After the Golden Age

“You testified yesterday. I read a transcript.”

She gritted her teeth and waited.

“The District Attorney may not have a problem with you being so personally involved. But I have the firm to think about, and its reputation. This isn’t easy to say, but I’d like you to take some time off. You’re a hard worker and I have a great deal of respect for you. But we’ve already had too many questions.”

Questions like, aren’t you worried, can she be trusted, how could she possibly be a good person with that on her record. It was fine, being the daughter of vigilante heroes. But any association with a notorious criminal mastermind? Forget it. A black mark like that never went away.

He continued. “It would be better for all of us. Until this blows over.”

If she could stay numb, she’d be fine. She always stayed numb until she could walk away and explode in peace. “Sure. I understand. Mr. Kurchanski?”

“Yes?”

“Am I being fired, or just … laid off?”

“You’re taking a leave of absence. Until this blows over.”

And if it didn’t? Would she get a call asking her not to come back, ever? “Until this blows over. If it blows over.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Thanks for telling me in person.”

She was glad she didn’t have to get her coat and bag. All she had to do was turn around and walk right back out. She ignored her coworkers staring after her. Or, tried to.

What the hell, she needed a vacation anyway.

* * *

She swam sixty laps. Counted every one. Each number made a rhythm in her brain, beating in time to her strokes through the water. As long as she counted, she didn’t think about anything else.

In college, she’d gone back to swimming, her one successful childhood sport, because the water was soft and uplifting. Caressing. Made her feel like another creature, other than flesh. Today, she wanted to be tired. She wanted to be able to sleep without thinking.

She could hit the water as much as she wanted without consequence.

* * *

“You’ve reached the offices of District Attorney Kevin Bronson. Please leave a message.”

“Hi, DA Bronson? It’s Celia West. I’ve just been laid off my job. Or given a leave of absence. Whatever. That probably means I’m pulled from the case. I thought you should know.”

She called Mark next. He told her he’d call, but he hadn’t yet, which was why she thought he’d be sure to pick up. But the ringing rolled over to voice mail.

“Mark, I don’t know if you’re ready to talk to me. I don’t know if there’s anything I can say. But I wanted to let you know I’ve been laid off my job over this. I could use a friend right now. Bye.” Now, was he busy or avoiding her? She might never learn.

She spent all afternoon watching TV, dressed in flannel pajamas, eating ice cream out of the carton. She had a bubble bath scheduled for five o’clock, and then planned to order Chinese delivery at seven.

She watched the news to hear what they said about her. Conspiracy theorists had put out the notion that she was still working for Sito, that she was trying to sabotage the prosecution’s case from the inside. She found that one on the conservative talk show that aired after lunch. She supposed a lot of people were thinking that. Otherwise, she’d still be at work, and Mark and Analise would still be talking to her. Her father would let her look at the West Corp archives.

If she were lucky, maybe another bomb would drop at the trial and people would forget about her.

After the bath, during the evening news, the phone rang. The tone sent her heart racing, and she jumped a foot from her seat and floundered for the phone. “Yes?”

“It’s me.” Mark. If she could get him to feel guilty for dissing her maybe he’d bring her supper.

“Hey, hi. How are you? I mean, I’m glad you called. Thanks.”

He was silent. For a moment, she thought the connection had cut out. All she heard was a faint hiss. Then, he drew a breath. “How are you doing?”

Besides losing my job, and my best friend yelling at me, and my boyfriend not talking to me? “Bad. What do you expect?”

“With that kind of skeleton in your closet, you shouldn’t be surprised.”

Of course not. That was why the records had been sealed and she’d kept it secret. “Mark, I really wish you wouldn’t judge me based on something that happened when I was a kid.”

“What else am I supposed to do? It’s … weird, it’s not right. The Destructor is evil, and you wanted that … Are you telling me you’re a totally different person now?”

She kept her breathing calm so that she could speak clearly, nicely, without shouting. “Actually, I’m a lot different. I’ve worked hard to make myself different. I wasn’t a happy person then.”

“Just answer one question for me. The Destructor. Were you his…” He paused, grappling for words. “Did you sleep with him?”