Any Way Out - 1. Exposed

PART ONE

The previous summer

Felicity dug her feet into the dry sand, relishing the feeling of it enveloping her. The setting sun behind her had sunk into the clouds, and the ocean in front of her seemed restless. Curiously cool breezes lapped at her skin. There must be some weather coming in.

At her side, Annie, her date -- if that's what this was -- shivered as a sudden zephyr rattled her tall, muscular frame. Annie looked up to catch Felicity's eye, something she was probably not used to doing with most women. Felicity was a bean-pole, nearly six feet tall. She smiled back at Annie. "How do you like it?"

Annie grinned and nodded brightly. "I love it. It's quiet. You heard my mom when you picked me up at the rental. We don't do a lot of quiet at my house. And what is that smell? Kind of like a laundromat, but … greener?”

Felicity's anxiety about her choice of venue slipped just a notch. "That’s cool! Not everyone can smell it. It might rain soon, but it might miss us, too. I wish I’d thought about that, but I didn't really want to go into town. It's a small place if you don't count the tourists, and everyone knows my parents."

Annie laughed. "I get it. You don't want to be the girl who dates out-of-towners. It's okay, I don't think you're a whore. If it rains, we get wet, that’s all.”

Felicity chuckled and her tension was released by several more degrees. "Annie, this is great. I haven't been out with a girl in ages. When I came out, I went on some dates, but they were just curious."

"Small towns, huh?" Annie mused. "I couldn't say no when I saw you sweating on that lawnmower. You said you work for your dad?"

"Kind of. He's the property manager for that house you're staying in. There are a lot of rentals, and whenever Mom can't find one of the regular guys to cut grass, or clean a bathroom, or fix a light, they get me or my sister to do it. I wait tables a lot, too."

The pair walked on, a few feet from the waterline. Another gust swept up the shore, carrying a cold spray with it. Annie’s tank top ended up damp and clammy. She clutched at Felicity for warmth. Felicity's face burned. The dying light and the dark skin her Latina mother had given her hid her blush, but Annie must have heard her heart beating. Felicity embraced her in return, confident that she had enough heat for the both of them.

Taking Annie's hand, Felicity led Annie up from the water, and further down the beach.

"I can't wait to get away from my parents," said Annie. "They don't know it yet, but me and some of the other girls from the high school softball team are moving into a place in Alexandria, close to Washington. We're going to the same community college soon. Did you ever go to college?"

Felicity shook her head sadly. "No. There was money for it, but things came up at the end of high school. So, I'm stuck here."

"We could use a fourth in the house in Alexandria."

Felicity stopped short. That was crazy -- or just crazy enough.

Annie changed the subject. "Hey, where are we going? You said we were going somewhere special, but all this looks the same."

"Yes, but this is our favorite spot. This is where ... well, we had a funeral here not too long ago. We scattered ashes. It was for Robert. It was sad because he was so young."

"I'm so sorry. He wasn't your brother or anything?"

Felicity gazed over the open sea again. "No, but almost. We were very close. Tell me about this place in Alexandria."

***

Present day

Ashlee Vance woke from a dreamless sleep. No surprise there. As far as she knew, she never had dreamt of anything. She still lay motionless though, as the room flickered in and out of focus. Then she had a vision. There was her clock on the wall, but it was all wrong.

What the hell kind of dream is this? she wondered. I was expecting something better. She imagined someone telling her about this dream: “I saw a clock with only a minute hand. It was between the seven and the eight, but the hour hand was missing. Then I found it! It was behind the minute hand.”

Ashlee convulsed. 7:38! Shit! Her neck snapped left toward the nightstand. 7:38 indeed glared out from the alarm clock. Goddammit, I have to get to work! Red hot self-hatred pounded behind her eyes as she pictured herself waking up over an hour ago, only to turn off both alarms and collapse again. It was the only explanation. How was she going to be on the train in twenty minutes?

She half-spilled out of the bed and almost ran straight to the closet. However, muscle memory wheeled her around and had her pulling her sheets taut. As her shaking hands struggled to put hospital corners in the bedclothes, the thought crossed her mind that she should skip this part today, but what would they say if they found a messy bed? Who -- she couldn’t quite articulate, but it would be bad.

Her apartment was small enough, and a couple of bounds found her in the closet, where Ashlee ripped off her nightshirt. Hangers clattered to the floor as she tried to put it in its place. A spin and and two steps later she was in the bathroom, releasing a primal scream at the topless woman in the mirror.

Ashlee willed her reflection to reign in the panic. Nothing was ruined. She might miss her normal train at eight, but they ran every nine minutes. She was twenty-five, for God’s sake, she could handle this. She allowed this glimmer of self-affirmation to dimly illuminate her black thoughts. She’d learned from her mother that Jesus was the only self affirmation anyone needed, but she opened that forbidden door just a crack.

Ashlee Vance, attorney. All of her work had brought her to this point. Here she was, working federal contracts in Washington, DC. Busting her ass through undergrad, managing a spring start in law school and interning three consecutive summers inside the Beltway had landed her this job. She could out-work any two lawyers in town. Thanks to her work, Stetson Logistics’ home office in El Paso would soon be raking in multi-million dollar contracts.

A few brushes, and her severely straight brown hair fell into its orderly bob, swaying just above her shoulders. She scowled as she ran a disapproving finger across her tummy. Ghostly pale skin heightened her imperfections. Let's get this girl under wraps and out for work.

The bathroom clock was now reading ten till eight, and there was no time to lose. In the closet, she gathered up the mess she’d made. She hung the nightshirt in its place with twelve others like it, each bearing some kind of pony and the legend “Chincoteague, Va”. They were arranged by color and ascending size. Since her first red shirt as a ten-year-old, she’d carefully worked through the rainbow twice with each visit to the souvenir shop. With this last summer’s visit, she had finally started her third cycle.She smiled and breathed easier as she ran her finger through them.

Back to business. She changed out her underthings and harnessed herself in a bra. Since it was Wednesday, she pulled a green dress shirt from its place. She slid the other greens to the left with the reds and the golds, away from the blues and grays for Thursday and Friday. Donning her charcoal suit, she felt her confidence creeping back in. A pair of sensible flats topped off the simple professional look.

She crossed to the kitchen-dining-living room of the apartment. On the counter waited her briefcase, backpack, and lunchbox in a row as she’d left them the previous night. She checked again: one, two, three. The backpack and lunchbox were open. One closed; two, three, open. Ashlee fastened her watch and laid the phone on the counter, freeing her hands to retrieve the green plastic box from the refrigerator with the chicken inside. Identical boxes -- blue and gray, were already filled and lined up for Thursday and Friday. Two gone, one in my hands, two left.

Looking up, Ashlee saw the clock on the stove, the one on the microwave, the one over the sink and the one on the end table by the sofa were turning eight, all within five seconds of each other. Something to fix later. She was just about to scoop up her bags when the phone began buzzing and spinning on the counter. This must be the encouraging phone call Mom had promised for her train ride.

“Ashlee,” her mom said over the phone, “how is your day going?

Ashlee clamped the phone between ear and shoulder. “Actually, I’m running a little behind, but if I leave now, I’ll be there by nine.”

“Try not to make it a habit, dear. I thought you’d be on the Metro by now. Anything important happening at work?”

“You know, the company’s still establishing itself in DC. They have all their old contracts from El Paso, but Marketing is using the office here to reel in something big from DOD or Homeland Defense.”

“Anything I can tell your father about?”

The investment banker. Ashlee re-ran her words through a legal filter. “You can tell him exactly that. I don’t think the SEC would have an issue with it.”

“How is Sarah doing?”

Ashlee fumbled with the bags on the counter. “Er, she’s fine I guess.” Her neighbor from the University of Virginia, Sarah Dawes, had by extraordinary coincidence, been hired by the same firm as a secretary. She was just as fun as she’d been back then, although Ashlee didn’t have very much time for her.

“I hope she’s calmed down a little,” said Mom. “If not, keep her at arm’s length. I don’t need you running around with her and ending up pregnant or something. Try and get married first.”

Ashlee grimaced as she shouldered her backpack and slid her keys into a briefcase. “Don’t worry, Mom.” Ashlee grabbed the keys from the dish by the door. “Really don’t. I wouldn't. And don’t say things like that; it’s weird. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” Ashlee hung up, and cursing herself dropped everything to heave her scarlet wool overcoat across her back. Taking up her load again gave herself several pats all over to confirm the presence of necessities. Outside in the corridor. she tried her knob three times, then shook the door in its hinges twice. Locked.

Ashlee jogged down the stairwell. Mom was barking up the wrong tree. If she had the guts, she would have said that the best thing about having a gay daughter was that her chance of getting knocked up was near-zero. Ashlee wished she could have told her when she was 19, so they could have had a laugh about it, but Ashlee would have laughed herself straight out of the family, not to mention her college fund. So she’d buckled down and focused on school.

Ashlee burst out of the ground level door into the chilly air. Taking a chance on her shoes, she ascended a grassy embankment onto the street. The Metro station was at the edge of her vision and approaching ever so slowly as her skin started to moisten under the layers. Ashlee replayed the phone call as she kept her punishing pace up the sidewalk. She hadn’t come up with a plan yet for coming out to her mother, but whispering it into her casket seemed like a pretty good one.

***

Stetson Logistics’ D.C. premises were on the third floor of a low rise office block in downtown Washington. A glass door crammed between a phone shore and a sandwich shop led into a little foyer with two elevators, and a stairwell. Ashlee presented her keycard to the door. It clicked open, and she yanked on the handle enough for her to shoulder the door open. She sidled in and jabbed the elevator call.

She blearily emerged into the third floor corridor at five minutes to nine. She was regrettably coffee-less. In the struggle between punctuality and caffeine, the former always won. She briskly trudged down the narrow hallway toward the window at the end. Doorways and cheap art alternated in the walls. At least the other lawyer, Josh, had told her it was cheap. The Deputy General Counsel often assailed her with unsolicited lectures on art, drama, and music, but she had no notion either way.

She put on a show of tranquility as she arrived in the office lobby, but no one was there to appreciate it except Tina the receptionist, who didn’t look up. On the in/out board, she moved her magnet to “IN”, and was surprised to see almost everyone else in the “OUT” column. Sarah would probably be wandering in sometime in the next ten minutes, but for now it was just her, Tina, and …

Uyen Pham emerged from the restroom. Her slight figure was wrapped in her customary white dress and cardigan. She was pulling her perfectly black hair into a ponytail. As she was binding it in a white hairband, she walked up to Ashlee and said, “You’re almost late.”

“I know, I’m running a little behind. Did you get those memos I emailed last night? I need them routed to El Paso so they can go out to the Interior Department this week.”

Uyen stopped a little closer than necessary in front of Ashlee and scowled up at her. She was four inches shorter than Ashlee and two years younger, but she shone with a surety that made her seem a head higher and ten years her senior. “Ashlee, you can’t expect your colleagues to jump at every email. We have lives, you know.”

Chagrin strangled Ashlee. She stammered, “Oh, I’m sorry, Uyen. I mean, could you -- this morning --”

“Of course I got them. They’re out already.” Uyen chuckled as the meager color returned to Ashlee’s face. “They’ll be waiting in the inbox when they get to work in Texas. Interior’s not going to get to them this week, though. Everyone’s sick over there. Flu going around the office.”

“Where is everyone here?”

“The marketing guys are all out making calls. Josh was in for about five minutes, but he ran out again. Mr. Hahn” -- the manager -- “is gone, too, but he’ll probably be here later. Mrs. Blake went out to get coffee for me and Sarah, and I hope Sarah gets here before she comes back.”

Mrs. Blake was the head of the administration department with responsibility for Uyen and Sarah, but even if Sarah didn’t make it, she’d wriggle out of it somehow. Sarah knew all of Mrs. Blake’s soft spots, and knew just how to massage them.

“Coffee, huh? That’s nice.” Ashlee said, disgruntled.

“Well, It's nice to have a boss who cares. Josh said he left you some notes to type up.”

With that, Uyen turned back to her cubicle in the corner of the lobby. Ashlee stopped in the breakroom to stow her lunch. After a few minutes straightening up her coworkers’ food and wiping up spilled yogurt, she slid her own box into its corner on the right.

Down the little hall off the lobby, she found the legal office door unlocked -- again. She navigated around the two desks in the center of the room and hung up both her coat and blazer, under which sweat had threatened to start soaking through her shirt. Out the window, the sunny street suggested another unusually warm day. The office had been designed for a single executive, thus the window but she and Josh had managed to cram two desks and a small library.

Two sheets of legal paper defaced Ashlee’s pristine desk. They were scrawled across with double-spaced notes, which were hung like a Christmas tree with interlineations and marginalia, and topped with a ring of coffee. Hauling her laptop out of her backpack, she hitched it up to her workstation, and settled in for a good two or three hours of translating her boss’s thoughts into something presentable. On her own legal pad, she numbered Josh’s concerns in a list and set to work.

At half past twelve, Ashley was typing with one hand while the fingers of the other traced over two open volumes of federal regulations. The time had passed without even a whisper from the world outside the office’s closed door. In a moment, her solitude was shattered, with only the warning of a cursory knock before a brightly colored figure burst in and hovered over her desk.

There were some people for whom a closed door was no barrier, and Sarah Dawes was chief among them. Ashlee tried to keep the woman’s flowery blouse and shimmering blond curls in her peripheral vision, struggling to maintain her concentration as Sarah assumed her natural position at the center of attention.

“Sarah, if you’re looking for that Interior opinion, I’m finishing up something from Josh that has to go with it.”

With a sparkling laugh from Sarah, Ashlee’s focus evaporated. She looked up into Sarah’s eyes, smiling a bright blue from behind the glasses on her pixie face. Sarah went around the desks and made herself at home in Josh’s empty chair.

“Don’t worry about it.” Sarah waved the notion of work away with careless, fluttering fingers. “You know no one’s going to look at it till Monday, they’re all sick. It’s just going to sit in their inbox.”

“Well, let me finish this so it can sit in yours.” Ashlee spat this out with a bit more acid than she intended, and she regretted it immediately. Her old friend, though, only smirked at it as she idly leafed through Josh’s papers and riffled his sticky notes.

“Dude, when are you going to eat?” asked Sarah. “It’s after 12:30.”

Like a hypnotist, Sarah had said the magic word to arouse her stomach, empty of even coffee. It roared to life and suddenly felt as if it was going to burst out. Ashlee blinked at the rush of sensation. “I don’t know. Soon, I guess. I have something in the fridge.”

“I saw it. It’s green today, isn’t it?” Sarah reached over and playfully tugged at Ashlee’s sleeve. “That’s a nice shade on you. And it feels nice. Where did you get it?”

“Target, I think?”

Sarah dropped it and leaned back. “I got this blouse at Goodwill for ten bucks, but it’s fucking Nieman Marcus, look.” Sarah spread her arms and Ashlee did look, but didn’t remark that the blouse was cut to within a hair’s breadth of dress code. Still, it was radiant on her.

“You look cute, Sarah,” conceded Ashlee.

Sarah grinned evilly. “Is that your professional opinion?”

Ashlee was baffled. “What? As a lawyer?”

The grin grew eviller. “Close, but wrong ‘L’ word”

“Oh, shut up.” Ashlee scoffed.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” said Sarah, standing. “I want to take you to a Greek place me and Uyen went to on Monday.”

“Now? We’ll never get back in time.”

“Ash,” Sarah scolded as she gave a glare, “I’ve barely seen you this month, and you’re forgetting to eat again. There’s nothing going on and barely anyone’s here, not even Hahn. No one will care about a long lunch. Don’t make me call an intervention.”

Ashlee softened as Sarah’s words took her back to college and Sarah dragging her away from hours of schoolwork to do “literally anything else”, as her friend put it. Just this once, thought Ashlee.

“Okay, fine,” huffed Ashlee. “I need fifteen minutes to finish this, then we can go.”

It was actually only ten, and the last five were accompanied by Sarah by the window drumming her fingers and swinging her purse in a pointed manner. After inking one more red check on her list, Ashlee rose, slung on her blazer, and taking her clutch out of her backpack, allowed Sarah to lead her out of the office.

***

The elevator carried them down the three floors to where the front door disgorged the pair onto the street. Sarah strode purposefully up the sidewalk, half a step ahead of Ashlee. She kept up a grueling pace, even in heels.

“Where are we going again?” asked Ashlee, trying not to pant.

“Kalamata. It’s a Greek place. It’s only a few more blocks from here.” Sarah replied with her eyes on her phone. Then she held it up. “Smile, Ash!” Ashlee looked up to see herself squinting back from Sarah’s phone. A second later, Sarah was thumbing the screen, and a chirp let them know their picture was on the socials somewhere.

“Everyone’s been asking about you,” Sarah said. “They’ll be so stoked that I got you out. Look, Jeannie Carol already liked it. You remember Jeannie? Well she got married to …”

The next ten minutes were a flow of names from UVA; people Ashlee had barely thought of for over three years. Some were married, some divorced, some successful, some unemployed. Ashlee found herself caring a little, but not too much. She remembered all those people, but without Sarah to pull her into the circle, she hadn’t found a reason to keep up with them.

Sarah followed her phone into a classy-but-average restaurant, with Ashlee still trailing a close third. A tall, slim, dark girl waved them to a table. It was well after one now, and the place was clearing out a little. Warm from the hike she’d just endured, Ashlee doffed her blazer and draped it over an empty chair, and she took up a menu. Her finger slid down the menu till it found moussaka. She pointedly laid the menu down, folded her hands over it, crossed her legs, sat up straight and fixed Sarah with a stare.

Rather, she tried to. Sarah’s right hand was languidly holding her menu, while her left hung by the pinky nail from her teeth. Her eyes were scanning the middle distance over Ashlee’s left shoulder. Oh, no, thought Ashlee, she’s planning something.

Ashlee guessed right. Apropos of nothing in particular, Sarah, asked, “You wanna get laid?”

Briefly taken aback, Ashlee rallied. “With you? Forget it!”

No reaction. Still chewing her pinky, Sarah inclined her head forward slowly, eyes still following something behind Ashlee.

“Her.”

Risking a glance, Ashlee saw the waitress. She was bussing tables, but she took a moment to smile back and gesture “one minute”. “Sarah!” hissed Ashley. “Are you crazy? Is that why we’re here?”

“Yeah.” Her hands dropped and she leaned in. “That girl looks like a catch. I’ve been watching her for you. Sweet as soda pop, tall, skinny, pretty, and one thousand percent gay, I'm sure. I almost wanna fuck her myself.” She thumbed her phone, and a moment later Ashlee’s buzzed. “When she comes over here, you are going to say that.”

Ashlee read the text. “No goddamn way!”

“Yes, goddamn way,” retorted Sarah. “You’re putting yourself out there. You need something to care about besides work. This is how we start.”

Ashlee knew it was hopeless. She had followed Sarah’s smirk to dozens of places. Sarah’s ideas usually turned out mostly fine, even though this one might be a little rich for her blood. Sarah leaned back, and the smirk was there again, declaring her triumph.

Only seconds remained to prepare. If she was going to do this, she had to go in fully committed. The girl came up. Ashlee mustered up all the charm she could and smiled at her. And read her name tag

"Hi, -- um, Felicity -- I'm Ashlee. Are you here to get our orders?" she said, trying to sound as casual as possible. She paused to gulp, and avoided the glare she knew was coming from Sarah.

Felicity looked at Ashlee with a curious expression. "I think so?"

Ashlee dived in: "I wasn’t expecting to find a Greek goddess in here. I can’t wait to take some orders from you.”

Time froze. Sarah was quivering with anticipation. Felicity’s dark face was deepening with a blush. Ashlee had never prayed so hard for death.