Boston's Man-Eater

XXXVII

I had cleaned up very well that day.

No patched grotesque-brown jacket, and definitely no casual wear or a mixture of some sort-although I was convinced that I looked better in the former.

But the crisp, white shirt and navy-blue pants bestowed appreciative eyes on me as I entered and exited the building.

Even I felt handsome-a feeling I seldom found within reach.

The reflection on the car window showed a bespectacled man with dark hair that was somewhat representable.

So, why did he look so anxious?

Now, I knew better than to impress Tess by presenting myself as eye candy, or being somewhat eye-gasmic but it had to count, right?

It was better to speak with someone without appearing horrifying or distasteful to the eye. And I knew that she would be staring at me like she always did.

I wondered the reason behind that.

Why hadn't I come across a time when something was out of place on her?

She was just too perfect- whether she had make-up, or bared her all-naturel face.

Enough chit-chat.

I started the car, the stereo reminding me of the Views album I had been listening to.

Mantras flowed inside my mind like fluid as I piloted over to the Salander House.

She has to speak to me...

The streets were fairly busy and I drummed my fingers against the wheel as I chewed my lip. I then noticed a group of kids taking pictures of me. No-my car.

God, I love my car.

I had made sure that it was thoroughly washed and polished for the day, despite having that done every Sunday.

Glancing at the roses when the traffic lights turned red, all possible reactions came to mind.

She could smile, and hug me, and admire them, and smell them, and kiss me like every other woman I'd seen on T.V.

OR she could simply accept them and choose to retain her passive demeanor-that's Tess right there.

And what if she's allergic?

"Shit," I mumbled, and stepped on the gas when I was green lit.

I would've known by now.

What if she didn't want to see me or let me up? -if I walked past the receptionist's desk regardless of that, would she call security?

Maybe, maybe not.

I wondered if she was still mad at me.

Maybe she'd throw the bouquet against the wall-white petals littering her carpet that'd make her more upset, and screaming at me to fuck off would be the best solution.

Too much?

My stomach churned as I drew closer, almost letting the thought of taking a U-turn invade my mind. I immediately dismissed the idea.

Whichever the case, I had to stand my ground and let her open up about what the deep-seated issue was.

When the glassy skyscraper appeared to my right, the silver "Salander House" letters gleamed at me, and I nodded my head with mental reassurance.

I also didn't want to see any of her girls, because they had the massive potential of worsening my anxiety by giving me warning looks, or snickers, or downright telling me not to bother.

I pushed the glass door open and shivered from the blasting air of the AC.

The lobby was standing with its professional and crisp design-the monochromatic displays of art, furniture and walls matching the CEO's demeanor.

Exhaling from the stress, I made my way to the receptionist who I still didn't know by name. And when she recognized me, I smiled politely.

"Good afternoon Mr. Anthony, how may I help you today?" I glanced around the fairly empty lobby.

"Is Tess in?"

"Yes..." she peered at my flowers before meeting my eyes again.

"Great, can you tell her I need to see her?"

"Okay." She picked up the telephone.

"Good afternoon, Tess. Mr. Anthony is here and needs to see you."

The desperacy made me blush.

Her smile faltered, and her eyebrows creased. She took a deep breath before setting the phone down.

This girl goes through so much.

"I was not aware that she is still occupied since her lunch hour is approaching, but she has granted you permission. May I suggest that you use your time wisely? Because she really detests disturbances."

"Thanks," I nodded, and walked up to the elevator as a few girls with folders in hand gazed at me.

Is it so weird to just get Tess flowers?

I stepped inside, and approved of how well-kept I still was-according to the infinite mirrors.

The doors opened, and I was more than surprised to meet a crowd of women and men who discussed formal things I didn't care enough to listen to.

How strange it was to find a member of the male species in this building-who wasn't me of course.

It was finally quiet, and I strode down the hallway, finding myself in front of Zoe's transparent cubicle.

Knocking on the door, she descended the stairwell with a weak smile.

She looked jaded, but still sophisticated in her gray slacks and silk blouse.

"Wassup, Kyle," she motioned for me to enter.

"Zoe."

"Tess is expecting you right now, but be careful...she's in a terrible mood today," she warned, and I gratefully smiled, pretending not to see her eyeing the flowers.

So today was a bad choice for doing all this, but I couldn't back away now-besides, it's just Tess.

She doesn't bite.

I walked up the stairs, and looked through the glass walls that showed no sign of her.

By instinct, I knew that she was in, seated in her plush high-backed chair as she watched the afternoon city life.

I hesitantly entered and shut the door, but the room frozen in time.

A suicide silence poured in even as she turned around to face me.

She had worried lines sunken into her pale skin, and eyes that wished for nothing more than rest.

"Tess?" I sounded so unsure.

"Kyle," she received me coolly, with a sketch book in her delicate hands.

The crucifix on her finger was the protection I needed from the beast that was lurking inside.