Three Blind Mice: Part One of the Tangled Web Trilogy

By Ian Black

Some call him a sadist. . .
Some call him a sociopath. . .
Only one thing is certain about Sloan Phoenix.
Everyone to ever cross him has regretted it!
Now the most Vindictive man in Carolina Bay has become the newest patient of Doctor Judy Palmer. But can the citys best psychiatrist bring remorse to a man with a devious mind, a deadly charm and no moral compass?
As Sloan Prepared for his wedding to his fiance, Kristen, he discovered that she planned to leave him for his close friend, Mike Prescott. Having already earned the contempt of Mikes Sister Chloe, their mother, Mrs. Prescott and Sloans Coworker Julian, Sloan laid out an elaborate plot for revenge.
Judy Palmers world crumbles when she discovers her husband, Charlie is having an affair. As her marriage falls apart, Judy falls deeper into Sloans dark world of deception, duplicity and murder. And though she shields herself with principles she swore to uphold, she becomes vulnerable to his words, his charm and what he calls his three rules of engagement for revenge:
Always know your opponent,
Always get the upper hand.
And alwaysalways land on your feet.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Jun 10, 2003
• ISBN: 9781403370631

Ian Black

The Revd Ian Black is Vicar of Peterborough, Canon Residentiary of Peterborough Cathedral and Rural Dean of Peterborough in the Church of England Diocese of Peterborough.

Book preview

Prologue: Stay of Execution

W hat do you do when you’re backed into a corner with no way out?

Tanya paced about the hotel room nervously. For a moment she regretted starting this scheme in the first place, but then she thought of the money she stood to make and the thought went away. Life as a prostitute was difficult enough to stomach. It gets even harder when the people you work for want you dead. That’s why Tanya had to be careful. She had to be extremely careful not to let her or her girls to get caught. Soon she’d have enough money to break away from her boss and buy her own protection. But in the meantime if the mob found out that she killed her pimp and took over his business, they’d have her head.

Cleo’s lateness was what made her nervous. She was dealing with a fairly wealthy client. One that could break the bank for Tanya and the other girls involved. But if Mr. Lennox got wind of what was up, they were all dead. Tanya’s mind reeled with worry. She kept trying to drum up ways to keep things going, without the mob finding out that Larry was dead. But they all hinged on Cleo returning. With the money and connections she stood to make from this deal she could buy her protection and run her own ring. There was really no sense in hustling all of that money and turning most of it over to the mob.

Throughout the course of the evening, her worries took on a snowball effect. They started off small at first. Seemingly insignificant. But as it rolled down the hill of time it accumulated with memories of all the things she did wrong, all the people who could have figured out what she’s been up to these past few months. Soon it became overwhelming and unbearable. A great white ball of worry. It made her sweat harder. It made her pace faster. It made her—

There was a knock at the door. Thank God, Cleo had gotten back in time! Tanya was about to go to pieces with worry but that was over now. Hopefully Cleo had done everything that was asked of her. She wasn’t the brightest girl in the world. Especially considering how she fell into this business. But the number one rule of leadership on the wrong side of the law is hire people less intelligent than you to do the work. Not too dumb—just dumb enough not to know how to double cross you, yet smart enough to get a simple task done right. Cleo always seemed to fall somewhere in the center of that description. So the only way to find out if she did the job right was to open the door.

Tanya looked through the peephole. Cleo wasn’t there, and suddenly her heart sank into her stomach. In Cleo’s place stood two large men that worked for Larry’s boss, Mr. Lennox, wearing black suits and sunglasses. Cleo must have screwed up, and Mr. Lennox learned the truth about Larry’s death. She decided not to alarm them or they’d come bursting through the door. It was probably best to let them think that she was coming to the door. Just a minute.

What to do? What to do? What do you do when you’re backed into a corner with no way out? You make a way out! Tanya looked over to the window. All she needed to do was crawl out the back and run to a safe place until she could get out of town. She ran to the back window and slid it open as the men at the door began to pound harder. Hold on. I’m getting dressed. That should keep them at bay for a few more seconds. She threw her purse out the window, into the bushes, then hoisted herself onto the windowsill and slid herself to the ground outside.

Her purse was hanging on a bush, but before she could snatch, it another hand—a large hand grabbed the strap and yanked it away. It was another of the boss’s men. Two other men stood with him. Different men from the ones at the door. She tried to bolt between them but one of them grabbed her arm. The other goon grabbed her left wrist. And she struggled like a trapped animal to get free. The rather large man, holding her purse, removed his glasses and stepped forward. Mr. Lennox wants to see you. Now, we can either do this the easy way, or the hard way. Which would you prefer?

Tanya raised her knee and jabbed the heel of her shoe into the shoe of the man holding her left arm. He reflexively released her arm as he barked in pain, allowing her to pull away from the man holding her right arm. Once she was free she dodged the grasp of the large man, and ran toward the parking lot. Before she could even take two good steps, she was stopped in her tracks by the men from the front door who had obviously figured out that she wasn’t in the room anymore. One of them grabbed her and turned her around toward the larger man. All she saw was him moving toward her with his fist raised in the air. Suddenly everything went black.

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Tanya could smell the cigarette smoke, even through the knit cap that was pulled over her head. She tried to get her bearings, at first being startled by the darkness but then not at all surprised to be blinded after recalling what happened. Her hands were bound together behind a chair that put splinters in her inner arms. Her feet were tightly bound as well, and she couldn’t quite tell but she must’ve lost her right shoe somewhere, because she couldn’t feel it on her foot. There were other people in the room. She could hear them breathing. She could feel their presence through the warm musty air that covered her skin. And then she heard a voice. A familiar voice.

She’s awake. Unmask her. They must have seen her head bobbing back and forth, or her arms pulling against their restraints. And then there was light. A blinding light that productively added to the headache that was given to her during her struggle, which must have been some hours ago. When her eyes focused in, she saw the large man that had knocked her unconscious standing in front of her with a cigarette tucked in his lips. One of the other men from the motel who pulled off the mask. Rise and shine gorgeous. She was in a basement of some sort. She could tell by the rhythmic dripping of a leaky pipe behind her, and the light bulb overhead that had a chain hanging from it to turn it off and on. To her right was Cleo. She was tied to a chair too, her jet-black hair was disheveled and covering most of her face. Even still, Tanya could see the look of desperation on Cleo’s face as she made eye contact with her.

A man was coming down the stairs. She had to squint to see him through the light. He wore an Italian suit, which was either dark green or olive. Between the poor state of her eyes and the even poorer lighting, she couldn’t tell which. He was clean-shaven, young and handsome with blonde hair and deep blue eyes. It was Mr. Lennox.

He walked over to her, the heels of his alligator skin shoes clicking on the floor like a clock in an execution chamber. His eyes glared down at her like some dark monster from a child’s nightmare. Those deep blue eyes burned through her and made her shiver. Mr. Lennox knelt down and leaned in close, his eyes examining her face, possibly searching for fear or guilt. He grabbed her face by the chin gently but his touch stung on the side of her face where there must’ve been a bruise, and she flinched.

Mr. Lennox’s eyes rolled back to the large man behind her in disapproval. She’s injured.

The large man bowed his head submissively. She resisted.

Mr. Lennox nodded and turned back to her. I see. Do you know why you are here? Tanya refused to open her mouth to speak, and denied him the courtesy of even a nod. But he seemed to take her silence as acknowledgment and nodded as he stood up and paced toward his goons. In our society we have laws and rules. They are the very glue that holds this so called civilization together. I like to think of this mob syndicate, as the public calls it, as a society. A society separated but not entirely unlike the larger society surrounding it. You see, this society has similar rules. Rules that keep it running. Rules that revolve around a structure of public and personal power. I am the public power, the governing force, if you will and we each have personal power over ourselves. If we use that power to infringe on someone else’s personal or public power, like in the outside society, we must be punished. Do you understand what I’m saying? Tanya still refused to answer. She looked down at the floor and suddenly heard Mr. Lennox raise his voice sharply. Answer, yes or no, or I will cut out your tongue.

Yes.

He turned around pacing toward her. His hands snatched hold of her hair and pulled her head up to face him. Then you tell me why you have been stealing from me. Why did you kill your boss, Larry?

Yes I stole from you. But so did that bastard Larry.

He flashed a devilish grin and chuckled softly to himself. I know. Why do you think I allowed you to kill him? I’m not an idiot. I’ve known what’s been going on the entire time.

Mr. Lennox released hold of Tanya’s hair and stepped back to observe her surprise. If you knew, then why did you let it go on so long? Why am I here?

Mr. Lennox smirked arrogantly and squatted down in front of her. Even though your crime was facilitated, it was still a crime. It must still be punished. I know that you convinced Cleo there to help you. Her and several other girls. Cleo’s life has been rough enough. I’m going to let her off this time. His eyes rolled over to the man standing behind her. The one that had removed her mask. Let her go.

Mr. Lennox stood up and watched the man pace over to Cleo to untie bonds. Her wrists and then her ankles. Once she was free, Cleo stood up and wrapped her arms around Mr. Lennox. You do still love me, don’t you?

His eyes looked over her coldly and with disgust. Take her away. The large man grabbed her arm and led her up the stairs.

After what Mr. Lennox said, Tanya was given cause to wonder what happened to the other women who were in on this with her. As much as she was sure she didn’t want to know the answer, she couldn’t help herself. What happened to the others? What happened to my girls?

Mr. Lennox turned around and smiled sadistically. Correction. You mean my girls. If there is one thing I cannot stand, it’s a mass betrayal. Show her. He snapped his fingers and one of the men went scurrying off into a dark corner, dragging back a garbage bag. The bulk at the bottom stretched the bag till it was nearly transparent to the horrifying objects inside. Heads! The severed heads of the girls she worked with. She could make out some of their faces. Carmen, Lydia, Theresa. The looks of anguish still frozen on each of their faces. She repressed a scream and tried to inch away from them. She looked up at Lennox who was absolutely enamored with her horror. I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut your dreams of becoming the next Heidi Fleiss short.

You’re going to kill me?

Mr. Lennox folded his arms and smiled, as the true purpose for her being here was about to come out. He paced a step or two closer, sliding his hands in his pockets. I am prepared to grant you a stay of execution, provided you are willing to do something for me.

Tanya inhaled submissively, realizing she had no choice. What is it?

Just as it looked as if Mr. Lennox was about to answer, she heard the sound of someone else coming down the stairs. His shiny black shoes caught the light and clicked on the concrete staircase. He walked toward them—toward the light and was now in full view. He was wearing a gray suit, and black shirt. An extremely handsome young man. Was he a client? No, somehow Tanya doubted that Mr. Lennox would go through this for a client. That and the fact that he definitely wouldn’t do so with such a humble introduction. The man squinted disapprovingly, probably at her bruises. Is this her?

Mr. Lennox nodded and grinned sadistically crossing his arms again. Tanya, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Sloan Phoenix.

Chapter 1: Flawless

W hen life puts you on the edge, sometimes you step back to know what it is to fear. Sometimes you step off to know what it’s like to fall. . .

It sat there on the desk. Under her purse, twinkling at her as it caught the sun, like an old friend waving to get her attention. And she sighed with relief to see that she didn’t leave her tape recorder somewhere in town when she took her lunch break. After all what good is a therapist who can’t keep a hold of her own thoughts? She took it from the desk and cradled it in her hand like a kitten. The feel of it was enough to take her off balance slightly and make her lean up against the window with a timely sigh. Her thumb ran up and down the engraving on the side. She must have read it a thousand times since she got it the day she opened her first practice. You make me want to be a better man. Now you can do the same for the world. Charlie, her husband had the soul of a poet. She always found it humorous that he ended up working for the IRS. But that was her Charlie. It was probably that same poetic spirit that compelled him to have such warm words engraved in cold steel. It had all the sentiment of a photograph. Like the one in the silver frame on her desk. He was so handsome in that photo. It was he that made her look beautiful standing next to him. Even though Charlie would always tell her that she looked better than most women half her age. Youthful looks did run in her family but that wasn’t really the point. The picture captured how beautiful they were together. Thirty years of beauty. Every time she looked at it she wished herself back to Bermuda on that beach with Charlie. Her shoulder length auburn hair brushing up against her face in the sea breeze as they picnicked on the sand. But that was then.

She sighed deeply, placing the recorder on her desk again and paced over to her phone to replay his message. Each time she played it, she inwardly prayed for it to say something different.

Sorry Judy, I’m going to have to cancel our dinner plans again. Something came up at work. But we are definitely on for tomorrow. See you when I get home. Love you. Bye. It saddened her to think about the fact that they haven’t spent a moment of quality time together in over six months. Ever since she was offered to take an office in the Carolina Bay justice department as the highest paid court appointed therapist on staff. Actually the highest paid therapist on the east coast. On the bright side, Justice Avenue was a lot safer than the neighborhood her old practice was in. Right across the street was the police department. Most of the city’s legal, financial, and maintenance offices could be founding this newly built section of town. The district attorney and the public defender’s offices were right downstairs. The city hall and the courthouse were only blocks away. Even the firehouse was at the end of the complex. But the safety and the money didn’t compare to being able to see her husband whenever she wanted.

She expelled the thought from her mind and took the cardboard folder from her desk. On it was the name of her next patient, Sloan Phoenix. She looked over his file with an accumulating interest as her eyes scanned over each page. His court case was the subject of the distinct intrigue. Something about the story seemed off. To go through all the trouble he went through for simple revenge. Perhaps through some digging she would be able to discern the truth about this rather unusual patient. Just as she immersed herself totally in his story as if it were a dime store novel, the alarm on her watch went off.

The sound of it startled her enough to throw her back into reality. It meant that he would be arriving at any moment now. Which meant that she had to prepare herself. She had to shed herself of many of the attributes that made her merely human. Her anger. Her compassion. Her disgust. All had to be temporarily cast aside so that she could be at her best in helping this man. It is an interesting notion that sometimes in order to help another human being one must become above human. Sometimes it’s the only way to keep one’s own sanity intact. And so day after day Judy Palmer had to transform herself into the person whose name was etched on her door and on her desk. Dr. Palmer. She had only seconds to shake off the shards of intrigue that remained from reading the file and become this being of infallible logic and pure insight. But seconds was all she needed. By now she was used to it.

A knock at the door. She entreated her visitor with a gentle wave, knowing that it was her newest patient before he slid in the open door. And from the moment he walked in she was impressed with him. How he walked toward her with the utmost confidence in himself. Not too slow. Not too fast. With just enough speed to take in his surroundings and move on. It was as if he had it all rehearsed. Though he appeared young, he seemed more refined than the age of twenty-five his profile suggested. His eyes alone told the tale of his every year as they flashed darkly with their arrogant greenness from across the room.

Sorry to barge right in but your secretary seems to be gone at the moment. And I didn’t want to be late. Sloan Phoenix. He extended his hand and did not wait for hers to meet it before he took it and gave it a good firm shake.

She smiled politely, hoping that she adequately concealed the fact that she was a bit flattered by his youthful good looks. Oh yeah, she’s on vacation. I’m Dr. Palmer. Her eyes gave him another quick glance over. He was definitely handsome. Which was a refreshing change of pace from many of her more plain looking patients. But his aesthetic fortune was what impressed her least of all about him. She had never seen anyone who seemed so flawless right off. It wasn’t his freshly starched black turtleneck or his thoroughly ironed khakis. It wasn’t even the black shoes that were shined like a soldier’s boots, or the cologne he wore, which was memorable but faint enough to be tolerable. Those were all surface things a psychiatrist paid little mind to. No, it was in his eyes. The way he walked. The way he nodded when she said her name. Everything about him seemed—flawless. Not perfect—flawless. Flawless in that way that a Broadway actor’s performance could be judged. He had the potential to be her most challenging patient yet.

Even though Judy always clung to the simple fact that no one under the sun is ever really flawless, especially anyone who visits her office, her training and expertise allowed her to pick up on the subtlest of flaws within the first few seconds—some faint signal or misplaced strand that directed the start of her sessions or at least the start of her path to diagnosis. Not so with Mr. Phoenix. But she would soon get to the root of him, dissect his psyche like a med school cadaver, put him back together and let him sew himself up. It’s not as easy as it sounds. And with him it was certainly going to be an adventure. But it would get done like it always does.

He looked at her with a sultry expression and furrowed his brow as his eyes glanced at the file in her hand. I suppose you know all there is to know about me.

Not all. Just what the file tells me. She said placing it on the desk as if to make it stray from his sight.

He smiled cynically and folded his arms. Must make for interesting reading.

I must admit it does. The details from the court proceedings and the police reports make for quite and interesting tale. Not to mention the blurbs from the newspaper clippings. I was hoping you could enlighten me.

He smiled suggestively, flashing his teeth. You find me entertaining. Is that it? A little word to the wise, many of the things written about me in the Bay Tribune are borderline tabloid trash. The tone of his voice suggested that he was toying with her. She couldn’t allow herself to fall into his game. From the file, she knew well that he had to be a supreme manipulator of people in order accomplish what he did. Luckily she was equipped enough see it coming.

We should probably get started. She grabbed her recorder and moved away from the desk and over to the chair facing opposite the couch. I want to begin by saying that I want you to be comfortable. I hope that you will feel free in sharing with me. And I want you to know that I am only going to use this information to try and help you, not to judge you. I hope that in time you will begin to trust me, Mr. Phoenix.

His voice in his reply sounded like a metal door slamming shut in her face. With all do respect, you will find that my comfort will be something that is hard won. And my trust, even harder, Doctor.

What was left to say but, I’m willing to try.

He took his hand from his pocket and ever so smoothly graced the couch with a gesture. So how do we do this? Do I sit down? Lay down or what?

Do whatever you wish. Whatever makes you—comfortable.

If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather stand. I think better when I’m on my feet.

She nodded politely, hitting the record button on her tape recorder, which sat on the arm of her chair. That’s fine. Why don’t we begin by you telling me what I can do for you? What do you think you can gain from being here?

The only reason why I am here is because I’ve been ordered by the court to do so. His voice was sly and smarmy but the door in his voice slammed shut again loud and clear.

Well how did that make you feel? The ruling?

I’m not sure. Angry I guess. I don’t know. He began pacing slowly behind the couch. Back and forth like a lion in a circus cage, determined not to be settled in any one spot. That wasn’t quite a flaw. More like a quirk. A rather unnerving one. But one that was well within the realm of tolerating compared to others she’s had to deal with.

Tell me why you think the verdict made you feel this way?

Sloan stopped in his pacing for the moment and furrowed his brow, squinting off into the distance and then back at her. His voice took on calm and repressed tone. It’s not so much the verdict. Actually I’m not angry with anyone in particular. Just the situation. It’s just frustrating is all. The idea that the judge, having only a one sided view of who I am has ability to subject me to therapy I don’t think I need. I mean, is it a crime to be angry with people who have crossed you? Is it illegal to watch the people in question to destroy themselves. Of their own choice, I might add. I should be the only one to judge the sanity or morality of that.

Now she was getting somewhere. So for you it’s an issue of control?

If you want to be melodramatic about it. I just didn’t like the idea of a perfect stranger having the power to declare me crazy. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and began pacing again. God, how she found that unnerving! But at least now Dr. Palmer was making progress. She smiled inwardly as she realized how she had broken the first barrier between them and was at the very least able to keep him talking. The thought of it gave her a wealth of ideas to jot down on yellow pad that was now in her lap.

Everyone who goes to therapy is not crazy.

In my head I know that. It still doesn’t make it any less unnerving. Anyway, I don’t see how this conversation has anything to do with why I’m here.

It has everything to do with it. She took off her glasses so that she might be able to look him in the eye but he didn’t stop pacing. I’m starting to get the sense that your feelings toward the judgment stem from a feeling of loss of control. It’s perfectly normal. Everyone experiences it at one point or another. It’s how strongly you let these feelings of control you and what you do which can make them abnormal.

And you think I am one of those abnormal cases? He finally stopped and looked her directly in the face. For such a handsome young man, it was an eerie sight. His gaze fixed on her. Half of his face illuminated by the light from window, the other half draped in darkness. It was almost as if he intended to stop there for the purpose of making her uncomfortable.

In some ways yes. I get the sense that you like being in control. And when the prospect of losing it or having lost it approaches, you struggle to find a different way to regain it, possibly even by lashing out.

He smiled smugly, pacing closer toward the lighter side of the room and leaned over the back of the couch. Interesting. And on what do you base that astute opinion? I’ve only been here ten minutes. I’m sure my file didn’t say all that.

"Actually it did. Or at least that’s how I partly gathered my astute opinion, as you put it. But even more importantly, I have experience on my side."

Of other patients you think are like me. Don’t be ridiculous. He pushed away from the couch and began pacing again.

Actually I meant experience with you. You were angry at the ruling, having been forced by the courts to come to me for counseling. And almost from the moment you came in here you have been trying to manipulate our conversation. Trying to regain some semblance of control. Be honest, is that usually an issue with your other relationships? Is that what makes them go so badly?

He breathed heavily through his nostrils. The only thing that made my relationships go sour was interference from outside forces.

Interference from whom?

Even from where Judy sat she could hear Sloan grinding his teeth, trying to hold back from voicing some bitter memory that was bubbling to the surface. And then he hissed out a name. "Chloe for one. She’s a member of the Prescott family. One of the families that pressed charges. She’s the older sister of Mike Prescott, my former friend. She was also my ex-fiancée Kristen’s friend. She hated me with a passion. She and her mother. I overheard a conversation between the two of them once where Mrs. Prescott took great interest in mentioning my low breeding and how she was surprised that Mr. Prescott hired me to work at the company right out of college. Which would mean that they’d have to associate with me regularly since I was a friend of Mike’s. If I had known that being abandoned by your mother was a mortal sin I would have never let her push me out."

Judy nearly shivered as he chuckled darkly. It must have been some joke that only he found amusing. The important thing was that she was onto something. It was moments like this that made the challenge worthwhile. She was even surprised at how forthcoming he was with all of this. So how did that make you feel, knowing that they held such contempt for you.

I guess I handled it differently than most people. I didn’t become self-conscious or try to make myself in to a person they would like more. I knew, in the end that they were afraid of me. It was that fear that led them to come between Kristen and me.

Tell me more about Chloe. How did this hostility between the two of you begin?

It’s one of those stories that really has no beginning. There was me. There was her. We hated each other. And everything else kind of comes after that. It really heated up in the weeks after I proposed to Kristen. I’d been working for Prescott Architecture for about three months. Have you ever been at a place in your life where you felt complete? I remember feeling that way about then. I was fresh out of college, with a job I loved and a woman I absolutely adored. I was young. I was happy. I was really stupid to think it would stay that way.

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If I had to choose a particular day to start this tale, I’d say it was a few days before one of our big presentations. I came into work—I think it was a Tuesday—no—no, it was a Monday because I remember my arm being scratched up from bathing Churchill, my cat. And I bathe him the first Sunday of every other month. Not only that, I was wearing blue jeans and a shirt with no tie because our office has casual Monday. As opposed to a more casual Friday. It makes the beginning of the week a lot easier to deal with. I’m sure you’d agree that the days seem to run together when you enjoy your work.

Anyway, I came to work early that morning because I had that great idea for a design of the vault. You see, we were remodeling United First Trust Banks all across the city. I had this idea to add a sealed steel bunker under the floor, to maximize the storage capacity. There were three of us on the team. Me, Mike, and Julian Stewart who was our supervisor. I didn’t really know about Mike, but I couldn’t stand Julian. He was very full of himself, which he had good reason to be. I mean he was an incredible architect and a shrewd businessman. But, in my opinion, there is a fine line between flaunting and being obnoxious. Julian always seemed to dance clumsily on that line so I tried to have as little firsthand contact with him as possible. I decided to come in early and jot down some of my ideas so that I could express them better in the meeting. That way Julian wouldn’t immediately poo-poo away my idea. Which is what he had a tendency to do in that oh so superior fashion of his. And excuse me for being so verbose but nothing pisses me off more than when somebody does that.

When I went over to my cubicle I heard two voices behind my wall. It was someone else’s cubicle but it was definitely Julian’s voice. No one on the face of the planet seemed to have a voice as arrogant as him. The other voice of course was Chloe Prescott. Who ever came up with that coffee slogan, the best part of waking up wasn’t with me that morning because despite my best efforts to be silent, they heard me. Julian peeked his head around the corner with a silly good morning smile on his face. Early today, I see.

I pasted a grin on my face and decided to respond. No sense getting off on the wrong foot so early in the morning. Yeah. Just thought I’d fine tune some ideas I had before we started on the project this morning.

Good, I’ll be anxious to hear them. I heard Chloe mumble some smart-ass comment under her breath. She hated me about as much as I did her so she was very good for those.

I spoke to her through the wall letting her know that her presence did not go unnoticed. Good morning Chloe. Then I peeked my head and finally my whole body around the corner.

She smiled with this snide, mock politeness. Hi, Sloan. Why so early? To the casual observer it would appear that Chloe was making an attempt to be civil, however she usually pretended to be polite just before saying something outright bitchy that only I seemed to notice.

You know what they say, the early bird catches the worm.

Her eyes shifted cynically and her lip curled slightly as if she had been defiled too much by my presence. So that’s what the poor and the parentless are eating these days. Must be one of your acquired tastes.

So what did her highness have for breakfast?

A helping of eggs and orange juice. Real food. Like normal people. I didn’t know which I hated more, the very fact that she was there or the way she batted those damn eyelashes every time she thought up some smart ass comment that made her feel superior.

"Judging by your thighs, I’d swear you had more than a helping."

Figures an animal like you would use this conversation as an excuse to get a glimpse of my thighs.

Well maybe if you kept them closed once in a while. . . She gasped and flashed those genuinely shocked blue eyes at me, and I heard Julian stand up behind me. Believe me when I say that it was always like that between us. This was one of our less violent conversations, I assure you. Still Julian, being the wonderful person he was, felt the need to diffuse the situation.

Sloan, can I see you for a moment. He stood up and pulled me by the arm down the corridor and into an empty cubicle. I could already tell he was fired up to throw some demeaning lecture my way but I cut him off at the pass.

Look, I know that was a bit childish—

Good, I’m glad you realize that. But you should also realize that it’s not exactly the best career move to make enemies with the boss’s daughter.

First of all, I’m not going play kiss up just because she happens to share a gene pool with Mr. Prescott. All she ever does is cut me down anyway. I don’t know what I ever did to her that makes her attack me the way she does every time she sees me. But you know what, I stopped caring a long time ago and now I refuse to let her get away with it. I will not prostitute my self respect to keep my job.

Julian shook his head in frustration. You’re out of line. Remember, I’m your supervisor and—

Fine, you want to play it that way. Great. You’re my supervisor. Keep her out of my way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to work on before our meeting today. And I’d like to get back to it. I turned and walked back to my desk, fully aware that nothing I said even fazed him. Never let it be said that I knew my fatal flaw too late. I’m hotheaded, I’m willing to admit that. The problem was Chloe knew it too. And despite the fact that I knew Julian would always take her side, she still had a way of pressing my buttons. She always knew which ones to press in order to show me up in front of Julian. For some reason Chloe was extremely infatuated with him. God only knows why, he was ten years older than Chloe. I think the fact that he stood first in line to control the many businesses Chad Prescott owned was what interested her. Despite her most obvious attempts to reel him in, somehow I knew that Julian was less than interested. He just put up with it to assure that he stayed in Mr. Prescott’s good graces.

For some reason, even now, I go over this day a thousand times in my mind. And one thing always occurs to me. I must have been blinded by my business because it never occurred to me that Kristen and Mike came in together, which was unusual seeing as how they were coming from different directions. Kristen and I had been seeing each other since our freshman year in college. I proposed to her about a month after graduation and I couldn’t have been happier when she said yes.

Kristen was one of those people who pleasantly escaped description. There was just something about her that made everything in the room seem innocent and new. Her only flaw was that Chloe was her best friend. And she made everything seem like a cornucopia of nausea. Now God knows that’s a big flaw where I’m concerned, but it was one I was willing to stomach as long as it came in small doses and large crowds and away from my desk.

With every entrance Kristen took my breath away. Even when she came in for work. Her hair bound in a long ponytail swinging gently from side to side as she walked. I could see the green in her eyes waving at me from a distance like a lover greeting me as my train pulled in. Her smile was contagious. Every time she walked in a room it took less than a second before I would start beaming from ear to ear. What I loved about her most was the fact that she had a very classic personality. She was the kind of woman that would let me hold the door open for her. The kind that would cling to me and shriek at a horror movie. And every man alive should have a woman who can still blush. It’s endearing to know that there are still innocent women out there. It’s also endearing to be able to be with someone who isn’t false. Who allows herself to show her quirky habits. Like how she would cover her mouth with the back of her hand when she cried. Or how she would giggle in this high-pitched chipmunk-type voice when I kissed a certain spot on her cheek. Or how she would always peck me on the cheek and sit on the edge of my desk when she came in every morning. Morning. You get here early?

Yeah, I’ve been here for about an hour now working on some suggestions to bring up for the meeting regarding the UTF project. I just hope Julian doesn’t piss this away like he’s done all my other suggestions throughout this project.

You are young yet. You have to learn how to deal with rejection. I mean you honestly can’t expect to run a project your first time out. She shrugged casually, looking at her nails, which was her way of nonchalantly looking at her engagement ring. That’s always been your problem. You can’t let go control. Just give it a while.

I’m young yet? You make it sound like you’re ninety years old. A lot of the things she said made me laugh. Another thing that I loved about her.

I’m just ninety years more mature. I have to be, I’m a woman.

Ha. Ha. Ha. Don’t mind me if my attention is a bit divided today. I have to finish this.

What is it?

A proposal I’m going to make today when Mike and I have our meeting with everybody’s favorite supervisor. Although I doubt Julian will be too receptive of what I have to say, especially after this morning.

Why, what happened?

Princess Barbie and I got into it again.

She sighed loudly. She always sighed with frustration when I mentioned her—especially when I called her by that name. Not again. Can’t the two of you get along?

Who are you, Rodney King? Besides, don’t lay into me. She started it.

Another sigh. Conversations about Chloe were usually full of them. I actually got to the point when I could predict when she was going to do it. And I knew exactly what she was going to say next. The two of you are like little kids. Like little spoiled children. And you’re the worst.

Me?

Yes you, because you know what she does every time, and every time you buy into it for the sake of arguing.

If you are so keen on what she’s like, why are you still friends with her?

We’ve been friends since we were kids. She was like my big sister. I know that she has her bitchy side but nobody’s flawless, Sloan. Not even you.

The jury’s still out on that one. But If I act like a child, I’m glad I have you to take care of me. She let out this chipmunk like giggle as I pecked her on the cheek. Like she always did.

The hours ticked by and I just finished fine-tuning my ideas for our eleven o’clock meeting. Mike and I went into meeting room and waited about twenty minutes silently. We had that kind of relationship where we didn’t need to talk if there was nothing to say. There’s nothing wrong with keeping your mouth shut when there’s nothing to say. My kinder garden teacher told me that once. Words to live by. I actually think more people would be alive today if they observed that simple truth.

You see, I was a bit peeved by the fact that Julian was late because I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would rush in the room, throw out a bunch of announcements and try to leave without hearing my suggestions. The bastard did that all the time. Needless to say, the anger was written in big letters across my face. Mike knew it but he didn’t say anything. It’s good to have a friend who knows when to do that.

Finally, Julian graced us with his presence, rushing into the room like his tardiness wasn’t orchestrated. We knew that Julian always had to make an entrance. Like the queen at his very own ball. Sorry I’m late. I had a last minute call to take that was pretty important. Yeah right, it was more like he was talking with that wench on the phone. She had no day job, save making sure she keeps her lunch dates with Julian, and making my life a living hell. The good news is that we won’t be here more than a few minutes longer. All I have to say is that we need to come up with an overhead cost for the materials needed for this new counter unit and the manager’s office. The blue prints on each of your sections has to be done by tomorrow so that we can all collaborate and fine tune our ideas for the presentation to Mr. Walsh on Thursday. Okay?

Julian looked as if he were going to gesture toward dismissing us so I interjected, knowing that he conveniently forgot that I had an idea to present. Mr. Stewart, I—

Oh yeah, Sloan, I looked over the schematics for your idea. I don’t think they’re feasible at this point in time.

I pressed a little harder in the hopes that he would listen to reason. But I knew it wouldn’t work. Actually they are. The idea I have for the vault and the computer are way within the limits of our budget, and some of it hasn’t even been done yet. Once others hear of what we’ve done there will be an increase in our clientele

That’s not really your concern. Besides by not feasible I meant risky. We don’t want to take the chance that Mr. Walsh won’t agree with your ideas. And even if he does, there could be mishaps in installing experimental equipment. And if it doesn’t work all together that would be even worse. That reputation falls back on the company and gives us a bad name. It’s best if we stick to the original framework for the vault and expand the inner walls to maximize the storage capacity.

But Mr. Stewart—

That’s my final word on the subject. It’s a perfectly good idea, its just not right for us right now. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a lunch date I have to get ready for. He walked out with his nose poked in the air. I didn’t waste a second of his being out of earshot to let out a frustrated growl. In an attempt to console me, Mike pat me on the back.

Calm down. You can’t win them all.

Yeah well it seems like with him I can’t win at all! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to snap like that. I just can’t stand him. He’s so damn full of himself.

Sometimes I think he picks up on the fact that you don’t like him.

Well if he does, he should grow a testicle and say so instead of throwing away perfectly good suggestions just to spite me. And what pisses me off is that he knows my ideas are good.

You, know, this animosity between the two of you makes it uncomfortable to work as a team.

I felt a bit apologetic, realizing that I probably offended Mike in some small way. You care for him, don’t you?

Mike’s head snapped around in my direction, his face bearing even more offense than before. What? No! Sloan, why—

I didn’t mean like that, you ninny. I just meant that I probably shouldn’t be talking about him like that because he’s so close to your family.

Sloan, you can tell me anything. We’re friends. I expect you to vent on me when you need to. I mean, yeah, Julian has been close with my family for years, but that doesn’t mean you have to like him. It’s just sometimes you need to learn that you’re not always in charge. Especially where Julian is concerned. If we all have to work together, it’s not going to help our project if you two have your claws out ready for battle every time you’re in a room together. Remember he is the supervisor. Just take this whole bank vault thing as a lesson in humility. You can’t be in charge all of the time.

That’s what Kris said to me earlier.

You should listen to her. I watched you all throughout college. When we had group projects, you were always the one that took charge. And from what I remember, there weren’t a lot of people who liked the way you did things either.

Oh don’t even! I was nothing like him. I listened to people’s suggestions and if they were good, we used them. I wasn’t so bent on control and my own ego that I couldn’t see past myself. And if I didn’t take charge, nothing would get done.

My point is, that you get angry when you’re not holding the reigns. This isn’t college anymore, Sloan. You can’t chose the front seat anymore. You have to work your way up there. There was another one of those much needed moments of silence between us. Or maybe I just blacked out on the rest of what he said. All I know is the next thing I remember is him saying was, I’m going to lunch. You want to join me?

I felt surrender sink into me, forcing me to sigh loudly. Yeah, I guess so.

Okay, I’m going to go get Kris and see if she wants to come. Meet me out front.

He left me there standing in that room. I turned the lights out on myself when I realized my note cards were on the floor. They were crumpled. I must have done it in my anger. My ideas cast aside by me just as they had been by Julian. You see, what Mike failed to mention was that every suggestion he made to Julian was taken into consideration. I guess moving to the front seat is easier when you’re the boss’ son. I think I was just speculating that out of bitterness. I think I still am. But it doesn’t make it any less true. And it doesn’t even matter anymore.

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Judy’s buzzer went off, and she heard the bell sound from the clock tower across town. Their hour was up. She put her pad on