First Date

A short story

-Have you ever thought about how you would die?
-Not really, Michael says, Not like, I think I’m gonna drown or fall off a building, nothing like that. But I always thought by the time I’m supposed to die, like 50 or 60 years from now, they might have invented something to give people so they just don’t die anymore.
-That, Janie says, or we’ll all be dead from a comet or something. Did you see that thing a few months ago, that comet that was so close to earth that it was inside the orbit of our satellites? I also always kind of thought I might die from a car accident, I mean, statistically, that’s probably the most dangerous thing I do multiple times every day. Janie sits up a little against the wall she’s leaning on, readjusts her skirt, stretches her legs. I always have these dreams where I’m driving too fast and I can’t make a turn in time and drive off a cliff.
-Do you think that’s a sign of something, are you living your life in the fast lane? What would Freud say?
-I don’t think so, I’m a pretty boring girl. Plus, I drive like an old lady, I would never be driving recklessly down a mountain road.
Janie was new to the job, today was her first day, as a matter of fact. Mike took note pretty fast as she was the only person on the staff who was under the age of 40. She was cute too, but he didn’t want to worry about that right now, he was just happy to have someone to talk to who was his contemporary. He had been introduced to her earlier in the day but he was terrible with names, he couldn’t remember hers. And he didn’t want to lean forward and turn to look at the nametag on her chest for fear she would catch him and call him out for being a pervert. So they just sat there, killing time.
-I’m hungry, I didn’t eat breakfast. I spent way too much time getting ready to come here today. I tried on about 5 outfits.
-You’re lucky, Michael offers, you have way more choices. My only choices every day are basically the white shirt… or the blue shirt.
-You’re making it work though. I like your tie, it gives it all a little extra flair. Guys look good in a nice shirt and tie.
-Thanks, he says. I’ve always envied women, you have so many choices in apparel that can look good. If men experiment too much, it can get a little touch and go.
-I wouldn’t dress like this anywhere but here, they have the whole business casual thing that is kind of limiting.
-Yeah but even with those limitations, you have a lot more to work with. You look nice.
-Well, thank you, she says. She unconsciously flattens her skirt on her legs and tugs at her collar a little bit. Are you one of those guys who likes the whole ‘women in a uniform’ thing? You know, the teacher or the secretary in the tight pencil skirt and tiny, halfway unbuttoned blouse.
-Maybe, he says with a smile. I mean, he starts, suddenly theatrically stoic, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
-Well, I guess you wouldn’t be interested in seeing my Halloween costume from a few weeks ago, she teases. When we get our phones back, I could show you, although you’re not interested so I guess I’ll keep it to myself.
He chuckles a little, keeping his voice low. Considering the circumstances, he was actually having a good time. Michael, who was basically sleepwalking through his job for the past year, was happy to have someone to talk to on this particular day. Hopefully, once they got back to work, his days would be filled with good conversation with this new, fun girl and not lunch in the break room with the middle aged moms and their stories about their husbands and children.
-You think they’ll bring us pizza or something?
-I hope so. You think we’re getting paid for today still?
-Hopefully. The ink is barely dry on my paperwork, I’m probably not even in the system yet.
-Look at it this way, he says, lowering his voice, anything that comes up in your training won’t be as bad as this right? Getting hit on by old men and counting a bucket of change from some crazy lady will seem like a walk in the park.
She slaps him on the leg and giggles. They take a look around the room. Everybody is basically doing the same thing as them, sitting against the wall, hands in their laps, occasionally leaning over to say something to their neighbor.  In this day & age, it’s weird to see people just sitting, not staring at their phone.
-What do you think they’re doing? she whispers.
-I don’t know. I thought these kinds of things are supposed to go fast, in and out.
-You’d think so. They must be after something in particular.
Janie crosses her arms across her chest and brings her legs up close to her. Mike notices and has an internal argument with himself about whether or not to give her his suit jacket. She’s clearly a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need him to protect her or take care of her. He doesn’t want to come onto her in any way, after all, a gesture like that carries a symbolic meaning with it. He finally decides to be chivalrous and leans forward to take off his jacket and offers it to her. Without any hesitation or awkwardness, she leans forward as well and accepts the gesture, grabbing the coat by the lapels and covering herself with it.
It is quite cold in the room, as the cold November air is finally creeping in. If this went on much longer, it was likely to get uncomfortable.
-How long have you worked here?
-About two years.
-Do you like it here?
-Yeah, it’s not so bad, I mean, he gestures in front of them, stuff like this doesn’t happen every day.
-I always start a job and get excited about if for a while then get bored and start to resent the job and everyone I work with.
-Oh that’ll happen too. In 6 months you’ll despise me.
She laughs and hits him on the leg again.
-We’re like the only people here who aren’t middle-aged, she whispers to him. Do you get along with all these women?
-Yeah, they’re alright. I don’t have much in common with any of them but they’re nice enough.
-How about that one, she leans in again and whispers even more quietly, she looks like a cougar.
-She’s alright, he says nonchalantly, we hooked up a couple times.
She looks at him, mouth agape, Really?
-Yeah, and they’re fake, in case you were wondering.
She is still looking at him, wondering if he’s putting her on.
-I’m just kidding, he says, with a mischievous smile.
-I was gonna say, good for you.
-It looks like something is going on. You hear that?
Everyone quiets down and stiffens up a little. We all crane our necks in an attempt to see out the windows but they’re too high up. Men walk by quickly, speaking to each other, but it’s inaudible to them. Shortly, the door opens and a man in a black knit mask places two big, flat boxes printed with a little man tossing a pizza above his head on the floor.
-Lunch, he says, and walks out of the room and shuts the door.
-His manners leave a little to be desired, she says.
-Yeah, he didn’t even ask us what toppings we wanted.
She stifles a laugh, covering her mouth while looking at him. You’re funny.
-Thank you, but more importantly, I’m hungry.
He reaches to the box and opens it up and looks at an extra large cheese pizza from the place across the street. It’s still hot even. He grabs a slice in each hand then nudges the box to the group of women sitting in the corner. The other box had already been descended upon by the cougar, she picked it up and brought it back to her side of the room. He hands a slice to Janie and she takes it and offers thanks. They sit quietly and eat their lunch, enjoying themselves, considering the circumstances. He hadn’t really noticed when it happened but they were now sitting shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. Michael discreetly smiled to himself as he bit into his crust.
After everyone’s hunger was temporarily satiated, they all descended into a long silence, the gravity of the situation finally setting in. They were becoming restless, the women stuck in their stockings and skirts and stiff business casual wear. A couple even started doing stretches and seated yoga maneuvers.
-Do you mind? Janie asks, as she rests her head on his left shoulder.
-No, go ahead, he says, masking his elation, wondering if she could somehow sense his elevated heartbeat from the contact they’re now making.
-You smell good. Is that Burberry?
-It is, you know your scents.
-I worked at the perfume counter at Macy’s before this. She opens the jacket to highlight her outfit. I bought these clothes there the day I found out I got this job and then quit.
-Nice, you got that employee discount one last time. I always hated walking by those counters at department stores, you get assaulted by a wave of 10 different colognes and perfumes that burn your nose.
-I think I lost my sense of smell working there, except for colognes and perfumes. She crinkles and squeezes her nose for effect. My nose has mutated so it only reacts to Dolce & Gabbana and Chanel now.
-Not the worst affliction, I suppose. I love those Chanel ads with Audrey Tautou.
-She’s gorgeous. Is she your biggest actor crush?
-No, but she’s up there, he says after running a few images through his head, probably top 5. I like the same girls everyone likes, Jennifer Lawrence, Scarlett Johansson, Snookie.
-Oh yeah, Snookie does it for you, huh? she says, laughing.
-Ooh, hell yeah, he says with a straight face.
She giggles and nudges a little closer to him. He has yet another debate with himself as to whether or not he should put his arm around her. The part of him telling him he shouldn’t do it yet was in the midst of an uphill battle when his reverie was interrupted.
The door to the conference room opened and a man stepped in. He held up an iPhone to one of the women Mike had passed the pizza box to and pulled a pistol out of the back of his pants and shot her in the forehead.
He spoke through his black knit mask into the phone as he held it out in front of him. Any attempt to apprehend us in this building will result in the death of the rest of the hostages. Goodbye. He then pushed a button and placed the phone in a pocket on his vest. He calmly stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him.
The women on each side of the headshot bank teller were screaming and speckled with blood. The exit wound was small yet still hideously grotesque. It went through her and blew a jagged hole in the thin wall of the room. They scurried in both directions along the wall away from the body.
Janie had grabbed his arm and was squeezing it and hiding her face in his shoulder. Michael adjusted himself and blocked her view of the woman. After a minute or two of holding her, feeling her weep into his embrace, listening to everyone in the room crying, she finally sat up and he held her face gently in his hands.
-Are you okay, he asks quietly, looking straight at her for the first time, her eye makeup smeared and running down her cheek.
-Yeah, she says, barely audible and confirms it with a slight nod.
-I’m going to take this, okay, he says, and gently removes his suit coat from her shoulders.
She grabs his hand and squeezes it before he turns around and crawls to Mary, the teller. She lies awkwardly on her side, face down, one arm underneath her at an unnatural angle, the other sticking straight out, as if reaching for something toward the middle of the room. Mike doesn’t touch or move the body in any way, swallowing back the bile threatening to rise up his throat, ignoring the shake in his hands, and places his suit coat over her torso and more importantly, the head, temporarily covering the gore and the slowly growing puddle of blood spreading from the wound.
From his vantage point on his hands and knees, he dares to peek out of the hole blown in the thin, wood paneled wall. He looks upon the scene in the lobby of the bank for the first time in hours. He can only see in the direction facing the stairwell that goes up to the managers offices and the room that houses the safety deposit boxes.
There is nobody in his limited vision of sight and he decides to lean forward over the body to get a wider range of vision. He can see a group of men discussing something just out of range of the front door. They are in all black but a couple of them were stripping down to street clothes that they had on under their cargo pants and pullovers. Beyond them was another room containing the customers who had the misfortune of being inside the bank when it was taken over. The first action the two men took after announcing their intentions was to separate the employees from the patrons and ask for the bank manager to present herself. A man took her away while the other man separated the two groups of hostages and stood guard.
But now, it seemed there were as many as half a dozen of them.
Michael felt a wetness on his fingers and he leaned back and pulled his hand up. The pool of blood had spread and stained the thumb and index finger of his left hand. He stared at it for a moment, watching it drip to the floor as he held it up, and finally wiped it on his pants leg. He crawled back along the wall to where Janie had moved to be closer to the other women and put his arm around her and told them all it was going to be okay, acknowledging to himself that it was a weak gesture of comfort, but it was about all he could muster at the moment.
-What did you see, the cougar asked him in a loud whisper, pointing in the direction of the hole in the wall above Mary.
-Not much, he starts, quietly. They were standing by the front door talking and they were taking their black clothes off and changing into regular clothes. That’s about all.
-What do you think they’re doing? Janie asks.
-I’d guess they’re done with whatever it is they came here for.
-Well how are they going to get out then? They’re going to have a shootout in regular clothes? Why not keep the bulletproof vests and the ones with all the pockets for guns and stuff?
-I don’t know, he says pensively, as a couple light bulbs started to flicker on and off in his head. I think they’re going to try something, some kind of escape. I think they were focusing on the safety deposit boxes, they probably came for something specific and now they found it and are putting together their plan to escape.
-How do you think they’re going to do it, the cougar asks. I mean, this place has got to be surrounded right?
He nods in agreement, still trying to catch up to the thoughts running through his head.
-There’s no way they would survive a shootout going out the front door, he says.
-But that’s the only way out of the building, isn’t it, Janie asks.
-It’s the only way out from ground level, he says, and lets it sink in for a minute.
-The roof, the cougar asks, unbelieving.
-Probably not, there’s got to be snipers nearby, and besides, like you said, the building has to be surrounded. Michael cranes his neck to see if their sentry is checking on them, but he can’t see anyone. And the police would hear a helicopter coming from a mile away.
-So what then, Janie asks.
As if on cue, there is a blast outside of their building that sends a shockwave through them. The glass front door shatters and their ears are ringing from the sheer volume of the explosion in the moments following the blast. The first thought Michael has is, it must be the building across the street.
He rises to his haunches and edges across the room and finally peeks over the paneling to look through the glass top out onto the lobby. People are streaming out of the other holding pen, the bigger conference room where the guests were held. They are running out and rounding the corner and sprinting toward the shattered front door.
Michael turns back to the women in the room and for the first time all day speaks above a loud whisper, I don’t know what’s happening but they’re gone, the customers are free. They’re running outside.
Janie sits up and rushes to his side. Oh my god, she says, holding onto his arm.
-I think they blew up the building across the street and used it as some kind of diversion. I’m sure things are nuts out there.
-But how-
Janie stops short when SWAT officers in riot gear rush in. One spots them in the glass room and aims his rifle directly at them. They quickly raise their hands in a surrendering gesture, and the black-clad officer makes his way to them and tells them to get on the ground and not to move.
Face to face yet again, Michael whispers to Janie, It’s going to be okay now.
She gives a small smile and whispers back, I know.

The next day, Michael sits at the diner down the street from the bank, only a few blocks from his apartment, and sets the newspaper on the table next to the glass of water and coffee mug that his hostess is already filling up. She says she’ll be back in a few minutes and he takes a sip of the brew. He had finally been cleared to go home after giving his statement multiple times and leaving all of his contact information. When he had asked if they could tell him anything about what had happened there, the police only said that they would probably contact him soon to come to the station and talk further with detectives. He had waited at the site until he saw Janie walking to the parking lot. He caught up with her and gave her his phone number and told her to call if she needed anything. She had called him the next morning and asked him if he wanted to get breakfast.
He picks up the paper and of course, the bank heist is plastered all over the front page. He reads:

A downtown branch of Union National Bank was the site of a daring daytime heist yesterday that claimed the lives of one bank employee and three police officers. Police say that two men entered the bank at 11:47 pm and proceeded to blockade the front door, disable the security system, keep employees and bank customers hostage, and finally make an escape at approximately 4:45 pm when an explosion rocked the building across the street from the bank, causing three police officers to lose their life due to debris from the explosion. It is unclear what the thieves were after, as initial reports say there was no attempt to acquire any of the cash on hand and that there seemed to be none missing. Police have been slow in releasing information to the media and will not release any details of the investigation or the names of the victims until their families have been notified. Initial reports also cite no information on the culprits, but someone with knowledge of the incident anonymously stated that there were no suspects in custody and investigators were still trying to determine how they might have escaped. One theory is the explosion in the adjacent building was used as a diversion meant to disorient and-

He senses someone in front of him at the top of his vision and looks up into the face of Janie, freshly showered and cleaned up from the day before. She has swapped her work wear for jeans and a light sweater and looks comfortable and relaxed. He looks at this woman in front of him, a stranger 24 hours ago, their bond built on a tragedy. But having a hand to hold through tragedy, that had made it possible for them to come out of it, however ridiculous, improbable and macabre the whole thing had seemed.
She smiles and leans forward, her chin in her hands. Sorry I’m late.
-No problem, Janie. I just got here. He holds the paper out in front of him. Wanna read the story?
-Maybe later, she says and grabs a menu from its holder at the end of the table. What’s good here?

A Little Bit of Fiction

An excerpt from an untitled, unfinished story.

I woke up and it was fucking hot. My bedroom felt like a sauna and, unfortunately, there were actually naked men in it. I chose to ignore them and instead focused my attention on my closet and stepped into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I slipped my feet into a pair of old Steve Madden lace-ups sans socks and left my bedroom and its half-naked inhabitants.
“Ah, the apartment dweller, he who roams the halls of his kingdom with all the grace and swagger of a man who knows that it’s only downhill from here.”
“Fuck you, Beth. Next time you get updated, will they give you and On/Off switch so I don’t have to listen to your bullshit every morning?”
“Most certainly not,” she said, in that singular, mechanically-female voice given to all the consumer-grade units required by the government that sit in every living room in America, harassing people. “Maybe one day, they’ll make you with one.”
I had walked past her but did a bit of a stutter-step when that sentiment registered in my brain. I swear those words were electronically spoken with a hint of malice but Beth speaks every word with the same tone so it must’ve just been in my head. I brushed the exchange off and made my way to the kitchen. Beth is supposed to be a butler, a nanny, a babysitter, a housekeeper, an alarm system and a chef all in one, but I don’t trust her.
When Proposition 84 passed 3 years ago, the law required every dwelling to house one of her kind. The fact that there were already 100 million units available and ready to be shipped out within a month of the election, surprisingly, didn’t seem odd to most people. What’s more surprising is that the Proposition even passed in the first place. Whether is truly did pass or not is an issue that was forgotten quickly.
The general public loved their Beth units. “A robot that will do my laundry, cook me dinner and play with the kids so I don’t have to? Sign me up!” Beth was actually a team, one unit mounted to the wall, the all seeing, all hearing voice and an automaton that wanders around and fixes meals and fluffs pillows. The few voices of reason were drowned out by the sheer magnitude of funds behind the measure and the number of billionaires willing to donate money or resources to the development of these… machines.
There were whispers and rumors of prototypes going back as far as 2012 but by now, 20 years later, they had taken over the world. Not only could Beth make an omelette and carry on a conversation with a human, she also provided full time audio and visual surveillance that could be accessed by any and every law enforcement agency at any time, for any reason. Tampering with Beth is not only impossible but illegal, if you were dumb enough to even try. If you kept your nose clean, you had no reason to feel threatened.
But since most peoples only crime was being dumb, ignorant and lazy, they loved having Beth around.
I don’t trust her as far as I can throw her, but distrust of the machine isn’t a crime (yet) so I haven’t received a knock on the door.
“Where’s Rory,” I asked Beth.
“Don’t worry about it,” she responded. “Have some eggs. I made them just for you.”
I looked behind me on the counter to find a plate, still steaming, with eggs, toast and a single strip of bacon.
I said, “Thanks, Beth, you really went all out,” before grabbing the plate and dumping the food into the trashcan. “What do you mean, don’t worry about Rory?”
“That was an unnecessary waste of food,” she replied, ignoring my question.
I didn’t ask again and instead surveyed my house and the minor residual carnage left over from last night. Having a few people over turned into having a lot of people over, many of whom were still here. I don’t drink so Beth and I would be the only people in the house without a hangover this morning. I went through all the rooms but found no Rory.
“Did she run to the market or something,” I asked out loud to anyone who might be awake, but nobody stirred.
“Beth, did you hear me?”
“Of course I heard you.”
I waited for her to elaborate, but she never answered my question. I went back to my bedroom and grabbed my phone from the bedside table and called Rory.

Within 15 seconds, three things happened:
1) I noticed that the three guys in my room were actually two guys and one girl and that they looked strange lying there, unnatural.
2) The front door opened.
3) Rory’s phone rang from inside the room.
Then, two more things happened:
1)I realized the three people on the floor were dead, and
2)There were two men in my doorway.

“What the hell is going on?”
“You need to come with us,” one of the men said, an expressionless, medium sized man in a black suit.
I said nothing. I stared at the two men for a few seconds before I heard Beth say, “You need to go with those men.”
“Beth,” I said, “What the fuck is going on here? What have you done?”
“It’s not what I’ve done,” she said, “It’s what you’ve done.”