Page 71 of The Vegas Rerun
By my thirdday back at work, things start to feel normal again. Almost. Joshua has relaxed slightly. He’s still very protective and he’s more attentive than anyone needs to be to their secretary, but I can at least go to the bathroom without finding him waiting outside of it for me now, so that’s progress, right.
Joshua has a client meeting off-site today. He asked me to cancel it, and I refused to, telling him he needs to get back to normal. What I don’t tell him is that I purposely arranged the meeting to be off-site so that he sees that nothing bad will happen to me while he’s gone. He insists that I text him every hour, and I refuse, although I’m not mean about it. I tease him gently about being a possessive fiancé.
He whispers, “Damn right I am,” but he does finally leave after making me promise to call him if I need anything, no matter how small.
I spend the time catching up on paperwork, answering emails, and reorganizing some contracts that somehow got completely out of order while I was gone. The time flies by andI’m shocked when I glance at the time and see it’s after two o’clock. Around two thirty, the phone on my desk rings.
“Hello, this is Mr. Redfern’s office, Molly speaking,” I say.
A woman’s voice answers, her tone soft and gentle and her words slightly rushed.
“Hi, Molly, it’s Grace - Grace Jordan. We met a few months ago. I’m one of Joshua’s clients. I drove over to drop off some documents, but my baby’s asleep in the car seat, and I really don’t want to wake her. Is there any chance you could come down and grab them?”
“Sure, no problem,” I say.
“I’m in a Silver Lexus. I’ll flash the lights when you get out so you can find me,” she says, and she hangs up.
I sit for a second debating going along and asking Patty or one of the other secretaries to go down for me. But the paperwork might be something confidential. But I can trust her not to look, surely. But then the client asked for me to come down. Maybe she wants to ask something too or maybe she has a message for Joshua.
I make my mind up and I stand up. Nothing is going to happen to me walking to the parking lot and back. Maybe it isn’t only Joshua that needed this off-site appointment to prove that nothing bad will happen. It seems that maybe I need it too.
I go to the elevator and ride down to the lobby. So far, so good. I cross the lobby and head outside and into the parking lot. It’s not exactly a sunny today and a grey light hangs over the space, making it feel even colder. I wish I had put my jacket on now, but I’ll only be here for a few minutes, hopefully.
I look around and I immediately see the silver Lexus parked near the far wall, and to clarify I’m right, the headlights blink once in a quick pulse. I make my way over, my heels clicking softly on the concrete. As I approach, I glance into the front seat but can’t see anyone clearly through the tinted window.
I’m almost level with the car when the driver’s side door bursts open. It happens too fast for me to react. One moment, I’m walking towards the car, and the next moment, the door is open, and Sarah is in front of me.
My blood turns to ice. She doesn’t look like she’s doing too well. Her hair is messy and tangled, a wild mass framing her face. Her eyes are wild with a kind of desperation I’ve never seen before, like what I imagine people mean when they say a person’s eyes look like those of a cornered animal. She grabs my arm tightly, yanking me closer to her. I stumble, catching myself on the edge of the car and before I know it, I’m leaning against the back passenger door of the car with Sarah blocking my escape.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I demand and I’m pleased that my voice sounds strong and like I’m not afraid of her. I’m getting kind of good at this acting thing.
Sarah ignores me and she pulls something from the inside of her coat. Fucking hell. It’s a gun. An actual gun. It’s a small, black pistol, and it is shiny and real and utterly fucking terrifying. She brings it up and puts it against my chest and I freeze.
“Sarah,” I start, my voice quieter now as I try to think what to say to talk her down.
“Shut up,” she snaps. Her hand is shaking, but the barrel of the gun doesn’t move. “You ruined my whole life. I’m going to have a criminal record because of you.”
“I’m not the one pressing charges; the company is,” I say, hoping to deflect her attention for long enough that I can grab the gun away from her, but it doesn’t work. Her hatred is solely for me.
“If it wasn’t for you, there wouldn’t be any charges to press,” she says. It’s ironic that she doesn’t seem to understand whatif she hadn’t pushed me down the stairs, there wouldn’t be any charges to press either, but I’m not stupid enough to say that.
“You’re only being charged for assault,not murder,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice calm even though my heart is slamming against my ribs. “You’ll get a fine, maybe a bit of community service. Put the gun down. We can talk.”
“That’s not what my lawyer reckons,” she hisses, her voice breaking. “He reckons I’m going to jail. And it’ all because of you. I worked my ass off for that promotion. And then you waltz in, sleeping with the boss …”
“I wasn’t even with him when I got promoted,” I interrupt her, trying to keep eye contact, to stall. “You know that.”
“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You are still the reason that everything in my life went wrong. You are the problem. And if I’m going down…” She pauses and shrugs one shoulder, and then she cocks the gun, tears springing to her eyes. “It’s going to be for something real.”
Panic grips me. I take a shaky breath, glance around. No one is here. My cell phone is in my purse upstairs. My legs feel like lead. I try to take a step back, but the car is there. Sarah watches me, keeping the gun pointed at my chest.
“Please,” I whisper. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Actually, I do,” she says, and I see the tendon in her hand flex as she starts to squeeze the trigger. This is it. This is the moment I die.
But then I hear the screech of tires on concrete, and I see a blur of glass and black metal. I blink and my vision clears just in time to see Joshua’s car slamming into Sarah with terrifying precision, knocking her sideways. She goes flying, and she hits the concrete, hard. The gun flies out of her hand and skids out of her reach, clattering beneath a nearby car. The bullet meant for me soars over my head, and hits the wall of the building, landing with an echoey ping sound.
My knees buckle and I start to slide down the side of the car. My breath is coming in short gasps, and my heart is pounding like it’s trying to escape from my chest. Joshua is already out of his car, running toward me, and he reaches me and grabs me, stopping me from hitting the ground. He wraps his arms around me tightly, protectively. He feels warm and safe and like coming home, and I hold him tightly for a moment without speaking, without thinking. After a moment, he holds me out at arm’s length and looks me up and down.
