The Messenger (A Lesbian Romance) (7 page)

She gave me a second to let that sink in. It was like suddenly, all the pieces of a puzzle I didn’t know I’d been assembling came together. Everything Mitchell had done in the past few months made sense: all the veiled threats, all the offers to be the intermediary between me and the board. They were all efforts to get me to do work on his behalf, in order to keep his scheme afloat.
 

“Had you gone to that meeting, Ms. Murphy, you would have been implicated as well. And you would be out on the street right now, with Mitchell. Now, the rest of the board tried to talk me out of calling you in for a meeting, but I told them that I had a good feeling about you.”

She leaned back in her chair. I felt like a third grader in the principal’s office.
 

“I’ve watched your progress since you joined us, you know. You are a bulldog. I told the board that you simply didn’t have the time to get caught up in this kind of bullshit.”

She smiled.
 

“I… that’s right.”

I realized, with no small measure of relief, that I was telling the truth. She excused me. Just as I got to the door, she called to me. I turned around.

“The board will probably ask me a bunch of stupid questions again, but I’ve decided to give you Mitchell’s accounts. It’s a tremendous amount of clean up, but if you’re up for it, you’ll be making more money than you ever have before. Are you interested?”

She seemed to be studying me, as though looking for any signs of fear or trepidation. I was back in my element; there was no scaring me away from work.
 

“I am indeed, ma’am. I’ll get started on Monday.”
 

She slapped the file and gave a modest little war whoop.
 

“Hot damn, I knew I was right about you. Happy trails, Murphy, see you on Monday.”

She placed the file back into a drawer in her desk and spun around happily in her chair. She’d gone out on a limb for me. I made my way out of the office. Although my career had taken another great leap forward, work was the last thing on my mind.
   

Chapter Twelve

Elena. The only person, the only word on my mind as I walked out of the office as though it had been imploding all around me. I knew that the people on my floor would be clamoring for news, so I purposely avoided everyone, taking the stairs all the way down to the street. By the time I got out onto the sizzling sidewalk, my legs were trembling, but I couldn’t tell if it was entirely from the exertion, or if it was my fervent, bone-deep desire to find Elena. I had the odd urge to give her the money I knew was coming to me from the new contracts, but I also had an inkling that that would just make it worse. As I began my search, I decided that that would be one of the things I would need to work on.
 

And it was at that moment that I realized I loved her. I was already making such ostentatious plans as realizing a problem I needed to fix in myself, all for a person who had just kicked me out of her apartment that morning. A new problem had arisen, one that I couldn’t throw money at. I had to find Elena, and I had to convince her that I wasn’t the tourist she had come to believe I was.
 

But, that raised another question: who, what, was I? Was I gay? Did I need to be able to answer that before I could expect her to talk to me? Was it, could it ever be, enough to know that she was all I wanted, that in a life-changing moment, all I wanted in the world was to see her face?

I decided that I didn’t have time to answer all those questions; I needed to see her. I headed toward the dive bar. It seemed impossible that less than twenty-four hours ago, we’d had our first conversation. The place seemed to have lost some of its magic. In that moment, it looked like just another dingy place in the center of a city full of other dingy places. There was a whole different crowd there, blue-collar types who all seemed to be drinking a shot and a beer. It was like the bar I’d seen the day before had been some kind of mirage. One thing looked familiar, though: the shuffling bartender.

He saw me and there was an amused light in his eyes. I prayed that he would take pity on me and approached the bar.

“Can’t get enough of us, eh, lady?”, he said.
 

I didn’t know what to say. Could I really ask if he knew where Elena might be? I looked around. He seemed to read my mind.

“Those kids who were here yesterday? They only come around on Wednesdays and Fridays. It’s like they adopted us.”

“How did you know?”, I asked.

He leaned against the bar and looked almost sympathetic.
 

“I know that look in your eye. You don’t stand on this side of a bar for forty years and not know when someone comes in looking for a girl.”

I’m pretty sure I blushed. If I’d been close to giving up, I would have kept ordering drinks and pouring out my heart to him. He’d known me all of a day and already treated me with more respect than Mitchell ever had. As it was, however, I was only getting started. If she wasn’t here, I had no idea where to look. The thought of giving up crossed my mind, until he said,
 

“Try messenger alley down on ninth.”

“Messenger alley?”

“Sure, it’s where they all work. Lemmee guess: you’ve never been down there… “

I hadn’t been below sixth street in over twelve years. Twenty years ago, that area was nothing but low-lifes and criminals. I would brave that again if it meant I could see Elena. I thanked him and headed out, making the turn southward before I had a chance to talk myself out of it.
 

Slowly, the terrain of downtown changed. As I hurried down the street, the buildings went from the shining towers that I was used to, to old bank buildings repurposed into high-end lofts, to small, hip bars housed inside tiny spaces. Although there was no official signage, I knew I’d arrived in Messenger Alley when I saw hip young people lounging at the tiny sidewalk cafes, one foot or hand draped protectively over their scarred and battered bikes. It was as though I’d passed through different levels of a world and had finally arrived at the secret society within.
 

However, I also knew that I was something of an interloper there; I was one of the people that treated them like office equipment, one of those who saw them as nothing more than a delivery device who summoned them up from the depths when I needed them. Whatever I was going to do here, needed to be done fast. I stopped and assessed the situation. I wasn’t leaving without some kind of lead.
 

I spotted a familiar girl at one of the cafes. Although she was dressed in a nondescript grey sweatshirt and worn, faded jeans, she was still ultra feminine and very beautiful. She was the girl Elena had kissed in the park that day. I might have been projecting, but to me she looked like she was pining for her, just as I was. Mustering up all my nerve, I approached her.
 

“Uh… excuse me”, I stammered.
 

She looked up from her worn paperback novel and looked surprised, as though she thought she might be in trouble for messing up a delivery.
 

“Yeah?”, she said, wary.
 

“I’m looking for someone, maybe you know her?” I wanted to add, “She kissed you in the dog park the other day and you looked like you were about to explode in to a million tiny pieces”, but I restrained myself. She just tilted her head as though she couldn’t believe that someone would ask such a stupid question.

“Her name’s Elena. She’s a messenger. She has short black hair, a tattoo of stars on her left hand… “

Her eyebrows shot up.
 

“Elena?”

“Yes”, I said.
 

“That’s her name? I only know her as Rabbit.”

She looked sad that she hadn’t already known that. I felt bad for exposing that hole in whatever connection they had, but I was also soaring inside. Apparently her real name was a secret. In my head, I was saying her name over and over again. Elena, Elena, Elena.
 

“Yeah, well. I need to see her.”

“Is she in trouble?”

“No, I just need her, I mean… “ I decided against correcting myself. It was the truth, after all.
 

“I don’t know where she hangs out. I haven’t seen her in like, days.”
 

 
The girl shuffled her feet and looked stricken, as though she’d just realized she didn’t mean to Elena what she thought she did. I turned around, close to tears. I felt like I’d misplaced a winning lottery ticket. The girl called out to me. When I returned to her, she looked down, but I could tell she had tears in her eyes.
 

“Are you… that lady from tower on Grand?”

My heart beat in my chest like the speakers at the bar. Elena had talked about me. I could only nod. The girl seemed to take it like she admitted defeat. She put her hands in her pocket and seemed to shrink into herself.
 

“She’s probably at the shops. Down that alley.” She gestured to and alley around the corner. I felt for her, but I needed to find Elena.
 

The alley was narrow; if I hadn’t been directed here, I would never have known it existed. It was lined with messenger headquarters and bike repair shops. As I passed each one, conversations between the messengers momentarily came to a halt. In my expensive suit and watch that cost more than most of them made in a few months, it was obvious that I didn’t belong there. I got to the end of the alley. No Elena. I stood there for a moment, wrapping my fingers around the grimy chain link fence. It might be time to give up, I thought.
 

I made the trek all the way back to my car in a haze, with no idea what I’d do with the rest of my day, or my life, for that matter. Every thought or plan that presented itself left my mind as quickly as it had appeared. Stalling for time before I had to face whatever would come next, I looked up at the shining towers where I’d learned to become something that was no longer familiar to me.
 

Suddenly, though, I began to feel grateful. Grateful for all the turmoil I’d been in recently. It reminded me of the life still thrumming through my veins. Even if I never got to see Elena again, or feel her plump lips against mine, every tiny moment of excitement was a gift. I had to be thankful for at least that. As I was getting into my car, Elena came to a skidding halt on her bike mere feet away. She was out of breath. She’d come after me.

It was funny. After all this feverish searching, I had no idea what I’d say. I only gazed at her, as though it would be the last time. Thankfully, she spoke first, after getting a handle on her breath.
 

“I told myself I wasn’t gonna chase you… “

I nodded. She seemed to be winding up to give me more of a talking-to. I didn’t know if I still deserved it at that point, but I was such a mess that it was enough just to have her attention, however briefly.
 

“But, if I’m being honest, I was worried I would never see you again. There’s something about you, Lucy Murphy. I see you in my head even when you’re not around. Do you know the first time I came to your office?”

I shook my head. It felt awful.
 

“It was almost a year ago. You came out and signed for a package. You looked like someone I knew, even if I’d never met you before. It was strange. But, every time since then, I’d gone there hoping to see you. I… I think you’re beautiful in a way I’ve never seen before.”

Inside, I was reeling. What else in my life had passed me by?

“Did I ever speak to you before this week?”, I asked, knowing full well that the answer was no. I just couldn’t believe that all this time, I could’ve had Elena but was too wrapped up in my work to have seen it. Could this have been the feeling of unease?

She shook her head, then pretended to examine the chain at her feet.
 

“I’m so sorry”, I said, tears beginning to well up in my eyes. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried, much less out of regret for pain I might’ve caused someone else. She shook her head again, seeming to search for something to say.

“Nah… I know I don’t make it easy. Look, I don’t know if this is a good idea or not, but, can we try one more time? I promise not to be such a sensitive flower anymore, if you promise to be a little more open minded.”

I laughed, sending my tears rolling down my face. Elena gracefully dismounted her bike and approached me. She gently placed her tough, gloved hand around the back of my neck and pulled me close to her, kissing away my tears. When she pulled away, she gave me a smile and a look that electrified me. I thought of her soft, coffee colored nipples and got the chills. We could iron out the details of what we each needed to work on, but for now, I needed to hold this girl’s naked body close to me, as soon and for as long as humanly possible.
 

“Can we try at your place again… right now?”
 

She grinned and remounted her bike.
 

“Race you”, she said.
 

KC Blake is the pen name of Lavinia Marksman, who writes the Corporate Cougar series, available here:
http://tinyurl.com/mch3a6e
.
 

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