In the elevator Monroe reached into his pocket producing a smartphone that he tapped away at as we descended floors. Instinctively I reached for my own phone but stopped halfway through remembering it'd been dead for the past two days.
Attempting to mitigate the awkwardness I looked around the elevator. There was nothing awe inspiring about it, a panel of fluorescent lights cast an unflattering shine on the matching smooth grey floor and walls.
"Just letting my secretary know where I'm headed." Monroe explained holding up his phone before tucking it inside his jacket.
"I don't think she's a big fan of me."
"She'll come around, anyone who is a friend of mine gains instant respect in this building." He boasted adjusting his deep navy suit jacket.
I was about to ask him what he meant by that when the elevator paused opening on the twenty-third floor. The level was a similar layout of cubicles and walled off offices, but as I scanned the immediate carpeted area there was no one waiting for the elevator much less within twenty feet of it.
"Stupid thing." Monroe reached across me pressing the close door symbol.
It was then that I noticed it. The dingy bulbs reflected off his wrist as he impatiently tapped the button.
His cufflink.
A circle divided into four equal parts, a cross and a star in the top two quadrants.
My mind flashed immediately to the photo of my mother seated neatly at a bench one hundred paces off as the summer wind blew strands of her dark hair. In the foreground a shiny object reflected the intense sun, not a button but a cufflink.
"Those are nice," I pointed to his sleeve casually. "Where did you get them?"
"These are my lucky ones. I got them when I was eighteen years old and I never go anywhere without them." He tapped the silver buttons sewn to his jacket cuff, the pair was identical save for one flaw.
As he presented both of his wrists for me to see the luster on the one furthest from me was much duller - as if it were older. Monroe continued explaining the personal significance of the embellishment but I'd stopped listening.
Why would his so called favorite pair of cufflinks be different ages? He could've had to replace one surely - but why? Signing papers or sitting in a lumbar supported chair isn't strenuous enough of a task to loosen the threads holding it to the impossibly expensive material.
I allowed my mind to travel, maybe he lost one twenty years ago in a tuft of grass while taking a photograph. My muscles tensed as my train of thinking came to a halt. No, I stopped myself. It was too outlandish, like I said it was over two decades ago - but still. I couldn't deny they barred unique resemblance to the lost item I'd noticed years ago in the picture of my mother by the pond.
The pond.
The photo was taken at the same location Mo Soileireacht depicted with fluid brushstrokes - was there any coincidence there? Nervously I stole a glance at Monroe, his features were at rest and unaware of my alarm. Had he lied to me?
My heart dropped, had I allowed him to turn myself against my own mother?
The doors slid open again, this time at the lobby floor. I stepped hurriedly out of the elevator that had suddenly become uncomfortably cramped. I needed to leave, for once what I did not know was no longer an enticing tingle in my chest but a shiver than ran the length of my spine.
"I should go," I faltered for a logical excuse as to why I was all of a sudden in such a rush to leave. "It's been a long day." I finished with the obvious, there was no disputing that the last twelve hours held more ups and downs than I could have ever hoped to experience.
"So soon?" Monroe squinted down at me. In the blink of an eye his entire demeanor shifted, no longer was he jovial or sympathetic. His dark eyes held scrutiny and frustration that seemed to be entirely manifested on me.
"Yea, I just don't feel so well." I tried to play off the clear lie as I inched backward. My back made contact with a solid mass and I spun around in confusion, I didn't remember the wall being that close - but it wasn't a wall.
In horror I stared up at Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones. Shoulder to shoulder the two men made an impermeable human barricade that boxed me into a corner with no way out.
"Please forgive me for this my daughter." Monroe's cool voice came from beside me.
Daughter.
Was this a dream? A twisted nightmare of nightmares?
There was no need to pinch myself as the hands of the two men squeezed my upper arm locking me in place.
The lobby was empty save for me and my rapidly antagonizing company, the two attendants who I'd seen earlier had vanished. Outside people swarmed around the building weaving in and out of each other on their way to work or home, but none could see me trapped by the three men.
"You fucking liar." I spat loudly at Monroe trying in futility to shake off the two burly men.
He looked perversely pleased with himself as he held out his hand. "Where is it May?"
Mo Soileireacht. That what this was all about. He made it clear Mo Soileireacht threatened his status - how could I have been so stupid to think he would stop his violent trials to retrieve the journal just because he and I had one semi-civil conversation?
He'd never find it without my help, then again looking at Smith and Jones I don't think he intended to ask nicely more than once.
"You're sick."
"I'm just doing what I need to stay ahead, you know how competitive the business world is. Can you imagine? The boss's son in law having an affair? I could kiss my place in line for promotion good bye."
So it was about money. Greed, just as Lyle proposed. He married into the company so that he would be first choice in the line of succession and now that his plan was in its final stages - he needed to tie up loose ends.
Mo Soileireacht and I.
He lied to get me out of his office quietly, and I believed him.
All the things he said about my mother being obsessed with him, out of her mind, even targeting him for money. It was all a lie, one that I so readily digested.
"How much did you pay her to leave when you found out she was pregnant?" My voice was hollow as my body struggled to keep up with the whiplash effect plaguing my mind.
He sneered. "Obviously not enough to get her through the year."
"You liar. My mother didn't come back for money she came back because she.." The energy in my voice waned, I couldn't say it. Even though I saw her words with my own eyes I couldn't admit that she returned to him because she loved him.
"You're a fucking liar." I swore again, the sharp loathing in my voice did no more damage than a paper cut as Monroe adjusted his suit jacket.
"Don't take it too personally, manipulation is in my job title." He lingered checking himself in the polished elevator doors and I wondered why he continued to stick around and answer my questions. I suppose in some perverse way it was cathartic for him, it'd been so long since he had the chance to confide in someone.
"There are some things you have to understand, I simply can't have a scandal like you or that ratty old journal running around out there ruining my chances of controlling all this." He motioned theatrically at the open space surrounding him.
"I'm your child not a scandal."
"Oh May," He turned away from his reflection and closed the gap between us. "You were never my child. Which is why I have no problem with doing this." Keeping eye contact with me he snapped at the two men and ordered them to search me for the journal.
The men patted me down gruffly while Monroe waited in anticipation. Anticipation welled in my gut as well - though not the kind filled with excitement. I dreaded what would happen next, when the men didn't find Mo Soileireacht and Monroe became more desperate.
Monroe seemed so apathetic as he watched me. Had he done something of this nature before? My head felt light as I connected the dots. Had he done the same to my mother? A breath hitched in my throat, I was a loose end by default. I found out about Mo Soileireacht by accident, but my mother, she was it's author. She knew the truth firsthand - hell she was the proof as much as I was.
Why wouldn't he have gone after her along with Mo Soileireacht? Unless -
"Where is she?" I shook, the thought unable to be erased from my mind.
I was abandoned the day after she met with Monroe. When I entered his office this morning I assumed he held a clue as to where she went when she left me, but what if she didn't go anywhere. What if-
"What did you do?" I demanded. My limbs contorted with the sudden flow of energy and rage that pumped through my system. Jones and Smith struggled minutely against my jerking motions.
Monroe's dark eyes locked with my own and I settled. "What did you do to my mother?" I hated how pleading I sounded but I was desperate and he could tell as a sickly grin spread to his face.
"You're just like her you know, too curious for your own good but," He inched closer again so that his face was mere inches from mine. "That's what killed the cat."
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shit is hitting the fan !!! Vote & Comment if you like xoo