The young woman was observably anxious. Her black-heeled feet were bouncing; her manicured nails were tapping the navy folder she’d brought in. Her eyes continued to quickly flit between the elevator and the lobby doors leading outside. She remained in this quietly frantic state for five minutes, growing more antsy as time went by, until the front desk called her over.
“Do you have an appointment?” The secretary was blonde, busty, and bored. She regarded the young girl in front of her with a snobbish air, her dark eyes lingering on her slightly messy hair and hollowed cheeks.
“No, um, he doesn’t know I’m here. But could you call and ask if he’ll see me?”
The secretary rolled her eyes at the timid mouse: “Who, exactly? There are hundreds of ‘he’s’ here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Uh, Mr. Baulkner?”
“Are you not sure?”
“No, no, I’m sure.”
The blonde rolled her eyes again, and she continued on condescendingly.
“You are aware that Mr. Baulkner is the owner of this company and is extremely busy. I can’t even guarantee that he’s in today. I highly doubt he has time for a … chat.”
The girl’s tapping had increased in speed, and something about her struck a sympathetic chord in the secretary.
“Ok, kid, I’ll call up, but I can’t promise you anything.”
The phone’s ring echoed in the otherwise silent lobby, and the girl knew the exact moment when he picked up.
“Hello, Mr. Baulkner. I have a girl here to see you.”
“Name?” The disinterest in his tone made the girl flinch, but she whispered ‘Hailey Minchey’ to the secretary who dutifully relayed the information.
The silence was palpable. After a moment of tension, a quiet voice demanded, “Send her up immediately.”
The secretary regarded the girl with widened eyes.
“Uh, well, you heard him. Head on up, he’s on the top floor.”
The girl gave a tight-lipped smile, still exuding an air of nervousness.
. . . . . . . . . .
He sat completely still in his office behind his wide desk, eyes glued to the door. He made no movement when the timid knock came. Only after a second, more determined one happened did he invited he in. She had lost too much weight, in his mind, and exhaustion just seeped out of her. He reluctantly kept his seat, scared that any sudden movement on his part would frighten her. She sat and said nothing for a while, just studying his face with intensity, before opening the navy folder she carried. She laid out several photographs, all picturing the same three men in different locations, doing their best to look inconspicuous. He recognized them immediately, but waited for her to speak.
“This needs to stop.”
“Hailey…”
“No. This - ” she gestured to the photographs dismissively, “this is ridiculous. I am fine. I am not ill. I am not in any danger. I am not partaking in anything illegal. There is absolutely no reason for me to have a babysitter, much less three.”
“I’m just worried about you.”
“You are not my father or brother, Mr. Baulkner. They are dead. I don’t need you to fill in for them.”
“Hailey. Trust me, you really do.”
For the first time since she’d walked into that building, Hailey showed a spark of emotion other than fear.
“Mr. Baulkner, I will press charges if this continues. I appreciate the reasoning behind your actions, but believe me when I say that they are extremely unnecessary. Please, do me a favor, and just stay out of my life. It doesn’t concern you or your world anymore.”
She stood with no further words, and turned to leave. She left the folder and pictures strewn out on his desk.
“Hailey.” His voice was strong, steady. “You don’t mean this. You’ll see things differently when you feel better.”
Her dark head shook and she left without another glance behind her.
After several moments, he picked up his telephone. With a few brisque words, he ordered a change on her guards. With the promise of a lawsuit, he made sure she wouldn’t notice them again.
