Revenge(17)

I grunt and put another disk into the drive in front of me. A spider climbs out of the slot and onto my finger. I don’t even have the energy to shake it off.

This day is not going how I hoped.

After a few minutes of watching the spider drop down from my finger and walk around the surface of the table, my mood picks up.

At least I can hear the mysterious musician sing again.

I know his name.

Dylan Wolf.

I shake at the anticipation of looking him up. I pull out my cell phone, only to find the basement gets no reception.

But I do have a computer. Nick isn’t watching, and my screen faces away from him. I pull up a browser to do a search. The browser opens, but the page goes to an internal network, and won’t go to Google.

“We’re locked down,” Nick says.

“Are you psychic?”

I stare at Nick in disbelief. How does he know what I’m trying to do?

He answers, “You just smiled for the first time since you returned from the tenth floor, and you’ve got a sneaky look on your face. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you want to check Facebook.”

“How do we get internet access down here? If we’re on the local network, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“How? You get down on your knees and blow someone in IT. That’s how.”

My cheeks are too tired from all the blushing to even make an effort. I stare down at the new streaks of dust on my blazer.

“Blow someone,” I sigh.

“That’s how everything gets done,” Nick says.

I cough and give him a dirty look. “Not everything in this world is about sex, you know.”

The piercing in his lower lip wiggles as he thinks. “True. Some things are about power, or money, both of which can be exchanged for sex. Forget silver and gold. Sex really is the ultimate currency.”

“I’d rather work in the archives forever.”

“Careful what you wish for.”

I stare at my computer screen. No internet? Am I in Hell?

“Do you know anyone in IT?” I ask.

“What kind of guy is your type? Do you prefer pale and sickly, or maybe doughy?”

“Don’t be mean.” I snort and change the computer disks. “Maybe we could bribe someone. And not with sex.”

“Who was it? Who did Maggie have in mind for you?”

“Just a guy. Dylan Wolf. He’s got some videos up, but that’s all I know. I guess you could say he’s cute.”

“Dylan Wolf,” he muses, stroking his chin like he has a beard. “You know, I think I have seen that guy on the internet. You’re crazy to turn down Maggie.”

“I’m not a hooker.”

“Neither am I. But if I had the chance to sleep with Dylan Wolf, plus get out of this basement, you’d have a hard time stopping me.”

“That would make you a hooker.”

“A hooker with a heart of gold,” he says. “So, what’s the main reason you won’t play Maggie’s game?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine.” He opens a box that’s been sitting on the floor the whole time and pulls out a silver flask. “Let’s start drinking.”

“Nick, you are a wild man.”

He shakes the silver flask. “This should help you loosen up so we can get to the bottom of your issue.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hmm.” He tilts back the container and takes a sip. “You know, Jess, whenever you think you don’t have any options, that means the best choice is right in front of you.”

“There’s nothing in front of me but a box of dusty files.”

“Close your eyes. What’s in front of you now?”

I close my eyes, and I see a gorgeous face. He’s singing a song, just for me.

I can hear Nick shuffling things around on his table, getting back to work. I don’t want to open my eyes yet.

This daydream is too precious to lose.

I can still feel his dark eyes on me, his arms stretching out on either side of my head. Trapped by him, I had nowhere to go, no option but to stare up into those eyes. His song lingered in the air, wrapping around us, like his scent on the jacket he left behind.

Last night, I was homesick again. I folded up his jacket and clutched it to my chest, the way a toddler would hug a stuffed animal.

I still have his jacket, and now I also have his name.

Dylan Wolf.

He’s all I think about for the next several hours. I get through half a dozen boxes, which Nick says is good.

Five o’clock comes, and we escape the basement.

I don’t mind hanging out with Nick, but it’s a relief to step outside of the building.

My arms are sore from lifting boxes.