Psyche

By Taylor Sidney

One of the most riveting, super-charged, and spectacular novels is upon us. As the author of the novel entitled, Grey Blood Series, Taylor Sidney will once again attempt to enhance the literary world with the presentation of the new novel entitled, Psyche. This is a compelling, romantic, yet suspenseful story of Catherine Deaves. She is a beautiful, young, struggling poet battling the odds of envy, greed, and games of the mind (deception) that also lead to total destruction. The novel also deals with one of the most sensitive subjects of today, ‘gender harassment.’ It is intertwined in the storyline along with seventeen inspirational poems. Catherine has finally received the promotion she has desired for years. She now feels her problems are over as this promotion will bring more money and prestige. However, little does she know, her problems have just begun. She receives death threats; her office and poetry recitals are constantly sabotaged. One by one, her friends and loved ones are either severely injured or murdered. Catherine feels compelled to seek help from the love of her life and manager, Andre Matrin. But even that proves deadly. She further seeks the assistance of other trusted co-workers to help her ambush the suspected culprit. When all ventures prove unsuccessful, she becomes certain that it’s only a matter of time when the culprit will actually kill her. Only time will tell if the culprit intercepts Catherine or if she intercepts the culprit, and justice is served.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 14, 2024
• ISBN: 9798823023849

Taylor Sidney

Taylor Sidney was born in Memphis, Tennessee and currently resides in Mississippi. She received a Bachelor of Arts degree in history/secondary education from Christian Brothers University. She received a Master of Science degree in guidance and personnel services from the University of Memphis. She received a Doctor of Education degree in education leadership and policy studies from the University of Memphis. She is currently employed as a hospital administrator in Memphis, Tennessee. The first of her novel series, entitled Grey Blood Series, took six years to complete. She has completed her second novel, entitled Psyche, and a book of poetry entitled Poetry of the Psyche, along with a short story entitled, Mine Eyes Have Not Seen the Glory. All of these projects took approximately five months simultaneously to complete. She is currently working on the second installment of her Grey Blood Series, entitled Asylum’s Ghost, and has published a nonfiction book from her doctoral dissertation entitled, The Mississippi Freedom Schools: A Response Strategy to the Civil Rights Movement in Mississippi. She is one of the authors and the co-editor for the Zion Community Project’s book entitled, Historic Zion Cemetery in Memphis. She is married and has two adult children.

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© 2024 Taylor Sidney. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 04/11/2024

ISBN: 979-8-8230-2385-6 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-2386-3 (hc)

ISBN: 979-8-8230-2384-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2024905277

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

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CHAPTER 1

In my psyche of my dreams

Lies numerous foretold scenes—

Scenes of passion and some of hurt,

Scenes of all things, even dirt.

In my psyche of my dreams,

Descriptions of lies and some of pleasure,

Scenes of all things,

Especially of those that men partake.

In my psyche of my dreams

Folds the tales of things unforeseen—

Scenes of future martyrs and downfalls of scoundrels,

And yes, of those too devious to mention.

For one day the dreams of my psyche

Will be reality

For those not God-fearing,

Then damned be their eternity.

The room was filled with nothing but a dark, smoldering, effervescent silence. Catherine’s eyes gazed directly into the crowd. Nothing but eyes stared back at her. Then all of a sudden, Bravo! Bravo! an elderly gentleman seated in the front row yelled. Afterward, there was thunderous applause across the room.

Thank you, thank you, she said as she slowly left the stage.

That was a good poem, although I must admit I really didn’t understand it, said Matrin.

That’s why you’re the manager, and I’m the poet. Matrin, what time is it?

It’s ten o’clock.

I’ve got to get home and get some sleep. Tomorrow is a work day, and I can’t be late. I really love poetry recitals, but until I become famous, I guess I’ll have to continue to work and do this on the side. The money isn’t enough to pay the rent.

And one day you will become famous. Or maybe that promotion you’ve been hoping for at work will soon become reality.

You’re really good to me, Matrin, and I want you to know how much I appreciate you.

You can thank me when you’re famous.

Thanks. Catherine kissed and hugged him several times.

As the patrons began to leave the concert hall, Catherine heard a soft, yet masculine, voice call her name. She slowly turned around and was greeted by one of the directors in charge of scheduling the recitals.

Catherine, that was lovely. You know the people just love to hear your poems. Uh, will you be performing additional recitals?

If you would like, Mr. Eglin.

Yes, I would. If it’s all right with you, I’ll keep in contact with your manager. Uh, what’s his name?

Andre Matrin.

Yes, that’s it. Well, I will be seeing you in the future. Good night.

Yes, good night. It’s always a pleasure talking with you.

Catherine quickly walked out of the side entrance of the bookstore. She felt elated that everything had gone so well. She motioned for a taxi she had seen at the end of the street. The taxi hurriedly pulled up to the curb where Catherine was standing. Catherine opened the door and got in.

Where to, lady?

5042 Miranda Drive.

The taxi pulled off and arrived at Catherine’s place in less than thirty minutes. She got out and paid the driver. On arriving home and eating a small late-night snack, morning came all too soon.

Good morning, Catherine, said the receptionist.

Good morning, Susan. Any word yet?

No, I haven’t heard a word. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.

Thanks. Keep your fingers crossed for me, she said as she walked to her desk.

I will, said Susan as she crossed her fingers and smiled.

Well, Catherine, do you have that cost-analysis report ready on the McNeill account?

What? Not even a good morning before you’re asking for something, Bob.

You know the boss wants that report this morning.

And he’ll have it. I have never been late with a report, and this one won’t be late. Besides, don’t you have some work to do, Bob?

You’re awfully smart this morning. Remember—they haven’t made a selection yet on the new accounting supervisor position.

Bob, I know that, and I don’t need you to constantly remind me. Catherine yawned. Excuse me while I get a cup of coffee.

Moonlighting again, I see.

Look—why don’t you do your work and let me do mine.

That’s just it. I can’t finish my final report without that cost analyst from you.

I said it will be ready this morning.

Well, you had better hurry up because when the boss asks for the final report, I will not make excuses for you, said Bob as he turned and walked away.

Catherine slowly walked back to her desk after pouring a cup of coffee. She prudently sipped on the coffee as she worked on her report.

Catherine, I heard how Bob was talking to you. Why do you let that guy talk to you that way? He is the same grade as you, asked Meda, a coworker.

Bob really doesn’t bother me.

I hear he is also up for that supervisor position.

Yes, I know, but they couldn’t possibly be considering him for the job. He’s only been here a year, and I’ve been here five. I’ve also been passed over twice in the past for promotions. Besides, the boss knows my work.

That doesn’t mean anything around here; you know that. Well, you know we’re all pulling for you.

Thanks, Meda.

I’ve heard they’re going to announce the selection at the end of the week, and there are also some things that appear suspicious. I’m not sure what, but I’ll give you a call at home. The information is too hot to talk about here, she whispered.

Sure, give me a call at home. Let’s say around seven.

But in the meantime, is everything going to be all right?

Only time will tell. However, I had better get back to this report.

Is there anything I can do to help you complete it?

No, but thanks, Meda. I’m almost finished. All I have to do is verify these figures and then hand it over to Bob.

Keep up the good work, said Meda as she walked away and gave Catherine a thumbs-up.

Catherine finally finished the report. She got up from her desk and walked over to Bob’s, which was located in the far back of the large working area.

Bob, here is your report with every figure balancing to the last penny.

Well, it’s about time. It’s almost close to lunch. You’ve only had this report all week.

You’re welcome, Bob, said Catherine as she turned and walked away, sheepishly smiling.

Miss Catherine Deaves, you have a call on line 564. Repeat, Miss Catherine Deaves, you have a call on line 564, announced the receptionist over the intercom.

Catherine rushed back to her desk and answered the phone.

Hello, this is Catherine Deaves.

Catherine, this is Matrin.

Matrin, she whispered, looking around to see if anyone was watching her as she talked on the phone. I told you not to call me at work unless it’s urgent.

I know, but Mr. Eglin wants you to read some of your poetry this weekend at the Smithsmoore Library. It seems they’re having some type of seminar for beginning poets and a benefit art exhibit. It’s kind of a way to make the public more familiar with the library. The press will be there also. And guess what?

What?

Mr. Eglin is willing to pay you three hundred dollars per poem to read three originals. That’s nine hundred dollars for an evening’s work.

Matrin, that’s wonderful. I’ll do it.

You have to be there Saturday at five o’clock in the evening and not a minute after. I’ll meet you in the front lobby.

No problem. Oh, Matrin, with this kind of news, you can call me at work. Thanks, said Catherine. She laughed as she hung up the phone.

Catherine, would you like to go to lunch with us? asked Meda.

Catherine looked startled as she quickly turned around. Uh, no, but thanks anyway. I’ve got to take care of a couple errands.

Catherine gathered her things and then walked past the receptionist and down the hall to the elevator. As she got out of the elevator, she walked past the coffee shop and out the main entrance. She noticed it had been raining. She turned right and walked down the street to a small discount boutique. She entered the boutique and began to look around the small shop.

Miss, may I help you? asked the saleswoman.

No, I’m just browsing. You have nice things, replied Catherine as she looked around. She held dress after dress up to her slender body in front of the full-length mirror, imagining what it would be like to wear each one to a different event every night.

Are you sure I can’t help you find something?

Well, as a matter of fact, you might be able to help me. I’m participating in a poetry recital this Saturday, and I’d like to wear something special.

We have this lovely satin-and-lace after-five with a delicate-pink floral print. This would be perfect for that occasion, said the saleswoman as she directed Catherine over to a rack of dresses located in the far left corner of the store.

This dress is so beautiful! It’s also a six, my size, said Catherine with eyes all aglow. How much is it?

This dress is four hundred dollars.

What! I don’t have that kind of money. I thought this was a discount boutique.

You could also rent the dress for the one night for fifty dollars.

That’s still too high, but for the occasion, it’s worth it. Oh! It’s time for me to get back to work. Listen—could you please hold it for me until four o’clock?

Yes, I believe we can work something out, and you can also try it on to make sure it fits.

I’ll see you at four, said Catherine as she rushed out of the store and back to work.

Catherine hurried back to the office complex. As she quickly approached the doors, she glanced at the clock and let out a sigh of relief as she was right on time. Strolling to her desk, she noticed that Meda’s was clear; this was unusual because it was always cluttered. However, she thought nothing of it and sat down to start on some accounts payable work.

Catherine Deaves, please report to the receptionist’s desk, said a voice over the intercom.

She got up and walked briefly to the receptionist’s desk.

Yes, Susan.

Susan quickly glanced around and as she handed Catherine an empty file, she said, Meda was fired.

What? Are you sure? Susan, why?

Nobody’s talking right now. It’s all hush-hush. It happened right at lunchtime. We were getting ready to go downstairs for lunch in the coffee shop. I was waiting for her when the boss had me page her to his office. I went on to lunch and that was the last I saw of her. I didn’t know anything until I saw a memo from personnel. Haven’t you noticed how quiet it is in this place?

Now that you mention it, it is very quiet. I really hadn’t noticed before.

Go back to your desk quick before someone gets suspicious of us talking.

You’re right. I’m expecting her to call me tonight, but I might call her first. I’ll let you know if I find out anything.

Catherine walked briskly to her desk, her eyes roving the room. As she sat at her desk, she quickly reached for a tissue to soothe her teary eyes. Just as she was getting ready to organize some of her papers, an abrupt message came over the intercom. Miss. Deaves, please report to Mr. DeNault’s office. Pondering why Mr. DeNault would want to see her, she hastily walked to his office. As she approached the door, she knocked very lightly.

Catherine, please come in, said Mr. DeNault with a horrendous, deep voice.

Yes, Mr. DeNault. You wanted to see me?

Have a seat.

Catherine looked around at the huge office, decorated with the finest of dark walnut with a shimmery finish and gold in-laid trim. However, she was not alone with Mr. DeNault; there were four other men seated in the office along with Bettye, Mr. DeNault’s personal secretary. Mr. DeNault was a huge man yet short in stature. He had a receding hairline that stretched all the way to the back center of his head. His hair and his mustache were completely silver and his eyes were the lightest of light blue.

Hello everyone, said Catherine as she sat in the only vacant chair left.

"Let me introduce you to the members of the executive board: Carl Miller, Bill Chasten, Michael DeAngelo, Ramon Reprogus, and of course, Bettye. My, your eyes are so red. Are you all right?

Yes, just a little bit of an allergy.

You’ve been with this company for approximately four years, is that correct?

Actually, it’s been five years.

Of course, five years. Anyway, I have carefully researched your record and the work that you have done for this company. What I’m trying to say Catherine is that you have been selected for the position of accounting supervisor. With that position comes a five thousand dollar raise in pay. I believe you’ll do a good job and congratulations.

Mr. DeNault, I don’t know what to say. Thank you, thank all of you very much.

Bettye will place a memo in each employee’s mailbox notifying them of your promotion. I expect good things for you and from you, young lady. You play your cards right, and you can go far in this business. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a meeting to finish.

Congratulations, Catherine, said the others simultaneously.

Elated as she walked out of the office, she quickly walked over to the receptionist’s desk.

Susan, Susan, I got the job. I’m the new accounting supervisor.

Catherine, that’s great. This is so unexpected. The last I heard they were nowhere near ready to make a decision. I wonder what made them select so fast?

I don’t know and I don’t care. This is a new beginning for me. You know there is a substantial increase in pay. I could sure use the extra money.

Does this mean you’re going to give up poetry recitals?

No, no way. I love doing recitals. They give me a chance to showcase my poetry. I just may not do as many in the near future. I have to tell Matrin about this right after work.

Again, Catherine, I’m very happy for you. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of that position. Are you going to tell Bob?

No, I think I’ll just let him read the memo tomorrow.

You know he is going to hit the roof. You may have some future problems dealing with him.

I thought about that, but then again, that’s his problem and not mine. Well, I had better get back to my desk. Right now, I’m on cloud nine.

It’s a shame Meda isn’t here to share in your happiness.

You know, for a minute, I forgot all about her. I’ll call her as soon as I get home tonight. I’ll talk with you later, Susan.

After returning to her desk, Catherine noticed several reports along with a note from Bob. She picked up the reports and stormed over to Bob’s desk. Bob was a tall, slender man with dark-brown, sinister eyes. His hair was light brown, neatly combed to the side, but the center of his crown was becoming bare and increasingly noticeable. He wore cheap, discount suits that were always too short around the ankles.

Bob, what are these?

They’re the additional accounts payable reports Meda was working on. Since she didn’t finish the them, I figure you would want to finish for her. I heard she was given the boot, said Bob with a smirk on his face.

There is nothing funny about someone getting fired.

On the contrary. Did I say it was funny?

No, but that smirk on your face says it all.

Listen—all kidding aside, those reports have got to be finished by the end of the week.

Then why can’t you finish them?

Because until they make a selection on the accounting supervisor position, I’m acting. You know that. So will you please return to your desk and finish those reports.

Yes, I’ll finish the damn reports, but after today, you’re in for a big surprise.

What do you mean by that?

You’ll see. Besides it’s almost time for us to go home.

Remember those reports are due by the end of the week.

After work, Catherine returned to the boutique to pick up the dress for the recital. The saleswoman gave her some additional advice on the care for the dress.

I’m glad you returned to pick up the dress.

May I try it on in one of the fitting rooms?

By all means. Help yourself.

The saleswoman instructed Catherine on where the dressing rooms were located.

Let me see you with the dress on, said the saleswoman.

Moments later, Catherine walked out wearing the dress. It accented her long, woolly auburn hair and enriched her brown eyes. Her complexion on her high, chiseled cheekbones was that of night darkness yet smooth as silk.

My, don’t you look nice. Almost like a princess.

I feel like a princess. The material is so soft and feels good.

If you will take it off, I’ll hang it for you so it won’t get wrinkled.

Yes, please do so.

Arriving home with the dress clutched in one hand, Catherine kicked off her shoes, hung up the dress, and phoned Meda. The phone rang several times before a soft voice on the other line said, Hello.

Hello, Meda, this is Catherine.

Hello, Catherine.

Meda, what happened today? I was informed you were fired. Is that true?

Yes, but I can’t really believe it myself. I mean, I know I’ve never gotten along with Mr. DeNault, but I never thought he would fire me.

But why? What did you do wrong?

Catherine, I’m not sure. I questioned some of the figures on the accounts payable ledger. I only talked with Bob.

You don’t think Bob said something bad about you?

Like I said, I don’t know. It’s going to be hard trying to find another job, said Meda as she sobbed.

I know. I feel so badly for you. Is there anything I can do to help?

No, I’m trying really hard not to think about it.

Meda, did Mr. DeNault give you a reason why he was firing you? He must’ve said something.

All he said was that my work was not up to par.

Did he at least offer you a chance to make it up?

He also said I had been late or absent on several occasions. You know my little boy had been sick quite a bit. I had to stay with him. I couldn’t afford a babysitter.

I know.

Catherine, I’m telling you there’s some suspicious things going on in that company. But I really can’t focus on them right now.

Meda, I’m going to be performing at a recital on Saturday, why don’t you come with me?

Thanks, Catherine, but I really don’t feel like going out at this point.

It will do you good to get this matter off your mind, even if it’s only for a little while.

No, I’m going to start looking for a job tomorrow. There is one thing you can do for me.

What? Just name it.

Can I use you as a reference?

Of course.

Thanks, listen, I have to get off the phone. It’s my son’s feeding time.

Meda, I’ll keep in contact, and if I hear of anything in the way of a job, I’ll let you know. Stay strong, OK?

OK, Catherine. Oh, by the way, good luck on that position. I’m really going to pray hard that you get it.

Thanks, Meda, said Catherine as she hung up the phone.

Afterward, she sat for a moment of silence and then phoned Matrin.

Hello, Matrin.

Yes, Catherine.

How did you know it was me?

Catherine, I’d know the sound of your sweet voice anywhere.

That’s awfully nice of you. Listen—I got some good news. Remember that position at work I was telling you about.

That supervisor position.

Yes, that’s the one. I got the position and a five-thousand-dollar raise.

That’s wonderful. How about if I take you out to dinner after the recital on Saturday?

That would be great.

Have you worked on any poems for the recital?

Yes, I’m going to read three poems I wrote several years ago.

What are the names of these poems?

‘The Desire,’ ‘The Loner,’ and ‘The Way I Feel.’

Interesting names. Do you want to read them to me over the phone.

Nope, you’ll have to wait just like everyone else.

Well, be that way, he said jokingly.

Look—I have to let you go, but I had to tell you about the promotion.

I’m happy for you, and I’ll see you at the recital. Oh, by the way, would you like for me to pick you up?

No, I’ll be all right, and I will be there on time. Good night, Matrin.

Good night, Catherine. Again, congratulations on your promotion.

The days went by very quickly, and by the end of the week, everyone at the company knew Catherine had received the promotion. Everyone was happy for Catherine except Bob. He had called in sick for two days the week following the news.

On Friday, Bob was very distant toward Catherine, speaking not even once during the day before lunch. Catherine wanted to keep things amiable between herself and Bob. She had glanced at him in the back of the room several times. On the last glance, as she noticed him walking toward her desk, she quickly turned around. As he got closer, he speedily walked by her with not so much as a hello.

Bob, Bob.

Yes, Catherine.

May I talk with you for a second?

I’m in a hurry. I have to take these reports to Mr. DeNault’s office.

Maybe when you get back? If that’s OK with you?

Sure, he said in a noncaring manner.

Bob returned from Mr. DeNault’s office, but he didn’t stop by to talk with Catherine. She immediately got up from her desk and walked over to Bob’s.

Bob, I thought you were going to stop by and see me.

Why, Catherine? What is this really all about?

I would like for us to at least have a good working relationship. I know in the past we haven’t gotten along but that was in the past.

Look—if you expect me to congratulate you on getting the accounting supervisor job, forget it!

Why are you so angry. It’s not like I didn’t deserve it. I’ve been here five years. You just drove up a year ago, she said in a snapping voice.

"Why don’t we just stay on our opposite sides of the room. I’ll do my work but don’t