Crystal Masks. Terry Salvini
I survive, I swear I will never do anything like this again.
1
Loreley got up from her chair and walked across to the window of her office. She was tired of sitting behind a desk flipping through regulations and typing on the computer, and in any case, she had to go to court soon.
Although she couldn’t see the clouds, she felt that it would soon start raining again; her mood turned to gray, like the sky in those last two days, a colour she hated and that made her feel sad.
She stood there for a while with her gaze fixed on the vast bluish windows of the skyscraper opposite, her thoughts focused on what had happened the night before, trying to recall the sequence of events; but the memories in her head were like a grainy old damaged film, with the frames flowing quickly and then jamming in the same spot.
Her brother's wedding ceremony was quite clear in her mind, as was lunch at the restaurant of a hotel in Manhattan, the music and the toasts She had received plenty of attention from the men there, many of whom she had never seen before the party, and several that she had known for some time. Among them, there was one in particular which had tormented her in the last few hours and she suspected that it belonged to the person with whom she had left the restaurant, to go upstairs to the room.
I sure hope it was not him!
She was still staring through the window at the office in the skyscraper across the way when a noise behind her put a stop to the train of thought.
"Are you still here, Lorely?"
It was Simon Kilmer, a man whose skin was as white as the little hair that remained on his head.
"Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. I’ll get going right now."
She moved away from the window and went back to her desk. As she went to retrieve her notes, she knocked a file full of documents, which in turn slammed into the pen holder and sent it toppling over. The contents rolled across the mahogany desktop and ended up on the marble floor.
"What’s wrong with you today?" Simon asked her. "Are you worried about the Desmond trial? Sorry, but you have to be in that courtroom," he said in an authoritarian voice. "It's the least you can do to help me forget that you refused to accept the case. You ran the risk of..."
"It’s got nothing to do with the court case!" she interrupted him and knelt to pick up the pens and pencils. Looking up at him for a moment, she blocked the next question. "Don't worry, my problems are about my private life, that’s all. And now please don't ask me any more questions."
She put the pen holder back in place, took off her glasses and put them in her bag without another word.
Kilmer brushed the dark spot on his face, a barely visible birthmark under his white beard. "I don’t want to intrude. But whatever it is, try to become aware and alive again. You seem distracted, and you look exhausted. The holiday season takes away a lot of our energy..." He smiled at her, as if to make her understand that maybe he had guessed what the problem was.
Loreley did not respond to the taunt and smiled briefly. Cunning as that man was, he certainly could not have guessed what had happened. “I’ll take your advice."
"Run now, or you’ll arrive when it’s all over. And please let me know how it went as soon as possible. I want to hear it from you and not from Ethan, okay?"
"Do I have a choice? I know only too well that if I don’t, you’d make me pay in some way," she retorted, and walked from the room.
Whenever she went out on business, it was her custom to take a cab.
“100 Centre Street please, as fast as you can,” she told the driver, a young man with an Asian appearance and short, smooth hair.
They had travelled a couple of miles when the vehicle started to shudder, and a strange noise seemed to alarm the driver.
What’s happening here? Loreley wondered.
Cursing his bad luck, the man moved over to the side of the road looking for somewhere to stop, but more precious minutes were lost before he found a suitable place. He got out and walked around the vehicle, checking it carefully.
"Everything has gone wrong this morning!" he exclaimed with a gesture of anger. “All we needed was a flat tire!”
Oh, no! This is no good! she thought and got out of the car too.
"How long will it take to change it?"
"At least fifteen minutes, miss."
"I can't wait that long!" Her voice rose.
"I'm sorry, it's not my fault; you can see that too," he said, pointing to the almost flat front tire.
Loreley slammed the door. "Tell me what I owe you. Quickly, please."
"Don’t worry about it, today is definitely not one of my luckiest days."
"It's not one of mine either."
She pulled a ten dollar note from her wallet and handed it to the man, who had opened the trunk and was taking out the equipment needed to change the tire. He thanked her with a smile.
Loreley walked until she reached the intersection with the main road, seeing dozens of cars of every model and colour hurtle past her. Spotting a taxi, she raised her hand to hail it down, but it went straight past without even slowing down.
She saw another one coming and gestured wildly in the hope of stopping it, but to no avail. Another came along: nothing doing! Those damned yellow cabs just went their merry way, indifferent to her plight.
Aren’t there any of these damned cabs available?
She tried one last time, waving until she felt ridiculous: still nothing! With a sigh she turned and went back to the taxi driver.
"Listen... how much longer will it take?"
"Just a few more minutes, miss," he replied as he tightened a bolt on the wheel.
"Okay. Here’s what we’ll do." She took out a few bills. "If you get me to court by eleven o'clock, this will turn into one of your luckiest days."
The man stopped what he was doing to think about his customer's generous offer, then started to work faster. A couple of minutes later, he was behind the wheel again with her sitting in the back seat, looking at her mobile phone and counting the seconds that passed.
Heavy traffic around Hell's Kitchen slowed the taxi almost to a stop. They were now proceeding at walking pace, and the honking of horns revealed the impatience of the drivers.
"Isn't there a way to get out of this mess?" asked Loreley.
"I'm sorry, miss. Don’t you think I’d have taken it if there was?"
"My job is at stake!"
"You have no idea how many customers get in here and every guy has his own story. Some don’t talk and hardly move, ignoring me all the way, then there are others who get really agitated... as if the seat was on fire under their ass. And they jabber on like you."
In the rear-view mirror Loreley could see him smiling and forced herself to smile back at him.
"But there’s one thing everyone has in common," he went on, "they’re in one hell of a hurry to get to their destination."
She took a deep breath to calm down. "I've already apologized, what else should I do?"
"Nothing! I prefer customers like you, miss, rather than the mummies."
This time Loreley smiled more convincingly at him. And with all the money I gave you! she thought, leaning back against the headrest. The pain at the back of her neck had diminished just enough for her to work but had not disappeared entirely.
Maybe this was a good time for a painkiller. The doctor had told her to take one only when the pain was not too strong and to double the dose only when it was necessary. Her obstinacy and too many commitments, however,