired of failing to surprise himself.


Don’t think with your little brain, brother. That’s what Jimmy had always told him. Troy burned for Helen. Jimmy was probably the only voice of reason he’d ever hear.


Jayden had told his Mama that he would be good out here — where it was cold and isolated and the women were ‘strange’ and always ‘wanting to tempt him' -- and he was going to hold himself to that promise. The women that he’d encountered hadn’t really been like that, so he could never understand what his Mama was so afraid of. They were just women. Some were truck drivers, some were prostitutes, some were housewives who served him hot soup in cups at diners along the interstate.


This women, well, she was more girl than woman... She was tiny. And pretty.


***


Time passed for this man. Tall Beard. More boy than man, Maya thought to herself.


She watched him lift the cup of soup to his lips and time passed for him and his beard grew and she swore she could hear it growing. Time passed for this boy but it didn’t really seem to pass for Maya anymore. Sure, it had been a year, but she only knew that because Christmas was here again. She wondered if that made her like everyone else, with her hair and fingernails that continued to grow and her lack of surprise when night turned into day, over and over again.


She felt like the same Maya. She felt unchanged, as if her self was persistent and the world moved and grew around her in its own way. Perhaps it would have been different if Baby was still alive.


The only thing that was different was the fact that she wasn’t a little girl anymore. It wasn’t a blatant change that the people in the diner wouldn notice — the girl behind the counter, the tall boy with the beard — but it was definitely a change.


The bruises on her elbows and knees, and the dark circles under her eyes, these were more visible when she was hungry, and tonight she counted four days since she had last eaten. She needed more money. And she needed to eat.


The sweater had been frivolous, Maya could admit that to herself, but the improvement it had made on her mood was more than worth it in her opinion. The coffee tonight had been a dollar which left an even eleven dollars tucked into the back of her winter leggings.


Maya sipped her coffee and tried not to be envious of his plump, pumping arteries. Tall Beard. She could feel the heat of his blood coming off him in waves. The heat seemed to mimic her own want; her terrible, unforgivable need.


No big deal — just two consenting adults who needed what the other had.

Sure, Maya wanted it to be true, but she knew there was no way Tall Beard would consent to what she needed tonight. She was going to have to take it from him.


***


Jayden was tired but his heart seemed to be working harder than his body could manage, and a lot of his blood was funneling straight down to his...


Well. If he was being honest, that had probably started happening as soon as he’d seen her, really. Big dark eyes, with bags above her cheeks that were screaming lack of sleep, dirty bangs across her face, swimming inside a too- big Christmas sweater. There was something about her — like a car crash that you just ached to look at — this girl, with her big eyes; she was a magnet.


The soup was definitely not enough. Jayden bought an egg salad sandwich from behind the spit-guard for $4.50 (it was probably old and dry, but whatever) and wished he was anywhere but this truck stop diner in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. In less than a day he’d be gone from this place, just like he was gone from every other place, but still.


He was already rock hard in his pants underneath the table when he looked up to see her face, not a foot from his own, as he finished opening the sandwich packaging. How had she come over without him noticing?


“Hi.” She smiled at him, but God, she looked pale enough and weak enough that she might just pass out.


Jayden smiled in reply. "Hi yourself." He motioned for her to sit down opposite him in the booth, which she did. She did not, however, accept the half of his egg sandwich that he offered her.


***


When you have no heart, it’s as if that heart belongs to everyone. And so, Maya’s heart was every man’s heart. But that was really only because men were easier.

There were women out here, in the cold, but it was as if most of them had no intention of exploring their wants or giving in to their urges. Men on the other hand were dripping with need and all Maya had to do was be there.


Just like Carl’s friend had told her.


It had been a night after the boys were all too drunk to remember that she was, in fact, a girl. An average kid, average height, average face, but there had been a glint in his eyes that made her think he was smarter than he let on and perhaps the alcohol only really opened his mouth and let out the words that had already been inside his mind.


“I’ve tested it out,” he had said.


Maya hadn’t understood.


“I’ve tried it, and it worked,” he continued. “Not like, stalker style, but just...you know, texting her on a Friday afternoon, or mid-morning Monday. Times when you know she needs attention. Just be there. Be there.”


Maya had only been half-listening at the time, with her mind on other things (though, she didn’t know then that she was pregnant), but now, these days, she found that it worked. And it worked pretty fucking well.


Just be there.


***


Perhaps it was just because it had been so long since he had been close to someone; touched someone, or felt something other than his own isolation.


Jayden found himself picturing her naked, this girl across from him at the table, looking up at him with big, wet eyes. He wondered what her nipples looked like; if she was shaved; what her skin would feel like underneath his fingers.


He took a long, calm breath and sipped his soup. It must have been Christmas Eve messing with him — making him think of home; making him wish he had a home of his own — a wife, child, dog. A lawn that needed mowing, a garden full of bright colourful flowers, a home cooked meal on the table every night, bacon and eggs in the morning.


All the things that he would never have.


No, he thought. Stop it. All he had to do was rest up, make it through this night, fucking Christmas Eve, and get his load upstate, on time, without incident. Then he’d be done. Home free, as other people said. Ready to chug on to the next job.


***


Maya found it oddly comforting that his truck cab felt more like a home than any other she’d been in. Normally they were littered with greasy crisp packets, empty soda cans, sticky used condoms, crumbs, and shards of broken glass.


But this was different. There was a sturdy blind that pulled down and covered the inside of the windshield blocking out most of the sunlight that had already started to finger it’s way through onto their legs.


The way she was now, Maya could feel everything, but when she touched her fingers to Tall Beard's chin and the sides of his face she was taken aback to find that it was total overload.


His thoughts came flooding in and there was no gate. The kid was an open book of feelings.
Mostly there were images of a small family home. Blurry, angry memories of a father. Tall Beard himself, picking coloured flowers against a brightening morning. There was a girl as well. Soft and curved and smiling, as if she herself, was the actual sun inside his memory. Big, pearly-white teeth; cherry red lips; bright blue eyes that sparkled. A girl — slipping away, fading away; moving her lips, but Maya heard no words.


She knew Tall Beard had lost himself to this girl. Maya knew that Tall Beard's heart had been rendered as useless as her own. She felt sorry for him. She had seen heartbreak before, she had felt it, but this was different somehow.


This was closer and louder.


***


Carl had scrambled on top of her in the motel bed, and, thinking he was on a bender, Maya had given up fighting him. It hurt less if she relaxed.


And then, just as she did, she had felt his teeth. By that point they were sharp and elongated. They opened up her neck and in response, her chest rose in an unintended arc towards him, pulling her upper body away but simultaneously giving him more space to straddle her and get at the hot blood that was running down her neck and into her hair on the sheets underneath her.


Carl. She had pawed at him but he was different. He was strong. Too strong for an addict. Too strong for the pathetic excuse for a human that she knew him to be. His skin was cold against her own and it was as if he was fevered, or pumped full of adrenaline, or something else...


He hadn’t fully drained her that night and then, eventually, she had turned. In the midst of her mindless convulsions Carl had dragged himself out behind the motel and died.


And then it was just Maya and Baby then. Maya. And Baby.

***


Jayden was nervous. His little brain was telling him what he wanted, but at the same time it was hard to think that this tiny pretty girl was anything other than dangerous.


She straddled him with the ease and grace of the experienced, and licked from his collar bone to the edge of his jaw. He was hard — a coiled spring — and he had the strong urge to toss her into the back, get on top, and hold her down while he had his way.


That was wrong though. Merely an urge. Not the way you act around other people. Jayden knew how to act appropriately and that was exactly what he intended to do.
As he let her move on top he noticed that she was lighter than he had anticipated.
She kissed his neck. She kissed his beard. She kissed his lips and then the lids of his eyes. Her pants were off (he hadn’t noticed her taking them off) and she pulled her knickers aside. Jayden could feel with his fingers how wet she was and it only made him realise that he was much closer to an edge he hadn’t noticed before. He wanted to buck up into her. He wanted to push her down and use her. He stopped himself.
This tiny, pretty girl slid herself onto him just as her razor sharp teeth pierced the warm skin of his neck.


Jayden clawed at her shirt trying to detach her from his neck but her hands were suddenly so strong that she had him pinned and he could feel nothing but the warm red blood that slicked out from his carotid.


***


Penetration.


Maya knew it had never been her word, but it was hers in that moment. She had penetrated him.


Her fangs had punctured his soft skin and it was as satisfying as anything she had ever felt. Even more than the first time. She sucked hard, desperate to get her fill, desperate not to waste a single drop. Tall Beard's blood flooded her system; overwhelmed her; set her cool, pale body afire.


The morning Carl had turned her, Maya had been in pain. It was Christmas Eve. Carl died out behind the motel but she woke the next day to a fresh hell that she didn't want any part of. And then she had become hungry. So hungry. Too hungry.
 
She had grown weak.


She had failed.


Failed Baby.


Baby had been her first meal. Tall Beard wouldn’t be her last.

Past Times

~

“Luke?” It was Samson from the end of the bed. “I think today is the day.”
Luke sat up, pushed back the covers and rubbed his eyes, “Really?”
Samson nodded, but only just. He was holding two cups of coffee and kneeling on the bed, as if he was about to pray. They were both quiet, taking in the moment, silently acknowledging it.
Luke broke the silence, “That’s good. I’m glad.”
Samson looked up and held out a cup. A small smile crept out from behind his nervousness.
For a while they sat in silence and drank their coffee as if the world didn’t exist.
“We’ll be late for work,” Luke said suddenly, as he abandoned the bed and went looking for his polo. “Wear that nice grey button-through with the spots. She likes that.”

They dressed without a word and left in their separate cars.

When they arrived, parking at different ends of the lot, Samson went in first. He always did.
Five minutes later, as always, Luke went in.
The locker room stunk to high heaven, but then, that was the norm. The overweight security guard was changing his socks in the corner. A few of the younger boys were huddled around a small blue phone screen over near the urinals. Luke and Samson changed and put away their bags — the morning was only just coming to life. Luke shut his locker and left Samson alone. They always took this moment — to steady themselves; to warm to the pan; to pull away from their secrets.

Out on the warehouse floor things were as they had always been: busy, noisy, filled with movement. Samson felt his personal phone buzz in his jacket pocket.

You’re sure about tonight?

He bit his lip. The anticipation grew inside of him as he punched a reply.

I’m excited.

Nothing for a moment, and then….

You made a good choice, she really is pretty. You get the first time baby. And then you get me.

Samson choked down a knot in his throat and tried to keep the blood from rushing to his cheeks. Luke was his one — had always been his one; would never stop being his one.

As if on cue, his work phone buzzed. It was a group email from Luke to everyone on Floor Management. There was going to be a meeting after lunch over in the boardroom on the other side of the complex. Samson could easily read the underlying tone and the unwritten instruction — they had to prep. A lot of shit had gone down in the past few weeks and the three of them — Luke, Marnie, and Samson himself — had to make sure they could prove that their department was under control. Samson straightened himself and took stock of the floor with a refreshed seriousness that he had self-taught.

The boys were doing okay considering the heat. Everyone seemed happy and busy.

Just as Samson was about to pull up one of the new kids for wearing non-regulation boots, his work phone buzzed again. Luke wanted an informal at the maintenance desk. The boots would have to wait.

Walking quickly across the floor, Samson spotted Marnie already perched on the desk, one leg crossed over the other, tapping on her phone. She’d probably been there for ten minutes already — the girl didn’t know what tardy meant.

When she looked up and saw him approaching, Samson noticed her giving him a once-over. And then a mischievous smile. Luke had been right about the button-through.

“Good morning, Samson.”

“Good morning, Marnie.”

They did this everyday. This ridiculous formal ritual that didn’t at all cool the spark between them. Samson knew it. Marnie knew it. Luke knew it, even when he wasn’t around.

But then there he was, Luke, coming up from the other end of the warehouse towards them. “Morning all,” he said with a curt smile and very serious eyes.

Samson and Marnie burst into laughter, but it was Luke who noticed the touch of her hand to Samson’s arm. Both men did a fairly good job of keeping the look they exchanged quiet and subtle. Now was not the time.

“If you children are done fucking around, I think we need to come to a decision about the two newbies. Fire, keep, turf to another department?” Luke leant against the desk and waited for their answer.

Marnie straightened up immediately and became all-business, “Keep Mason, but Chris is a write off. He’s been late three days in a row and he smells like….” She trailed off.

Samson let out a small laugh, “Old cheese. He smells like old cheese.”

The two of them erupted into laughter again and Luke couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Fine. Cheese boy is gone. But I want Mason learning day shift, night shift, weekend shift, every fucking shift. I want him as an all-rounder. I don’t care if he has a social life, as long as he doesn’t have kids.”

“I checked already, he’s single. Available for all shifts.” Marnie was getting down off the table and straightening her skirt.

Luke was impressed — he shot her a wink and departed. Samson turned and followed, but not before he gently brushed an arm against Marnie’s.

Luke was walking quickly, intentionally. It was his serious walk. He didn’t turn as he talked, “Keep your mind in the game today Sammy,” the two of them stood close then, face to face, “I’ve got a plan for tonight, but it’s important that we maintain this.” He looked around as he said it, and then his eyes came back to Samson. This, was their daily life; their work; the heavy blanket that kept their secrets safe and warm and unseen.

Samson nodded and the hint of a blush rose up into his cheeks. He had allowed himself to indulge, even if it was only a tiny bit. The two of them hung in that moment, it wasn’t quiet or private, but it was secretly intimate. They both knew that the other felt an urge to embrace.

But not here. Later.

~

The meeting came. The meeting happened. The meeting was over. And the three of them felt worse for wear, secrets  or not. As they sat without words on one of the benches in the tea room, a heavy disappointment hung above.

Luke broke the silence. “Well, that could have gone better.”

“Understatement of the year.” It was Marnie, and she looked on the verge of tears.

Luke caught Samson’s eye and urged him on.

Samson shifted on the bench, moved closer to Marnie. “Hey. Hey. Marn, we did our best. The results stand for themselves, on their own, and if the big men upstairs can’t be reasonable and see that, it’s not our fault. We’ve come a long way since November. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

She looked up at him. There were fat tears sitting under her eyes, but she smiled, and so did Samson.

Luke stood up and turned to face them as he dialled a number in his phone, “Fuck this place. We’re gonna go to Rico’s, get drunk, and eat some goddamn tapas.”

~

Not fifteen minutes later they were sharing a tiny table at Rico’s. It was a coveted place, hard to get seat, but Luke had managed to work his way with the hostess and secure them a shitty little circular stand out front. It might have been considered a table by some, but the three of them decided they didn’t mind either way as they sipped on their very strong margaritas and tried to ignore the afternoon heat.

Luke checked his phone and slipped it into his pocket, “I’m gonna hit the john and start a tab.” Underneath the table his fingers slipped free from Samson’s. The two men didn’t exchange the look that they wanted to — Luke departed to the bathroom and Samson held Marnie’s eyes as they went back to discussing the intricacies of different personalities and testosterone levels on the warehouse floor.

Baby, don’t think I haven’t noticed your patience. Not long now.

The text from Luke almost made Samson weak, but Marnie pressing against him in the heat was the headlight in his eyes.

Samson; the deer.

~

Marnie was sweating. The shirt between the skin of her back and the plastic seat was drenched in warm, sticky sweat. Marnie felt the headache that was pounding inside her skull, the plastic of the chair underneath her bare thighs, the scratchy texture of the rope around her wrists.

She was outside. Crickets filled the night that surrounded her, and her mind swam. She wanted to throw up but there was nothing inside her. Marnie was hungry. She felt it in the very bottom of her stomach — an ache as if she hadn’t eaten in a week — and maybe she hadn’t.

The heat of flood lights flanked her, and there were two more at her 10 and 2. Grass beneath her feet; hot salty air around her head. Marnie cleared her throat and tried to turn around in the seat. Every part of her was stiff and sore.

“Hello?” Her voice came out dry and quiet, almost choked.

“Hello?”

No response.

She coughed and tried again.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

And then he appeared — slowly, intentionally, out from the darkness. “You’re very pretty Marnie. We saw it as soon as we met you. Inside and out, you’re perfectly vulnerable.” It was Luke.

Marnie swallowed the fearful bile that was creeping up her throat, “Where’s Samson? What’s happening?”

“He’ll be here soon. Don’t worry.”

She wanted to cry. She pulled at her restraints, it was fruitless and only made her feel more the fool. “What is this Luke?”

He huffed out a small smile and looked past her. Whatever he saw softened his eyes. The crickets seemed closer than before; louder — like a cheese grater against her ears.

Suddenly Luke moved to stand right in front of her. He put his hands on her face, on her cheeks almost tenderly and looked into her eyes, “We always wanted you darling, we just didn’t know how to tell you.” Luke looked past her again, as if to a God, and then he smiled. He was happy and calm, and she felt nothing but confusion.

From behind her Marnie felt a small brush of air and then she saw Samson in her peripheral, circling her chair and watching Luke. He didn’t seem to notice that she existed. As he walked it was with a confidence she had never seen before, and there was a cigarette in his hand. Smoke curled up in front of him.

Marnie had never seen him smoke anything. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but in the end she had no idea what it was. She closed her mouth again.

Samson came close and pressed a gentle kiss to her neck, as Luke knelt down next to her and watched them both, “You can’t tell anyone about this Marn. It will be our little secret. Ours forever - and you’re not allowed to tell.”

Marnie felt her skin tighten in fear as she pulled back from Samson. This Samson that she didn’t know. This lie.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to run.

Samson bit his lip, “Hmmmmm, we’ve waited a long time for this baby,” he turned briefly, “are you sure she won’t betray us?”

“She won’t.” Luke lit another cigarette. “She never will.”