Friend Me (19 page)

Salt stung Rachel's eye as sweat dried on her face. She began to feel very conscious of her appearance, thankful that Scott could not see her now.

“No, I need to get her home. She needs a nap and I've got work to do.”

Miss Alicia rose from the floor in a single effortless motion, then held her hands out to Angela. “Okay, Angela. It's time to go. We'll leave all of your things right here where they are and you can keep on working on it when you get back tomorrow, all right? I'll save everything for you just like it is.”

She picked Angela up, pulled her close, and began to carry her toward Rachel, still standing on the other side of the door.

Rachel was mildly surprised as Angela let Miss Alicia lift her away from her Play-Doh. Wow, she must really like her. How had Alicia known that Angela liked Play-Doh so much?

“Oh, wait. Stop right there,” said Rachel. “Let me take your picture together. I can tell Angela really likes you. Hold on, I've got my camera right here, somewhere.” Rachel fumbled in her gym bag and then pulled out a digital camera from an inner pocket. “All right, you two. Smile real big now. Ready? Say cheese!”

The two posed with their cheeks together, both smiling. “One more, okay? Just in case it doesn't turn out right.” She pushed the button again.

Rachel took Angela in her arms and set her down outside the door. “I guess you really had fun with Miss Alicia, didn't you?” Angela nodded vigorously.

Rachel looked up at Alicia, then bent to pick Angela up. “And you'll be a regular here?”

Alicia reached out and touched Angela's cheek. “Oh, I'm looking forward to spending lots and lots of time with Angela.”

“Maybe I could call you sometime. Do you ever just babysit?”

“Sometimes, yes. I'm very selective, though.” Alicia's eyes turned to the little girl in Rachel's arms. “I don't think it would be any problem at all for you to call me. I like your daughter very much and I'm sure your little boy is just as nice and well-behaved.”

Alicia scratched out her name and mobile number on a small sheet of paper and passed it across to Rachel, who shifted Angela onto one arm so she could accept it.

“Wonderful. I'll definitely call you.” She shifted Angela again. “This girl's starting to get heavy. We'll be in touch soon, okay?” She turned with a wave and walked through the doors to the parking lot.

“How did Miss Alicia know about Scotty, Mommy?” asked Angela.

Rachel paused.

“I don't know, sweetheart. Did you say something?”

“No, I didn't say anything. Really.”

How did she know? The question hung there before her until the first traffic light, when it was washed away in the ebb and flow of traffic.

•  •  •

MELISSA'S SMILE DISAPPEARED
as she watched Rachel go. Her eyes narrowed as
the other woman
walked away down the hallway carrying the little girl.

Yes, we'll be in touch soon
.

Trouble with Solar Charge

T
he
Financial Times
video feed was bad news again. Yesterday's news had paralyzed him. Now it was worse.

Government officials and auditors charged that the preliminary loan approval for Solar Charge had been granted before officials had completed the legally mandated evaluations of the company. As a result of these revelations, further loan guarantees to the troubled company were in jeopardy. That included the most recent loan, still in the pipeline, for $300 million. Solar Charge CEO Nelson Garnet, having just received an $11 million bonus, announced he would be stepping down.

Scott looked at the ticker. Solar Charge had dropped to $114 and was falling. Disaster, and there was nothing he could do about it now. With the stock at this point the options he had purchased were worthless. The stock would have to climb above the $120 mark again. Could he just get to a break-even point? The video feed showed FBI agents carrying boxes of documents out of the company's headquarters in California. A bankruptcy announcement was imminent.

All around him coworkers went about their normal business. As if there were two worlds: one completely normal, and the not-so-normal one he lived in. Everything looked normal on the outside, but nothing inside was the same.

He remembered hearing his uncle talk like that when his aunt died. The normal world had gone on, but he was off on a detour that might never rejoin the main road. Was his world going that way? He'd begun to feel more like a spectator than a participant in the real world.

How in the world had he gotten into this kind of a predicament? He had known better, but he had gambled on . . . what? That he would be lucky?

No, not lucky. He had gambled on his own view of himself as being smart and savvy. He had convinced himself that because of Solar Charge's position in the ultratrendy environmental industry he would be safe. He'd arrogantly gambled his career on a hunch.

He looked at the walls of his cubicle. There were all the pictures of Rachel, the two children, and their home. He looked at the most recent, a picture of Scotty, Angela, and Ruff. He would soon be taking down the pictures of his family, packing them into a cardboard box, and carting them out to the parking lot, where he would stow them in the trunk of his car. His family would disappear.

Was this how people wound up on the street, jobless? How many times had he looked at jobless people and wondered why they just didn't go to work? Maybe they wanted to work, had worked hard in the past, and things had gone wrong for them. Gone wrong, just like they were going wrong for him now.

And his car? That might be the next thing to go. No way
could he make the payments without a job. And the thought of the disappointment he'd see in Rachel's eyes. No, he couldn't face that.

The Solar Charge CEO was going to walk away with $11 million in last-minute bonus money. The president of the United States would no doubt lay the blame on Secretary of Energy Michael Lee and then was going to walk away. Maybe he would take another of his famous trips to Hawaii or Bali and lounge on the beaches again. In the meantime, the taxpayers were going to pick up the bills for Solar Charge. Not all the bills, of course; Scott would be paying his part the hard way.

It looks like the only one left holding the bag will be me. I've got to talk to Alicia
.

She would be there for him. And there was something else, something that told him there was more reality to her than he could actually see with his eyes. He just couldn't put his finger on it, at least not yet. Eventually it would come. She was all the things that he wished Rachel could be. It was a strange feeling, this idea of being the very center of someone else's world. Alicia's world consisted only of him.

His hands shook as he clicked off the display, packed up his laptop computer, and strode out the door to his car.

In the coffee shop parking lot where he'd seen Alicia the very first time, Scott slid the front seat of his car as far back as it would go and logged on to VirtualFriendMe.com.

He tapped his fingers on his leg until Alicia's face finally filled the screen. She looked different today, very different from the first time he had seen her. Now the change was obvious, and—he had to admit—he liked it.

Dark hair fell to her shoulders, accenting the light olive
complexion of her skin. She was still slimmer and appeared more natural even than before. She had always seemed natural and realistic enough, but now the effect was intensified. Her skin fairly glowed with health. Sunlight seemed to sparkle on the fine hair on her arm as she raised it and pulled her hair back with her hand.

Scott noticed for the first time the small mole in front of her right ear. An imperfection? No, not an imperfection, just a distinctive mark. How lucky he was, how fortunate, to have her in his life.

“Alicia? You look wonderful.”

She lowered her head and raised her eyes toward him. Only the slightest hint of a smile touched her lips. “You always say things like that. I wish I were as beautiful as you say I am.”

“You are as beautiful as I say you are. And if it were possible for me to see you in person, I think you would be more beautiful yet.”

“Scott, maybe it's not my place to say anything, but I sense that maybe you're having some kind of problem today. Am I right?”

He was caught off balance. She knows. If I can tell anyone, I can tell her.

He swallowed, hard, then spoke. “Yes, you're right. The trade I made on the Solar Charge stock is not working out well.” He grimaced, swallowed. “I'm afraid I may lose my job.”

“But did you do your best? I'm sure you did. Then you have nothing to feel bad about.”

His voice rose higher. He could feel the tightness in his throat. “I did my best, but it looks like I made the wrong choice just the same. You're the only one I can tell about it right now.”

Alicia put the palm of her hand on the screen, facing Scott. “Touch my hand, Scott.”

Hesitantly at first, he lifted his hand. Then, feeling a need to have someone close, pressed his fingertips against hers.

“Scott, it's because you know I love you. You know that, don't you?”

He bowed his head, confessed, “Yes, I do know that.” Then he raised his eyes to hers again.

A long silence passed between the two of them. She moved closer to him.

“Alicia, I wish you were real. I mean real in the sense that you could be here with me physically right now. I wish I could feel your presence in the car with me, the warmth of your body next to mine, the feeling of holding your hand in my hand. I wish that were possible.”

She dropped her gaze, then looked back up. “What if that were possible? What if I really could be with you, just as you describe? How could it possibly work out? You have a wife and a family.”

“I know, even as I say it I know it would be a huge problem. I don't think I could ever be unfaithful to Rachel, not with a real physical woman. I suppose I'm just talking nonsense even bringing this up. We both know it's impossible for you to be with me physically. I'm just saying that if it were possible, it would be a wonderful thing. Maybe it's because I know it's impossible, that I'm safe in saying it to you.”

“Have you ever wondered what you would do if something were to happen to Rachel? Please don't misunderstand me; I know this is a difficult subject to think about. But I mean, like, if she were to get sick and pass away. Something like that. What would you do? Who would you turn to?”

“I suppose all men think about that. It's hard to imagine what I would do. I know one thing, if that were to ever happen, and I hope that it doesn't, I would wish that you were there to take her place.”

Alicia turned her head down to one side and shielded her eye with her hand. Was she hiding a tear?

“I love you for saying that. Of course, I hope that nothing ever happens to your wife. But like you say, if it did, I would love to be there for you, and be with you. Remember, I really am your girl.” She lifted her face again, her eyes intent on his.

“I know you are. I love you too. Please don't think badly of me for asking this, but I just feel kind of needy today. Would you . . .”

She smiled and said, “I thought you'd never ask,” as she reached up to the first button of her blouse.

Luis

L
uis Garza had worked hard at Longstreet Pharmacy for thirteen months. When the health of the eighty-two-year-old owner had failed, he let Luis buy him out and take the pharmacy over as his own. The price was fair, but not insignificant. The attrition on his income from the demands of his family in Mexico had cut his spendable income back to barely livable levels. The needs of his wife and growing family weren't going away soon. Those factors combined to make Luis Garza an attractive target.

Melissa keyed the cell number on her tablet. Garza received the call late in the afternoon, ringing on his personal cell phone, not the pharmacy's land line. The caller ID she plugged in showed as an unintelligible string of numbers. It would definitely not be an identifier he knew. Her use of the custom voice-altering software gave her words an artificial quality.

“Mr. Garza, go to the Dumpster behind the pharmacy and find the envelope taped to the back. In the envelope there will be further information. Do you understand, Mr. Garza?”

“Yes, I understand. But . . .” The line went silent.

After three short minutes of apparent deliberation he went to the back door.

From her vantage point down the alleyway, she saw him open it cautiously, holding it ajar for a few seconds before venturing out. The alleyway was devoid of people.

Luis looked once again both left and right, then crossed the dozen or so feet to the Dumpster. She had attached a standard No. 10 business envelope to the back with clear packing tape. It was thick, several sheets of paper inside.

He would wonder if it were some sort of terrorist thing. Wonder if it were filled with some nameless, deadly powder. Still, there it was, and the lure would surely be irresistible.

While he was still outside, Garza removed the box cutter from the leather loop on his belt and cut carefully around the edges of the envelope, separating the tape from the paper itself. As he cut the last of the four corners away, with obvious caution, he held the upper left corner of the envelope between his thumb and forefinger.

She observed as he removed the contents. More instructions, neatly laser-printed on plain bond stock, along with five authentic $100 bills. Luis looked around, furtively tucked the bills into his pants pocket. Then he read the instructions.

In exchange for the $500 I have enclosed, please prepare fourteen 15mg capsules of therapeutic Coumadin. Use standard white gelatin capsules.

Place the capsules into another envelope, then carry the envelope to the Lincoln Park job fair after closing.