Page 5 of Sucker
I sit up and wrack my brain to try to figure out what happened, but all I get is a throbbing headache and a vague memory of it being Valentine’s Day while going through my orientation at James Tech. But then what? I run a hand over my face and through my hair before I pull back the sheets and place my feet on the cool floor.Wait.
Why are my legs bare?
I look down and find I’m only wearing my underwear. My eyes go wide.
Why am I in my underwear?
I jump to my feet, a mistake when my head has a hammer thumping against the inside of my skull. “Ow.” I press the palm of my hand against my head. “What the hell did I get up to?”And where the hell are my clothes?
Gathering the blue-gray sheets from the bed, I wrap them around my body and venture from the spartan room. Besides a luxurious bed, the only thing in there are two nightstands with lamps, and some abstract art on the wall.
“Hello? I’m, uh, I’m looking for my clothes?” I lean against the doorway, my voice echoing through the living space. This place is huge and echoey. And kinda creepy if I’m honest.
Getting no response, I turn back and venture into the adjoining bathroom. I have a disgusting taste in my mouth and I really need to pee. So I lock myself in and do my business, rinsing my mouth with some minty toothpaste and water. I look like absolute shit, so I splash water on my face and rake my fingers through my hair. I want to go through the medicine cabinet and drawers for clues about where I am and who I came here with. But the sound of someone talking steals my attention.
Tightening the sheet against my chest, I leave the bedroom. “Hello?” There’s a whirring noise coming from the left, and I follow it, finding a little robot vacuum motoring along the pristine floor. Whoever’s place this is, they’re certainly a neat freak. “Is anyone home? I need my clothes.”Nothing.
Biting the inside of my lip, I run through what I can remember and try to come up with scenarios to fill in the blanks. The fog in my mind is clearing somewhat and I can remember a little more about my day. There was the run-in with the security guard, the office tour with my team leader, and a desk in the corner of an open workspace. I had to make about thirty coffees and then… I have no idea.Did we finish work and visit a bar? Did I even try to find out where the original project files were kept?
The robot vacuum stops and announces that it’s ‘cleaning is complete’ before motoring back to a little port against the wall.
“This place is crazy fancy,” I say to myself, letting my eyes do a sweep of the open plan living area.I’ve only ever seen this kind of opulence in movies before.Wait. Am I a high-class escort now?
I hope not.
Actually, the idea makes me sick to my stomach, because I kind of wanted to remember my first time. And Ireallywanted it to be with someone important to me. Not some drunken hook up.
Turning in a slow and confused circle, a piece of paper catches my eye from in the center of a black dining table. There’s nine white chairs around it and some weird curvy silver thing hanging above it—a light fixture, perhaps?
When I shuffle over to it in my makeshift dress, neat cursive says, ‘Your clothes are being cleaned. Feel free to shower and help yourself to food. I’ll be back as soon as I can, xx.’
Well,thatdoesn’t help.Who’scoming back as soon as they can? I need a name. Or I at least need my memory to come back. I made a bunch of coffee and then what? Did I have lunch? Did I go hunting for information like I’d wanted?
With the note in my hand, I think harder, trying to remember something more. There’s nothing around to identify this place as belonging to anybody. There aren’t any photos on the walls or piles of mail sitting in a fruit bowl on the counter. It’s just black, white and chrome in various forms of function and abstract.
“This isweird.”
Sweeping up the base of the long sheet to make it easier to walk, I move around the apartment, hoping to find a laundry room and the rest of my clothes. I’m not sure where this person is, but I’m not sure I want to stick around and wait for them. I’ve seen movies that start a lot like this, and they never end well because this super clean man is either a mob boss or a serial killer. I don’t need to become a missing person statistic or sold on the black market or something awful like that. I’ll just find something to wear and be on my way,thank you very much.
“Now, if I was an outfit, where would I live?” I tap a finger against my mouth as I muse out loud. The first door I open is a butler’s pantry, and the second is a home gym—more confirmation that this place definitely belongs to a guy. No woman would have racks of weights like that. Racks of shoes, yes. Weights, no.
The next door I try is an office. It’s strange because it isn’t decorated the same way as the rest of the house. In here, everything is a rich wood and I can smell the leather and the books. It’s the only piece of character in this place, and it feels like stepping through the wardrobe into Narnia due to the stark contrast. This room feels…warm. I like it.
I walk directly to the desk, running my hand along the shiny surface of the well-loved wood. The leather of the chair is soft and worn when I touch it, before I lean over and push the mouse to see if the computer turns on. The logo for James Tech fills the screen, just as my memories from the educations center fill my mind, and the voice from my dreams fills my ears.
“How’s your head, angel?”
Landon James.
When I look up, a jolt of something hits low in my stomach, causing strange things to happen to my body. My nipples draw in tight and my lips part while my breathing increases.
“What am I doing here?” I ask.
“I’d like to know the answer to that question myself.” He steps closer, his eyes lowering to where I’m clutching the sheet at my chest.
“Where are my clothes?”
“Hanging over the back of the couch. I brought them up with me.”
