Blaze - the Sandstone Affair Part 4 Read online

  I get off the elevator on the proper floor, look for Mark but don’t see him. He wanted to be here to help me so he pretended to go home at his usual time, and then drove a friend’s car back to the office building. He’s supposed to be lurking somewhere around here. However, unless he has mastered the art of invisibility, he’s not here. I put off entering the door of Sandstone Ventures for as long as I can, but I eventually get to the point where I can’t wait any longer.

  The front office is dim, the light from the building giving it a shadowy appearance. It looks like a ghost town. Mark said when he left work Blake looked like the cat, preparing to meet the canary. My stomach rumbles and churns as I envy any bird that could fly away from this. A bright light comes from the left side down the hall. Blake’s office door is open and he sits behind his desk, pretending to work, waiting for me.

  I knock on the door jam and stand there, the huge purse making me feel even more obvious and awkward. It only has a few trinkets in it and the fake folder. I pretend it’s heavy so he won’t be surprised when I set it down. Blake looks up, allowing a serpentine smile spread across his lips.

  “Miss Sharp, how good of you to come,” he says with a fake air about him as thick as southern sweet tea. “I have longed to speak with you again.”

  “I’m just going to put this out there,” I say. Mark said to pretend to be shaken and desperate but there really isn’t any acting involved. This whole situation has my voice and body in tremors. “I can’t lose Lynx. I can’t lose my job. It’s who I am. I‒ I am here to ask you to reconsider.”

  “You’re here to do what?” He says drawing out each word.

  “To ask you to reconsider closing my company.”

  “To ask? Really? Ask? This time tomorrow, the waiting period is over and since no judge has issued any kind of stay, your company will be mine lock, stock and stories. Your staff will be mine, your computers will be mine, hell even the copy machine will be mine. All you will have left is a fading memory of this monumental failure. And you’re here to ask me to stop this?”

  “I’m here‒um‒I’m here to beg you,” I surrender breathlessly.

  “Ah,” Blake leans back in his chair, sunning himself in my humiliation. “That’s more like it.”

  I drop my head, far heavier than my purse, as my heart sinks. We aren’t going to fool him. He’s just playing with me like a cat toy.

  “But why would I entertain any thought of helping you? What would it profit me?”

  “You’d still have control of one of the up-and-coming news magazines in New York. I have contacts, I have ability, I can, well, I can be used to influence people who might not want to end up in our pages, or to provide collateral for higher risks.” Putting Lynx out there to be used as one of his bullying tools makes me feel as violated as the rest of tonight’s agenda, but I have to keep him interested.

  “So, you would be of use to me?” He asks, the lecherous grin growing brighter.

  “I would, yes.”

  “Why would I believe you?”

  “Because I keep my word. My word means everything to me.”

  “Really? Because when Sandstone gave you the money to save your precious rag of a magazine you signed a contract saying you would support and respect the owners of this firm. And then just a few weeks ago you were in my hallway caterwauling like a mad woman, calling me all sorts of names and physically assaulting me. Do you consider that keeping a promise?”

  “No. I was upset. I am sorry for that. Very sorry,” I say, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. I’m sorry I didn’t flatten you on your ass you big windbag. I control myself and continue to play the role of the contrite woman begging for a second chance.

  “I’m supposed to believe you? I think you will need to prove it,” he says rising from his chair. He walks over and motions me to come forward. I am terrified he is going to kiss me, and if he does I might vomit all over him. But he stops by the shelf where his folder is hidden. “Do you know how you can prove it?”

  “I think I have a good idea,” I reply staring at the ground. I set the purse beside the bookcase and try to stand in some kind of open posture.

  “To be of use to me, you will have to be totally used by me,” he chides getting closer to my body as my knees begin to shake. “Are you ready to prove your usability?”

  “Yes,” I mutter softly to the floor. I am hoping this interview concludes soon before I lock my knees and pass out.

  “You’re a whore, then?” He asks only two steps away from me now as I back up against the bookshelf.

  “Apparently so,” I answer dryly, my face burning red, my eyes unable to look up from the carpet.

  “Well, let’s see if you’re a good one,” he chirps, grabbing me by the shoulder, sending shock waves through my body. I start to pull against him but realize he’s not pushing me over a chair or forcing me to the floor. He’s dragging me out of the office! I resist as much as I can, leaning over the grab the purse but I can’t reach it.

  “Wait, I—”

  “Leave it here, you can come back for it later,” Blake instructs. His voice gains a clarity – an urgency – it didn’t have before. “Don’t want any purse-cam pictures walking out of the office. My brother knows all about that little trick.”

  Frantic, I look around. He’s got me by the arm and is pulling me into the darkened hallway. I drag my feet.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen!

  I look through the glass front of the office hoping to see Mark standing there. I wave my arms, pretending to lose balance, but all I can see is the light reflecting off the tiled floor of the outside world.

  “I prefer to test subjects in the conference room,” Blake croons an explanation. “The chairs are more comfortable and the room more suited for learning all your skills.”

  “Please, I — I need to slow down,” I say dragging my shoes against the carpet to force one to fall off. Thinking I can stop him long enough to retrieve it. The shoe heel finally snaps causing me to jostle as my other falls off.

  “Leave them,” Blake instructs. It’s clear he’s in charge now. Where the hell is Mark? I’m in trouble here. “You won’t need shoes for what we’re going to do.”

  “I’m, um, I’m not so sure—”

  Either Blake doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care. He pushes me into the conference room and closes the door behind him. I’m trapped. I’m trapped in a room with a couch and big chairs and a table waist high and a man who thinks I’ve given him the right to do what he wants. My purse is gone, the folder is still hidden and I’m stuck in here with this troll. Beads of sweat pour from my forehead as I stand, shoeless, shaking in the center of the room.

  Blake takes his hand and rubs the back of it across my cheek, tracing my lips with his finger. I bite my bottom lip and try to think of any plan that would stop this from happening.

  “As I recall,” he drones, stepping back a foot. “You were here to beg me for your company. Isn’t that right, whore?”

  “Yes,” I say, a look of disgust and anger crossing my red face. “I beg you to let me have Lynx back.”

  “You’re not in the right position for begging, are you?” He asks as I look confused, then places his hand on my shoulder and press downward. “Oh dear, are you desperate and dumb?”

  I sink to my knees, the position placing my head right in front of his crotch. He leans forward, rubbing his pants against my face. I take a deep breath, a tear falling from my eye. Forgive me, Mark. Forgive me, Dad. Forgive me every professor, teacher and friend. Forgive me for what I am about to have to do.

  He puts his left hand behind my head, ready to pull me forward, his hand with a firm grip on my hair, knowing I can’t escape. His other hand snakes to his pants, slowly pushing his zipper down. I see the bulge inside his boxer shorts bounce and jerk as he exposes his cock to me, my mouth only inches away.

  I close my eyes as I feel the pressure from behind my head pulling me toward him. My mouth, full of bile
and bitter regret, opens obediently. I wait for that first sour taste.

  BZZZ —BZZZ—BZZZ—WEEE OOOO WEEE OOOO WEE OOO —

  The whole room explodes into sound. A red light in the ceiling begins to circle round and round and the oppressive blaring of some kind of alarm shatters the air. Blake jumps back, his head practically spinning as he looks wildly around the room. He lets go of my hair and pushes me backwards running out into the hall.

  The sound rings out so loudly I can feel my heart starting to beat with the rhythm of the alarm. My brain kicks into action. That’s what it is, some kind of alarm. I look up and see the sprinkler heads have popped down. Blake has about two more minutes and this whole office is going to get sprayed with water and fire retardant. This is my chance! I bolt out of the conference room.

  The rotating red lights and harsh sounds disorient me momentarily and I realize I am running further into the office instead of to the exit. By the time I get my bearings and head the correct direction, Blake is coming back down the narrow hallway from his office. He sees me and starts to run, his fly still open and his shame hanging out for all to see.

  “I changed my mind,” I call uselessly and take off toward the door and he tries to cut me off. I know if he catches me, it’s over. I skirt around a chair throwing it behind me, then hear it crash against the wall as he muscles it out of his way. He’s only a foot away from me, reaching out to grab me when I get to the glass door and open it.

  Six security guards are running on the tile floor adding to the cacophony of the moment. I jump out between two of them and manage to break free from Blake’s reach as they accidentally push him backwards.

  “Get her!” Blake spits venomously. “She did this!”

  They turn and see me standing there breathless and lunge in my direction. Just then a loud whooshing sound draws everyone’s attention to the office where the water has started flowing from the ceiling.

  “No. No. No no no no!” Blake stammers running back into the office. Half the men accompany him but the others are still running toward me. The sound of more footsteps running across the lobby rings out and before I can figure out which way to turn an arm reaches around my stomach and pulls me to the ground.

  “Stop!” I kick backwards trying to harm my assailant.

  “It’s me. It’s Mark,” He says in my ear loudly. He pulls me under a stairwell, embracing me as I shiver. “It’s me, it’s me, it’s me.”

  I put my head on his shoulder and he lifts a finger to his lips to instruct me to be very quiet. We watch from under the stairs as the boots of firemen and shiny black shoes of security all rush into Sandstone Ventures. The few late-night workers from other offices begin walking down the stairs; we can hear them above us. Mark motions for me to get ready and as a group walks by, we fit in the pack. I’m trying desperately to walk as if I am wearing shoes, and Mark keeps his hand on my arm as if he is guiding a blind woman down the stairs.

  We exit with the other occupants and quietly make our way to the parking lot.

  “My purse!” I exclaim. “I left it in there. It’s in there with Blake. I don’t have any keys.”

  Mark motions for me to keep my voice down and walks me to another vehicle, a worn down Chrysler that looks like it was just bought from one of those lots by the junkyard where they cover the car in paint and scrawl “Best Offer” on the window. He pulls a key out of his pocket, opens the passenger door and pushes me in.

  “Where did you get this?” I ask amazed.

  “Robert Clank. He’s not just a bail bondsman, you know. He has all kinds of skills and connections. How do you think he keeps from losing money? One of his bounty hunters loaned me this. Bob also knows some great lock-pick and carjacking specialists. I’ll call and have him get someone to bring your car home this evening.

  Mark pulls out of the lot and drives down the freeway for several miles before pulling over in a grocery store lot and shutting off the engine. He calls Mr. Clank and gives a description and instructions about my car.

  He puts his phone down and looks at me so lovingly that I burst into tears.

  “Are you okay, Julia? Did he hurt you? Did he‒ you know—”

  “No!” I slam my fist against the dashboard. “NO! NO! NO! But I didn’t get the folder either. It was all for nothing. I went through that for nothing and now Blake knows I set him up and the file probably got water all over it and it’s all gone. It is all gone.”

  Mark holds me for a moment, and then begins to pull his shirt out of his pants. I can’t believe he wants to do that now.

  “It’s not all gone,” he says reassuringly opening his shirt.

  “Mark, I’m really not in the mood for—”

  He opens some buttons and pulls a folder out, the same kind of folder as the fake in my purse. At least Blake won’t know we tried to set him up.

  “You saved the fake? Oh good,” I reply half-heartedly.

  “I saved the original,” he said, flipping it open to show me all kinds of tables, charts, pictures and notes.

  “What? How?”

  “I hid under that stairwell while you went in. You weren’t very cool, by the way. I saw you looking for me and Blake could have seen it too. But he stayed in his office. I saw him dragging you to the conference room. That was something I didn’t think about ahead of time. It has more cameras, and better lighting. He was so excited to get you in there he left his office door open, so I went in and made the switch. But I could feel something. I can’t explain it, but I knew you were in trouble. I walked out and saw your shoes in the hall. So, I pulled the fire alarm by the door and went back under the stairwell.”

  “You beautiful, wonderful, man,” I say, hugging Mark and looking through the folder. It was all there. Spreadsheets, emails, even more pictures of Valerie and Mark. I didn’t care. I was so happy to see all that evidence nothing could have stopped me from cheering.

  “I’m so sorry, Julia,” he says reaching out to touch me. I react and pull away from him, the thought of his brother’s hands on me still overwhelming my senses. “I’m staying with you tonight. Tomorrow, we will see the judge.”

  “Tomorrow, my life begins again,” I sigh, hoping somehow to rid myself of the ghost of Blake’s perversion before Mark notices its presence too clearly.

  “You are amazing,” he says, starting the car and backing out of the parking lot.

  “I love you,” I confess, kissing the folder and hugging his arm as he drives us back to my place.

  Chapter 6

  We park the junker in my space and leave the key in the car. Mark texts Mr. Clank to have his helper leave my car in the space and take this car back to wherever it came from. We walk up the stairs hand in hand. I keep touching and rubbing Mark’s arm, reminding myself what good touch feels like.

  We sit down at the table and look at everything in Blake’s folder carefully. Spreadsheets show how he used the Lynx account number to attach funds to each order or payment I made. $300 for printer ink for the staff became $3,000 with the overage going into a private holding area, eventually transferred to Blake’s personal bank. That was just one small transaction but the sheet was filled with them.

  An envelope with smaller pictures reveals more than a few more shots of Valerie and Mark playing hanky spanky. Some show Valerie on her knees or bent over for other men, all of whom granted some kind of exclusive interview or content for Ladies World.

  “Those were a long time ago. When she was starting,” Mark said, attempting to explain the obvious.

  I collected the pictures and put them back in the envelope. “Give these back to her,” I say softly.

  “I called Paul Fries today. He agreed to do this work for us and let me pay him later. He’s got the rejoinder paperwork ready. We have an appointment with him at ten o’clock tomorrow morning for him to put the evidence in the request and then we have a one-thirty appointment before a judge. You have to sign the rejoinder in front of an officer of the court first, so we need to get there ar
ound one.”

  “I’m surprised Paul’s helping,” I say, “He’s always been clear his is a cash and carry law-firm.”

  “Well, some people hate my brother even more than they love money,” Mark replied with a smile. “Blake has made more than a few enemies in town.”

  We keep looking through the stacks of fudged receipts, threatening emails and corruption when there is a sudden, loud knock on my door.

  “That’s probably Bob’s guy,” Mark says as he gets up. I stop him.

  “No. It’s not. You didn’t tell him my apartment number.” I run and look out the peephole but see nothing. We both crouch by the door waiting to hear the footsteps walk away. When we are sure the coast is clear, Mark sends me to stand behind the couch with the phone in my hand as he opens the door and looks out. Slowly he reaches outside and takes something off the door knob.