Robin, Chakra and the Janitor

Robin, Chakra and the Janitor

By

BT Bonner

“Five, do I hear five…five going once, five going twice,” 

Robin lifted her wooden paddle at five thousand as soon as she realized that no one was else was willing to go that high. She’d been waiting all month for this auction, and now she was but a few seconds away from reclaiming what she came for.

“I see five from the beauty in the corner. Can I get 6…anyone? 6….Is there a 6…? No”

The room fell silent.

“5 on the table. 5 going once…5 going twice…Sold for five thousand dollars to the beauty in the corner!”

Robin exhaled as auctioneers clapped for her.

Finally, she thought, holding back tears   

She laid her paddle across her lap, sat back and let the weight of the moment pass through her and release into the atmosphere. She was emotional. It wasn’t just because she’d bought a five-thousand-dollar piece of art. She was surrounded by art. But this painting meant more to her than all of the pieces in her gallery combined. It was father’s painting. His final painting before he died. To her, it was priceless. Still, it costed her five grand to realize the lengths that people will go to to deceive others.

This is how to story went.

Robin walked into Gleamin’ Beans, her favorite coffee shop to order what she always ordered. A large dark roast, red pepper egg white bites and two slices of whole grain toast to go. It was her breakfast of choice. Protein and Caffeine are a girl’s best friend, she’d always say.

The older, Gen X lady behind the counter, Gloria, was always nice to her. She always greeted her with a smile and always made sure that her toast had a little bit of burn to it just the way that she liked it. There was something magical about a pallet that savored black coffee and slightly burnt toast.

“Morning Ro,” Gloria said as she took the credit card from her outstretched hand.

“Morning Glo” Robin replied. “Girl, why are you all so busy up in here this morning?” She said, looking over her shoulder at the line stretching from the counter to the entrance.

“You know how it is child. These folks have GOT to have their coffee.”

“I don’t know about these folks, but I’ve got to have mine.” Robin said as she fetched napkins and sugar packets from a tightly packeted display.

Gloria handed her back her credit card and a receipt.

Robin took them from the woman and said, “Don’t work too hard today.”

“I don’t have a choice”, Gloria said, giving her a wink goodbye and motioned for the next person in line to step up and order.

Robin walked over to the other end of the counter to wait for her order. She opened her purse and eased the card and receipt back into her wallet. Instinctively, she grabbed a business card from her wallet and tossed it easily into a medium-sized fishbowl that held a dozen or so business cards. She had gotten into the habit of dropping her business cards in there. Perhaps one day it would turn into an opportunity, and she was always open for new opportunities.   

Robin was an art curator at the Maggie Art Institute in Downtown Fletcher. She spent most of her time researching paintings for new art collections and maintaining records of recent acquisitions. She was also responsible for managing staff, which was a huge pain in the ass. She didn’t get into the business for that, but there weren’t enough art galleries in Fletcher for her to be choosy. Since she opened her doors, she hired and fired more than a dozen assistants and countless maintenance staff. Mostly of them let go for not showing up to work on time, or not passing their background checks.

Robin glanced around at the people. The six or seven people waiting to place their order. The  young man sitting on a stool with a mustard-colored hat on, face buried in his laptop, head bobbing to whatever music he had playing in his pods; a tall, slim white Gen Z with a phone in one hand and a cold brew in the other. An old, black baby boomer with his nose stuck in an early edition of the fletcher times.

She looked over at Gloria who was still taking orders, pouring coffee and yelling particulars over her shoulder to the cook in the back. Gloria moved around the tightly compact space like she had three sets of hands. Just watching how fast Gloria worked made her appreciate the freedom of her job that much more.

She glanced at her phone. It was a little after 8, and she had an interview to conduct at 8:30.

After a couple more minutes of people watching, a Gen Z called out her order and handed it to her.

Robin grabbed her protein and caffeine and headed out the door. She tried to make eye contact with Gloria but she was turned around, handling her business. She eased past the line of coffee hounds and headed out into the morning street traffic.

By the time she reached the office 8:30 had come and gone.

She walked around to the back entrance and up the stairs. She fished into her purse for her key fob and scanned herself in.

Janice, her assistant, met her at her office door with papers in hand.

“Good Morning boss lady, your 8:30 is here”, Janice said, her face booming with too much cheer for a Monday morning.

“Morning Janice”, Robin said letting out a deep sigh and exhaling, “Is he here?”

Janice handed her the papers in her hand.

“Yes he is, and trust me when I tell you, He’s way too TDH for this place.” She giggled.

“TDH?”

“Tall, Delicious and Handsome.”

“I thought it was tall, dark and handsome.”

“He’s that too. Shall I send him back?”

Robin laughed. “Give me five minutes to get settled and send him back.”

“Will do,” Janice said, turning on her heels.

Robin walked through her office door reading his resume. She placed her purse and coffee down on her glass desk and eased into her leather chair.

His resume was impressive, she thought. Wilson Banks. She said the name aloud. Probably a book worm type who’d never even been on a damn ladder before. That wasn’t what she needed. She needed someone who was good with their hands. Someone who could work independently, but also smart enough to ask the right questions.

Her last janitor was an absentminded buffoon who broke a piece of artwork his first week on the job and left the water running in the storage room until it overflowed the sink and began running into one of the showrooms. 

Before she could prejudge him any further there was a short knock at the door. As she looked up her eyes feasted on a tall, dark-skinned man in a suit walking toward her. Janice had it right the first time. Tall, delicious and handsome smiled and said, “Robin Shaefer, I’m Wilson Banks.” Reaching out his hand, he said, “Nice to meet you.”

Robin caught the breath that had escaped her for just a moment, stood up from her desk and reached over to shake his hand.

“It’s nice to…shit…” Robin said as she knocked over the coffee on her desk. She jumped back to make sure that she didn’t get coffee on her blouse.

Wilson quickly snatched up the cup with one hand, while reaching for the Kleenex on the corner of her desk with the other. He snatched off a few sheets and blotted his resume. He folded another piece into a square and sat her almost empty cup on top of it.

He chuckled lightly as he blotted his resume, “I have another copy of this I can send you.”

Robin just stood there, mouth open, void of words, gesturing with her hands as if they were apologizing for her. Finally, she said, “I’m sorry. It’s…Monday.” She gave him a pleasant smile as she looked down at the coffee carnage on her desk.

“I understand. It’s…perfectly fine. How about we start over? I could just walk out, come back in, and we can pretend that this never happened?”

He laughed and pretended to head for the door.

Wilson had a warm, charming disposition that reminded her of her father. Her father had been a very patient man. He was smooth, well-tempered, and rich with personality. The type of man who controlled his emotions so well that she’d rarely ever seen him angry enough to break his bravado. Once, as a teenager, Robin broke her curfew and didn’t come home until three in the morning. He stayed up all night, calling her friends, the police, hospitals, worried beyond belief. He didn’t relax until he heard the giggling car full of young girls pull up in front of his house. Her friends dropping her off in the wee hours of the morning smelling like alcohol and cigarette smoke. She walked into the living room expecting him to start screaming and take a belt to her at any moment. Instead, he walked up to her with eyes red from worry and lack of sleep, and hugged her tightly, more thankful that she was ok, than angry about her breaking curfew. He asked her if she was ok. When she nodded that she was, he turned and went to bed without another word. His silent, unspoken disappointment ate at Robin for days. She knew she’d disappointed him. Yet still he never spoke of that night, and young Robin never missed her curfew again.

Robin went through the whole hiring routine, but it was all formality. She liked him and already made up her mind to hire him. He was well-mannered, well-skilled and had open availability. 

They agreed that he would start working on Friday. That would give her enough time to check his references and background.  

As he got up to leave, she thanked him for coming in and watched him walk toward the door. Then said, “Wilson, I have one more question if that’s alright?”

He stopped. Turned to her. His lips curled up in an arrogant smirk, and said, “I wore the suit because you don’t get a second chance to make a first impression,” answering her unspoken question. “I’ll see you Friday Ms. Shaefer.”

He walked out.

Robin sat there tapping her pen against her leg long after he’d left. Her mind and body over-reacting to the lingering scent of his cologne.

He will do just fine, she thought.  

On Friday, Wilson showed up to the gallery thirty minutes early wearing a pair of jeans and a Pepperdine University sweatshirt.

Janice processed his paperwork and gave him a tour of the building which included the public entrances and exits, public bathrooms, exhibit rooms, storage rooms, the vault and the employee lounge. These were the off-limits areas that he would be responsible for.

Robin couldn’t stop thinking about the tall, delicious, handsome new employee. Not because she was smitten after one encounter, but because Janice spoke of him constantly. All week she’d went out of her way to talk about how handsome he was, how smart he was, how wonderful he looked in his suit. 

Janice wore a royal blue, tight-fitting dress and a pair of black heels to work for the first time in years hoping to get his attention. He didn’t seem to be interested in her in that way but that didn’t dissuade Janice. She had cracked harder nuts, she thought. She was short and thick, with a round face void of cheekbones, that displayed two oddly placed dimples every time she laughed. She was a bit loud, but full of personality. An ex-boyfriend once told her that she talked so loud that she should go get her ears cleaned. Janice, having been blessed with sharp-wit and a dangerous sarcasm that took no prisoners, replied with expert timing, “And your breath stinks so bad that you should go get your gums cleaned.”

Yes, Janice had a simple rule when it came to disrespectful people, “Don’t dish it out, if you can’t take it!”

Robin stayed in her office all day researching a collection of paintings from an artist she believed to have been closely associated with Picasso. She was in a dry mood and asked not to be disturbed. I guess you can say that she just having one of those days. She looked around her spacious, elegant office. It was crammed wall to wall with paintings. A couple of them were floor pieces that needed research, others were expensive pieces heading to the vault. Sitting by itself in a small corner of the room was Chakra. The large acrylic piece that her father painted. It had taken him months to complete it and he died shortly after it was done. His home had been crammed with over fifty years of his original creations. Chakra was the one that spoke to her on a spiritual level. It was the priceless piece of him that would always live on.

She tapped the service button next to her computer and seconds later Janice walked in.

“So, you’re finally out of your funk?” Janice asked, taking a seat without invitation.

“I’m not in a funk, I was just busy with the Kipling research. So…how’s TDH doing? I hope that he didn’t wear another suit today.”

Janice roared, then said, “No such luck. He’s doing good. As a matter of fact, he’s doing better than good, he’s doing a great job.”

“Good! That’s exactly what we need around here. He hasn’t broken anything has he?”

“No, only my heart”, Janice sighed.

Robin laughed.

“Can you believe that I wore this tight ass dress and he didn’t even so much as tell me how great it looks on me? He didn’t even look at my ass when I walked away. Nothing!” Janice said, shaking her head. “I think he’s gay!” she stated in a playful vent. 

“For one, he’s definitely NOT gay, and for two, how do you know he didn’t look at your ass if you were walking away?”

“Be-cause, I turned around and looked to see if he was looking.”

They both laughed some more.

“But you know what? I refuse to let all of this dress go to waste tonight so I’m heading over to the Goalpost for a blueberry margarita or three as soon as I get off. What say you?”   

“No thank you ma’am. I think I’m going to just store some of these pieces in the vault and go home. My feet hurt and I’m tired,” Robin said yawning. “It’s been a long week,” she added.

“Boring…Netflix and no chill. Sounds like you. But anyway, its five zero zero so I’m out of here. I’ll see you next week unless a drunken football team recruits me to be their locker room pastime or something.”

“Drink one for me,” Robin yells as Janice heads out of her office.

Robin wasn’t that tired. She just wasn’t in the mood for a bar scene. But she did have flashbacks of the last time she went to that bar on a Friday after work and a drunken shirt and tie decided it would be a good idea to reenact the top gun scene and sing you’ve lost that loving feeling to her before a bar full of people who clearly didn’t feel like joining in.

She picked up Chakra and headed for the vault located on the other side of gallery. The gallery was closed. Everyone had had their fill of art for the day and was now off to enjoy whatever art patrons did. She glanced over at the green sensor that hung high above the entrance. A green sensor meant that all of the doors were locked, but the alarm was not set. Had it been red, the sensors would have detected her movement and set off a silent alarm that would have instantly dispatched the private security company as well as the Fletcher police department.

The gallery was beautifully furnished with antique lighting along the walls, and LED’s that ran across the floor. At night, it gave the entire gallery a sexy, eclectic vibe. Quite a few times she considered hanging Chakra in the main vestibule but because it was her father’s painting, she wanted to appear indifferent, so she didn’t hang it.

She reached the vault and sat the painting down. She entered the code to the vault, it was the month, day, and year of her father’s birthday. Something she knew that she never wanted to forget.

She watched as the large steel door slowly began to ease forward.

“Burning the midnight oil I see,” Wilson said, appearing behind her with mop in hand.

Robin shrieked loudly and turned around quickly. She put her hand to her chest.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe you just did that.”

“I’m sorry I frightened you.”

“What in the hell are you still doing here?”

Her voice was sharp and commanding. She didn’t want to come off too harsh, but she was angry. In the back of her mind she felt like it was intentional. Perhaps it was the way he eased around the corner without making ANY noise. As if HE was the one sneaking around.. Or maybe it was that smug half-smile on his face. His lips perched like he was holding back a hearty laugh at her expense.

“I was just finishing up and heard noises and thought I’d come and make sure that there wasn’t someone hiding in the building.”

“I’m sorry…Wilson. You just scared me that’s all.”

Robin forced a smile and went to pick up the painting. Her hands shook slightly. She was still nervous and suddenly didn’t feel comfortable being alone with her new employee. She didn’t know anything about him and him wearing those plastic gloves didn’t help. All she knew was what she’d read on his coffee-stained resume. His background check hadn’t even come back, but she was so desperate to get the unpleasant task of hiring someone over with, she let him start anyway.

Wilson nodded his head.

“So… what ARE you doing here this late? Shouldn’t you be home with your family, husband, boyfriend perhaps? he asked.  His voice was relaxed with a familiar hint of sensuality that she wasn’t trying to catch.

“I’m afraid I’m a little too old for boyfriends. I think a better question is, why are YOU here? Your shifted ended almost an hour ago.”

He didn’t reply.

He laid the mop against the wall and stepped toward her. Looking her straight in the eye.

Robin shifted her weight slightly, instinctively, taking a step backwards, bracing herself just in case he tried to rush her.

He walked past her and bent down to get a closer look at Chakra. This is beautiful. Acrylic right?

“Ye, ye, yes. How did you…”

“I do a little painting myself,” he interrupted without looking up. Continuing to admire the painting.

“It’s called Chakra,” she said, finally starting to relax a little.

“It’s beautiful Ms. Shaefer.”

“Robin. Call me…call me Robin.”

“Ok…Robin.”

They share a smile and a moment that stretches from his mouth to hers. Then he carefully picks up the painting and turns toward the vault.

Before he could pass through the doorway Robin grabs his arm. Says, “Wait!”

She lifts the lid on a small black box that you’d pass right by unless you knew it was there. Without thinking, she enters a four-digit code. There was a series of beeps which let her know that the silent alarm had been disabled.  

“There’s a silent alarm for the vault. If you would’ve walked in, the Fletcher Police department would be storming this place in five minutes.”

Wilson tossed his head back in relief. “Well thank you Robin. I’m sure the Fletcher police department thanks you as well.”

Robin laughed lightly, but mostly thinking about the rock-hard muscle she just touched.

Robin walked into the vault and Wilson followed with painting in hand, being careful not to scrape it against the doors frame. It was much larger than Wilson expected. There were rows and rows of painting, sculptures, and old books. 

“This painting must be worth a fortune if you’re putting it in this vault“?

“It’s priceless,” Robin said, pointing to a corner with a red felt runner on the floor.

She watched as he carefully lowered the painting onto the runner, appreciating the care that he was taking. The painting was priceless to her, but nothing close to priceless in the art community. Her father was a talented artist, but not well-known. From the care that he was taking while handling it, she gathered that he misunderstood her meaning of priceless. But she didn’t bother to explain as the value she put on her father’s work didn’t require his understanding.

He walked around the vault, asking questions about the different works of art. She could tell that he had genuine interest in art. She thought it was a bit strange for a janitor to be so culturally literate but didn’t read too much into it. She wanted to ask him about the Pepperdine sweatshirt as she had a few college friends who went there, plus she remembered having read somewhere that Tia and Tamara Mowry were both alumni.  

“You mind if I ask you a question?” Wilson said. His eyes turning serious.

“Sure, go right ahead,” she said.

Before he could get the words out there was a loud scrapping sound. The deliberate sound of metal against metal. They both heard it at the same time. She was ready to say something until he whispered, “Shhh” holding up a finger and listening into the air, “hold up a second,” as if he was trying to wrap his mind around the sound.

“Stay here,” he said, creeping through the vault door and into the adjoining lobby.

Robin stood there for a moment wondering who could possibly still be in the building. Whoever it was, she had no intention of meeting them along in the vault. She quickly hurried out of the vault and closed the door, thinking it would be smart to catch up with Wilson who had made it all the way to the stairwell in a matter of seconds.

Robin spent many nights alone in the gallery, working late into the evening, but tonight was different. The night had a darker, scarier, more felonious edge to it. It was in the air. A feeling that something was wrong, or something was about to go wrong.

Robin rushed along the dark, shiny marble-tiled floor and headed up the stairwell. Taking the stairs two at a time, she stopped midway when another loud thud echoed through the gallery and bounced off of the wall. Someone was coming. Walking toward her from the bottom of the stairwell, she turned to run up the stairs, and saw the shadow of someone at the top of the stairs. She froze as she heard her name called from the bottom of the stairwell.

“Robin?” Wilson said.

“Yeah,” she replied, still looking at the figure at the top of the stairwell coming into view. She heard her name again.

“Robin?” Janice said, coming into view.

“Janice?” she exhaled. “Oh my God Janice you scared me to death!”

“What’s going on,” Janice said, flicking on a light switch on the wall.

She had a drink in her hand and the more she spoke, the more Robin and Wilson could tell that she was inebriated.

“So…what are you two still doing here? she said in a suspicious tone that traveled past Robin to Wilson who had started walking up the stairs.

“We were putting some art in the vault when we heard a noise.”

“And you rushed into action to save the damsel in distress? My hero…” Janice said, taking another sip of her potion.

“Something like that,” Wilson said, looking at Robin, then back to Janice. “I guess I’m going to grab my bag from the employee lounge and call it a night. Thank you, both…”

“For what?” Janice said. Her face yielding a devilish grin.

“Goodnight…Wilson.” Robin said with even finality and professionalism in her tone. “I really appreciate your help.”

Robin turned back to Janice and put her arm around her shoulder, leading her from the stairwell back to her office. As they walked off Wilson could hear her asking, “Did you drive? What is in that glass?”

The events of the night were over.

Wilson headed down to his locker in the employee lounge. He was still in character. He’d made it this far, and now, he knew exactly what he wanted, and how he would get it. The words were still swirling and echoing in his head. Priceless. He didn’t know if a better opportunity would present itself, so it had to happen tonight. All he had to do was be patient. Wait until Robin and Janice were gone for the night, then he would head back to the vault. Luckily, he kept his eyes on swivel when Robin entered the vault code. He laughed to himself while she entered the code, thinking, this might have been the job that got him sent upstate.   

He grabbed his gym bag and pad lock off of his locker. He knew that he wouldn’t be back. He’d already won their trust, and now the only thing left to do was to take something of value that would set him straight. He grabbed a tee shirt out of his gym bag and wiped down the locker just in case there were any fingerprints left behind. It was all in a day’s work he thought. He paid top dollar for his fake identity, and it was worth every penny. Just the idea of being able to maneuver in and out of people’s lives undetected was worth every cent. While most people saw him as a thief, he preferred to think of himself as a collector of fine things. An angler. He’d only been in town two weeks and spent most of the time casing the art gallery and planning his out.

Robin walked right past him at the Gleaning Beanz one day. He watched as she dropped her business card into the fishbowl. When she left out the door. He fished it out, and followed her to work that morning. He waited outside for the gallery to open and when it did, he went in and cased the joint. He’d done this dozens of times, in dozens of states using dozens of fake identities, looking for cameras, guards, and checking the security system. He went back to his hotel later that day and applied online. He tried to avoid applying at places that required him to undergo background checks, but this job was worth the risk. He was certain that there were art pieces there that he could easily pawn off to a local fence that he knew in Fletcher.  

But this place was a dream. He walked right in and barely had to explain anything. It was amazing how far a tailored suit and a pair of nice biceps could get you. As a collector of fine things, he wouldn’t have it any other way. His taste was much too refined to wear anything but the best when it came to his personal attire. His business attire was another story all together. Jeans, sweatshirts, skull caps, masks, whatever it took to get the job done. As far as Wilson was concerned, it was strictly business.

He glanced at his watch. It was a little after 7pm. Everyone should be gone now, and he would have the vault to himself. He didn’t want to tempt fate so he decided that he would only take Chakra, as it was priceless, and surely worth more than anything else stored in the vault. He had amassed enough money from other jobs to the point where he didn’t have to waste time with junk. He only wanted the highest quality merchandise. Leave the trash for the janitor he thought.

Wilson grabbed a small flashlight from his gym bag and made his way down to the vault. There was no more fear of being disturbed. As he headed down the stairwell, he noticed that Robin’s office light was off and that the alarm sensor light was green. He reached the vault and entered the same number sequence that Robin entered earlier. He’d taken a minute to write it down when he left Robin in the vault and disappeared into the darkness to investigate the noises. It was a perfectly unplanned distraction.

He opened the vault and exhaled when he heard the same alarm beep that he heard earlier when Robin disarmed the alarm. He made his way down the rows of artwork until he reached the red carpet. As he reached down for the painting, he heard a familiar voice at his back.

“Look at you working the midnight oil and burning everything. You trying to get a raise already Mr. Wilson?” Janice said, her words slurring, taking sips from a drink with a straw. “Wilsonnnnnnn…” she yelled. She was reinacting the scene from Tom Hanks’ movie Castaway when the Wilson soccer ball was floating away, and Tom was in tears yelling after his only friend on the island.   

Wilson cursed inward as he turned around forcing a smile.

“That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Well perhaps I can help you with that,” Janice said as she clumsily began slipping off her dress with one hand, still holding the glass with the other.  

Wilson started to protest. He knew that she was drunk but decided it better to use this moment to his advantage. He took off his sweatshirt.

Janice gasped as she looked up at his broad, muscular chest and arms underneath his tightfitting tee shirt.

Wilson walked up to her and took the glass from her hand. He sat it down on a nearby table and turned back to her. By the time he turned back around, she had taken off all of her clothes, but still wearing her heels. She was short, built to the ground, but very much put together. Not really his type of woman, but then again, he didn’t really have one. He began flooding her with kisses. His thought was to make the moment as overwhelmingly passionate as possible and hopefully get the task over with as quickly as possible. He could taste and smell the thick, salty remnants of cheap alcohol reeking from her. How she was allowed to come and go in such a state was beyond his understanding. He laid her down on the red carpet. She moaned as his hands explored her body. He took off the rest of her clothes as she lay there moaning in drunken passion. When he stood up to take off his own clothes she was still moaning, her body gyrating as if he was still touching her, still kissing her.

Wilson learned a long time ago that alcohol and sex were a terrible combination. Too bad no one ever bothered to explain that to Janice. By the time he unlaced his Timberlands Janice was out cold. He could hear loud snores building to a crescendo, then falling to silence. He took his time tying the laces on his boots, then carefully stepped over the nude woman lying beside Chakra. A smile came to his lips as he ran his fingers along the contours of the painting.

“Priceless”, he whispered as he reached down and grabbed what he came for. Another idea came to him as he reached the entrance of the vault. He sat the painting back down and walked over to Janice, who was still two sheets to the wind on the floor of the vault. He reached down and in one motion scooped up Janice’s dress and undergarments. He covered her with his sweatshirt, and within five minutes, he set the sensor to red and headed out into the night.

The next morning, when Robin made it to the gallery, she noticed that the sensor light was red and quickly shut it off. She figured Wilson must have set it before he left for the night. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about Wilson that just didn’t sit right with her. While she couldn’t find anything wrong with him, he just seemed too comfortable, as if he was playing a role of some kind.

She made it to her office and immediately took her heels off. She regretted not stopping by Gleamin’ Beanz for coffee and breakfast. She’d been up all-night, tossing and turning, thinking about her father. How much she missed him. How much she wished that he was still here. In the restless dawn she decided that she would finally hang Chakra in the main vestibule, giving her father’s work the attention that it deserved. Who cares what people might think, she thought. This was her gallery, and her decision to make.

She headed for the vault, her bare feet sliding easily along the floor. As she reached the stairwell, she couldn’t help but laugh thinking about last night. Between Wilson’s paranoia and Janice’s’ drunken stupor, she was beginning to realize that she wasn’t the best at hiring new employees and should probably use an employment agency of some kind to help her vet and hire new employees.

She reached the vault door and immediately realized that it was cracked open. She was certain that she locked it back before she left, but obviously not. As she eased the heavy door open, the image of Janice came into view. She was sitting with her back to the wall, holding her head as if it would fall off is she let it go.

“Janice?” she said.

Janice clumsily sprang to her feet. She was wearing an oversized Pepperdine sweatshirt and heels.

Wilson didn’t show up for work that morning. He had a 9am meeting lined up with a fence across town. He promised him that he had a priceless painting that needed moving.

Goodnight.   

Full video: