Chasing Shadows (15 page)

“Do I have to sign anything?” I ask, handing
him my key.

“No. HR’ll let you know by phone if there’s
anything else you should do.”

“Can I have my bag back?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “At the door. And just so
the issue isn’t clouded, you shouldn’t shop at this location until
the matter is cleared up.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever.” I say walking to
the elevator. When it opens, it’s full of bright, perky, day
people. I try to contain my contempt. but I know it shows on my
face. Fuck!

***

I am way too pissed off to even consider going
back to my apartment to sleep. If I went there, and my neighbor was
home playing video games, I would be forced to beat his door down
and kick his balls in. So instead, I head over to Madeline’s
college campus to see what I can learn. I must look like a true
crazy person because on the way over I’m muttering things to the
shades like: “thanks for trying to warn me. “ “Sorry I didn’t
listen." “Please show me where to go and who to talk to.” I
consider calling Schuyler, but the idea that he doesn’t want to
father children with me is finally pissing me off. It’s called
residual anger and anyone can get an earful of it this
morning.

The bus ride up State Street goes by in an
irrationally furious blur. The more I brew on it, the worse it
gets. I keep running through my coworkers in my mind. Who wants me
fired? Doug? I just agreed to go out with his dumb friend. What
more does he want from me? Ashley? She may want me to go away, but
I can’t picture her trying to get me fired. Then again I couldn’t
picture her yelling at me so often before these last couple of
weeks so who knows? How deep does her resentment go? Betty? Does
Betty secretly not like me even though she pretends she does? I
suspected as much. I know I’m not good enough for Betty anyway, but
I don’t think she’d pull this crap. Fin? Yeah it could be the
fucking Shelving Fairy, tiny, conceited, little bitch. I see her
shark smile in my head and I want to blame her, but I stop myself.
I’m always suspicious of my motives when I find a reason to dislike
a person who’s built like a perfect little doll. I suspect it’s my
subconscious jealousy. Oh great, now I’m thinking about my body
issues. Fucking day. The rest of my coworkers I don’t even really
talk to. Did I do something to piss one of them off without knowing
it? It’s possible.

The bus stops right where I want it to. I’m
walking now. I’m on campus. The colligate beauty is lost on me.
Nothing looks familiar. Maybe I should’ve looked up which buildings
were which online. Eventually I just stop and lean against a wall
with my arms crossed over my chest. That’s where I’m standing,
smoking, glowering, when a pale man in khakis and a yellow collared
shirt walks up to me. He’s nearly my height and looks about ten
years my senior. He’s got glasses and little blue eyes misting
behind them.

“Kelly?" He asks in a whisper. “Holy cow, Kelly
Morgan, what’re you doing here? I mean, I’m so glad to see you, but
wow... what happened to your hair?”

I shrug, didn’t even see any shadows. I wonder
how many people here recognize me. He called me Kelly Morgan, hmm,
something to think about later. “Wanna talk?” I ask trying not to
sound petulant.

He flushes. “Yes, of course... Oh my God it’s
been so long.” He seems to be choking up. “My class starts in forty
minutes. It’s not long but... will you come to my
office?”

“Sure.” I say.

He starts walking briskly. I follow. My anger
is gone now, replaced by insane curiosity. What can this man tell
me about Madeline? Or about me? He takes a sharp left. I notice
sweat on his neck. The yellow shirt is sticking to his back. Was he
sweating when he walked up? Is it really that warm out here? He’s
not even wearing a jacket, silly day shifter. The man leads me into
a building and down a flight of steps. He fiddles with his keys to
open a door with frosted glass. Black lettering on the door says
Dr. Donald Lovell, Literature Dept.
Huh. Wonder if this is
Don. When I follow him in, he turns and locks the door behind us
then he crosses to another door further in. “My secretary Jolene,
you remember Jolene right? She’s out with the flu.” He turns to
meet my eyes. “Lucky, huh?” He’s smiling nervously.

I smile back with confidence. “Lucky.” I answer
following him into the second room. Was this my teacher? How do I
ask? I’m just eyeing his framed degrees on the wall and wondering
what to say when Professor Lovell wraps his arms around me from
behind. He’s got his hands on my boobs and his breath is hot in my
ear. He kisses my neck and shoves his body against mine. Wow. This
complicates things. I brace myself against the wall as it feels
like he’s about to knock me over.

“I actually just came here to talk.” I say but
my voice is shaky.

“We only have forty minutes.” He whines,
grinding his hips against me. “I didn’t” He kisses my neck. “know
where you” He licks my ear. “went.” He groans.

I feel my lip curl. Too late, it occurs to me
to wish Jolene was feeling better. “Look,” I turn to face him.
“Professor...” But my words are cut off because his tongue is in my
mouth. Fuck. I place my hands on his shoulders and push, but the
scholastic motherfucker is stronger than me. He laughs lustily into
my mouth, and reaches for the button of my jeans. I squirm to get
away from him but he spins me around somehow, so that I’m propped
against his desk. “Stop.” I manage.

He shoves his hand down my pants before pulling
his face off mine. “What?” He says getting his fingers under my
panties and massaging my area.

“Really!” I say. “I’m not here for
this!”

He squeezes my crotch and pretends to look
heart broken. “Why’d you come?” He shoves his hand further between
my legs, wedging them apart. His finger slips in.

“Because of Madeline.” I say gripping his
forearm and pushing back.

“I don’t know Madeline.” he says, pushing his
weight against me, ramming his thigh against his hand, driving it
farther in. I grunt. “But I know you’re wet.” He leers.

I wish I could reply that I’m on the rag, but
I’m not. “Madeline’s dead.” I say. “I thought you knew her. I
didn’t come here for this.” And tears begin to stream down my
face.

His hand stops moving around but he doesn’t
remove it. “What are you playing at?” He asks angrily.

“I’m not playing.” I sob. “Please.” I push him
again and this time he backs up. Grudgingly, slowly he removes his
hand from my pants. I rush to zip myself up. “Fuck.” I say pushing
past him.

He grabs my arm and spins me towards him. His
face is suspicious. “Why would you think I knew her?” His grip on
my arm is painful even through my jacket.

“She is... she was another girl like me.” I say
lamely. “I thought you’d know her the same way.” I’m not meeting
his eyes. I see his jaw tense. He seems to be thinking it
over.

After a moment he pulls me closer. “I’m not
paying you for nothing.” He growls and grabs by breast hard with
his free hand.

Christ that hurts. “So don’t pay me.” I
croak.

“Jesus, Kelly.” His voice is raised now. “It’s
been so damn long. You can’t leave me right now.”

“You won’t let me?” I squeak. God I’m really
not pulling off brave and confident here. I hate how weak I
sound.

He looks disbelieving. “You really want to
leave?” It’s an accusation.

“I really do.” I say as firmly as I
can.

“Fuck you.” He says softly. “You’re such a
bitch.” But he releases me and he doesn’t try to stop me as I rush
out of his office. I have a moment of panic at his secretary’s
door, but it opens easily after I turn the deadbolt. It occurs to
me that offices are not lucky for me today. I should avoid them in
the future. I walk as fast as I can without running. I’m shaking
like a leaf. Holy shit. I guess I was a prostitute. I check my
moral compass to see if I’m bothered... Sure enough, being a sex
worker doesn’t sit to well with me. Damn. What kind of life was I
living anyway that would make this sort of thing seem like a good
idea? I wonder if they checked me for STDs in the hospital three
years ago. Would Melody know? I pull out my phone and make a note
on the calendar to ask her, then I push through the doors into the
bright sunshine. Fuck. I’m not so much angry as freaked out right
now. This sucks. I continue my speed walk to the subway and head
for home. Sleep or no sleep, there’s no where else I want to be
besides home with the doors locked.

Chapter Seven

I'm on a bus bouncing along Ashland Ave. It’s
over heated in here. I've got my hair back so my blue streaks show.
They match the blue stripes on my jacket. I feel like a race car.
I'm listening to Cat Stevens Trouble. The song is interrupted for
the fifth time by vibrations. Someone's trying to call me. I check,
Schuyler. This makes the third missed call from him. There've been
two from an unknown number. Those could be anybody. I wait for the
vibrating to stop and let the song resume.

In my right hand is a warm soft piece of paper
that I've been folding and unfolding compulsively. It’s the address
to the 7-Eleven where Luis Finch works. I called before I left my
apartment to see if he's on tonight and he is. He gets off at 11.
I'm pretty sure there's a policy in place to prevent psychos like
me from getting that kind of information but once again, the system
has failed. I sigh. I could call Schuyler back, probably should...
it would be wise but I don't want to tell him what happened, and
I'm not sure that I'm ready to pretend it didn't. I want to get
this mess straightened out so I can go back to being me: Meegan
Jones, amnesia girl. Fuck Kelly Morgan, whoever she was.

The song changes just as the bus lurches to a
stop a block from my destination. I descend the steps to Back in
Black. I smile. It feels good to have a sound track. I should
research some new music, though. I'm certain my tastes are several
decades behind the times. I walk at a leisurely pace. Chicago is
enjoying a warm snap. I've got my jacket open and I light a
cigarette as I walk. I check my phone, 10:42. Cool. Hopefully Luis
doesn't leave work early. I should catch him. I wonder if he'll run
from me like he did at the memorial. As I'm checking the street to
cross on a red the song is interrupted, another call. I roll my
eyes. Unknown number is now tied with Schuyler. All these calls,
and no voicemails. Too good to leave messages, clearly. As I
skitter across the street I hold the red button shutting off the
phone music and all. Better to have silence than constant
interruptions.

I stop to finish my smoke and size up the
convenience store. I know why Madeline used to frequent it. It’s
new and shiny, extremely well lit. I can see the entire interior
from where I stand. There's Luis. I brace myself for confrontation.
He's gathering the trash. I see a young Hispanic man behind the
counter. Luis's replacement? I take one more drag and drop the
Camel, grinding it out with my boot. I watch Luis exit stage left
with two huge bags of trash. He'll probably have to come back in to
clock out, so hopefully I'll catch him then. Making an effort to
look casual, I stroll up to the pretty, clean, glass door. It dings
as I enter onto the shiny, clean, tile floor. The guy at the
counter looks up and smiles.

"Hello." Being greeted like this makes me
wonder if maybe the manager is here somewhere.

"Hey." I nod as I approach the counter. "I'm
here to talk to Luis."

The counter guy's eyebrows raise and he smiles
a lecherous smile. "The girl who called."

"That's me. Were you the one I talked
to?"

"Nah, but Luis told me about it." He grins. I
smile sideways wondering what Luis said. Counter guy laughs. "It's
cool. It’s a good thing. He just took the trash out, should be back
any second."

"So was it Luis I spoke to on the
phone?"

"Yeah." The dude looks like he's trying not to
laugh.

I rub my neck. I didn't identify myself on the
phone except to say I knew Madeline. I wonder if Luis knows it’s
me. I wonder what else he knows. Well, that's kind of the point
isn't it? I stick my hands in my pockets and rock back and forth on
my heels. This is awkward.

Counter guy moves some things around,
straightening shit. "Hey." He says. "Help yourself to a fountain
drink."

"Really?"

"Yeah sure. It’s on me." He smiles.

I smile back. "Cool. Thanks." I head over to
the sodas. I pick out a medium cup, no need to be greedy, and fill
it up with ice and Diet Coke. I take my time. When I turn back
around we're still alone, me and counter guy. I smile
nervously.

"I don't know what's taking him so long." He
offers sheepishly.

I bite my lip. "Does he have to come back in
before he leaves?"

He nods. "Yeah, yeah and his stuff's still
here."

"Think I could go check on him?" I ask. Just
now there's a little gray bird. It flits off to my left. I hear its
wings.

Counter guy doesn't notice. "I can't let you
through this way, employees only." He sounds apologetic.

I feel dread. "I could walk around the building
though, right?"