a match up against the corner of the door. It was a little trick she had learned from a TV show, but it let her know if anyone entered her apartment. She began the ritual after the potential break-in.
It was a gloomy, crisp fall morning - the kind of morning when the dampness from the last night’s rain made the air feel colder than it was. She left her building and walked the six blocks to work. She considered the 12 blocks to and from work (and any other walking she did to tail a lead) her exercise for the day. She didn’t like to sweat - not even when she was playing tennis trying to get scholarship money, and she certainly didn’t see the benefit of the phrase, “No pain, no gain.” The only thing she liked less than sweating was pain. She would see people jogging on the streets, and they never looked like they were enjoying themselves.
Feeling threatened made avoiding pain an even more important part of Kristine’s life. She changed her schedule often so she had no routine. She went to work during the busiest time of the morning now. Instead of comments about being early, Ed the security guard made comments about her sleeping late or keeping banker’s hours. Burt Newman was beating her into the office on some mornings - a first since she began at the paper three years ago.
She also felt the need to perform security checks when she got to her desk. She knew better than to keep anything important in her desk or at her apartment – if anyone broke into them, they wouldn’t find any of her work. She checked the drawers of her desk and around the lock for scratches. She put a piece of clear tape along the side of her drawers so she could tell if they had been opened. Everything seemed okay.
“Don’t worry, Little Girl. No one cares what you have in your desk,” Burt Newman snarled from across his desk.
“Mind your own business, Burt,” she said as she docked her computer.
“The princess is paranoid,” said Burt amused.
“You know, if you spent half as much time on your personal hygiene as you do trying to piss me off, you wouldn’t be so repulsive to look at and smell. You must have to hold your wife captive so she can’t escape or is she a pathetic mess like you are,” she snapped. As the words came out of her mouth, she was sorry. Her sparring had never gotten so personal or so mean. She saw from the look on his face she had hurt him. “I’m sorry, Burt.”
“I expect as much from you,” he said and walked away from his desk. She buried her face in her hands and rubbed her temples. Her phone rang. She saw from the extension it was Joyce.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Montgomery would like to see you.”
“I’ll be right there.” Her hand shook a little as she put down the phone. She stood up and picked up her bag, a note pad and a pen. She tried to think of something nice to say to Joyce. It also dawned on her how many people disliked her in that office. The men in the Sports Department liked her, she consoled herself. She sighed - that’s because she flirted with them. They weren’t competition for her. At the office holiday party (you aren’t allowed to call them Christmas parties anymore) last year, she spent the night hanging out with them - probably because no one else wanted to talk to her. Well, except Will. Most of the men who worked at the paper were married. Most of the men who worked in the Sports Department were divorced. Following a baseball team all season could take its toll on a marriage. She was a competition and focal point for male bonding for the men in Sports. They could say and do all the typical guys-tripped-out-on-testosterone things guys like to do when they’re together without her protesting, and she enjoyed the playful flirting. Her run-ins with the guys in Sports were rare because of their schedules, but they did a lot to boost her ego.
To everyone else at the paper, she was a pain in the ass. She always blamed them, though. After her exchange with Burt Newman this morning, maybe she was more of the problem than she cared to admit, she thought. Will was in Joyce’s work area when Kristine arrived, which prevented any of the niceties she hadn’t had time to plan.
“Kris, come on in,” Will said. Kristine just waved at Joyce, a gesture Joyce probably mistook for sarcasm. Will closed the door behind Kristine. She plopped down in one of the chairs across from him. Will’s office was almost the size of her apartment. He had a sitting area, 47 inch TV, his own restroom, a little stainless steel refrigerator and a huge, decorative cherry wood desk. He sat in his black leather chair. It was the kind of chair that would have made anyone else look small. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, why?” she asked.
“You’ve been in my office for 30 seconds and haven’t said a word,” he said sitting back.
“I’d like to move my desk away from Burt’s,” she replied quietly.
“You’ve asked me to do this three or four times now and the answer is always no,” he said.
“Today’s different,” she said. “I was really mean to him.”
“You’re always really mean to him. You’re mean to everyone except me and the guys in Sports. That’s why no one wants to sit near you,” he said amused. She cringed at his words. She thought for a minute and realized she should probably tell him what had happened before anyone else did.
“I kind of went over the line this time, Will. I kind of attacked him and his wife,” she said. Will closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again.
“What did you say?”
“I said he was repulsive and he probably had to hold his wife captive so she wouldn’t escape from him unless she was just as bad as he is,” she said and sighed. Instinctively, she felt the need to defend herself. “But he is repulsive. You’d have to admit that. And he’s always picking on me, calling me ‘little girl’ and you know how much I hate that!”
“Let me tell you something, but I’d like for you not to repeat it,” Will said leaning forward in his chair his voice deep as usual but with an almost scolding tone she hadn’t heard in the past. “Burt’s wife lost both of her legs and her eyesight as a complication of diabetes. Burt spends all of his money and energy taking care of her. During the day, he pays for a nurse to come in and help her. The medical expenses, the nurse and taking care of her are taking their toll on him. I think he likes you, because you don’t treat him like you feel sorry for him.” Tears welled up in her eyes.
“Crap,” she whispered.
“Now, let’s forget we had that conversation. I want to know what’s going on with the story,” he said leaning back in the chair again. “We haven’t talked in a week.” She cleared her throat and tried to erase what she had just heard from her mind.
“Do you have a radio in here?” she asked looking around and feeling two inches tall. She walked over to the TV and picked up the remote. She stepped back, pointed it at the TV and clicked the power button. The television was set to a 24 hour news channel, which she didn’t take the time to identify. She pushed the volume button to create background noise. She motioned for Will to come around his desk and join her on the sofa closer to the TV. He did, and they sat facing each other.
“I have a strong story,” she said. “But it’s not great, yet. I’m sure there’s more out there. I brought you this,” she stood up and turned away from him. She untucked her shirt and reached under her blouse to retrieve a disc. She put the disc in her mouth and tucked her white button-down shirt into the black dress pants. She didn’t consider herself a fashionista, but she knew what looked good and stylish on her. She took the disc from her mouth and turned around to see a highly amused, yet very concerned look on Will’s
