Flowertown (3 page)

“C’mon, c’mon, let’s go.” Guy waved his arms as he walked along the sidewalk. Ellie stayed where she was, watching the crowd obey him as they stepped back into the streets. He started to turn back and then noticed her standing there. He grinned and tucked the helmet farther up under his arm. “Don’t you have anything better to do than watch a bunch of old women throw rocks?”

“Not really.”

Guy moved in closer, his heavy gear not impeding his grace at all. “I guess we can’t all have those cushy office jobs, huh?”

“Guess not.”

She stood still as he stepped in close enough for her to feel the heat coming off the black vest and gear. His face shone with sweat, and she could smell a fresh version of
the aroma that lingered on her body from last night. He tossed his helmet into the open back of a covered truck and stripped off his flak vest.

“That’s a lot of gear for a bunch of old women.”

“Yeah, well, you know when we get the call, dispatch doesn’t specify.”

“Just sends in the big guns.”

Ellie let her eyes drift over the damp T-shirt that clung to his chest, sweaty from the riot gear. He stepped in closer—too close, as he always did—and her hand drifted up to rest on his chest. On the edges of her vision she could see a wicked smile on his lips, but her focus remained on the blossom of dampness beneath his collarbone and the two-tone of the drab shirt, wet against dry. Her cottonmouth was back in force, and she licked her lips pointlessly. At the sight of her tongue, Guy pulled her by the hips into him, his mouth stopping less than a whisper away from her own. His lips just grazed hers and his tongue darted out in the lightest touch. She knew he knew what that did to her, and even his arrogant chuckle at her response didn’t put her off.

He pushed forward, between her legs, walking her backward until he pressed her against the rough canvas of the truck. Less than an inch taller than she, Guy seemed to Ellie to be a wall, a hot, breathing wall that she wanted to throw herself against again and again. Around them, soldiers reloaded the trucks and cleared away bystanders. Pressed deep into the canvas and using the flak vest that hung from his wrist to shield them from sight, Guy took her hand and slid it down to his groin.

“I thought you didn’t like my riot gear.” He ground himself against her hand, whispering into her ear.

“I don’t.” Ellie felt him harden in her hand. “I like it when you take it off.”

Guy laughed and took a quick look around for his superiors. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Don’t you?”

He reached around and grabbed her ass and squeezed. “I think you’re probably worth a good disciplinary hearing.”

“You could talk your way out of anything.” Ellie let her head fall back against the truck, the canvas pulling at her ponytail, as Guy kissed her neck. “You talked those women down.”

“What can I say?” He spoke into her skin. “I have a way with the ladies.”

“What if you didn’t?”

He bit down on her earlobe. “Then I guess I’d be getting a hand job from Fletcher.”

Ellie pulled her head to the side. “I mean what if you weren’t able to talk those women into surrendering today?” Guy cocked his eyebrow and laughed at the question. “I’m serious. What if they hadn’t put down their bricks? Would you have shot them?”

He sighed, putting his hand over hers on his crotch to resume her massage. “It never would have come to that.”

“What if it did?”

“It wouldn’t.” He pulled away and Ellie resisted, pulling him back to her. “What do you want me to say, Ellie? That we’d mow down a bunch of old women for being upset that they have no water? That we’d take our batons to them to shut them up? Is that what you think?”

“No.”

“No. That’s not what we’re here for. We’re the ones keeping those women safe. We’re the ones making sure nobody tampers with the water or the food or the power stations. We’re the good guys, Ellie. Or don’t you believe that?”

She sighed and nodded, and he leaned back into her again.

“Good girl.” His hands tugged at the belt loops of her jeans, banging her softly against his pelvis. His mouth went back to her ear and his breath was hot on her skin. “Now why don’t you tell me exactly where, when, and how you’re gonna thank me for my services? And use all the dirty words.”

Ellie had to laugh as his hands slid inside the waistband of her jeans and his fingers played softly on the small of her back. “It’s an awfully big debt to repay. We may actually have to break with protocol and find a bed.”

“Ooh, kinky. Go on. Remember, I’m the good guy. A really good guy.”

She felt him getting harder against her, and her hands grabbed at the thick plane of muscles in his back. She let her eyes drift up from his neck and saw the broken windows.

“What if they told you to withdraw?”

“Hmm, baby?” Guy purred into her neck.

Ellie hooked her hands around his back, clinging to him, unable to look away from the shattered glass and the damaged building. “What if they told you to withdraw from Flowertown?”

“Why would they do that?”

“What if they did?”

She felt him tense beneath her hands.

“Why would they tell us to withdraw, Ellie? We’re the good guys, remember?”

“I know.” She felt a draft as his damp skin pulled back from hers. “You’re the good guys. If they told you to withdraw, who would protect us?”

Guy stepped back from her, holding her out at arm’s length. “What’s with you today?”

Before she could answer, a rash of obscenities broke out on the other side of the jeep.

“Roman! Goddamit, Roman! Fletcher!”

Guy swore and stepped toward the rear of the truck, letting her fingers slide free of his. “Roman here, sir. What’s the problem?”

Ellie couldn’t see the man shouting, but he sounded very pissed off. “The problem is, Roman, that while you’re giving lap dances to the old broads here, someone vandalized the goddamn trucks!”

“Aw shit.” Guy ran off, leaving her resting against the unmarked side of the truck. “I’m on it, sir.” She heard orders being barked and bystanders being warned to keep back and decided it would be a good time to head back to work. Pushing herself off the rough canvas, she traced her fingers along the rope webbing holding the canopy in place and tipped her head around the corner of the truck to see the damage. Three trucks were lined up along the sidewalk, each one spray painted in bright orange, one word per truck:

ALL YOU WANT.

Bing wasn’t at his desk when she returned, so she stuck a sticky note to the Little Debbie with a smiley face and the words “Forgive me yet?” Just to be sure, she scribbled a few bubble hearts around the words. Of course Bing would forgive her; these little dustups were nothing new. She was a little surprised he hadn’t waited for her to get back before taking his lunch, but then Bing’s supervisors were a bit more strict than hers about break times. Or maybe Bing just paid more attention to them. She perched the snack cake on the buttons of his telephone just as a page buzzed out of the speakers.

“Ellie Cauley, if you are in the building, Ellie Cauley report to your office immediately.” Big Martha’s voice sounded extra strident, as if she had been making the page for a while. Ellie didn’t hurry—med appointments trumped all else in the magical world of Flowertown—but as she made her way down the corridor, more than one worried face looked up at her. At the last cubicle, Ellie heard a woman whisper into the phone, “She’s on her way up right now.”

Part of her wanted to spin on the woman and call her a tattletale or snitchy-pants or some other ridiculous childhood
taunt, but she thought better of it. Until, that is, she heard that same woman whispering over the cubicle walls. God, she didn’t know how Bing stood it down here. At the steps, knowing she had the eyes of a gaggle of HR drones on her, she spun back and glared. “Do you get paid extra for that? Some kind of suck-up bonus?”

“They’ve been paging you for, like, an hour.” With her oversprayed hair and oversized glasses, the woman looked exactly like every cranky librarian Ellie had ever known.

“I’ve been gone for, like, my meds. Like, it’s the law.”

All of her coworkers had ducked back into their cubicles, but the woman was undaunted. “Like you’re so concerned with the law. I guess that’s why the suits are here.”

Ellie headed up the steps. Some people would let anything clench their asses. “The suits” were either Feds or Fenos, authority figures who liked to think they still had some ability to intimidate the population, and judging by the way some people still danced to their tune, she guessed they did. She put on her best game face, which looked very much like her “I don’t care” face and her “I wish I were higher” face, and took her time heading up the steps. There was nobody in the front of the office—not a good sign.

“She’s here.” The new girl, perched as lookout, announced her arrival. Ellie could hear Big Martha swear under her breath and, as she turned the final corner to her little desk crammed as far back in the office as possible, saw that her boss was physically shielding her desk from two men and a woman in matching suits. They didn’t call her Big Martha for nothing. Ellie felt reasonably sure that all three suits, with the new girl in tow, couldn’t have moved the heavyset woman. Once Ellie was in sight, however, Big
Martha sighed and, with some reluctance, took a step away from the desk.

“Something I should know?” Ellie asked.

Big Martha shot her a warning glance, telling her with overgrown eyebrows that the situation was serious. “It took you long enough.”

“Meds.” Ellie addressed the answer to the three unsmiling suits.

The new girl spoke quickly. “Your appointment was marked for eleven thirty.” She held out her watch. “It’s after one now.”

Ellie leveled her gaze at the girl, no expression on her face. The girl stood her ground for a moment, then another moment, but as long seconds ticked past, her face flushed red. Nobody jumped in to save her, and Ellie let her twist a while before speaking.

“Don’t get a wet spot just yet. The job is still mine.”

“I…that’s not…you were supposed to…”

Ellie dismissed her with a roll of her eyes and turned back to the people in the room who still thought they mattered. “Is there some sort of problem?”

The shorter of the two men tapped a manila envelope against his palm. “Are you Eleanor Marie Cauley?”

“Seriously?” Ellie asked. “Don’t you think we’re past that by now?”

“Please answer the question. Are you Eleanor Marie Cauley?”

Big Martha nodded at her to answer. “Yes. I am Eleanor Marie Cauley. But my friends call me Lady Esmeralda of Wainright.”

The man smiled at that, still tapping the envelope. “Hello, Ellie.”

“Or some people call me Ellie. Whichever you’re more comfortable with, Agent…?”

“Mister. My name is Mr. Carpenter.”

“Ah, Mr. Carpenter.” Ellie nodded, mimicking the false friendly body language of the man before her. “No Federales here, eh? Just working people. Feno Chemical getting down and dirty with the proletariat. Little PR stunt?”

“Hardly.”

Something about the man’s easy smile put Ellie on her guard. Maybe it was the way he tapped that envelope like it held the golden ticket or the way his coworkers tracked him from the corners of their eyes, making sure to stand just slightly behind him. This man held himself as the dominant force in the room, and Ellie understood that, although late to the party, she was being lured to conversion. She wouldn’t go easily.

“Now that the niceties are out of the way, Mr. Carpenter, why don’t you tell me what exactly it is that I can do for you?”

“Do you know what that red paint on the floor over there means, Ellie?”

A thousand inappropriate answers rushed to her tongue, but Ellie took a deep breath to contain them. “Yes sir.”

“Do you?” He held the envelope in mid-tap, feigning surprise at her answer. “Well now, that makes my job a little more complicated then. You see, that red paint is a clear indicator of where public files end and Feno Chemical confidential files begin. Everything on the red paint is to
be handled by authorized Feno Chemical employees only. I don’t suppose you’ve picked up classified authorization over the past few weeks, have you, Ellie?”

“No sir. Haven’t been able to pass the written test.”

He took a sudden step toward her, and had she not been close to a small pile of file boxes, she might have jumped back. “Do you want to tell me then who has been in the classified area moving boxes around?” His voice cracked with anger, and she could see him struggling to rein it in. It was such a ridiculous thing to be furious about, Ellie almost laughed.

“I have, Mr. Carpenter. I have moved those boxes around.”

His eyes shone, as if the fact of this outrage brought tears to his eyes. “Would you care to explain to myself and my associates why?”

“Rats.”

Big Martha snorted a laugh and quickly covered it with a dry cough.

“Rats.”

“Rats, Mr. Carpenter. Big Norway rats. I’m afraid it’s a terrible problem. I saw a pair of the little bastards scampering around back there and, well, I guess I just lost my head.” Ellie sighed. “I got a broom and I charged back there with no thought to my personal safety. All I could think was what those buck-toothed little demons would do to classified Feno property.”

Mr. Carpenter went back to tapping his envelope, his eyes down, and his associates held themselves in a tense posture of anxiety and anticipation. When he looked back up,
he was composed. “Do you know what this is?” He waved the envelope before him.

“A toaster?”

Mr. Carpenter laughed. “That’s funny. I’ll tell you what it’s not. It’s not a joke. You must be one hell of an employee, Ellie, because your boss was adamant about keeping us out of your desk. She physically blocked us until we had a signed warrant.”

Ellie shook her head. “Oh, you know Martha. Give her a constitution and she’s like a dog with a bone. She just won’t let it go. Imagine that.”

Mr. Carpenter looked down at the envelope like he was reading from it. “According to the search and seizure of property policy within the PennCo Containment Area, authorities cannot begin process until the owner or holder of the property is present.”

Ellie felt a cold spot form in her stomach. “Kind of makes you want to salute, doesn’t it?”

“It’s a good law.” Mr. Carpenter smiled. He would have been handsome if he weren’t scaring the crap out of her. “You know what else is a good law? The law that says that illegal drugs cannot be in restricted areas. Rumor has it you’re quite the pothead, Ellie.”

“Gee, if only there were some blood and urine samples you could check with.”

He laughed again, seeming to really enjoy himself. “Now we both know what you do in your own time is your own business. But what you do here at work? Well, that’s another kettle of fish.” He held the envelope up once more. “This warrant gives my associates permission to take your
desk apart, inch by inch. I sure hope we don’t find any illegal substances.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ellie said. “What are you going to do if you find it? Arrest me? Keep me in Flowertown with no chance of parole?”

“I will put you in the detention center.” Mr. Carpenter stepped up closer to her. “It will be my pleasure. You think you’ve got it tough living in the East Fifth Towers? Try bunking with a couple dozen women in a room half the size.”

“Oh no,” Ellie said. “You mean I’d have to share a toilet with twenty people instead of eighteen? The electric only works two days a week instead of three? Oh the humanity!” She put her hands on her hips, faking more confidence than she felt. “Knock yourself out, shithead.”

Mr. Carpenter snapped his fingers at his associates, who leapt into action. They rifled through every box and tray on the top of the desk, tossing everything onto the floor as they went. Then came the drawers, which they ripped out of the desk with pleased fury. Pens, pads, clips, folders, scissors, the debris of office life went flying with each drawer. Ellie felt that cold spot within her growing. In the bottom drawer, the file drawer, in the back, was a Tinkerbell lunch box full of fresh, green buds and several pipes and packs of rolling papers. It was the biggest drawer in the desk and the most logical place to hide any sort of stash, and so, of course, the goons saved that drawer for last. The woman got the pleasure of discovery, and she slapped the metal box on the desktop with satisfaction.

“What’s this?” Mr. Carpenter asked.

“My lunch.”

“I’m hungry.” He smiled and flicked the metal latches. “Let’s see what you’ve brought.”

Ellie couldn’t bear to look and instead turned to Big Martha for a moment of consolation. Her boss shook her head, disgusted, until she looked back at the desk. Her eyes widened and once again she bit back a laugh.

“What the…” Mr. Carpenter began emptying the lunch box, pulling out handfuls of Twinkies. “What is this?” He ripped open a package and squeezed it in his fist. He held the yellow and white mess under her nose. “What the hell is this? Some kind of joke?”

“No, Mr. Carpenter. That’s a Twinkie.”

“You think this is funny?”

“No, I think it’s delicious.”

He threw the snack cake on the ground. Before he could let loose another tirade, Big Martha stepped in. Easily six feet tall, she didn’t need actual physical contact to make her presence felt.

“I’ll tell you what this is, Mr. Carpenter. This is over. You got your warrant. You did your search. You found out who moved the boxes and why. I think your visit is over.”

Mr. Carpenter spun on her, too angry to be aware of anything but his failed search. “I don’t really give a good goddamn what you think. I don’t know who tipped you off to our visit today, but you’re on my radar now, both of you.” The warning would have been slightly more ominous if he hadn’t chosen to turn sharply on his heel. In his rage he had failed to notice the smashed Twinkie beneath his feet and nearly fell on his back. Everyone in the room had the good sense not to laugh, but Big Martha and Ellie both suffered from the effort.

Swearing, Mr. Carpenter stomped out of the office, followed by his associates and a diminishing trail of cake
and cream. Only when the last footstep sounded down the stairs did Big Martha and Ellie dare let out the breaths they held, which immediately led to near-hysterical laughter. They leaned against each other, laughing and gasping, both suddenly damp with delayed flop-sweat. The new girl, who had stayed well out of sight during the exchange, crouched down and began picking up the office supplies around the desk.

“What the hell are you doing?” Ellie asked.

“Cleaning up. I can’t believe the way they just—”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

The young girl clutched a stack of tabbed folders to her chest like a shield. “What?”

“You heard me.” Ellie pointed to the front of the office. “Get the fuck away from me, you little suck-up.” Her voice skipped up to a comically nasal tone. “‘It’s after one o’clock. Your meds were at eleven thirty.’”

“Well, they were!”

Big Martha laughed and shook her head. “Honey, go up front. Just go.” The girl threw down the folders, big tears in her eyes, and stomped off. They watched her go, and Ellie let out a sigh that held the last of her tension. She felt like she had been running on stilts. Big Martha stared at the mess before her.

“Twinkies? Where the hell did you get Twinkies?”

Ellie picked up the Tinkerbell box as if it were actually magic. “I have no idea.”

She didn’t see Bing again until the end of the day. Big Martha kept the new girl busy in the front of the office and left Ellie to spend the day organizing and cleaning up her ransacked
desk. She wanted to leave the smashed Twinkie on the ground as a badge of victory, but both she and Martha knew the rat story would get a lot more believable if they left open treats like that around. She didn’t need three and a half hours to rearrange her paperclips and scissors, but that’s how long she took. With every paid minute spent stacking sticky notes in neat little columns, Ellie felt more vindicated. Granted, it was true she wasn’t supposed to have moved any boxes within the red-painted floor space, but really, Mr. Carpenter’s little storm trooper routine seemed a bit much.

When Bing finally peeked his head around the corner to her workspace, she sat with her chin propped up on her palms, staring at the once again organized classified space.

“You’re still here. That’s a good sign.”

“I guess you heard about all the excitement.”

“Didn’t you get my text?” Bing dropped his voice in standard Bing excitement style. “I knew it. I told you they’re filtering everything.”