13. Alex
Alex props herself on an oversized, apricot armchair, staring out the window at distant steel beams connecting one state to another.
This chair is where she feels the most transparent, thanks to her friend, Dr. Kiara Bell.
Everything about Kiara is immaculate, from her tawny skin, to her sleek, tapered mohawk, her blush-colored pantsuit, and her nude, leather pumps. That’s why Alex looks up to her so much. Not because Kiara’s elegance seems so effortless, but because she knows it’s not.
They’d first met at a women’s empowerment symposium, where Kiara was a panelist discussing her struggles with alopecia. After years of covering her natural hair with wigs and sew-ins, Kiara decided she wanted to see a change.
It started with one visit to a holistic stylist. One visit that had initially felt embarrassing and pointless, and yet when Kiara left the salon, it was the first time in years she’d smiled at the curls growing from her scalp. The scattered bald patches were still there, but the urge to hide wasn’t. Her one-time visit turned quarterly, and then monthly, until one day, it didn’t feel like a task to check off anymore—it was its own reward.
Kiara’s story was an inspiration for Alex to do things that make her feel good about herself, even when she doesn’t have the energy to. Especially when she doesn’t.
Alex had approached Kiara after the panel simply to thank her for her vulnerability. But a quick chat turned into picking her brain, which led to Alex offering to pay for dinner as a way to compensate for taking so much of Kiara’s time. That dinner sparked a mentorship with monthly check-ins, and now, as friends, it’s just dinner or lunch for the sake of having a meal.
…And sometimes, advice.
“He said he wanted to protect me,” Alex says.
Kiara tilts her head and runs a hand over her thigh. “Do you believe him?”
“I do. I also believe I trust him way more than I should.”
“Oh?”
“I mean, I told you how we met.”
“Yes ma’am. Multiple times.”
Alex curves her lips. To the untrained ear, “multiple times” might sound nonchalant, but to her, it’s a weighted pair of words.
There’s a fist print on her bedroom wall that should have given her enough cause to run the opposite direction of Antonio Moretti.
Instead, she’s brought up all the reasons she should have run—“multiple times”, as her friend points out. She’s even started to annoy herself. Still… “I don’t understand why it is so hard for me to get him out of my head.”
“Have you told your parents?”
“Hell no!”
“Why not?”
Alex grips the right arm of her chair. “Because they’ll both have heart attacks. First James, then Ivan, now Antonio? I already know what they’ll say.”
“And?”
“And I…don’t wanna hear it.”
“Because?”
Because they actually might be what convinces me to bolt, and I don’t know if that’s what I want.
Outside, the sun starts to weaken, but the city makes up for it. Skyscrapers turn into canvasses of light, traffic illuminates the streets, and in the skies, a plane flashes goodbye.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret: I turned Jalil down the first time he proposed,” Kiara says.
That turns Alex’s attention back to the room. “You serious?! How did I not know that?!”
“Because it was before your time, sis.”
“Yeah, ‘cuz I would have surely called you crazy for saying no to Morris Chestnut’s brother.”
Kiara’s eyes show a familiar lighthearted annoyance. “I really wish you’d stop calling him that.”
“It’s just as much a compliment to you as it is to him! Seriously, I can’t believe I didn’t see it when we first met. He already had the goatee, but I guess his going bald last year was the” –Alex presses the tips of her middle finger and thumb together— “pièce de résistance.”
“Girl, are you purposefully trying to change the conversation?”
“I wasn’t, actually,” Alex says, biting back a smile. “You know my attention span can be pitiful. But who doesn’t want to hear that their husband looks like a celebrity?”
“Me. You’ve created a monster. You know he paid for one of those DNA tests just to see if he could trace some kind of relationship? He’s still holding out on hope when we all know that he is, in fact, not related to that man. So, well done. Thank you.” Kiara claps half-heartedly.
Alex laughs. “Sorry. You can get back to your story, now.”
Kiara chuckles too and shakes her head before getting back to business. “Two words: weaponized incompetence.”
“Yikes. But… You still ended up marrying him?”
“I did.”
“Soo, the moral of the story is be patient?”
“Not at all.”
Alex pokes out her lips. “Qué será, será?”
“Ma’am.”
Kiara sighs. “If you keep making yourself available to a man who doesn’t make himself available to you, then what are you showing him? You can’t force Antonio to move past your families’ history. And unless he’s willing to move on his own—”
“Then I need to. You’re right.” Tomorrow’s problem, though. “Can I hear more about Mediocre-era Jalil?
“Oh, girl, don’t get me started…”
Two weeks after Alex and Antonio’s blundering conversation, her car decided to throw a tantrum and break down less than a mile from her condo. Typical teenage behavior. Thank goodness Victoria wasn’t there when it happened, because she’d try to blame it on some foreign concept called neglect.
It boils down to Alex replacing the lifeless engine or getting a new car completely, so she opts to do neither.
She catches rides with Ben to Tech Me Out, and afterwards, uses whatever ride share app is cheapest to get to prism. She probably could work remotely, but Nathan’s attendance has been a bit spotty for some reason, and it’s easier to handle club-related things on-site. Plus, Alex would miss out on the most fascinating thing about prism.
There’s no official name for it, and it doesn’t have a specific schedule, but there’s some unspoken ritual in which all the main faces (aside from Antonio’s) of the club end up in a circle by the lobby bar just drinking and talking. According to Gio, it happens organically. No one asks about it. They’re either there, or they aren’t. And Alex has been there three times so far. She hopes today is the fourth.
She adjusts her headband while walking up to the sliding entrance doors. Good thing her reflexes are working today, because the sliding part doesn’t happen. She stops a few inches from the glass and peers inside, but can’t really make anything out. Suddenly, the doors separate, and she jumps back.
“Apologies, Alex. I was cleaning the doors and forgot to turn the sensor back on.”
Evren’s appearance takes her aback; his brown eyes are yellowed and sunken in his wrinkled face, and his hair looks brittle and dry, like it hasn’t been brushed or washed in days. Definitely seems more than some bout of fatigue.
“It’s OK, Evren. How…are you?”
“I’m alright, my dear.”
Don’t push, girl. “Okay.”
“While I have you, perhaps you could talk with this damn phone. It won’t listen to me.” Evren yanks the device from his jacket pocket and Alex winces at the sight of a fairly large spider crack.
“How hard were you communicating with it?”
“I tried to do that ‘hey, spirit’ thing you showed me, but nothing happened.”
Alex bites back a smile. “I…see. Try it like this.”
Evren gawks after she demonstrates the proper pronunciation, then repeats her actions, causing the phone to light up. “Well, I’ll be damned. What kind of name is that?”
“Nordic, I feel like? I’m not sure. But do you think you’ll remember, now? The poor phone probably can’t take much more.”
“It’d better. It cost more than Ruth and I spent on our honeymoon. Did I ever tell you that one?”
“Is that the time you guys got snowed in at that cabin? In Maine?”
“It is.” Evren smiles broadly and looks at his watch. “I’ve got to finish the rest of this level in the next hour, but next time I see you, I’ll tell you about how your country almost shipped me back home!”
“Looking forward to it,” Alex says in response to the custodian’s promise to share another of his bizarrely entertaining tales of his earliest days in America. Aside from Stefanie and Makeo, Evren is the only employee at prism who made it easy to get to know him. In fact, he often seeks her out on his breaks to tell her these stories, but also just to hear about her day. As his wife Ruth has passed, and they had no children, Evren spends most of his time either working here, or on his car, which was his first outrightly-owned asset in the states. Unlike Trey, Evren does remind her of her dad sometimes, so she makes a note to introduce them at some point.
She heads to a lukewarm welcome in the communications room. Makeo, sweet as always, greets her immediately, while Pete barely looks her way, and Nathan, physically present, seems to be miles away.
Alex flops onto the chair beside him. “Hey! Missed you last week.”
He shoves his fingernails into his mouth and stares at a scan in progress on his monitor.
“Hellooo?” Alex waves a hand in front of his face.
He still takes a moment to acknowledge her. “Shit. Sorry. It’s…been a hell of a month.”
“Sorry to hear that.” Alex rolls closer to Nathan’s computer and reaches for the mouse. “I can finish up, then. It’s no big deal.”
He slams his other hand in front of the keyboard. “No! No.”
“Nathan, what the hell? Are you OK?”
He looks at Makeo, who taps Pete’s forearm with the back of his hand. “C’mon. Stef texted me about a delivery.”
Am I missing something? Alex watches the two men exit without any further communication.
Nathan slouches over and rubs the top of his head. “I’m not good at lying, Alex.”
“Why would you need to lie? Nathan. Why would you need to lie?”
“Because…Moira’s pregnant.”
“Oh! Congr—wait…is that not…good news?”
“It’s great news.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
He looks at her with a deadly serious face. “I gotta tell you what’s going on. I can’t take it anymore, and I feel like you might be the only one that can understand. But promise to let me get through everything before you judge me, okay?”
“Wh—What the hell am I supposed to say to that?”
“Nothing. Just listen.” Nathan sucks in the air with his teeth closed. “Last month, I got a phone call. I don’t usually answer unknown numbers, so I let it go to voicemail. Thirty seconds later, I get another call. I answer this time, and it’s this garbled amateur-hour voice telling me they knew who I was, who I work with. Who I work for. And how they have enough to ruin me.”
“So someone is blackmailing you? Do the boys know? Is that why they left so easily?”
“No. I guess Makeo could just tell I needed to talk to someone.” Avery fumbles with his wedding ring. “Alex, there’s a lot of shit about the underground of prism that you don’t know.”
Right. Gang shit.“I’m sure.”
“I still didn’t take it seriously, though. And mind you—nobody except our doctor knew that Moira was pregnant. But a few days after our first ultrasound, I get a picture of the sonogram. And a text that said, ‘I’d have hoped you’d be smarter than this, for their sake.’”
Alex shudders. “Oh, my—”
“Yeah. They started fucking with me. I glued myself to the computer every day and every night. But they didn’t call back right away. When they finally did, I tried to trace ‘em. Didn’t work. It bounced all over the planet. Finally, I just replied to the number and asked them what the hell it was that they wanted.”
“Money?”
Nathan nods. “A transfer to that account every Wednesday afternoon, at exactly one thirty-seven. I didn’t do it at first. I said since they were so good at being a sneaky bastard, they could just do it themselves. Thought I was calling their bluff. But two weeks ago, I get a call from Moira. Hollering in my ear, scared as fuck. They sent a picture of her coming out of her salon. So, after that, I had no choice but to…”
“Do what they asked,” Alex whispers, feeling tears rise to her eyelids. “You’re right. I do understand. So, you’re being blackmailed by some internet asshole. I wish you would’ve told me. We could have worked together from the beginning.”
“In the beginning, I thought I could take care of it. But when things escalated, all I could think about was my family. I don’t know who this guy is or what he’s capable of. Even now, I’m only saying this because I don’t think I have any other choice.”
Alex’s body seesaws while she weighs the options for their next course of action. “So…every Wednesday.”
“Yeah.”
She chews on her lip for a moment. “You’re gonna have to keep doing it.”
Nathan gapes. “Did I hear you right?”
“Yes. For now, I want you to keep going as if nothing has changed. Don’t do anything different. I need time to look into it. Once I know more, I can support you with the rest.”
“…Okay. Thank you.” He wipes his brow. “Sorry for fucking up your day. I know that’s not what you were expecting to walk into.”
“And I know it wasn’t easy for you to trust me, but I’m glad you did. Can you show me everything you’ve gotten so far?”
Nathan unlatches a black silicone bracelet from his right wrist, revealing a USB tip.
“That’s so cool.”
He smiles for the first time and hands the strap to Alex. “I thought you’d think so.”
But as she sees for herself the texts and photos that Nathan’s received, Alex works very hard to clear her face of any distress. “It’s interesting… one thirty-seven, every Wednesday. That’s the total opposite of what we’re taught to do.”
“Right. But it hasn’t made a difference.”
“Hm. There still has to be a reason, though, so that’s where I’ll start. But not here. It’s too risky.”
“…Right.”
Naturally, Nathan still looks incredibly hesitant, so Alex pats his hand. “I know it won’t do any good to tell you not to worry, so I’ll just say…we’ll find this guy. Or lady.”
Nathan digs in his ear. “What if it’s one of those kids who sit in their room all night with all the lights off, yelling at their mom when she says it’s time for dinner?” He stares past the monitor. “Leave me alone, Mom, I’m not hungry! Jeez, what if my kid turns out like that?”
“Um…”
“Sorry. Mind’s been on a trip.”
“No, I get it. Whoever it is, we’ll find them.”
Despite Alex’s sincerity, there’s a human-sized complication that makes it hard to feel that optimistic. Eventually, they’ll have to tell Antonio what’s going on. She imagines they’ll be talking to the businessman then, and given they’ve put their fondness for each other in the freezer, it’s not going to be a pleasant conversation.
Things so far have been fine, but that’s probably because Alex has gone out of her way to avoid Antonio. She could add stealth to the list of skills on her resume at this point. It probably won’t work out for much longer, but she’s certainly going to test the limits, especially now that she has her work cut out for her with this mysterious blackmailer.
She and Nathan focus on their routine tasks and eventually migrate to that circle by the bar.
The tartness of a Sea Breeze slaps her taste buds as she listens in on today’s decades’ old topic of discussion: who should pay for the first date? Oddly enough, Makeo, who has portrayed himself to be quite a romantic, is on the side of splitting the bill. Nathan, on the other hand, married for three years, believes in covering the tab.
Interestingly (but also, typically), the men deliberate among themselves what they think women want, and only when it starts to sound like she’s watching a sports talk show does Nathan ask her opinion.
“Alright, alright, alright. Quiet down. I want to hear what Alex has to say.”
Alex smirks. “I think it’s different for every woman.”
“Yeah, sure,” Makeo says. “And when Stef comes back in tomorrow, we’ll ask her too.”
“Fair. But I don’t know. I think it’s a communication thing. A preference. You have to find the person who’s on the same page as you.”
They all stare at her like she’s lost her mind, but Nathan says, “That’s…really sophisticated and all, but it doesn’t answer the question.”
She sucks her teeth. “That’s because there isn’t one answer. We’re operating under the narrow scope that it’s a man asking a woman out.”
“Okay, okay, yes, we get it. And I agree that there’s other things to consider. But right now, let’s narrow it down and say this is a straight man who’s asked out a straight woman. Who pays?” Nathan asks.
Alex wants to push against the parameters, but they’re basically at happy hour, not a lecture hall. “The man,” she mumbles reluctantly, to a couple of groans.
Nathan is pleased, obviously. “Thank you! Thank. You. There you have it.”
“But like she said, it depends!” Makeo hollers.
Alex lets them continue at it and walks to the bar to order another drink. She leans on her elbow, facing the sliding doors and scrolling on her phone. When Dara, the bartender, puts the new glass onto the counter, Alex feels someone step behind her and swipe it right off.
Oh, shit.
“Alex,” Antonio says. His annoyingly charming tone strikes her ears and makes the hair on her neck stand up, like when they first met.
She takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t last long once she spins around and finds him practically on top of her. “Mr. Moretti,” she says as plainly as she can.
“You wanna hear a funny story?”
“Funny? Coming from you?” She looks at Dara. “Can I get another, D? He can have that one.”
“Not necessary, Dara.” Antonio’s blustery eyes take a trip around Alex’s body before resting on her lips. He moves even closer and holds out her glass, and her fingers fill in the spaces between his.
“Are you gonna let go?” she whispers.
He does, one finger at a time, but truthfully, Alex was hoping for more of a fight than that.
“What’s this hilarious story?
Antonio lowers his volume. “Well see, I thought, when you begged to work here, you understood you’d be working for me.” There’s a tyrannical air to his question, sending a chill up her spine. “Yet, I haven’t talked to you in weeks.”
“I’m just following your advice, boss.”
“I said ignore your feelings. Not me.”
If Alex didn’t know any better, she’d think she saw…remorse? But well, he just said it himself, she’s supposed to ignore her feelings, right? “I still don’t understand what’s funny.”
“You are. Running around here like the world’s worst spy. It’s unnecessary and uncalled for.”
“As is using both those terms in the same sentence.”
Antonio growls. “Alex.”
She attempts to give him a run for his money with the intensity of his gaze. “I show up. I do my job. What else do you want? Because according to you, anything else is absurd. So make up your damn mind.” Alex snatches the last word and rejoins the circle.