Page 16 of A Little Red
“I’m too tired to be funny, Ochre. I just want to go home.”
“Wouldn’t you feel better if I took you to Grandma’s?” he asked, frowning.
Scarlet hesitated. She might. The open spaces and the empty air would be good for her recovery, but they wouldn’t have her wolf.
“No, I really do have to work tomorrow. I need to get home and get some sleep.”
“The Blackpool asshats were hugging protestors when we left,” said Ochre. “How long do you think that will last?”
“I don’t know,” said Scarlet. “Long enough, I hope. Humans have an amazing capacity to ignore the truth. Maybe they’ll forget, but maybe some will remember. It will help that the entire town felt it. It’s easier to hold onto things when more than one person remembers.”
“The entire town…” Ochre paused in unbuckling his seatbelt. “Shit, Scarlet. That kind of range… We’ve never even come close to that. No wonder I feel like I got beat with a stick. How much of our power did you take?”
“All of it,” said Scarlet. “So I wouldn’t try and work any magic for at least a week if I were you. But I figured, go big or go home.” She smiled weakly at her older brother.
“Where the hell did you learn how to do that?” asked Ochre, his forehead wrinkling into a deep furrow. “What have you been doing in the city?”
“Fucking around mostly,” said Scarlet. “I don’t know. I looked at the web of life and I could see Azure’s approach was wrong. She’s trying to put up walls. We need to be tearing them down.”
“Youlookedat the web of life?” repeated Ochre. “How?”
Scarlet shrugged. “It’s everywhere Ochre. How do wenotlook at it? I need to go home now.”
“OK,” he said. He was still looking at her strangely, but Scarlet didn’t have the energy to figure out why. He got her on the train and Scarlet sank into the seat, pulled up her backpack to use as a pillow and closed her eyes. She wanted to go home to her wolf. Everything would be better once she got to him.
Episode 9
SWOT
Liam
Liam came into work on his own and made sure to email HR that Scarlet had called in sick. He had to hesitate before hitting send and re-read the entire email to make sure he clearly stated that she had called him from her home as any employee might do to alert their boss of an absence. The last thing either of them needed was to make HR suspicious. Then he read it for a third time, trying to decide if sick was the right word, but he didn’t know what else to call utter exhaustion. He’d spent most of Sunday feeling unaccountably cheerful and full of energy. He’d returned home and zipped through the round of household chores and errands that had been lingering on the to-do list. But as evening fell, he’d become restless and worried that Scarlet still hadn’t called.
He’d picked up his phone and realized that her not calling might have been on purpose. She could have gone straight to her apartment. But by seven he was checking his phone continuously and finally gave in, sending a terse text.
Where are you?
She hadn’t responded for a half hour and then the response was equally terse.
At the train station. Come get me?
It occurred to him as he drove to the train station that he’d never actually called Scarlet before. He’d never needed to. Either they were together or they weren’t. The need to call was non-existent. Except… shouldn’t he have called her on any of the handful of nights she was at her apartment? At least texted or something. But what was the point of doing those things when their relationship was doomed to begin with?
Liam found her at the train station waiting outside for him and all of his carefully constructed reasons for not being in a relationship slammed full tilt into the reality of seeing Scarlet in trouble. Because there was no doubt that something was wrong. Scarlet was hollow eyed and covered in dirt. She smelled like she hadn’t showered since she left and when he’d leaned in to hug her, she’d shied away, giving only an awkward half hug. Once in the car, she’d promptly fallen asleep. He’d driven her to his apartment instead of hers and put her to bed. Although, she hadn’t let him undress her, choosing instead to crawl into bed in her long-sleeved Henley and underwear. He’d ended up sleeping on the couch because she smelled like too many other humans. There were two particular scents on her—one male, on female—and he tried not to mind that. They were probably her family. He wanted to ask her what the fuck had happened, but he wasn’t sure how to broach the topic. He was finding himself hamstrung by all the things they didn’t talk about. He had no practice talking to her about things that actually mattered. Well, that and she’d have to be awake to be able to talk to her.
When she’d barely managed to respond to the alarm in the morning, he’d made the executive decision for her to stay in bed. He went to the morning meeting, already deciding that he would go home at lunch to check on her. But the meeting had thrown him another curveball. The Applecourt account was in a full tailspin. Mr. Applecourt was under investigation by the FBI for Russian collusion and possible money laundering. Fosters upper management was in full freak-out. Liam moved from meeting to meeting spouting the same line, spewing the same assurances—Fosters had not been involved in any illegal activity. Finally, Grant, the V.P. of V.P.’s, demanded to see everything on the Applecourt account in person. Liam went back to his desk and realized on the third empty search result that Scarlet had been the one to compile the report.
He went out to her desk and logged on. He had a higher rating than she did so he ought to be able to see the contents of her machine. He skimmed her desktop. As he expected with Scarlet, everything was tidy and organized. He found the Applecourt report easily and emailed it up to Grant. He was about to log off when he spotted a folder labeled SWOT. He frowned.
SWOT analyses, assessing Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats, were a cornerstone of good business management but they were way above a secretary’s pay grade. Internally they could be used by consultants to determine quadrants for improvements that were usually code for lay-offs. Competitors could use them as a playbook to bolster their own strengths and undermine an enemies weaknesses. He couldn’t imagine why Scarlet would have a SWOT file on her desktop. Curiously, he clicked on the folder. There was a file for every team on the floor. He opened Brett’s team and blinked in shock. The report was detailed, damning, and utterly accurate. Everyone knew that Brett was a lazy son of a bitch who cut as many corners as possible, but seeing it in black and white made it startlingly obvious. Scarlet’s SWOT was exactly the kind of thing that a competitor would love to get their hands on. He opened the other files. They were equally accurate.
He took a cab home. He found Scarlet on the floor of his bedroom rummaging through her backpack. The smell wafting off of the bag was masculine as if it had been shoved in with another man’s things. He tried to ignore that to focus on more important details. Her hair was wet and she was wearing a fresh t-shirt. She looked up with a smile that faded as she saw his expression.
“What—” He stopped, trying to find words. “Who… Who are you working for?”
“You?”
“Bullshit. Who are the SWOT reports for?”
