In Between Dreams (13 page)

“When have I ever led you astray?” he had asked her, putting his hand on her back.

Bailey’s breathing had slowed, and she pulled the bag from her mouth. “What do we do?” she had asked, and looked up at him.

“Have faith in Daniel. He’ll pull through. Let’s meet them at the shelter,” Rodney had said, and put out his hand for Bailey.

She had grabbed it and let him pull her up. “Why aren’t you angry with me?”

“Because you did everything you could,” Rodney had said without irony. “That’s all I can ask you to do.”

When they got to the shelter, Rodney had been right. Daniel had both clients with him, and they were all fine. The tornado ripped the town and the house apart, but everyone in that shelter was fine. Rodney,
Daniel, and Bailey had found the family a place to stay while they rebuilt their house.

Rodney had been right, like always. Everyone was fine. Everything was okay.

Bailey made it home from her mom’s and shook her head aggressively, trying to shake the flashbacks away. She walked into her apartment and dropped her bag on the floor. She undressed as she walked to her bed, leaving a trail of clothes behind her. Once she got there, she allowed herself to fall backward on her full-size mattress. She yawned and covered herself up with the blankets before drifting off into another dreamless sleep.

The rest of the week was similar to that first day back from her sleep attack. She had felt sluggish after sleep attacks at times, but she never felt as terrible as she did on this particular week. She frowned at the blinking cursor on the screen of her computer, which seemed to haunt her; it demanded action from her. She had already written one of her articles and needed to write her second and final one for the week. Then she could be caught up…at least for now. Next week would be another challenge.

She did not want to review
Next to Normal
, because truthfully, it hadn’t been awful. It was depressing, sure, but terrible was a real stretch. But Sierra had specifically asked her to rip it apart.

Bailey grimaced instinctively at the thought of her boss and current closest friend treating her like a tool. Sierra had been so understanding, where other bosses would have terminated her a long time ago. But there were times when she had to push back. This review felt like one of them.

Her phone rang a familiar tone, Sierra’s ringtone that happened to be “Baby Got Back,” because Sierra had “back” and she loved the song. Sierra acted very comfortably about who she was and she was often self-effacing. She did, however, react with a vengeance with her razor-sharp tongue if she felt someone was being condescending to her or one of her close friends. Sierra could be a strong ally or a capable enemy.

“Hey Sierra,” Bailey answered, and attempted to keep her voice chipper.

“Bailey, are you almost done with that review? I need it before four.” Her voice was strict and straightforward. Bailey cringed as she looked at the blinking cursor.

Bailey paused awkwardly. “Uh, yeah, I’ll get it to you within the hour, but I have to warn you—”

“Nope,” Sierra barked. “If it’s anything short of scathing, it won’t be accepted. The readers want the truth, B.”

“Hold on a minute,” Bailey said softly.

“Excuse me?”

“I need to talk to you about this first.” Bailey spoke a little louder, and she heard Sierra sigh loudly. “I know you heard that the play was bad.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No,” Bailey said sharply. “I don’t want to lie.”

Sierra took a beat before responding. “Listen, I’m not trying to get you to write a lie. But your scathing articles are some of the best.”

“But isn’t it better if I save my scathing articles for something that’s
actually
terrible? I really liked the play. It was well-acted.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Bailey said with excitement. Had she really won Sierra over so easily?

“Don’t gloat,” Sierra remarked. “Write it how you want it, and I’ll review it when you send it to me.”

“Thanks, Sierra.”

“No gloating,” Sierra repeated harshly before hanging up the phone.

Bailey felt a new energy and began typing. She knew if she could paint a picture for Sierra that she would love the review and publish it. Bailey typed with her newfound exhilaration for the next hour. She went through it a couple times and fixed any errors she saw before sending it to Sierra. She was pleased with herself. However, the overwhelming exhaustion was still there. She could not fight it off for long. Since she had finished the story, she decided she would reward herself with a midday nap.

She didn’t really care that it was only 2:00 p.m.; she was exhausted. This was the worst it had been in a long time. Normally, the exhaustion only followed her around for a day or two after a sleep attack; this one had been different than the others for so many reasons.

The feeling of the cool pillow was the last thing she remembered before diving deep into sleep.

She found herself in a basement, dark and cold. She was covered with several blankets, but her face felt the climate of the room deeply. She looked around for some points of reference. She knew she was alone with no sign of Halene, Daniel, or Sam. She tried to move her body to stand when she noticed that she was handcuffed to a pole. Her legs felt damp, and she felt naked under the blankets except for what felt to be a towel partially wrapped around her. She looked down, the towel looked as if it had once been white and now it looked greasy. It had black splotches all over it. She instantly wondered if the splotches could be blood. She felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She was suddenly overcome with helplessness. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she was looking at Mei’s face.

In a blink, Bailey was standing across the small room, and Mei was in the position that Bailey was just in, wearing the same towel and leaning her head against the pole she was attached to. She had tears flowing down her face. “Mei?” Bailey whispered. Mei looked up slowly; her pale face had bruises all over it, and she looked like she hadn’t eaten in days. Bailey began to walk over to Mei.

“I like big butts and I cannot lie.”
Bailey eyes fluttered open, and she sat up, her head still cloudy with sleep and panic from the nightmare as she reached for her phone.

“Sierra?”

nine.

“H
ey, B, I’m going to need you to come in before closing today,” Sierra told her, seemingly half in the conversation, half doing multiple other things, though that was how Sierra always was.

“Okay, what time is it?” Bailey asked as she attempted to stifle her yawn.

“You’ve got about forty minutes, Bailey.”
Click
.

Sierra really needed to stop doing that. Bailey slid herself out of bed with a grimace on her face. She needed to sleep, and she needed to figure out what happened to Mei in her dream world. But maybe that was why she felt like she needed to sleep. She knew her work with Mei wasn’t done. And she really needed to know where the hell Daniel, Halene, and Sam were.

She wondered if that had been the beginning of a sleep attack or just a bad dream.

She missed Sam. She knew it seemed crazy; that’s why she would never repeat it to anyone, but she did miss him.

Yeah, I am bat-shit crazy. Without question
, she thought, and pulled herself out of bed. She showered quickly and put on a floral summer dress, jean jacket, and flats. She ran down the stairs to her apartment parking garage, finding her black 2006 Jetta where she had left it. Bailey liked her car; it was reliable transportation. She squealed out of the parking garage and entered the street. She was ten minutes away
with no idea if she could find a parking place in the often full parking garage at the office.

Bailey found a spot in a pay lot across the street, deciding she’d rather pay than drive in circles looking for a spot on the street. She jogged across the street and through the glass door, smiling at Mike, the guard, who quipped, “Late again I see. Sierra told me to wave you in.”

She walked out of the elevator on the third floor, moving quickly to Sierra’s office, stopping at the front desk to look in the mirror next to the receptionist desk. She adjusted the straps on her dress. Walking through the double doors, Bailey bolted straight to Sierra’s office, tapping lightly on her opened door as she entered. “Hey, Sierra,” she almost whispered, and Sierra’s head snapped up.

Sierra was a beautiful Latina woman, with long, beautiful jet-black hair and big chocolate-brown eyes. She was always wearing tight clothes that emphasized her curves and a nice business jacket over the top. She waved for Bailey to come all the way inside. “Shut the door,” she told Bailey, thinking little of the suggestion because Sierra always wanted the door closed. With a layer of privacy, she could swear and Todd, the very religious intern who sat outside her office, couldn’t get angry about it. Although when Sierra got energized the whole floor could hear her rants.

Bailey took her seat rubbing her lips together, which was a nervous habit she developed when she was a child to keep from “speaking out of turn.”

“Bailey, I need to talk to you about these last couple stories,” she told her, pulling out a folder and handing it to Bailey. Bailey took the folder and opened it to see a once white piece of paper that was drowned with red marker.

“Uh, Sierra—”

“Crap,” Sierra mumbled at first. “Utter crap,” she then blurted out loudly. It took Bailey a moment to realize what she was saying.

Bailey’s face portrayed confusion as she looked through the papers. Once the words sunk in, she dropped them and looked up.

“Excuse me?” Bailey’s voice cracked. “What do you mean ‘crap’?” Her tone was almost mocking, but it was too sad to actually offend Sierra.

Sierra took a breath and pursed her lips in obvious irritation. “What I mean is, I keep you here, despite all of your sleeping-condition bullshit, because your work is normally golden, but this was less than gold. It is less than silver. Bronze might even be overstating,” Sierra told her.

“Bronze is still good in the Olympics,” Bailey said lamely, her posture collapsed mirroring her expression. Sierra let out a sudden chuckle, and Bailey perked up a bit. Maybe it wasn’t that bad.

Sierra rested her head in her hand. “Bailey, you know I like you,” she told her somewhat sincerely. “And your work is great, but your schedule is a joke. The only reason I work with you is because your writing is so fantastic; subpar works for all the dipshits from sports, but you, you’ve gotta keep writing gold or you just wouldn’t be worth it anymore.” Sierra shook her head; she didn’t like saying it any more than Bailey liked hearing it.

“I’m not firing you, B. So take that hurt-puppy expression off your face,” she said. “I’m just saying next week you got to do better. This is your warning. I want gold, B. Hell, I want platinum gold after this bullshit,” she said, grabbing the folder away from Bailey, whose jaw was still dropped. “I know you sometimes have a hard time getting back to normal and I get it, but I need you to get some rest this weekend and think about what we talked about.”

Talked?
Bailey asked herself as if it were an absolute joke. She hadn’t said more than two words. “I’m so sorry, Sierra. This time was harder than normal.”

Sierra looked at Bailey for a moment, as if she was trying to read her. Sierra’s eyes searched Bailey’s. She looked back and forth between each of her eyes. Bailey didn’t know what else to say, so she looked back at her, her puppy-dog eyes taking over her expression. After a moment, Sierra nodded and reached her arm out, taking Bailey’s hand. “I know it’s not always easy for you, Bailey. I want you to know I will always give you the benefit of the doubt,” she told her with a slight nod. Her eyes were soft as she looked at Bailey. “But I have a boss and readers to answer to as well. I can’t always look out for both of us.”

“That’s fair,” Bailey said, almost curtly. She didn’t mean to sound unappreciative because she really did appreciate everything Sierra did for her, she just wished life wasn’t so difficult sometimes.

But maybe Sierra’s right. I need to take the weekend and get my head back in this
, she told herself before she stood and looked back at Sierra. “Thank you, Sierra. For everything. I’ll make it up to you.”

She had survived another “come to Jesus” meeting with Sierra. Having glanced at the notes briefly, she wondered whether she just wanted to see her to make sure she was not deteriorating. It had been a couple of weeks since they had been face-to-face. Sierra wasn’t real keen on the virtual office environment. She had made an exception for Bailey, and Sierra wanted to always keep the leash a little tight.

Sierra nodded, confidence scribbled all over her face. “I know you will,” she said, and looked down at her computer. “Have a good weekend. I’ve got to edit this crap before I print it,” she said, and Bailey nodded, turning to leave. These types of meetings were always draining for Bailey. She wanted to get home for a nap when Sierra called after her.

“You’d tell me if you can’t deliver, right? That was our deal.” Sierra tone was serious and discussion ending.

“Absolutely.” Bailey almost believed her response herself.

Bailey moved quickly opting to use the stairs. She trotted down the first few flights of stairs slowing as she grew tired of the spike in activity. Bailey exited from the stairwell into the lobby, which required her crossing in front of the security desk. Mike was still on his post.

Mike Taylor, a former embassy marine, was standing “at ease,” watching his area of responsibility. He always stood with his eyes forward and his face stoic, but he’d developed a liking for talking to Bailey. They’d become fast friends when he started working at the office a couple years ago. Mike was a tall, built black man with soft brown eyes and a shaved head.

He had retired from Boeing a few years back and stayed home until his wife had (semijokingly) threatened to divorce him if he didn’t get a hobby. He went to work as a security officer at the
Seattle Times
two years ago. It can be a lively post with unhappy subjects of articles showing up to discuss the errors of the authors of certain pieces. Mike handled the various routine and nonroutine like a sentry at a US embassy in Beijing.