Full Circle Page 7

  “Loud and.” She waited until Talya entered her office to add, “Bill’s awareness of what’s going on won’t be any comfort when I have to pull a knife out of my back.” It seemed she was going to be forced to deal with that damn job, sooner rather than later. Talya wouldn’t keep bringing it up if she didn’t think there was a good chance Mikaela could get it. Pushing back from her desk, she went for more caffeine.

  Back at her desk, the issues of Jolene’s job hung around like low-hanging rain clouds, waiting to dump on her head. She knew there wasn’t a choice. Not applying would make Talya look bad with Bill, and she liked and respected her boss too much to let that happen. It all came down to loyalty. In Mikaela’s book if your boss went to bat for you, the least you could do was run the bases, then hope someone would tag you out. Though for her ego, she’d prefer if that someone was from the outside.

  She frowned and wondered if she sounded as defeatist as she thought she did. Yeah, last night had been a short one, but that was no excuse for a piss-poor attitude. Since she was going to apply, then she’d damn well give it her all. That was what she’d done her entire work career, no reason to change now. If that wasn’t enough, then so be it. She couldn’t see how trying hard and failing would impact her negatively. Not if she continued to do the job well.

  And speaking of the job, she went back to reviewing the information Jolene had left. She knew Bill’s request was a formality.

  “Do it.”

  “What?” Mikaela looked up at Talya. Once again, she’d been caught in possibilities and visions of grandeur. “Apply? Have they posted already?”

  “Not that. I’m talking about the materials for the quarterly meeting,” Talya explained. “Make it happen. Coordinate with Jolene directly, but keep me in the loop. If you run into any problems with overscheduling, I need to be the first to know.”

  “At this point I don’t foresee any problems. Based on the information I’ve read so far, I can start with the templates I created for your meeting. Of course I’ll change the color scheme, the layout, so it looks fresh. I’ve also got some ideas of how to make the brochure look even better.”

  “Consider this your number one priority.”

  “This wouldn’t be a test, would it?”

  Talya shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But isn’t it a good thing you’ve decided to apply for the job?”

  She nodded, getting the message loud and clear. “I won’t let you down. I realize you stuck your neck out for me despite what you said earlier. And you’re right. I shouldn’t let worry about what the Righteous Three may or may not do stop me. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m concerned about measuring up. Jolene’s set that bar high.”

  “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I would have been disappointed if you’d let those three hold you back. As for Jolene, you’re right. But think about how much you’ve grown into this job. Don’t sell yourself short, kiddo.”

  “I’ll try to remember, but no promises.”

  Chapter Six

  “What?” Marianna cupped her hands over her mouth, then quickly looked around. They were seated in one of the two alcoves in the break room of Marianna’s company. When she and Mikaela ate in, they liked to come here. It was bigger than the one Mikaela had access to, had two microwaves and a better selection of soft drinks and snacks in the vending machines. “Sorry. Now say that again.”

  “You heard me.” Mikaela enjoyed seeing the comical expression on Marianna’s face.

  “No,” Marianna said, shaking her finger. “No way you said what I thought you said. Must be a disturbance in the air.”

  “I slept with Sara Gordon,” she said slowly.

  “Our Sara Gordon? The one who works downstairs?”

  “Yeah, that one,” she said dryly. “The only Sara Gordon we know.”

  “Oh my God! Need a minute to adjust.” Marianna put her hands on either side of her head and squeezed. “You slept with Sara Gordon. I actually know someone who slept with a goddess of hotness.”

  “Going overboard.”

  “Who could blame me?” Marianna sighed. “Okay, start at the beginning. How the hell did you manage it?”

  “I do know an insult if I hear one.” Between bites of leftover casserole and interruptions, she talked Marianna through her evening.

  “Wow. Just wow. Told you that red dress would pay off.” Marianna was obviously proud; she’d been the one to talk Mikaela into the purchase. “Sounds great until morning. What was up with the nightmare?”

  She shrugged, wishing she’d omitted that part. “Does it really matter in the grand ‘I-had-fantastic-sex-with-Sara-Gordon’ schemata? I’m telling you that is not the part that keeps playing in my mind.”

  “Good point.” Marianna picked at her low-cal previously frozen entrée. “Fantastic sex, huh? Might be hard to look at her and not think of that, but I’ll do my best.” She took a bite, chewed, then swallowed. “So, considering you’re going to be seeing her on a regular basis, you okay with not getting another shot?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be? No promises made, no promises broken. Win-win.”

  “But if you should somehow get another shot, would you take it?”

  “Hello. Hot sex, hot woman.”

  “Got it. But what if she wants more?”

  Mikaela rolled her eyes, thinking Marianna needed to dump her rose-colored glasses. “Remember the part where she couldn’t get out fast enough? Message received loud and clear. Don’t go wrapping some sort of fairy-tale ending around this. We had fun, we had sex, we had done. I swear you and Casey have been talking.”

  “Just asking for my own voyeuristic fantasies. Changing gears. Tell me again what we’re doing Monday.”

  “Working hard. I bought this cute little pink tool belt for the occasion. Although we’ll mostly be doing painting and cleaning. Talya and I went to the place and after checking out the community room, we agreed it desperately needs a facelift. Since most of the people who use the facilities are on a fixed income and the city has cut back funding, there hasn’t been enough money to do it.”

  “You don’t have to convince me. I hope there’s some kind of building involved for my sweetie’s sake.”

  “No worries. I’ll hunt up something for Erin to hammer. And don’t forget the company’s springing for barbecue after. Fox Brothers.”

  Marianna’s eyes grew brighter. “Yum. Note to self. Work extra hard, then you can eat extra hard.” She looked down at her lunch. “Definitely something to look forward to.”

  Mikaela laughed. “As much as you love barbecue, you should be black.”

  “Racist. But you know, I do love me some watermelon.” Marianna’s eyes got wide. “I’m black.”

  * * *

  Sara rubbed her eyes, fighting against a brain shutdown. She’d come directly to the library after work. Once she’d seen the waiting list for Internet access, she switched her strategy to researching old newspapers. Since she knew the exact date, she’d figured it would actually be smarter to browse through them.

  Initially, nerves got her adrenaline flowing, but after an hour of searching and coming up with nothing, she felt empty. Although she’d looked at papers two weeks before her seventh birthday and two weeks after, she hadn’t been able to find an article on a massive interstate pileup.

  “How’s it going?”

  Sara bit back a snarky reply. It wasn’t the librarian’s fault she couldn’t find what she was looking for. He had gone out of his way to assist her. “Not so good. I checked both the Constitution and the Journal and nothing.”

  “How sure are you about the dates?”

  “Before this I would have said one hundred percent. I don’t get it.”

  Robert Young rubbed his clean-shaven chin. “Did you check for an obit? Find that and you can zero in on the date.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Don’t forget the obit can show up as much as two days after death.”

  With renewed
enthusiasm, Sara returned to the search. She found her mother’s obituary first. Her eyes burned as she read information that had been fed to her over the years. Even though she already knew, it was disconcerting to see her mother had been only twenty-nine when she died. Creepier yet to see her own name in the “survived by” section. No mention was made about cause of death.

  She blew out a sharp breath, willing the tears away. Crying was for babies, or so she’d been told. And crying in public had brought swift punishment. She could almost feel the slap to the back of her head.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. Her Aunt Liddy, as she’d been told to call her mother’s cousin, wasn’t in striking distance and hadn’t been for years. She had information to collect. Information she was counting on to keep her insanity in check.

  Her father’s obit followed her mother’s. The surge of pain took her by surprise. They’d been close, she and her dad. He’d been more like a playmate, always ready for a game.

  Fumbling around in her backpack, she found a ragged pack of tissues. After wiping her eyes, she looked around. Luck was with her. She was out of sight of the nearest table and the stacks on her right were empty. That would be all she needed—to have someone catch her bawling like a baby over someone who’d been gone for most of her life. But damn, she missed him. Missed them, she corrected. The love between her and her mother had been strong, something she’d known she could count on. She even missed what would have been a baby brother, who would have probably driven her crazy at one time or another.

  Five minutes passed before she had enough control to read her father’s obit. She wasn’t expecting much. Aunt Liddy always said he didn’t talk much about his past. What she had known was that he and his relatives from New England were on the outs. So much so that they hadn’t acknowledged his death or shown any interest in her welfare.

  Sara was surprised to see he was two months younger than her mother and had an undergraduate degree from Yale. In addition to her, he was survived by a cousin and a grandfather. Both of them had been residing in Cambridge at the time of his death.

  “Assholes.” She didn’t bother writing down their names. It was much too late to try to make a family connection with people who were too small-minded to attend a funeral or be concerned about an orphaned child.

  Rubbing her eyes, Sara sat back in the chair. Time to go home and grab a nap. She must be tired if a slight from so long ago was causing her pain. She was bigger than that. At least she wanted to be bigger. Saddened, she gathered her belongings and then dropped the microfilm rolls into the wire container.

  Sara was down the steep flight of stairs and on the lobby level when it hit her. Their deaths had occurred during the times she’d searched the newspapers, but she hadn’t found any articles. She turned around and went back up the stairs and found the librarian behind the desk. “Excuse me.”

  “Found what you want, did you?”

  “Not exactly. If it wasn’t in the newspaper, how else can I find information on it?”

  “Auto accident, right? Then you want to check police records for the accident report. Best thing to do is go to their website. Might get lucky and find they’re available online. But knowing the way this city works, I doubt it. Computers are on the fourth floor if you need Internet access.”

  “Librarians rock.” He didn’t have to know she’d started her search upstairs.

  He smiled. “Wish everyone thought that.”

  The line for Internet access was even longer than it had been earlier. Sara put her name on the list, but as she was looking for a place to sit, she noticed the express line. Five minutes was more than she needed and there was only one person in front of her.

  Sara soon found out Robert had been right. The only ways to get records were in person or through a snail mail request. And since the office was not near downtown or open on weekends, it was going to have to be snail mail. If she mailed the form tomorrow, she might get it back in two weeks.

  * * *

  Sara jerked awake, her heart pounding. “Shit!” With a bleary-eyed glance at the TV, she wondered when this twist on her usual dream was going to go away. Ellen had been replaced by the national news. Three hours. She’d been napping for almost three hours—for all the good it had done. If anything, she felt groggier than when she had stretched out on the couch looking to be entertained. Nightmares of blood and death were not her idea of entertainment.

  In the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and took in her washed-out complexion. “Perfect,” she muttered. If anyone was casting for the role of vampire, she would get the part—no makeup needed.

  She couldn’t continue this way, plagued by nightmares at every turn. She was stronger than this, damn it! It was time for her to get a grip, get a handle on the situation and get her head back in the game. The dreams had been a part of her life for a long time. So what if they were more intense, more violent. She’d made it through before, she would again. But not by sitting around or napping. She had to get out, do something. Not a bar, she decided. That hadn’t worked the past two times. Maybe she needed exercise. A long run on the hills around Grant Park would get her blood flowing.

  As she was lacing her shoes, she remembered the voucher she’d won for a two-week membership at the new gym a quarter-mile from her place. The one with the basketball courts. She also remembered Thursday was ladies’ night until nine. If she hurried, she could get in on a game. A little pushy-shovy, some trash talk, and she’d be set. If not, at least working out in a different environment should prove distracting.

  The temperature had dropped, forcing her to zip her hoodie and pull on gloves before getting into her car. The gym was less than ten minutes away by car, located in a recently redeveloped strip mall. Half of the spaces were already occupied by businesses ranging from a Mexican restaurant to a funky consignment store.

  Sara eased her Hyundai between two SUVs and felt a moment of vehicle envy. Inside, the gym smelled of new. The lobby was bright, with comfortable-looking seating, posters of athletes with a local connection and a shiny floor that squeaked. She was tempted to turn around and head to the older, more “gym-like” place she liked to frequent, fearing she and her old workout clothes might not fit in here. The sight of a sweaty woman in clothes more worn out than her own changed her mind.

  After filling out more forms than she thought necessary, Sara was given her temporary membership card. She declined a tour, heading for the basketball courts instead. Here she felt at home—the squeal of rubber soles meeting the polished floor, the sound of dribbling accompanied by trash talking. Newness still hung in the air, but not on the women running up and down the court.

  “Sara?”

  “Jackie, right?” she replied, recognizing one of the trainers from her regular gym. If she remembered correctly, Jackie had played pro basketball until her knee went out. At six-two, with a powerful build and wide arm span, Jackie had undoubtedly been a dominant center. “How’s it going?”

  “Good. You here for some ball? We’re one person short if you want to get in on the next game.”

  “Sure. Yeah, sure. Uh, I haven’t played in a while. Hope it’s okay if I’m a little rusty.”

  “No sweat. It’s all for fun. Grab a ball and warm up.” Jackie pointed to the back section of the other court where several women were shooting hoops. “I’ll let you know when we’re on.”

  Nervousness fought excitement as Sara grabbed a ball. She’d played some in high school and always tried to grab a game when she could. There had been a couple of times when she’d stayed in one place long enough to join a league and keep her hand in that way. She wasn’t star material, but she was a solid player.

  When Jackie called her over and introduced her to the rest of the team, she was calm, certain she wouldn’t make a fool of herself. She was also certain that Carmen, the hot Latina with the flashing dark eyes and miles of hair, wouldn’t mind doing something more than playing ball.

  Afte
r a couple of games where she’d held her own, Sara felt pleasantly tired and agreed to meet up at the wing place on the other side of Grant Park for a couple of beers. Carmen’s eyes seemed to promise more as she offered Sara a ride. Wanting the flexibility of having her own vehicle, Sara declined. Before leaving, she took a moment to wash most of the sweat from her face.

  Wings and Such was located half a mile from the gym and half a mile from Sara’s apartment if she cut through the park. She’d driven past it a few times but had yet to stop in. The restaurant was larger than it looked from the outside and not very crowded. The smell of fried meat and hot sauce hit her hard, stirring her appetite.

  As she crossed the room, she couldn’t help but smile when Carmen patted the seat next to her. The woman was persistent. In Sara’s book that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. She slid into the seat and accepted the glass of beer pressed upon her.

  “You play damn good for somebody who’s rusty,” Jackie said, raising her glass.

  “You sure do,” Carmen agreed. She loosened her hair from its ponytail. “You’ll come back again, I hope? Sometimes we try to take over at least half a court on Wednesdays and for sure on Thursdays.”

  “I’ll see what I can work out. I do enjoy the game.”

  “What else do you enjoy?” Carmen asked, putting a hand on Sara’s knee. “You look like the type with a variety of tastes.”

  “Watch out, Sara,” one of the other players called out with a touch of bitterness. “Carmen’s set her sights on you. Be careful about getting caught in the crosshairs.”

  “Thanks, but I can take care of myself. I’m a big girl.” She smiled to take any sting out of the words. “Old acquaintance?” she asked Carmen softly.

  Carmen shrugged and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “She never did understand the game. What about you?”