Now into its fourth year as a part of the Manhattan skyline, I can’t imagine this magnificent city being without it. Sleek and modern, it juts up into the sky like an almost invisible glass portal into another world, mirrored glass from top to bottom, reflecting the sky and city back on itself, a perfect, seamless melting into its surroundings. The three letters ASH stand one story tall on the 50th floor in an understated muted grey.
I paid a premium for the most technologically advanced materials and design for my building. Completely energy self-sufficient, with solar cells built into every available surface and structure of the outer windows and walls, and the glass insulated against the elements, creating a harmonious temperature, requiring only the most minimal of air-conditioning for comfort. The rooftop is home to the company helipad, a garden for employees’ lunch and a 1000 square foot community garden for the nearby schools and youth centres.
The building is everything I want Ash industries to exude; modesty, strength, integrity, and a constructive contribution to society.
She is my pride and joy.
I pull my hoodie tight over my head, adjusting it, as I usually do to cover my face as I approach the building.
“Mr. Ashley, what are you doing here so early?” the security guard asks from the other side of the door as I slide my card through the slot and press my finger against the pad.
“Good morning, Carlos. If only I knew.” I throw up my hands as he chuckles before giving me a small finger salute and returning back to his station.
I walk to my personal elevator and turn the key, waiting for the doors to open. It might be early, but it’s actually my favorite time to arrive. It’s almost completely empty except for the skeleton security and cleaning staff. I can make my way to my company’s floors and offices without too much scrutiny. The elevator door opens and I step in, taking this opportunity to glance over the floors and offices through the glass as I ascend to the gym floor.
The gym is empty when I arrive, but I know that soon it will be teeming with Ash Industries employees getting in a workout before the start of their day. Every one of Ash Industries’ employees has full access to the gym and I encourage them to use it. It’s fully equipped with all the best equipment, sauna and steam rooms, and each employee is allotted a monthly allowance of 60 minutes with the house masseuses.
I’d decided during my run to take advantage of the empty gym to use one of the weight machines. I find the remote at the trainer’s station and turn on the TV system. The 16 screens mounted around the gym come to life and I select the saved setting for a different channel for each one.
Taking a swig from my water bottle, I settle next to the bench press and start my reps, zoning out the chatter as white noise.
“One, two, three…” I count as I exhale with deliberation, focusing on my breath and bicep muscle fibres firing to lift the heavier-than-normal weights. The last few days I’ve had to work harder than usual to focus. All my thoughts keep turning to her.
I haven’t heard anything about her since running into Ruby at the hospital two days ago. Xavier reported that he had taken care of her hospital bill, and there’s really no reason to think about or care about her any more. But I do. It isn’t a specific thought, but there she is all the time. Replaying the sound of her scream when I ran across her and her attackers. Wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been there. No use dwelling on it, I remind myself and concentrate on my exercises again. “… 9, 10.” I let go of the bar gently, setting the weights down without too much noise. Wiping my face with my towel, my body suddenly freezes, a split second even before I realize it has.
“… and thankfully, I’m fine now. But the real lesson here, I think, is that everyone should always be as alert as possible, and travel together at night if you can.”
That voice.
No, it can’t be.
I know that voice.
It’s haunted me for the last week.
I pull the towel from my face and let my hoodie fall away.
It is her. On TV.
Looking as fucking beautiful as I remember her.
What is she doing on the Channel 7 morning show?
“Well, that’s about all we have time for, but is there one last message you’d like to say to our viewers, about your attack? Or some word of advice?” the host asks her.
I’m transfixed on the screen, holding my breath as the camera zooms close up on her face. Her cheek is still bruised, but it is fading into the yellow-green hue of the final healing stages. But I barely notice it. All I see are her plump cherry red lips and her creamy porcelain skin. Her eyes are bright and alive as she prepares to speak, a look that lights a spark inside me that I didn’t realize has lain dormant for as long as I can remember.
“Well, there is ONE thing I was hoping your viewers could help me with.” She speaks in her silky sweet voice.
“Anything!” The hosts look excited, they seem to be prepared for what she is going to say. I can’t imagine what it is going to be, but I don’t care. I just want to hear her speak again.
“Well, as you know, I probably would NOT be sitting here today, if it weren’t for the man who risked his own life to save me.”
Oh, no.
I bite my lip, hoping I am wrong about what I predict is about to happen.
“Well, as you can imagine, I would dearly love to thank him for saving me from my attackers, making sure I was taken to the hospital and taken care of, as well as… this you probably don’t know from the news stories, but he also paid for my hospital stay and treatment. 100%”