The Creepshow: A Novel Read online

  “How can you possibly bring these funds back with the market in such a catastrophic state?”

  The questions went on and on, and Wanda tried to stem the concern, and in some cases, wrath.

  At least the turmoil kept her mind off the fact that the rest of the weekend had gone by, along with most of the week, with no word from Max. She had been right not to contact him. If she was indeed so important to him, he would have tried to reach out.

  Finally, back to the office in the middle of lunch hour, Wanda had to set up a conference room for her next meeting before she could even consider stuffing something into her mouth. She smoothed back a few locks of hair that had escaped from her chignon as she glanced at her reflection in the many windows lining the hall. She felt frazzled and looked it too.

  A few more steps and round the corner. Wanda shivered as she passed the room that remained taped up since Elodie’s fatal fall. She hated even approaching the area, but she would have to get over it. She worked here and had to use the conference rooms.

  Wanda was about to enter the next conference room when she stopped in her tracks. Louis’ voice rang out. Everyone knew those rooms were so poorly insulated that even a whisper could be heard in the hallway, but Louis never seemed to care. He was brazen when it came to just about everything.

  “You want me to change her old performance evaluation? Yeah, I know it looks bad she was put on probation and then jumped to her death—but how the hell can anyone prove we’re responsible?”

  Silence. He was on the phone with someone. Wanda remained frozen to the spot. After a minute she gasped, realizing she hadn’t been breathing.

  “OK, OK, fine, as long as HR backs this up, I’ll sign whatever damn evaluation you need me to sign… When do you need the paperwork?”

  As Louis wrapped up the conversation, Wanda hurried back around the corner and lingered at the water cooler, her head buried in her pile of folders. Louis walked past, nodding at her curtly, and she looked up to call out a faint greeting, as if she had been lost in her analyses.

  She knew what she had heard. A big cover up to avoid responsibility for what had happened to Elodie.

  Nothing about the situation seemed right. First of all, Elodie had been one of the most efficient long-term employees at Whilt. How could the company put her on probation? And now altering her performance evaluation to escape responsibility… “Inappropriate” wasn’t strong enough to express what was happening right under her nose.

  You should say something! Wanda told herself. Then she thought better of it. She didn’t have an ounce of proof. What did her words mean against those of a major corporation? And it wasn’t her business anyway.

  Wanda returned to her desk as if the events of a few minutes ago hadn’t occurred. But deep down, she couldn’t forget.

  ~~~~

  Flora leaned against the edge of Wanda’s desk. Her ginger-colored hair fell over one shoulder to her waist, and she toyed with the edges of it as she spoke. She had been begging Wanda to join her, Sam and a few others for drinks. “The usual routine,” she said with a shrug.

  But it hadn’t been Wanda’s usual routine for months, and now, with Nelly waiting for her, she couldn’t bear the thought of getting home even later.

  “It’s not like I’m the life of the party,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes as she swiveled around in her chair. “So what if I don’t come out with you tonight?”

  “You’ve refused us every time since you’ve been back, Wanda! You stay here late, then run home. Same thing every day.”

  “Have you seen the fund performance Thomas left me with?”

  “Look, I know, you told me.” Flora sighed. “But you can’t work twenty-four-seven. And you can’t restrict your life to work duty and mom duty and nothing else.”

  Wanda covered her face with her hands and shook her head.

  “OK, fine,” she said, her voice muffled. “I’ll go, but just for a half hour. I can’t have the nanny doing overtime until midnight.”

  “Perfect!” Flora reached over Wanda and clicked the mouse to shut down Wanda’s computer.

  “Luckily I already saved my files,” Wanda said, grabbing her coat as Flora smiled mischievously.

  They met the others at the Irish pub around the block. Together, the two women squeezed past the rowdy crowd in front to the booths in the back. Sam ordered beers for everyone except Wanda, who hated beer and stuck to a glass of red wine.

  “Finally,” Sam said, touching his glass to hers. “Welcome back, Wanda. So you haven’t abandoned a social life after all…” He grinned and took a swig of beer. And then the usual conversation, a rehashing of the workday, the gossip from other Whilt offices or clients. Wanda watched the excitement in their eyes as they chatted about this and that. Had she really been a part of it all only a few months ago? Yes. She remembered it clearly. She remembered being that excited about the latest goings-on in the office. And now, she could only glance at the time ticking forward on her watch and think of those extra minutes not spent by Nelly’s side.

  “You’re quiet, Wanda,” Sam said. “Still thinking of your funds?”

  “You would be too if you were in my position.”

  “Yeah, word has made its way around the office.”

  “I’m sure it has.”

  “Thomas is such a goddamn idiot,” Flora said. “The situation sucks.”

  “I don’t understand why Louis is protecting him.” Wanda took a sip of wine, savoring the sensations on her tongue. This was her second drink since having Nelly. The first had been a sip of champagne with Galina and Charles on her first day back from the hospital.

  “It’s simple, darling,” Sam said. “Don’t you know Thomas is a cousin of one of the bigwigs in New York?”

  “That would explain it,” Wanda said. The news didn’t surprise her. She couldn’t imagine Louis protecting such a person without a motive. Louis didn’t do much of anything for free.

  Conversation moved on to Sam’s holiday plans, and after a short time of pretending to listen, Wanda slid out of the booth and dropped a bill on the table.

  “So soon?” Sam asked.

  “I’ve got a baby waiting.”

  Chapter 5

  “Mom, I’m sorry, I’m not going to be anywhere near Boston,” Wanda said, phone to ear as she pushed through the revolving doors of the tower on Madison Avenue. “I’m here for three days on business… No, it’s not a good idea if you come down… I’ll be in the office most of the time.”

  But the real reason Wanda didn’t want her mother to hop on the next plane to New York was because of what her mother would see in her daughter’s eyes. It would take her about three seconds to realize something was wrong. Daily phone calls would ensue, along with pleas for Wanda to move back home, into her old room, and go to work at her cousin’s accounting firm. Wanda shuddered at the thought. She loved her mother, and smiled at memories of afternoons together watching movies or strolling around Harvard Square, but she needed space. Her mother never could understand this need and often equated it with coldness—but Wanda wasn’t cold. She was simply a bit of a loner at times.

  Wanda wrapped up the conversation as she headed for the elevator bank. She hadn’t been to the “snake pit” in two years, but nothing much had changed. The gorgeous glass tower was still a vile place, with the tension in the air thick and pervasive. She remembered her way to Raymond Grant’s office. Yet another member of management overseeing her work without seeing it at all.

  She checked her appearance in the mirrored elevator as it whisked her to the sixth floor. Tweed suit not too rumpled, green silk scarf properly tied. At least those small efforts might compensate for the bloodshot eyes and puffy lids after a long and restless flight.

  As a matter of fact, she hadn’t gotten much sleep since Louis told her she would be traveling to New York in exactly thirty-six hours to discuss the future of her funds. Was that positive or negative? Impossible to read on Louis’ poker face, and she wouldn’t give hi
m the satisfaction of seeing her concern. She’d tried not to think about what would unfold in New York and focused on preparing Nelly for her stay with Galina and Charles. The drop-off had been a teary one, another reason for Wanda’s red eyes and sleeplessness.

  A booming voice broke into her thoughts. Anyone would expect an impressive figure attached to that voice, but Raymond Grant was rather round and unassuming in appearance. He was balding and wore glasses that magnified his blue eyes. His shirt was always untucked or not quite the right size, giving him a disheveled look. Those who crossed him in the street probably wouldn’t give him a second glance, would never guess he wielded such power.

  Raymond Grant’s reign was one of terror. Because anyone who hoped to climb the corporate ladder had better please him. And Raymond was not easy to please. Raymond greeted Wanda, kissing her on both cheeks the European way, and led her into his office as if they were on an important secret mission together.

  “First things first, Wendy,” he said.

  “It’s Wanda.”

  But he didn’t seem to notice the correction as he settled down behind his desk. Two of the buttons on his shirt looked as if they might pop at any second as the bright blue material stretched across his belly.

  He slid a key ring toward Wanda.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “My wife and I won’t be in our apartment for the next few days, so you can stay in the guest room. Let yourself in, make yourself at home.”

  “But I thought I would be staying at the Plaza. I had to fill out all that travel paperwork.” Suspicion filled Wanda’s mind. A room was ready and waiting at the Plaza, Whilt’s swanky hotel of choice. She knew that, because upon arrival, she’d called to verify the check-in time. So the question was, Who would be staying there?

  “Never mind the details, you’ll be more than comfortable in our home. It’s much more personal, unlike the cold feeling of a hotel. Now let’s get down to business.”

  Wanda tried to push the strange start to the conversation out of her mind as Raymond stared at her across the heavy mahogany desk that didn’t match the modernity of the rest of the decor.

  “We want to expand the reach of our funds. Today, it’s all about Asia, and at the moment, we’re losing ground over there. We need to offer more to our clients in China, Japan…”

  Wanda felt her heart thumping, a combination of relief and fear. Raymond hadn’t yet mentioned her recent fund performance, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have something worse planned to discuss.

  “As of next week, you will be expanding your international fund to include Asian companies, and you also will take on the management of another Asian fund established through our office in Shanghai.”

  Wanda hesitated long enough to digest this indigestible information but not long enough to lose the nerve to speak out.

  “But that makes no sense. I’ve built an expertise in Western European countries; I’m familiar with their management styles and know the CEOs. With Asia, I would have to start from scratch. That would be fine if I didn’t already have four other funds to manage!”

  “Are you saying this is too much for you?”

  “I’m saying it isn’t logical—not when others in the office only manage two funds. Are you planning on paying me a second salary for taking on this second job of sorts?”

  “Considering the performance of your current funds, no.”

  Wanda wanted to burst out with something sarcastic, something rebellious, but the words remained captive in her throat. She rarely fell silent after what she considered an injustice; usually her emotions won out. But this time was different. She was in a state of disbelief. Her mind was racing. Was this punishment, stemming from her rejection of Louis? No, he didn’t wield that much power. But he probably did all he could to push her into a difficult position.

  “You’ll have to fly to Shanghai next week. CEOs of the biggest Asian companies will be at a conference there. A perfect opportunity for you to do some research.”

  Wanda knew about the conference since one of her colleagues, who was based in Shanghai, attended each year. If she hadn’t been suspicious of Raymond’s intentions, she actually would have been excited about the opportunity. But somehow, with her other funds suffering, and the learning curve this new endeavor required, this didn’t seem like an opportunity. This seemed like a map to lead her down the road to failure.

  ~~~~

  Wanda had been so absorbed in her analyses at the guest desk near the window, that at first, she hadn’t heard the commotion. And it wasn’t really “commotion” when it started. Just a bit of giggling, then some whispering. Wanda sat in the far corner of the sixteenth floor, her desk pressed against the glass so if she looked down for too long, she just might shiver. Wanda was afraid of heights. But that wasn’t a problem because she didn’t have time to watch the passersby with their coffee cups and cell phones. When Wanda was at work, she worked.

  But now she was thirsty, and so she headed to the cafeteria. As she crossed the room, she noticed smiles here and there, looks of concern, people chatting in low voices. It was as if everyone was trying to look inconspicuous, yet that made them stand out all the more. They didn’t seem to notice Wanda so whatever was going on didn’t have anything to do with her. She shook her head and rounded the corner. And that’s when she heard it, coming from one level below.

  Someone was singing Singing in the Rain. In a rich, deep voice, loud enough to carry through the open space cutting through each floor from the atrium to the roof.

  Wanda took the elevator down a flight and arrived in time to see a man she recognized but didn’t know by name dancing through the planters, his loafers kicking up dirt and glossy beads. The look on his face was not one of joy but of delirium.

  Before she even had a chance to ask one of the other employees what was happening, security guards had already whisked the man off, and like scurrying mice, the onlookers dispersed.

  Wanda remained in front of the elevator bank, staring at the splotches of dirt on the tile, and only came out of her fog when a hand touched hers. Tricia Warren. One of the analysts who used to work in the Paris office.

  “Did you see that?” Wanda hissed as Tricia kissed her on both cheeks.

  “Oh you mean Jim Tuxford?” She rolled her eyes. “Management drove him crazy. Par for the course, huh?”

  And then she slipped into the ascending elevator before Wanda could reply.

  Chapter 6

  Wanda looked out the window at the city lights and shivered. More than the heights made her quake in this place. Raymond’s apartment was cold and impersonal, with stark white walls, a few generic abstract paintings in reds and yellows, and sparse furnishings. She was sure the Plaza would have been much warmer and more welcoming than this place.

  She sank onto the black leather couch with a sigh and looked around. Did a couple in their fifties live here, and had they raised a child here? It felt more like a modern art museum than a home. Everything was in perfect order. The housekeeper Wanda had crossed on her way in clearly did an exemplary job. The only splash of personality in the whole place was a stack of playbills on the glass coffee table. Raymond and his wife were theater fans. But wouldn’t anyone with a big corporate salary in New York City be a Broadway patron? Wanda snorted, finding it hard to imagine Raymond smiling and clapping about anything. Maybe his wife was the theater lover, and he went along to please her. Wanda snorted again, finding it hard to imagine Raymond trying to please anyone.

  She made every effort to occupy herself, switching on and off the TV, then the radio, then answering emails on her phone. But whenever she returned to reality, the shroud of heaviness remained.

  The clock struck nine. She thought of changing into her pajamas, settling into bed in the black and white room down the hall, closing her eyes in this silent place. This would be repeated three times, for her three-night stay. And right then and there, she knew she couldn’t do it.

  ~~~~

&
nbsp; An hour later, Wanda and Tricia were sipping martinis at a bar in the East Village. A casual place with cozy booths, brick walls and low lighting a block away from Tricia’s apartment. Wanda had taken her up on her invitation and would be spending three nights on the pull-out couch.

  “The cleaning lady told me ‘Mrs. Raymond’ was on a trip to visit family, so I don’t understand what Raymond is doing, leaving me his apartment in the middle of the workweek when he is indeed in town and in the office.”

  “Dear Wanda,” Tricia said, shaking her head so that her long auburn ponytail swung over one shoulder, “you haven’t been around these people enough. Raymond has done this before. You expense the hotel tab for Raymond and his girlfriend. He so kindly leaves you his apartment in return.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Wanda didn’t consider herself to be particularly naïve, but apparently, she was when faced with the goings-on at Whilt. She felt her face go hot, ashamed she hadn’t seen through such a sham.

  “Don’t feel bad about not realizing it,” Tricia said, as if reading her mind. “The people running the show are pretty unbelievable.”

  “But are you sure this is what’s going on? It’s not just a rumor?”

  “It’s the sad truth. I have my sources.”

  “Seriously?” Wanda took a sip of her martini, savoring the cool bitterness. She felt like drowning herself in a dozen before returning to that place in the morning.

  “Seriously,” Tricia said. “Raymond probably doesn’t even care if the underlings know. That’s the way it is at Whilt—like it or fuck off.”

  “Why do you put up with it?” Wanda asked.

  “I could ask you the same.”

  “I’m just discovering this side of the company.”

  Tricia smirked. “I put up with it because when you know how to manipulate them, you can climb your way to the top.”

  “You’ve tried?” Wanda couldn’t mask the sarcasm in her voice.