Dangerous black ties

Second day

"I need you to organize all the files by year. If there's a multiple of years, just go by month," he says to me while typing on his computer.

I nod. "Yes, sir," I say with a fixed smile.

I walked back into the file room, grabbed the earliest file I found, and kept going.

I slipped my heels off as I worked diligently.

I hear muffled voices I can't quite hear. I hear them talking but have no idea what they are saying.

After a while, it was past lunch. I was finally done.

I softly knock on Mr. Grayson's door.

"One second," I hear muffled.

"Assume ti consentano di inviare uomini extra di cui hai bisogno."

{make sure the drugs make it send extra men if you have to}

"Come in"

I open the door and walk in slowly.

"I finished. Would you like me to get you lunch again today or anything?" I ask, looking at my watch.

"No, that won't be necessary. You are free to go on your own, though, if you'd like." He says he is closing his laptop. Getting up abruptly.

I walk out the door and grab my backpack, slipping my earbuds in, and softly sitting in the break room chair, I begin reading and listening to music."

There was a sudden pat on my back.

That made a hiss threaten to be let out.

I look up and see Dexter.

I take one earbud out.

"Yes?" I ask questioningly.

"Would you like any?" He gestured to the pizza he brought in.

"No, I'm fine; you eat it." I am about to put my earbud back in.

"Here, I'm not taking no for an answer." He says he is setting a piece on a napkin and placing it in front of me.

"Thanks," I say with uncertainty. I wasn't hungry, but I didn't want to be rude.

I was about to put my earbuds back in when it was still quiet.

"You don't have to tell me what happened. Those bruises certainly are not 3 days old. If you haven't gone to the doctor, you should consider it. You may have bruised one of your kidneys." He looks at me with a very serious expression.

"I said I'm fine. I'm a big girl. Don't worry about me. Dexter, it isn't worth your time." I say, slightly snapping in defense.

"What isn't worth his time?" Mr. Greyson asks both of us.

"Nothing, sir. That's what I was just explaining to him." I say this before shoving the earbud back in my ear and continuing reading.

I don't miss the questioning look Mr. Greyson gives Dexter.

Dexter just looks agitated at me, almost possibly frustrated.

Lunch goes by pretty quickly. Once it was over, I softly knocked on Greyson's door.

"Ha scelto di rubare, quindi tagliagli le mani."

{he chose to steal, so cut his hands off}

"Come in," I hear him say.

"I need you to copy these like you did last time. You know what to do. The sticky note tells you how many I want." He says this, looking at me.

"Right way, sir," I say, walking out.

Man, I could use some Tylenol. Even walking hurts.

I walk past Dexter, feeling his burning gaze on mine. It's like he can read my expression; it worries me. I've never met someone who could read me that easily.

I hit the elevator button and walked in quickly, keeping my gaze on the floor and hitting the 3rd floor.

Once the elevator comes to a frightening halt, I see Carter.

Oh, shoot I was supposed to text or call him yesterday.

"Hello Carter," I say, looking at him before getting to work on making copies.

"Meredith. How are you doing?" He asks me with a big, warm smile.

"I'm fine. How are you doing? Sorry, I forgot to call or message you. I feel terrible. I was just overwhelmed. Would you maybe like to go to lunch on Friday?" I ask him. I knew I'd get paid by then to be able to go out. I normally don't even eat much.

"Well, I'd love to, but normally Greyson and his employees go to lunch on Friday. He thinks it helps boost employee morale. Perhaps Monday?" He asks me.

"Absolutely," I say, smiling, still working on printing everything. I'm assuming an early meeting tomorrow.

I'm finally done. I made my way back and used the dreadful elevator.

Glancing at Dexter's empty desk.

I knocked softly on Greyson's door.

"Come in." I hear

I softly turn the doorknob and walk in, closing it softly behind me. The warmth of the paper feels nice against my skin.

"Here's how I want them done." He hands me the packet and the stapler.

Neither of them said another word.

I walked out quickly and quietly. Closing the door behind me.

I repeated the same process.

Stapling and placing them in front of every chair.

I pick up the stapler and softly knock on Greyson's door again.

"Come in," he says behind the door.

I walk in, closing the door behind me. I hand him the stapler. He glances at my arm, staring at it a bit. I notice some of the bruises from my dad grabbing me are peaking out.

I set the stapler on the desk and pushed my sleeves down, covering my arms.

"What else can I do for you, sir?"

"What happened to your arm?" He asks me, his gaze off his computer focused intensely on me.

"What can I say? I'm accident-prone." I said that adding a small chuckle and hoping was believable.

I mean, not a full-on line. I am prone to accidents; I'm just not the one to cause them.

He frowned, seemingly unconvinced, but didn't say anything, thankfully.

"I need you to call X restaurant and make a reservation for Friday at noon for 11 people, as you will be joining us," he says, looking back to his computer after that.

Bring me these files, he says, handing me a list of files he wanted.

"Do you want me to use my phone?" I ask him.

He rolls his eyes slightly, pushing the phone on his desk toward me.

I type in the number on the paper. Dialing it.

"Hello, how are you?" I ask awkwardly.

"I'm good; thank you for asking. What can I do for you today?" The man asks

"Well, I need to make a reservation, sir." I am waiting for his response.

"Alright, what day and time?" He asks me

"Well, it would be Friday at noon," I say in response.

"Alright, now how many will the reservation be for?"

"11, sir," I say, lightly twirling the curls of the cord out of nervousness.

"Alright, I got it down. Whose name is the reservation going to be under?" He asks me

"Mr. Greyson," I replied

"Okay, got it, anything else?" He asked me

"No, sir, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day," I say genuinely.

"How nice of you! You too!" The man says

"Bye-bye," I say, hanging up.

"Now the files; I'll be back in a jiffy. Sir," I say, walking out and closing the door behind me.

Dexter isn't at his desk anymore. Huh, how strange.