The Underground (4 page)

“Where..ya..been?” she said, slurry.

“I was making calls about liposuction and missed your calls.”

“Oh, well what’d you find out?” she said.

He suppressed a sigh of relief. She bought it.

“There’s not enough time for the surgery and recovery before the wedding.”

“Yeah, but what about the Botox? That’s done in a doctor’s office. Hmmm, maybe I could get some on the Internet and do it at home even,” she said, making him shudder at the thought of a drunken Janice jabbing his face with poison after watching some how-to-inject-Botox YouTube video.

“The Botox is possible. I’ll certainly make an appointment for that, but I’m talking about the surgery you wanted. I still don’t understand why you would want to do that silly surgery anyway,” he said. “You are gorgeous exactly the way you are.”

“Nathaniel DeLuca, you are just the sweetest man who ever walked the earth,” she said, laughing. “I’ll be home in an hour. Janey and I are finishing up. Can’t wait!” she said.

“Me too!” he said, forcing himself, but feeling relieved her mood sounded upbeat.

He immediately went into the kitchen and turned on the timer for forty minutes, in case she came home early. He opened the lower cabinet and reached all the way to the back. He touched the worn cover respectfully, thinking of the many times it had been read. Perhaps fifty. No, maybe twice that, he thought. He flipped through it slowly, caressing the washed out text.

… The world changed before my eyes when I was young. Our country had a male president. He died and the vice president, a woman named Madeleine Smith took over. She demanded to be addressed as “The Queen.” Everyone feared her and obliged her wishes, and this was the first mistake. Her new policies began to infiltrate the country:

• •
        
  She released full reports with fabricated or exaggerated statistics about the prevalence of sexual assaults by unmarried men aged 26 to 35.
  
• •
        
  She went on the Webavision to tell her story. She had been gang raped as a teenager and her mission as Queen would be to abolish sexual assaults.
  
• •
        
  She chipped away at male rights while she encouraged women to take leadership roles. She also passed outrageously tough laws ensuring that women stayed in power.
  

Little by little, the Queen stripped men of basic human rights. It is up to you to turn back time. I am old, or depending on when you read this, already dead. I can do nothing more than remind you of how it used to be.

We must all work to stop the injustices and barbaric treatment of men! Look around you. There, but for the grace of God, go I. If it happens to others, it can happen to you. Dignity is the path to happiness. Without it, life is worthless.
 

You must hold onto these thoughts. Work with other men to make changes, big or small, to restore our country’s balance between genders.

Nathaniel carefully returned the book to its hiding place a few minutes before Janice was due home. He placed a bottle of Windex innocently in front as the words he read echoed in his mind. He had to do something. He could no longer look the other way. He nervously pulled the crumpled napkin out of his pocket.

He took a deep breath, and hesitated before finally calling the mystery number. Was he crazy for making this call? What if the phone was bugged and he got arrested for talking to the wrong people who were somehow affiliated with
Reminder of Truth?
 
After all, it was illegal to possess it.

He knew he should hang up. Just as he was going to disconnect, he heard a voice on the other end.

——–

“So it’s you,” Shayla said, eyeing him suspiciously as she snuck up behind Nathaniel as he set down the bag in front of her office.

Nathaniel turned around, afraid for his job, his testicles, and even his life. Surely, the Queen’s daughter could call in her pick of punishments with ease, if she deemed him a stalker. He tried to think of what to say if she became angry. She could send someone to search Janice’s apartment and they’d find the book and then… he couldn’t let his mind go there. Be polite. Be respectful and it will be okay, he told himself, hoping this was true.

“Who are you?” she asked, but Nathaniel was frozen, his mind swirling with possibilities.

“I asked your name.” She folded her arms across her chest. Her look was entirely feminine, but her energy was tough.

Nathaniel tried to say something. He had never been so close to her, and she was far more beautiful than the Webavision photos revealed. Her shiny dark hair framed her face, falling perfectly to the middle of her back. Her deep cinnamon eyes drew him in. He couldn’t look away.

“I’m Nathaniel DeLuca,” he said nervously, once he was able.

“Mr. DeLuca,” she said before pausing for some passersby. “Why don’t you come into my office?”

To Nathaniel, her words sounded more like a command than an invitation. He panicked before following her inside the office he had passed by a thousand times before. He imagined the inside to be as majestic as the Queen’s daughter, but it was a dump.
 

The scuffed ancient desk was from the same era as the squeaky vinyl chair that she sat in. It was a great contrast to Shayla’s polished look. Nathaniel was immediately mesmerized by Shayla’s honey vanilla scent that contrasted the cigarettes and alcohol breath to which he was, unfortunately, accustomed. She was like the colorized part of a black and white photo with her rose chiffon blouse beneath the blue wool suit that hugged her like a second skin.

 
“You can sit,” Shayla said matter-of-factly, as she motioned to the chair next to her desk.

Nathaniel tentatively lowered himself to the chair, but remained mute as his eyes darted around the office. The room wasn’t large, but every item had its place: piles of labeled backup drives neatly stacked, and three large computer screens that spanned the desk, probably allowing her to check data and watch workers via remote cameras. He’d never seen such an elaborate setup. Everything was orderly, with one exception.

The books that sat prominently on the corner of her desk had nothing to do with construction or utilities or Cambridge Public Works policies. These were novels, the most recent bestselling authors. Pristine hardcover books. Few people read real, physical books anymore, as 90 percent of stories were accessed via electronic tablets.

Nathaniel was very curious about why she had novels on her desk. Reading was his mental escape and her desk boasted many of his favorite authors. There were classics like
Oliver Twist
by Charles Dickens,
Wuthering Heights
by Emily Bronte, and
Sacred Turns
by classic modern authors like Pedro Antflick and Aarin McCormick – Nathaniel’s favorite.

Why did she have them at work?
 

“I was just wondering why you did it?” she asked, looking at Nathaniel with concentration as her question sounded very much like he had committed a crime. This was it. Everything was over. He was going to get castrated. Today.

“I asked you a question,” she said, her voice getting louder.

He wasn’t sure what to say, wasn’t even sure he knew the answer, but somehow the words floated out. “I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” she offered with a puzzled look. “I still don’t understand why, though,” she said, with a wrinkle in her brow. “Look at me,” she commanded.

The real reason that he put it there on the first day was because he wanted to be defiant, but there was no way he could say that. Beside, his reason had changed since that time. His motivation came from a place of appreciation now.

“You’re a good boss. A nice boss. You gave us breaks. Nobody has ever done anything like that. I guess I wanted to thank you,” he said, before allowing his eyes to meet hers. He tried not to second-guess himself, but there was something about her that made him feel comfortable being himself. Considering she was the Queen’s daughter, his boss, and she had ammunition to ruin his life, it surprised him. The longer they sat there silently looking at one another, the more certain he was of this feeling.

“I’m just doing my job,” she said dryly. “I must admit, these are the best damn muffins I think I’ve ever had,” she said. She broke into a grin that accentuated her perfectly supple lips and Nathaniel felt his fears ease.

 
“They’re from Chester’s Bakery down the street,” he said, suddenly feeling great pride for Chester as the ice in the room thawed. He wondered whether the simple mixtures of sugar, flour, and butter just might, ironically, save his balls.

“Would you mind continuing to bring them? It helps when I don’t have to stop and grab breakfast in the morning.”

 
“No, ma’am. Not at all,” he said enthusiastically.

“I like the banana ones best, and the blueberry are a close second. How much is it?” she asked, reaching for her purse.

“Actually, there’s no need for that. You see, Chester, the owner, is my Uncle-in-law to be,” he said, almost smiling. “He won’t let me pay for anything.”

“I insist,” she said, handing him a large bill. “And, by the way… you don’t need to call me ma’am.”

“Okay,” he said, not sure what to say.

“When you are in my office, call me Shayla,” she said as she handed him a large bill. “When this runs out, I’ll give you more. I pay for my own breakfast, understood?”

Nathaniel hesitantly took the money from her, feeling a zing of pleasure from just brushing his hand against hers, however briefly. There was no way that Chester was going to take money from him, and there was no way in hell that he was going to tell Chester who the extra muffin went to.

“Thank you, Nathaniel.” He loved the way she said his name and that she might say it again sometime.

“You’re very welcome,” he said.

She got up and opened the door. She peered out, making sure nobody was there, and gestured for his exit. He closed the door, his heart beating wildly at the thought of what went on, the absence of punishment, and Shayla's personal request for a daily muffin and coffee. Should he just leave them outside her door as he had been? Or, now that she knew who it was, should he wait until she was there and bring it to her door? She hadn’t asked for anything different, so he decided to just keep leaving them outside her door.
 

Continuing to his morning post, he knew better than to tell anyone. As much as his coworkers appreciated Shayla’s policies, she was still a woman, and not just any woman. She was the daughter of man’s biggest enemy. Even Brigg would see it as buttering up the other side.

“Heard you made the call,” Brigg said quietly, the moment Nathaniel sat down next to him.

“Yeah,” he said with his mind adrift to the cryptic conversation the previous evening that ended with a scolding…
 

“Yes, there is something better for you. We were told you might call. You did the right thing, now you need to be ready to go.”

“Go where? I don’t understand,” Nathaniel said, his heart beating wildly as he wondered what he was doing.

“To a better place.”

“That’s what people say about dying,” Nathaniel said.

“Do not call this number again under any circumstances. You’ll be given further instructions soon. Do you understand?”

“What is this? How will I know…”

“We will contact you.”

“For what?”
Nathaniel tried to ask again, but was cut off with a firm click that scared and angered him.

Nathaniel unpacked his coffee and muffin, preferring to think about Shayla and how she was enjoying the same simple pleasure.

“The voice was so familiar…just tell me who it was. I won’t say anything,” Nathaniel whispered, hoping Brigg would trust him.

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t,” Nathaniel said, slightly annoyed. That phone call unnerved him.

“Please,” Brigg pleaded, his jaw tightening visibly.

Nathaniel was too tired to argue with Brigg. After all, Nathaniel had a secret, too.

Chapter 7

After dropping off breakfast for Shayla each day, Nathanial looked forward to seeing her tour the worksites most mornings, coffee cup in hand, with Chester’s Bakery logo side out. He kept hoping for her eyes to rest on him, but she was all business. He felt an undeniable desire as he watched her beautiful lips take a sip from that cup. She even looked sexy when drinking coffee.

While Janice might own him and his actions, she didn’t own his thoughts. Nathaniel
 
unapologetically enjoyed the fantasy visions of himself in Shayla’s embrace.

 
One morning, he was about to make his coffee and muffin drop off when he noticed the light from underneath her office door. After making sure nobody was looking, with his heart pounding, he offered a wistful knock. He knew he probably shouldn’t do it, but he wanted to see her again, even just for a minute.

“Would you like to come in, Nathaniel?” she said after opening the door and smiling once she saw who was there.