This was an altogether different arrow to the head. “What? What does that even mean? I mean, what the fuck?”
“Just because we can’t work in a marriage doesn’t mean we can’t work as friends.”
The laugh crawling from his throat was nearly sinister. “You walked out because of some bullshit lack-of-ambition reason, when you damn well know I’ve worked my ass off in everything I’ve ever done. Now, after all this, you have the nerve to pretend to care about me? I don’t believe you. How can you care about this loser, this guy who hasn’t amounted to dick? You aren’t going to be my friend. You don’t need my friendship. You’ve got a wealthy guy now.”
“I don’t care about money. I just don’t want a hamster in a wheel anymore.”
“Well, that Trevor fucker’s a rat in a maze.”
Annette shrugged. “I wanted a partner. After five years, I’m tired of all the desperation. I’m tired of spinning these wheels. But just because I am, doesn’t mean I want you thinking I’m some cruel bitch that never had feelings for you.”
The Sticker studied the blue paisley pattern on his boxer shorts. He was silent, unsure of her, unsure of himself. “This is like a bad dream.”
Annette looked far more uncomfortable than before. She picked up her purse from the floor and struggled to put its strap over her arm. “I need to go. You’ll be late for work.”
“I quit.”
Her eyebrows knitted. “Really? What, you got something else?”
“Sure did. Met somebody, too.”
Annette sharply laughed. “Who?”
“Wouldn’t know her. Name’s Tasha.”
“Ah, I see.” She looked up in fake jealousy. “Well, ok, I’ll be in touch.”
He jumped up, ignoring the shifting world around him. “Don’t leave yet. We can have coffee at least, can’t we?”
Annette went through the door before he could get there. Chasing her outside would be too much.
But what if this is my last chance?
The Sticker put his hand on the doorknob but couldn’t beckon the will power to turn it. He dropped his head against the wood frame and closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he noticed the Limbus card had fallen on the carpet.
The back of it read: What are you waiting for?
By the time he found parking in downtown Los Angeles, the Sticker was close to gassing up and heading back home. It’d been a long, traffic-filled afternoon, and once off the freeways, his web directions led him on several inane detours before reaching the office building. Had he more to go home to, he certainly would have, but with another lawyerly voicemail this morning that added animal cruelty on top of illicit hazardous waste dumping, he supposed there were worse things than being in L.A. with a full bladder and nowhere to park.
He grumpily paid the lot fee and after a brief stop in a gas station bathroom, the Sticker headed toward his destination. A number of businesses shared the office building, mostly real estate and insurance entities. The sparsely decorated lobby was unremarkable in its avocado vinyl chairs and teak and aluminum tables. He was happy with the powerful air conditioning though as he searched the wall chart for Limbus’ room number. It was a little nutty, he thought anyway, that he’d come to accept Tasha as a legitimate job contact, but he supposed he was at that point in his life now. Nothing was too crazy. He couldn’t stay in his bubble. That damned thing had lost him a good woman. That damned thing had to be popped.
Office #A10.
It bugged him to see a number sign before a letter. He knew it shouldn’t, but it always did. Hopefully that wasn’t a bad omen from the get-go.
By the door the Sticker noticed an intercom with a silver globe adorned on its side. A helpful bronze plate had PRESS FOR ENTRY engraved in it.
He pushed the plate and an intercom bell trilled.
“Limbus Incorporated, do you have an appointment?” said an androgynous voice through the speaker.
“I’m here to meet with Tasha Willing.”
“Wonderful, and what government do you represent?”
“I… uh… am here for a job.”
“Does the Master Recruiter expect you today?”
“I guess so.”
There was a pause. “And what location are you calling from?”
The Sticker opened his mouth and caught himself. “I’m right outside.”
“Yes sir, but at what office location?”
“Los Angeles.” He laughed nervously, thinking he’d failed to understand the question.
“Thank you, sir. Come in.”
The door knob pulsed and unlocked. He twisted it and walked inside. Something frosty swept through him for a split second and everything behind fell away, pulled back, into nothing.
The Sticker stood in the center of a lobby the size of an airport now. His hand was still poised in the air from opening the door, but there was no door anymore….
He glanced around to make sure. The hallway he’d just come from was nowhere to be found. Twenty yards away, a giant globe spun before him, spears of light extruding and retracting in different locations over its surface, dazzling the floor, its every tile inlaid with what looked like cut diamonds in a flower petal pattern surrounded by a mother of pearl circle.
Tasha walked this luxurious floor with the same confidence she had at the oil-stained stockyard parking lot. A smile glued itself to her face. Today she was in a smart-looking red dress with matching hair clip that posted her straightened black hair to the side.
“You should see your expression,” she said, stopping before him. “Was that fun, or what?”
“I’ll go with or what.” He rubbed his arms to confirm he was still part of reality, that this wasn’t a drunken dream.
“If you think that small vapor convey blew your mind, just wait. I haven’t received the full employment report yet, but you’ll be going through a membrane transport and that’s like several hundred cosmic slaps to the face.” She laughed. It was a strange, ancient sounding laugh, but something about it calmed him. He liked Tasha. Maybe that was essential to her duty in bringing people into this weird place though. Maybe he shouldn’t trust her, but he did. Had he not, the Sticker would have been running to get out of this place right about now.
“I don’t know what to say…”
“That’s because the vapor convey integrates with our visitor’s panic synapses. We’ve altered your reactions to receive these new ideas in a measured fashion, invoking a less hostile animal response.”
“Come again?”
“It’s like valium, only permanent.”
“I still feel like me.”
“It doesn’t change who you are, just how you’ll perceive concepts normally catastrophic to the human psyche. We don’t want to spend months rebuilding your grip on reality. This is quicker. Painless. And especially since you’re going to another star system, it’s imperative. Your body will have to adjust to membrane travel, life in space, and all that comes with it. Despite your ability to be numb, as you said, it’s probably a good idea if you bring every precaution with you.”
“Space?”
“You said far away and I listen to my applicants. Come on, Slaughter Man, follow me to my office.”
He trailed her around the globe over to a hallway that ran with bright white marble rather than the intricate lobby tiles. After passing a few shadowy offices, she stepped into a small room and flipped on the light.
She sat down behind a slate colored desk. “Have a seat.”
“Feels better on my back if I stand.”
“Nessun problema,” she replied. A wide screen monitor rested before her, but it was astonishingly simple looking. In fact, Gerald Bailey actually had a fancier model in his office. Tasha typed a few things on a concealed keyboard and concentrated her dazzling green eyes on the screen. “I’ll just be one moment… the report should be… yeah, there it is.” She clicked her mouse a few times and softly snorted.