Unbound: The Pentagon Group, Book 2 (21 page)

“Young couples, singles, and groups of each gender would stay at the Dark tower. We can play up the restaurants, dance clubs, and bars as dark and exciting . . . a bit of Vegas in Boston. We can see if we can get a variance from the City to keep the club open later. If those families who stay at Light Tower branch off into couples traveling without their children, they’d return to stay in the Dark Tower. When children are older, they’d prefer the dark tower, or may interchange for a different experience. We can give people the option to reserve which tower they’d prefer. By keeping statistics and data on customer trends, we can do intensive marketing strategies to get customers to bring their friends and family. In the future, we may consider the time share trend.” Sensing I sold them on the concept, I continued to inform them of my plan.

“We have segments of consumers who we can tap into. The wedding consumer, can choose which side to marry in . . . those who are gothic at the Dark tower and those wanting to have a Cinderella wedding in the Light tower. We already have event planners, we’d have to expand the area of the services program. There’s a north and south tower for the convention center, to which we can create a similar light and dark concept.”

“This is a subject we need to decide on now so we can get the design teams to reconfigure design and scheduling for the building and purchase of furniture and decorative items while nothing has been built, sewn, or purchased. My report for design change is in the report, as well. It is my expectation we review as a Board, and decide for sign off.” Kevin nodded.

“We’ll certainly put it before Brady and Lark, and see what they think.” Kevin offered.

I nodded. “Fine. I have two extra copies for you to distribute to them.” I pulled out two more plastic covered reports and slid them over to Kevin.

“For future reference, Perla. We do everything electronically. We would prefer to have password protected emails and attachments.” Kent retorted. I felt embarrassed, but chimed in.

“Duly noted. Had I the money to buy a laptop, I would’ve done so. Thanks for the heads up, Kent.” I feigned a smile, which didn’t reach my eyes. In the report, I requested an advance for technology, clothing, and relocation expenses.

“Matt offered you everything, so you would’ve had the money.” Kent countered. Zipper raised a hand for him to stop talking.

“What’s your problem, Kent?”

“You broke my friend’s heart.”

“We broke each other’s hearts. We’re grownups. This isn’t high school anymore. Each of us can fight our own battles. I respect you’re protecting your friend, but I ask you to respect me as a person, and find some shred of empathy for what I’ve suffered too. Or can’t you?” I looked at him incredulously. Kent retreated, looking away and shaking his head. His jaw flexed as he ground his teeth to refrain from responding, I supposed. I was trying to be a professional, and not discuss me and Matt’s personal life, however it was inevitable. The situation between Matt and I was the pink elephant in the room. I hadn’t heard from him. I had settled into the idea it was over between me and him, and Kent had to bring him back up.

“Perla, I’ll make sure they’re aware of your recommendations and we’ll schedule a meeting to decide.” Kevin diffused the intensity in the air created by me and Kent.

“When do you want to start?” I looked at him quizzically.

“I’ve already told you in a previous conversation I’d like to start in a week.” I needed to start as soon as possible to maintain an income stream because I’d already quit Duration.

“I think given your expectations we need at least a month to create the position, and allocate the funding of your salary into Pentagram’s revenue stream. It’s also necessary to create a job posting, advertise, and select for interviewing candidates to demonstrate we comply with equal opportunity policies. This is standard . . .”

“Is that what every single one of you had to do to acquire your positions? Because while I understand the concept of equal hiring practices, I’m quite certain corporations which go out of their way to use a woman for inside information can easily figure out how to do all of that while a new board member has already started working for the company.” I stood up, tired of speaking to them.

“I will start in a week, Monday. I expect an office. It will be a nice office so I can be taken seriously by all the other execs in this corporation. My attorney will be in touch with you this afternoon Kevin to ensure my requests are completed by no later than next Friday.” I picked up my leather bag and clutched the handle tightly.

“I look forward to working with you all. Have a great day.” I lied, and walked toward the door, exiting the conference room.

A big weight lifted from my shoulders when I walked out of the door. If I felt that way as I walked out of there after a short meeting, I couldn’t imagine spending the next year working with these men.

*****

My last day at Duration was an amalgamation of feelings. I was sad, happy, nervous, excited, and relieved I was moving forward with my career. I really wanted to move on, but I was fearful I wouldn’t be stable career wise because I didn’t trust my new colleagues.

Chelsea and Keta threw me a party at an Irish Pub. They rented the upstairs room and many of the administrators, support staff, and trainers showed to celebrate my departure from the gym. Carson showed up. Turner was busy working on yet another issue for me. The contract was due to be signed before midnight tonight on Pentagon’s end. Each member of the board was supposed to sign it. Getting everyone’s signature, agreeing to my demands was proving difficult, as we expected. Despite the stress of completing my employment contract, I wasn’t going to let it impact my night with my friends and colleagues.

I had a lot of fun dancing, and I indulged in many drinks. Paul, a trainer who recommended Matt’s practice, pulled me to dance. He pulled me close to his body. I could feel every inch of his muscular body on my own. I knew it was wrong for our bodies to touch and caress, but I needed someone else to make me forget about Matt. In my drunk-mind’s eye, who better to fill the void than the man who introduced me to Matt? Paul turned me around and pulled my hip, grinding me into his cock. For a moment I was revolted, but the angry and hurt side wanted to numb the pain and get back at Matt; even if he wasn’t here to witness it. Brady’s assessment of my being a whore was in the forefront of my mind.

Carson started dancing close to me and Paul, and pulled my hand, thereby pulling me away from Paul. He took the drink out of my other hand, and held me with his free hand. Paul didn’t protest when Carson gave him a look and motioned for him to go away. I was surprised Paul, being more muscular than Carson, didn’t protest. Carson pulled me to a corner of the room. I looked at him quizzically.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yep. Why?” I responded, surprised by his question.

“Because you’ve been drinking a lot and you’re grinding up against the meathead trainer who isn’t even your type.”

I looked over at Paul who started dancing with one of the fitness instructors. “Oh, he isn’t? I don’t know what my type is anymore.” I said, trying to retrieve my drink from his hand. He pulled it over his head, and grumbled.

“Have you talked to Matt lately?” The mention of Matt’s name was like ice water splashed in my face.

“No.” I spat. “Why would you bring him up?”

“Because you’re drinking in excess, which you don’t do. And you’re dancing like a hoe bag with a guy you’ve told me, you have no interest in. He’s pawing you like a piece of meat. And if you keep drinking and giving into him, you’ll probably go home with him, wouldn’t you?”

“So what, Carson. Maybe, I want him to paw me. At least I know he only wants me for my body. I’m all out of other things to take.” I responded. Carson shook his head.

“You’re not going to degrade yourself like this because you’re heartbroken. This is not you.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore. I thought I knew.” I said.

“I think it’s time to go home.”

“No. I can’t do that to my friends. Get me some food and water. I’ll be good.” Carson left me to go to the buffet line to get me something to eat. A plate filled with finger foods and cut veggies hit the spot. I drank water for the rest of the night and danced more reservedly with my friends.

When the party started to dwindle before midnight, I bid my goodbyes to my guests. I thanked Chelsea and Keta for their friendship and support. Carson walked me outside and stayed with me while I hailed a cab.

“Are you okay to go home?”

“Yep. I’m better.” He looked at me with concern.

“Really, I’m good.”

“You can always stay at my place.”

I shook my head aggressively. I refused to stay at his place. I was there more these past few weeks than I had been prior to dating Matt. I love Carson and Turner, but they were a couple, and needed their space. “No. Go home to your fiancé. He’s been working tirelessly for me, and he needs some love and attention from you.” I hugged Carson, and entered the cab which stopped to take my fare.

As hard as I tried to stay awake, my lids closed as I watched the passing landscape. I startled awake when the cab hit a bump in the road. Peering around to determine where I was, I slowly realized I wasn’t anywhere near home. I pulled the cell phone from my purse and checked the time. It was after one in the morning. I should’ve been home twenty minutes ago. I looked at the meter. The meter was running at over fifty dollars, which was not the normal fare. I tapped on the glass partition.

“Hey, where are we?” I yelled out to the driver. He didn’t respond. I could see him look at me through his rear view mirror. Even through the darkness within the cab and the night sky partially illuminated by the street lights, I could see the darkness of his sunken eyes. I started to panic. Looking around for a sign of my location, I determined we were on the highway going north. We didn’t need to travel the highway to get home. It wasn’t a faster route for him to take me to Charlestown from the Pub. I didn’t want to panic. I didn’t want to think the cabbie had made an intentional detour.

“Are you lost? I gave you a Charlestown address. We didn’t need the highway. Please get out at the next exit.” I pleaded. I looked around to the other lanes. There were few cars around on a Friday night going away from Boston, but plenty of cars were driving south into Boston. There was no acknowledgment from the cabbie. No turning of his head to look me directly in the face. He kept still, driving forward on the highway.

He was going the speed limit on the highway, and I couldn’t open the door and jump out. I put my hand on the handle to see if I could exit the vehicle through the door, if we’d ever reached a stop. I pulled on the handle and the lock didn’t open or budge. I wondered if it was child locked, or if it was a mechanical, safety component of the car while the car was in drive. I pressed the button to lower the window. I couldn’t lower the window on the right side, nor on the left. No matter what the reason for the mechanical failures in the backseat, I needed to find a way to escape the cab.

I dialed Carson’s phone number. After pressing ‘send’, I expected my phone to dial his line. There was no dial tone. I turned the phone off, knowing precious seconds were being wasted by turning off and turning on my phone. I turned the phone on, and dialed ‘911’. As I pressed ‘send’, I made a silent prayer to a higher power to protect me and bring me home safely. I waited to hear the dial tone, but yet again there wasn’t one. Despite having basic service, my phone would’ve at least provided me the opportunity to make an emergency response call. This was no out of the ordinary event. I knew in that moment I was being kidnapped.

*****

For a split second, I felt there was no hope. I was done for. I tried another call to the police. My phone was as good as dead despite having enough battery power. I tried to send a text to Carson telling him I was being held captive in the cab and didn’t know where I was going. I received a message my text was ‘undeliverable’.

“Hey.” I punched the partition. “Where are you taking me?” He didn’t respond. I knew he wouldn’t. I finally lost my shit and started flaying wildly, hitting the windows. I composed myself for a moment when I hurt the side of my hand by pounding on the thick, glass. My breath was ragged. I was getting tired. The anxiety coursed through my body. I noted he was signaling to exit the highway, I had no idea where he was taking me, but I knew I had to get out of the car before it was too late.

I looked in my purse for something I could use as a weapon. Once he slowed down enough, I would run and having the weapon in hand would protect me, in case he attacked me. I dug through pockets, cursing myself for having a large disorganized purse. In one of the small compartments, I found the small multi-tool compact knife my father had bought me and my sisters one Christmas. He told me as a young single woman, I needed to have protection and an all-in-one hand tool fit the bill. I remembered I read the instructions cover to cover because I’d had a hard time closing the tools after I’d opened them. This one also had a metallic hammer on the corner of the tool.

As the daughter of a mechanic, my father taught us all how to drive. He also taught us ‘safe driving’ tips in all sorts of conditions. One of the conditions was being trapped in a car after a crash or when submerging in water. He taught us to hit the inside corner of the window where the pane was weakest. Once shattered, he told us to kick hard to release the window from the window frame of the door.