Force (An Alex Warren Novel)

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  For Mimsy, who encouraged me to keep writing, when this was merely a few chapters; for Erinn, whose honesty made me think of myself as a "writer"; for Carolyn, whose excitement for my words gave me the bravery to share this with the world; and for Dan, for whose patience and smarts I am forever grateful.

  Prologue

  I don’t like parties. No, I do like parties, just not this kind of party. The kind of party with really fancy costumes that you can’t buy from a store, or if you can, I have no idea what kind of store that would be. The kind of party where you talk to people you don’t know, but you pretend that you do. The kind of party where someone like me would not be caught dead.

  So why had I agreed to go? Why was I putting myself through this misery? Probably because it was New Year’s Eve and I hadn’t made plans. Maybe because I was new and wanted to make a good impression. Or perhaps it was because I enjoyed torture.

  It wasn’t because I had wanted my life turned upside down in one brilliant moment.

  Chapter One

  Today started out like every other day. I got out of bed, showered, had a small breakfast and raced out the door for work. I despise my job, so I usually waited until the last possible moment to leave home and make the commute into town. Unfortunately, even with procrastinating, I still always made it in ten minutes early. Today was no different.

  A little part of me died every time I walked through the institution-grey hallway to my tiny cubicle. I glanced at the pile of haphazardly stacked papers that weren’t there when I had left on Friday. It was normal for my boss, a tall, crooked looking woman named Jessica (who fit every stereotype for the word “Tyrant”) to leave her unfinished work for me to look after. It was really rather clever of her, when you thought about it. I was too low on the corporate totem pole to complain about it, and she got away with slacking off.

  It took me all morning to clean up her mess. It was nearly eleven-thirty before I even stopped to take a breath. As usual, I had worked right through my morning coffee break. I still had to finish my own work, and at this rate, I would be lucky if I could get it done before the end of the day. Moreover, the holidays were approaching, and we were short staffed because of all the people taking vacation time.

  “Ms. Warren will you please come see me in my office?” She asked it like a question, but it was really a command. Jessica’s voice was naturally shrill, and often sent shivers up my spine.

  “Coming,” I called, feigning a certain smile and cheerfulness that I reserved only for her. Everyone else in the office watched as I walked the Green Mile towards her door. At least, that was what we called it behind her back, after the Tom Hanks movie.

  “Close the door,” she said in a soft, yet menacing voice. I’m not sure why I felt so nervous. I hadn’t done anything wrong. She just had that way of making everyone feel uncomfortable. I closed the door, avoiding the curious and frightened looks of my coworkers.

  “Did you finish the papers I left on your desk?” she asked with a smile that only belonged on Cruella De Vil.

  “Yes, about ten minutes ago. Would you like me to go get them?” Yes, please. Give me an excuse to leave. Please.

  “No, that’s fine. I’m just glad they’re done.”

  Of course she is, I thought. Heaven forbid she do any work of her own.

  “Do you know why I called you in here?” she asked, still with an artificially calm tone in her voice.

  I searched my brain. Had I forgotten something? Was there a meeting today? I couldn’t think of anything I might have missed.

  “As you know,” she continued, her voice rapidly cooling, “We’ve made some changes around here… because of the economic downturn, of course.” I didn’t like how she added the last part. It felt like she might not be telling me the real reason. I had always assumed all the changes she had implemented in the past few months were to position her in a more favourable light to her superiors.

  She didn’t wait for me to answer. “Unfortunately, despite these changes, we still have to downsize.”

  Now she waited, and I could see her forcing back a slight grin. “You’re firing me?” I stuttered. What had I ever done to her? Heck, I went out of my way to make her look good, and asked for nothing in return. I was in shock. I hadn’t expected this at all.

  “That is one option,” she said slowly. “You can understand why we would hate to lose you, though.”

  I certainly could understand why she would hate to lose me. Then she might have to actually work.

  “We were hoping some of the employees would take a pay cut,” she added. I hated how she used the term “we”. It felt wrong.

  It took me a moment to respond. Of course she wouldn’t have outright fired me. Who would do her work? I sighed. “Do I really have a choice?”

  “I thought you might say that,” she smiled. It was truly a smile of satisfaction, not of sympathy. I didn’t say another word as I walked back to my desk. A few of my coworkers asked what happened, but I just shook my head and grabbed my jacket. I needed to go for walk, and besides, it was my lunch break now anyway. I had to get away to think before I lost it.

  I wandered down to the harbour and along the causeway, trying to sort out the accounting nightmare that had formed in my head. No matter how I spun it, I couldn’t make it balance. With a pay cut, I wouldn’t be able to pay my bills. How would I be able to keep living where I was? I already lived outside of the city core, in an area of town less expensive than most. My place was a small, one bedroom-plus den that had been advertised as a two bedroom. It was an older building, but I had decided that added to the character. Besides, this was the only place that I could afford, even with my best friend (and now roommate) Maria offering to pay more for the master bedroom in order to keep my rent as low as possible. With no other viable option, I had reluctantly moved into the den. Thankfully, there was a small window which got the setting sun, but there was no closet. I had to purchase a wardrobe, which made my space feel even smaller. It had all worked out though, and I was able to keep my expenses low enough to put a dent in my student loan debt. That is until now.

  On top of all that, I can’t drive, so I have to live on a bus route. I was already at the farthest point they serviced, so moving just wasn’t an option. And to be honest, I really loved my meager little apartment. It gave me everything I needed. I didn’t want to move.

  I meandered absentmindedly along the harbour, desperately trying to make the math work. I was so focused that I hadn’t noticed a short, well-dressed man approach me.

  “Excuse me, Miss?” he had said, in a voice that was almost too quiet for me to notice. I had to blink a few times before I realized he was talking to me. “I’m sorry to bother you, but you look like you are in pain. Are you alright?”

  In pain? I tried to scrunch my face in confusion but I realized it already was. How long had I been making this face? I tried to relax myself as I looked at the strange little man. He looked
like he was in his forties, but at the same time, he looked incredibly old. Not aged though, more like wise. Like what my mother would call an “old soul”. His hair was dark, almost black, sprinkled with white near his temples. His face was calm, and there was no mistaking the kindness in his eyes, despite his intimidating Armani suit.

  “Are you okay?” he asked again. “Would you like me to get some help?”

  “Oh!” I felt my embarrassment sting at my cheeks. “No, that’s alright. Thanks though. I was just thinking.” I hadn’t noticed that he was pulling me to sit down until I felt the cold bench beneath me. Wow, I was really out of it today.

  “Would you like to talk about it?” he said, and I thought I detected a faint musical tone in his voice. It wasn’t really melodic, but it was very soothing. I could tell he wasn’t just being polite, but that he actually cared.

  Without hesitation, I burst into the story of that morning, and how I had spent a fortune getting a degree and lucked out getting a job immediately after graduation, even if it had nothing to do with my education. I told him how that taking this job had been a big mistake, and now I found myself dreading every day of work because I felt incredibly underappreciated and now underpaid, despite working late all the time, and going out of my way to try to please the miserable old bat that paid my salary. As I rambled on and on, I slowly became aware of the fact that I was sharing my life story with a complete stranger.

  On top of that, the stranger seemed interested in what I had to say. He kept eye contact all through my babbling, nodding now and again in understanding. My heart began to race. Why on earth was I telling a stranger all of this? As if in response, he put his hand cautiously on my arm and I immediately calmed down again.

  “You sound like you’ve hit a bit of a hard time in your life. I would like to help you,” he said quickly, fitting it in as I paused to take a breath.

  A hard time? Hardly. Certainly there were people much worse off than me. “That’s unnecessary, but thank you for the offer,” I replied, hoping I wouldn’t offend him. “I guess I just needed to get that off my chest.” I felt my face flush again as the embarrassment of what had just taken place hit me.

  “I want to give you an option,” he continued, as though I hadn’t spoken. “My company is looking for someone just like you, and I think that you will find our salaries are much more competitive than your present employer.” He smiled softly as he handed me a card and rose fluidly from the bench. “Please stop by this afternoon, regardless of how late it may be. I will let my assistant know to expect you.” He turned swiftly on one heel and walked away, never glancing back.

  I sat for a few minutes in shock at what had just transpired. How could he be so sure of me? Was he some sort of crazy stalker or something? I glanced at the card in my hands and didn’t recognize the company, though I knew the address was nearby.

  The clock tower at the museum across the street chimed and snapped me out of my daze. I rushed back to work and slipped into my cubicle, hoping that no one had noticed that I was a few minutes late. They hadn’t. I found myself wondering how much longer I could have stayed away without anyone realizing.

  Chapter Two

  Not long, apparently. Jessica stopped by two minutes after I sat down, and very quickly my afternoon became more horrendous than the morning. In addition to the pay cut, she was also adding to my duties, making me part of an aggressive new project that would supposedly catapult the company back into the competitive market. My role in this? Mountains of data entry on top of my already massive list of things to do. This meant some ten hour days for the next few weeks in order to keep up, plus some Saturdays in order to meet the strict and unreasonable deadlines they had set. On top of this, as a salaried employee I didn’t get overtime pay. I felt myself strongly empathizing with my page-a-day Dilbert calendar.

  I tried to protest at the immense workload shoved upon me, but my boss simply said, “If you don’t like it, you can always go somewhere else.” She had smiled wryly at this comment because she knew that there was no work out there for someone with my kind of skills. I have an English Degree, and unless I went back to school to become a teacher, there wasn’t much work for me besides administration or journalism; I am certainly not a writer. I was stuck in an administration nightmare.

  It was nearly 6 o’clock when I left work that night and I was starving. I started to walk to the bus stop but my stomach kept insisting I stop to eat before making the 40-minute commute home. I contemplated what I felt like having for dinner, not wanting to falter at the temptation of fast food on every corner. I still hadn’t made up my mind until I saw a little neon coffee cup blinking. The light reflected off the damp street, adding colour to an otherwise dim stretch of downtown. The sign was in the window of a quaint little sandwich shop that had opened a few months back and it would suit me fine.

  As soon as I entered, I found myself wondering why I had never come in before. It was absolutely charming inside. I have never been one for corporate coffee shops or fancy restaurant chains; I have always been drawn to local restaurants, or small, family-run delis. This little delicatessen had the two main things I loved about local cuisine: organic food, and the pictures on the walls were all from local artists and for sale. There were a few scattered tables, but most of the seating consisted of overstuffed, mismatched armchairs and sofas. The atmosphere was cheery, but not overwhelmingly so. And the slightly sweet, fresh-baked bread smell made all my worries immediately disappear, as if my day was freshly starting rather than drearily ending.

  I looked over the giant chalkboard menu and decided on a grilled panini and a chai latte. After paying, I made my way to the only open seat left in the busy café. Despite the lack of seating, the café didn’t feel crowded; instead, the lack of space only made it feel cozier. I flopped down into the large armchair that faced out the small bay window into the street. The window was only big enough for one chair, so it was easy to see why no one had sat here yet. A quick glance around showed that most everyone here was part of a couple, the sickly sweet kind of couple I had always hated out loud, but also secretly wanted to be a part of. The kind of couple that didn’t need a fancy restaurant to go on a date. The kind of couple who didn’t need to talk in order to fill the silences. The kind of couple-

  “Here you are, dear.” The waitress had startled me out of my daydream as she brought me my tea and sandwich.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. She didn’t seem to note my embarrassment of being caught daydreaming in public. Again.

  Again? My interrupted lunchtime walk had all but been forgotten until that point. I frowned, remembering why I had been on that walk in the first place. As I stared past my sandwich, my stomach growled again, all too eager to focus on sustenance rather than misery. I’m sure I ate much too quickly though, because when I was done the panini, my chai was still too hot for me to drink. I cursed silently at my burnt tongue as I stared out the window while I waited impatiently for my drink to cool.

  I didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts for any longer today; if I let myself, I knew exactly what I would think about: work. I also knew that thinking that would make me even more unhappy. Why hadn’t I gotten a To-Go cup? Then I could at least my way back to the bus with my tea, and not be sitting alone in my misery. I took a slow, calming breath as I pressed my fingers into my temples. What had even happened today?

  I had found out that I was going to be working more hours for less money. That’s exactly what had happened.

  But something else had happened, and though it sort of sat in the back of mind as any other unimportant part of my day (up there with the smell of the bus this morning, and the colour of the waitress’ shoes) it was brought back to the forefront when someone tapped on my shoulder.

  “You dropped this.” The voice was possibly the most beautiful voice I had ever heard. It was slightly rough, but strong. There was a faint accent underneath it as well, but I couldn’t place it. It sounded like in those three words there was
a symphony behind them. No, I’m fairly certain that was just me in my head.

  “Is this yours?” The voice prompted again. Nope, it definitely wasn’t my imagination. The voice sounded magical, and it tinkled in my ears. As I turned to look up, I realized the man before me looked like he stepped out of a dream. He was tall, much taller than my 5’5” frame; I guessed probably over six feet. I could see he was slightly built, but not overbearingly so. His perfectly tousled chestnut hair looked like he hadn’t put any effort into, though I immediately assumed he probably had spent a long time making it look like that. His eyes swam like deep blue pools, or were they green? I couldn’t quite tell in this light. It could be very easy to get lost in them if I let myself. His jaw had just enough of a five-o-clock shadow that he gave a bit of a rugged look. He was dressed in a suit jacket, but he did not wear a tie. In fact, I could see that under the jacket was a simple black t-shirt. His entire look made him immediately approachable, and it worked for him. As I looked back at his face, I noticed him smile, almost impatiently, but also perfectly, and I had to force back a sigh. He motioned again with his hand, and it brought me back down to earth. In his hand was a business card, which I recognized as the same card the strange man had given me at the harbour.

  “Oh! Um… yes it is. Thank you.” I mumbled, as I took the card from him and tossed it on my empty plate, so I would remember to throw it out it when I left.

  “Do you work for Mobius?” He asked, glancing at the card. It took me a second to connect that Mobius was the company on the business card.

  “No,” I replied, far too curtly. Suddenly, I remembered the job offer. Was that strange little man serious about that? Or was he just being nice, given the fact I had spilled my life story to him?

  “That explains why I don’t recognize you,” the beautiful man continued. “I work there, and you don’t look familiar. A lot of my coworkers come here because it’s so close, you know?” He motioned to a building across the street.