“Thank you.” She weakly says as she opens the door, and I curl my upper lip into a snarl.
“For what?”
“For proving my point.” She promptly slams the door, causing the wall to shake, then clacks off to her cubicle.
A yell erupts from my lungs, and I shove everything but the computer off my desk.
“Fuck!” I pound my fists on the table in rage. How could she be so infuriating? I was in the right here. She lied to me again but somehow wants to turn it back around as if I’m the bad guy. I have a right to know where she’s going, what her past was like, and at the very least, her birth name.
I regain steady breaths, forcing my furious thoughts to slow down. When they all melt away, the only thing that remains is a question— What if I’m the problem?
I leave work at five on the dot because I have no interest in waiting around tonight. Being alone will be the best solution to this hellish nightmare of a day. I message my security to pick me up at street level to avoid the end-of-the-day parking garage traffic. It’s a headache and a hassle that I’d strongly prefer not to deal with, especially when I have the luxury of choosing otherwise.
I’m on the sidewalk, waiting as rush hour slowly begins to take place on the street in front of me. It’s odd. None of my usual work security has come to stand with me. I check my watch and begin tapping my foot to pass the time.
“Vince.” I turn on my heels.
“What, Jessica? Or should I call you Lilly?”
“You have no right to call me that. You think you know everything, but you don’t!” Though her voice is shaky, her eyes are piercing with determination.
“I know enough.” I scoff and turn back to the street.
“I followed you here because I need to speak with you about the Community Outreach Project.”
“What about it, Ms. Lee?” She takes a step closer to me.
“I don’t think you should go through with it.”
“Pardon?” I’m aghast at her irritating persistence. I’ve just called her out, not but an hour ago, and she has the audacity to tell me how to run my business.
“All it is, is a massive gentrification project… you’re not planning to help the impoverished communities; you’re building hotels on top of them.” I cock my head at her tone-deaf comments.
“Gentrification is a wonderful way to help communities thrive. Without the business it brings, they remain poor.”
“No. Thanks to your business, they’ll lose their homes… You're not helping anyone but yourself.”
I turn around, about to really give it back to her when I’m taken off guard by the immediate change on her face.
It’s like slow motion— the screeching of the tires, Jessica’s leap in front of me, and the clapping of gunshots firing from a distance. When her body flies back against mine, and we tumble to the ground, I lose my breath.
What the fuck just happened?