The Underground Part 3

"That's what people say about dying," Nathaniel said.

"Do not call this number again under any circ.u.mstances. You'll be given further instructions soon. Do you understand?"

"What is this? How will I know..."

"We will contact you."

"For what?" Nathaniel tried to ask again, but was cut off with a firm click that scared and angered him.

Nathaniel unpacked his coffee and m.u.f.fin, preferring to think about Shayla and how she was enjoying the same simple pleasure.

"The voice was so familiar...just tell me who it was. I won't say anything," Nathaniel whispered, hoping Brigg would trust him.

"I can't."

"Can't or won't," Nathaniel said, slightly annoyed. That phone call unnerved him.

"Please," Brigg pleaded, his jaw tightening visibly.

Nathaniel was too tired to argue with Brigg. After all, Nathaniel had a secret, too.

Chapter 7.

After dropping off breakfast for Shayla each day, Nathanial looked forward to seeing her tour the worksites most mornings, coffee cup in hand, with Chester's Bakery logo side out. He kept hoping for her eyes to rest on him, but she was all business. He felt an undeniable desire as he watched her beautiful lips take a sip from that cup. She even looked s.e.xy when drinking coffee.

While Janice might own him and his actions, she didn't own his thoughts. Nathaniel unapologetically enjoyed the fantasy visions of himself in Shayla's embrace.

One morning, he was about to make his coffee and m.u.f.fin drop off when he noticed the light from underneath her office door. After making sure n.o.body was looking, with his heart pounding, he offered a wistful knock. He knew he probably shouldn't do it, but he wanted to see her again, even just for a minute.

"Would you like to come in, Nathaniel?" she said after opening the door and smiling once she saw who was there.

Nathaniel glanced up and down the hallway, and stepped inside thinking about how he liked the sound of his name from her mouth. She closed the door behind him and he felt like they were in an alternate universe.

"You can sit down," she said, motioning to the chair. She eyed the bag that he nervously clutched.

"Thanks," he said, staring at a faced-down novel on her desk.

"Yes, I sometimes read before work, before things get crazy around here," she said, as if reading his mind's question.

"Are you a big fan of Deahn's?" he asked.

"You like Deahn?" she asked, noticing his eyes stuck on the cover.

"I just finished that one," he said carefully not offering his opinion of the work he thought masterful. Berrini Deahn was one of his favorites, with suspenseful stories that swooped Nathaniel neatly outside of his world, which was exactly what he needed.

"Really?" she said with great surprise. "What did you think?"

He noticed she was in the middle, and felt the test of her question.

"I don't want to ruin it for you," he said noncommittally.

"Did you like it? That doesn't give anything away," she said, sitting back in her chair, observing him in a way that made him feel like he was in an interview.

"I thought it was pretty good, and I've read them all," he said, wondering if he should say more.

"All of them, huh," she said, biting the end of her pencil as she pensively surveyed her own private Secret Santa Claus of m.u.f.fins and coffee.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, feeling her survey him.

"Ahh, ahh... call me Shalya. Now, which one is your favorite?" she asked, smirking at him in a way that made him blush.

"The Torrent," he said.

"Oh, come on! With all those goofy s.p.a.ce s.h.i.+ps?" she said, laughing. He loved her animated smile and the lightness it brought to her eyes. He felt happy around her, such a rarity as he faced his coming-of-age dilemma. Either marry Janice and face a lifetime of unhappiness or be castrated.

"I like fantasy. It's better than my real life," he said, with more bite than he had intended. He was momentarily embarra.s.sed. Shayla seemed unfazed, but tilted her head as if studying him.

"You are entirely ent.i.tled to your opinion," she said in a way that felt so respectful. It was refres.h.i.+ng to hear that from a woman, but it was especially unexpected from the Queen's daughter.

"Thank you for saying that," he said. A moment of quietness followed and felt nice. "What about you?" he finally said, starting to feel at ease.

"My favorite is The Revengers. I love the way the protagonist got back at all the people who had wronged her and her family," Shayla said with a seriousness that changed the air.

"Different kind of book really, but I like that idea. Righting injustices is something we don't see enough of...," he said trailing his thought, realizing he was about to say too much.

"In Deahn's stories?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

Nathaniel was quiet for a moment, weighing the consequences of the truth, but he had spent the previous evening reading more of Reminder of Truth. Clearly, the messages were getting under his skin and coming out of his mouth.

"In this country," he clarified, as he looked her directly in the eye, laying the thoughts between them that no man dared to bring up in front of her.

"Go on," she said, putting her pencil down and looking Nathanial square in the eyes, but Nathaniel was hesitant to say anything. A flood of words was barely being levied at the back of his throat.

"What I really think is..."

Her phone rang, and Nathaniel's heart leapt at the sound. She answered, listening intently, and Nathaniel was glad for the interruption.

"I've gotta get out of here," he whispered. She held up her finger and mouthed he should wait just a minute, but he stood up to leave.

Shayla covered the mouthpiece of her phone. "I'll be off in just a minute," she said.

"I have to be at my post in 3 minutes," he whispered.

"I'll call you right back," Shayla said, before immediately closing her phone.

"Just finish what you were saying," she said. He felt her focus nearly force him to sit back down.

"Nothing important," he said, shaking his head feeling incredibly nervous. As he picked up his coffee and m.u.f.fin bag, she lightly put her hand on his arm, startling him. He jumped back, nearly knocking over the chair.

"I'm sorry," he said, setting the chair back in its spot as he couldn't bear to meet her eyes as the awkwardness returned. Once again, she was in charge. Without another word, he hurried out of her office door hoping he would make it in time. After all, there was no way anyone would believe he was late because he was sitting having coffee with the Queen's daughter.

"Nathaniel!"

He sprinted into the kitchen, the moment he heard Janice's familiar shriek.

"You said you cleaned up after dinner, but the kitchen just seems kind of..."

"What else would you like me to do?" he asked, his adrenaline making him cut her off mid-sentence. He could see that she was drunk.

She turned her head and looked out the window, leaving him hanging for a moment before she turned back. "Clean the kitchen. Thoroughly. Top to bottom," she said, clutching her gla.s.s like a security blanket. She took a sip, but ice was all that remained.

"Right now?" he asked, having a really hard time masking his disappointment. The day started early with work, and then he bought groceries, and cooked dinner. He just finished doing the dinner dishes. He wanted to sit down and read for a while before going to sleep. He had purchased one of the books he had seen on Shayla's shelf, and he had been trying to sneak in time here and there to read, but Janice kept finding tasks that "needed" doing, immediately.

"You have something else more important to do?" she asked, staring at the electronic tablet in his hand, which she seemed to hate as much as anything that diverted his attention from her. He had given up so much. He didn't want to give up reading, too. He hoped to get a chance to discuss the book with Shayla, but there had been no light on under her door the past few mornings, and he figured that might be for the best. He wasn't sure how long he could keep quiet about what was really on his mind.

"No, certainly not," he said to Janice, rea.s.suringly, nodding, fearful of speaking further.

She shook her gla.s.s gently in his direction. The ice cubes tinkled together like a bell summoning him. He wordlessly went to her, intent on refilling the gla.s.s, but she tightened her grip just for a moment when he tried to take it. Why did she have to do this? He knew better than to try and figure it out. He had learned it was better, and easier, to simply try and do what she wanted. Obey, rather than understand her moods.

"With a little more lemon this time," she said, hovering closely as he poured the chilled vodka into her gla.s.s, adding a little ice, and a splash of cranberry juice. He took a fresh lemon and sliced it clean in half before squeezing it with all his might into the gla.s.s. Janice's eyes penetrated him, as he scurried around the kitchen.

He handed her the drink and waited. His insides churned as he tried to prepare for the next criticism. She'll probably say there is too much lemon.

"Good job," she said to him finally, as though he was a dog, surprising him with a smile as she walked out of the kitchen.

"If you need another drink, or anything else, just let me know," he said as she wobbled away.

When he heard the Webavision turn on in the other room, he breathed a momentary sigh of relief. He picked up his electronic tablet and turned it off before bringing it into the bedroom and setting it on his nightstand, so it wouldn't even tease him while he cleaned.

"Don't forget to clean out the refrigerator, too!" Janice yelled from the other room.

"Of course!" he replied, and decided to begin there. He set the entire contents of the fridge on the counter before going underneath the sink to retrieve the Windex. He peered behind the Windex. Reminder of Truth lured him like a beacon. He wanted to know about the real history that he had never known, and he wanted to talk with Shayla about it. He knew that speaking his mind to her, of all people, was insane.

But he had to admit that the last time he was in her office, she seemed almost disappointed when he had to rush out of her office. Was that his imagination?

He reminded himself that she was his boss. He was her employee and nothing more. Sure, he brought her breakfast, but he made breakfast for Janice, too. Once a servant, always a servant.

Nathaniel picked up the Windex and began to clean the refrigerator, refocusing on the only true reality.

"Looks good," Janice slurred, checking in a while later. He didn't hear her enter the kitchen.

"Thanks," he said, feeling worn down. Sometimes he wished Chester had never given him that book. When he didn't know about men living free lives, his mind didn't think about such possibilities. What if he had been born in another time?

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he said, trying to pull himself together.

"Are you sure?" she said, approaching him, touching his face in a way that made him cringe. She smiled as she guided his face toward hers. "You wanna go in the bedroom?" she whispered, her forehead touching his.

"Don't you want me to finish cleaning here?"

"Finish it later," she said, running her fingers through his hair as she leaned her cigarette flavored mouth onto his lips.

She pulled him into the bedroom, and he didn't think he could perform, but knew he had to.

"Leave the lights on," she said.

"It's s.e.xier with them off," he told her, as he took her to the bed in the dark, for once going against her wishes. Closing his eyes, he thought of Shayla, allowing the fantasy of her beckoning him to her bed until he could feel himself erect. He held onto those visions of Shayla so he could comply with Janice's requests.

He bore himself into her as she cried out with pleasure. Even in that moment, he longed to feel something for Janice other than hatred, but knew he never would. He could only imagine Shayla opening herself up to him, responding to his fingers exploring her body. He wanted to give her the kind of irresistible pleasure that she had never experienced.

When he felt the pulsation of his climax, he saw Shayla in his mind, but reality quickly set in. A few minutes later Janice's snoring reminded Nathaniel who was by his side and who would be there forevermore.

Chapter 8.

"What the h.e.l.l happened to you? You look terrible!" Chester said, as they sat at the corner table in his bakery.

"I haven't been sleeping well," Nathaniel said, wanting badly to confide. He knew that Chester would listen, but complaining to a Spot, about anything, seemed wrong to Nathaniel. Plus, this was Janice's uncle. He may have given Nathaniel Reminder of Truth, but that didn't mean it was open season to bash her. Maybe he would talk to Brigg later, maybe not. Discussing his frustrations seemed futile.

Chester took a sip of coffee and eyed him. "You gotta take care of yourself," he said, shaking his head.

"I'll be fine. I just need a good night's sleep, that's all," he said as he got up, wis.h.i.+ng that was true. "Thanks for the coffee," he said.

"My pleasure, as always. You're gonna be alright," Chester said, giving Nathaniel a hearty pat on the back before Nathaniel left.

As he walked to work, he fantasized that Shayla showed up early and was waiting for him, but he doubted this would happen. Still, he turned the corner toward her office with nervous antic.i.p.ation.

As he moved down the corridor, his eyes shot to the bottom of her door. No light. He bent down to pretend he was tying his shoe as he looked at the shy crack at the bottom of the door, to be sure. Maybe if he stayed there long enough, he could will the light on, the door would spring open and Shayla would welcome him.

He knew this was ridiculous. He was just about to set the bag down when he heard someone coming. He pretended to be tying his shoe again.