Chapter 2. That's worth what I want

"Hunter, come in."

Just two seconds after Clarice gave the order over the phone on her desk, the door to her room opened. From it emerged a 188-centimeter-tall man carrying a tablet.

"Yes, Señorita." The turquoise-eyed man stood at full height in front of his boss's desk.

"The expansion project to the USA ... where were the location options discussed during the meeting?"

"New York, Nebraska, and California. Some of those present at the meeting mostly recommended Nebraska because of The Fraiye Club. 

"California?" She seemed interested in the word, not the argument in the assistant's last sentence. A small smile appeared on her face.  "Where exactly?"

"LA, Señorita."

Clarice's small smile turned into a wide grin. "Take that."

"Los Angeles?" Hunter asked for confirmation. "But, the property taxes in the city where we'll be are quite high."

"How much?"

"1.92 percent."

Clarice wiggled the pen between her middle and index fingers. The movement then stopped. She grasped the silver pen and placed it rather hard on the table.

"That's worth what I want."

Hunter frowned. "Is it about the late Jane Sullivan?" he asked.

"Jane Miller, Hunter. Her name was Jane Miller. Don't refer to her by the Sullivans' last name. I hate it."

The man looked down for a moment. "I apologize."

Clarice got up from her seat and walked slowly to the wide viewing glass that almost filled one wall. Hunter stared at her silently. He would be ready for anything. 

"I'll tell the Board of Directors that I'm going straight to LA," she decided. Her right hand, which was in the pocket of her blazer, was clenched into a fist. Her gray eyes gazed at the buildings that were no less tall than the one she worked in. The small windows outside were brightly lit, like candles marching into the night. "They might have objections, especially since I chose a location that wasn't recommended by them. No matter what, I'm going to LA. Just schedule a board meeting for tomorrow."

"I will." There was a moment of silence. Hunter waited for the next command, but the other party was still silently staring outside. "Is there anything else, Señorita?"

"No, no. Just go home after this."

"All right," Hunter replied once more. "Excuse me." Then he turned and left the room.

After her assistant left, Clarice let out a long sigh. The more she thought about it, the more the issue of Jane made her feel uneasy. Plans were forming in Clarice's head. She was trying to decide which way to do justice to what had happened to Jane Miller.

Moments later, one corner of her lips rose slowly. Her gaze was straight ahead, envisioning something that only she knew. Her plan for revenge had been chosen. For Jane's sake, she would do it. Clarice would do something that even her own self was disgusted by. Once again, she would do it for the peace of Jane Miller.

After organizing herself, Clarice grabbed her pale yellow handbag and walked out of the room. Hunter stood ready as soon as the door to his superior's office opened. He was also ready to leave anything behind when Clarice needed him to come or be by her side. The few employees who hadn't left greeted him respectfully when they passed.

Clarice seems to be a magnet for attention. If she was in a crowd, then people would glance at her or clearly notice her. People would stare, scrutinize, and judge her every move.

Passing through the main door of the company building, Hunter quickened his pace, ahead of Clarice to open the car door. After making sure his master was seated comfortably, Hunter got into the driver's seat.

"Let's go straight home," Clarice instructed quietly, giving Hunter a quick glance as he put on his seatbelt. "Afterwards, you can go home."

The man glanced into the center mirror, seeing that his boss had turned her face out the window. "Yes, Señorita."

The car drove smoothly. There was no conversation at all during the drive to Clarice's apartment building. Hunter realized that she was not in a good mood. In fact, after arriving home, when Hunter was unbuckling his seat belt, Clarice stopped him.

"I'll just go up by myself. You can go home."

Hunter's hand still dangled for a few seconds. He listened and imagined Clarice's movements as she got out of the car and left immediately. Hunter watched her walk farther and farther away without looking back. A weak sigh escaped Hunter's mouth. After not seeing Clarice's back anymore, he buckled his seat belt and left the place.

***

Clarice opened the door to her unit. This time there was no welcome from Sonia Moreno, her dedicated domestic assistant. The woman, who is four years younger than Clarice, had said yesterday that she would be taking three days off. She will return to work on Sunday, the day Clarice usually gives her the day off.

"To compensate you for your kindness, Señorita," Sonia said yesterday when Clarice asked why she was working on Sunday instead of Monday.

Clarice lives in a spacious duplex apartment. Entering from the main door, you are immediately presented with a large living room with an open kitchen on the right and a glass wall in front that reveals a three-meter-wide terrace. The terrace is often used by Clarice for dinner while enjoying the view of Turó Park. The walls are painted porcelain white and the furniture is mostly pigeon blue and spruce. 

Next to the kitchen, there was a small bedroom and another more spacious room with an attached bathroom. Sonia sometimes occupied the smaller room, while the other room was almost never used. In the past, she imagined it would be used in case her dad or mom dropped by and stayed the night. But that never happened. Clarice never bothered to complain about it either.

Her room was upstairs, a suite with a fabulous bathroom and walk-in closet. Adjoining the workspace, both shared a section of glass wall with luxurious pigeon blue curtains.

Clarice sighed, resisting the urge to step into the house. Her mind led her to turn around and get out of that house again. There was one place in her head that she wanted to visit.

Her below-the-knee pencil skirt didn't stop the 29-year-old from choosing to walk, considering it was less than two kilometers away. Having visited the place so many times, Clarice seemed to be able to walk there blindfolded. She passed by the black sign that read Solange and then slid through the latticed glass door.

The dozens of times she had visited this place had not diminished Clarice's fondness for the interior view. Iron rails were used to divide the bar counter from the seating area. The floor is a gray-black granite stone. There is a selection of stools and sofa sets to choose from.

A man behind the bar greeted Clarice with a big smile. "Bad day?" he guessed as Clarice sat down on one of the high stools.

"Not really," Clarice replied calmly, lying slightly. She took a quick look at the dozens of alcoholic beverages that lined the shelves behind the man's back. "Give me a Charro Atõmico. I'll go inside." One smooth movement and the woman was out of the chair.

"Just one?" the man asked, preventing Clarice from moving. Clarice asked with a look, which the man returned with a glance toward the entrance.

Clarice let out a weak breath. Without even turning around, she knew what the bartender was trying to show her. "Come in, Hunter."

***

020424, Anne Joyce