Page 1 of Left of the Slash
ONE - Quinn
I really appreciate you, Quinn
Istare at the text message from Linda, then shift my eyes back over to my reflection in the mirror. My gray tie is crooked and one of the matching buttons on my black blazer is undone. I’m entirely too nervous this morning. I need to slow down the blistering speed of my spinning mind and pull myself together, which means I really don't have time for texts from my ex. Especially considering the fact that she just became my ex last night, when she ended things with me after an awkward dinner at her favorite restaurant.
Yeah? Why’s that?
I choose to reply because I really liked Linda. Even though she broke things off, I enjoyed our couple of months together. She was funny and open-minded, two things that seem really hard to find these days. I know we’ll probably remain friends, but finding someone I actually get along with will be a challenge, so I'm a little annoyed by how things turned out.
On the other hand, there was a part of me that was craving more—something hungry that was never fed, no matter how much I indulged with Linda. It’s always been there, hiding in the dark like a shadow in the corner, and I've been trying to avoid it my whole life. But sometimes, in certain situations, it wants to come out from the corner and take over everything. I’ve always called it my dark devil—a viciousness in me that was clearly passed down from my father, and I've been trying to keep it at bay. But there's another side to the coin. Keeping it at bay leaves me feeling unsatisfied, like I left something on the table that I should've picked up. Words I should've spoken. Damage I should've done. And it stays with me, haunting me—making my nights restless as I toss and turn with the memory repeating on a loop. In the background of the memory is a voice, and it whispers, “This is who you really are.”
My heart is galloping, and while some of it has to do with Linda texting me the morning after our breakup, it’s mostly because I have an uncertain future staring me in the face when I look in the mirror. I recognize myself—six-foot-one, two hundred and ten pounds, caramel skin, and my late mother’s green eyes—but the uncertainty that has settled into my posture is unfamiliar. I’m recently single and starting a new position at my job today, interacting with people who have always been above me for all of my six years at Obsidian Cyber. Now I’ll be sitting at the conference room table with them as a peer. It’s a major promotion, but it feels like an anvil hanging from a chain around my neck. There is a lot that is brand new today, and I'msuddenly unsure of how to approach it all. As I straighten out my tie, hoping that getting it perfect will make me feel better, my phone chimes again.
I know that I wasn't able to give you exactly what you were looking for, but I really appreciate how open and honest you have always been. You were always willing to talk to me, even last night. You're so sweet, and I know you're trying hard. I wish it could've worked out. I just wasn't ready to take that next step into unexplored territory
I stare down at the phone on the dresser, frozen with my hands on my tie while I read it. I don't know why she's bringing all of this up again when she clearly had planned out her speech last night. She had it all laid out for me like a rehearsed presentation with bullet points, and I sat there listening to her explain how I was clearly desiring more from her, and she knew she couldn't give me what I wanted. What my dark devil seemed to crave. By the time we were standing outside in an embrace, I felt like some sort of monster. She’d brought up the wordkinkabout a hundred and fifty times, using it as a weapon to bash me over the head again and again. I was bleeding from it, and our hug didn't work as a tourniquet. Doing all of this again is simply reopening the wound, but I accept it because I understand where she's coming from. Ididwant more. My dark devil wanted something more than just the standard sex we’d been having, but the longer we were together, the harder it all became. He started to win, and she saw it.
Thanks, Linda. You know I've always been big on communication, so I appreciate you being honest with me. You and I were always good friends, and I think we’ll continue to be
I straighten out my blazer and give myself a final appraisal. My beard is trimmed evenly and lined up to a T. My silver watch is glistening in the morning sunlight. Confidence and swagger waft off of me like the cologne I just put on, and I know I’ll need them both today. The entire building will be judging me, watching as I enter as the youngest cybersecurity executive in the company’s history, filling a void that had been left bare for three months. I don't know how they came to the conclusion of choosing me for such a prestigious position, but now that they have, I refuse to be anything other than myself. I can't let the uncertainty become timidness. I have to be Quinn King every step of the way.
I hope so. Like I said last night, you were the best I've ever had. I hope you take care of yourself and have a great life. In fact, I know you will because you're so brilliant. I'm sorry I couldn't give you what you want
With a sigh that steadies me on my feet, I grab the keys to my BMW and shove them in my pocket, then swipe the phone off the dresser and exit the bedroom. My coffee waits for me, enticing me with its smell as I enter the kitchen and grab my travel mug. I pour the dark liquid inside, add creamer and sugar, and head out. The sky is beautiful this morning, and the sun shines down on me like an old friend giving me a pat on the back. Even with the uncertainty trying to act as a dark cloud overhead, it’s no match for the sunlight. I think today is going to be awesome, because I'm the one who is really in control, and if there is one thing I love, it’s being in control.
I open the door and hop into my car—kicking myself for not parking it in the garage, because this is Wilmington, after all—and after I start my engine, I grab the phone and go back to the text thread. I send one last message before driving head-first into the uncertainty.
I appreciate you, Linda. I’m sorry things couldn't work out. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a call. It’s all love. Take care of yourself. As for what I want, after everything that has happened, I’m not even sure I know anymore
TWO - Quinn
I've done this a million times, but walking into Obsidian today feels like the first day at a new school. I park in a new spot with the letters CSE stamped on a parking sign in front of the space. CSE stands for cybersecurity executive, my new role at the company, and the parking space is in line with a row of others that carry their own sign with their own acronyms. This is the row for the bosses. It’s crazy, but I'm here. I'm one of the bosses now, and I didn't have to steal anything or hurt anybody to get here.
When I walk inside the gray building, everything is the same as I'm used to. Same smells, same sounds, same people, but my energy is different so it makes the entire place feel changed. I walk past reception and into the bullpen, where techs are already hard at work like I was when I first started my career here, trying to prove myself by coding like a maniac—a skill myfather taught me. Now I enter and exit the room like I was never one of the techs, my eyes on the next set of doors at the end of the narrow path. With each step taking me farther, my anxiety rises higher like a thermostat on a hot day. By the time I reach the executive wing, my heart is pounding as I walk past the reception area, wondering if I’ll be stopped by the receptionist even though I have a brand new badge with my name and title on it. I walk right past her and smile like an idiot simply because she didn't say a word to me. I step through another set of double doors and nearly slam straight into Jon Reid, the man who gave his blessing on my promotion.
“Quinn,” he says with a smile on his face that looks just like the fake one he gave me the last time I saw him.
Jon is in good shape for fifty years old, with a five o’clock shadow that he never cleans up, and hair styled to what he clearly thinks is perfection with hardening gel. There is something about his eyes that bother me, though. It’s like something strange is hiding behind them every time he looks at me, and it makes me uneasy. He's in a black blazer with a white button-up underneath like a true businessman, but the confidence he wears fits him better than his clothes.
“Hey, Jon,” I reply, shaking his hand.
He holds out his arms as if showing me a new car on display. “Welcome to your first day as CSE. You're just in time, because Olivia … excuse me …Miss Lucerohas called a meeting first thing this morning. So, we need to get going. Come on, I’ll show you to the conference room.”
“Sounds good,” I reply as Jon turns on his heel and begins walking down the path.
We bypass a multitude of offices, including my own, which I moved into last week just before the weekend hit, and then approach two giant frosted glass doors. Jon pulls one of themopen and motions for me to step inside, still forcing that smile on his face. I ignore his eyes being stuck on me and step forward
“After you,” he says.
I reply with a, “Thank you,” and step inside the large room with floor to ceiling windows on the far side and an oak table nestled in the middle. At the table are three more people—two men and a beautiful woman with red hair.
“All right, everybody, look alive,” Jon says playfully. “Our newest cybersecurity executive has entered the building.”
To my surprise, everyone at the table stands and comes to greet me with smiles and happy faces even though I know who they are. We’ve all been working here for years, but they’re acting as though they never saw me until I was high enough on the totem pole to become visible to them.
First is Nick Simms. He's the information security manager, which is just one spot below me on the pay scale because my promotion leapfrogged him. It’s probably why his smile doesn't reach his eyes, and I give him a look up and down to let him know that I recognize the disdain and have no problem mirroring it. Nick is forty-six years old, chubby, and balding. His beard is sprinkled with gray because it’s that time of the month that he needs to renew his dye job like a monthly subscription. I am in no way, shape, or form intimidated by Nick, but it seems he may be a little intimidated by me, which means I'm going to have to watch out for him. Intimidation leads to envy, and envy always leads to hate.
Next in line to shake hands is the VP of cybersecurity, Mr. Stephen Cohen. He gets paid more than I do and has for a long time, which is made evident by the Gucci button-up he’s sporting. A gold watch fits snugly on his wrist when I shake his hand, and his piercing blue eyes remind of the white walkers in Game of Thrones. He’s a fairly attractive guy, just like Jon, andit’s obvious he has been told this enough times to truly believe the hype, as arrogance wafts off of him like a fragrance.
