The Face Behind The Mask

3

In her cubicle, Skyden leaned forward at her laptop and scrolled.

Her employer, The Donitall Group, had once occupied two floors of a glass and steel skyscraper in downtown Pittsburgh. Operating with less than a third of its original staff, the marketing agency barely filled half the floor. There had been discussions about fresh aesthetics, new office furniture, and updated flooring but once it became apparent that most of the work-from-home employees were never coming back, that all went by the wayside.

Skyden's boss, Lori, approached, iPad in hand. She wore her stress like a tight-fitting blazer. "Sky. I know you need to pick up the kids after work. Can you do a breakfast meeting tomorrow? Seven?"

"Seven? Sure."

"In two days Tony went from "awesome" to "not really sparking to the concept."

Skyden said, "Are there any of his multiple personalities you haven't met yet?"

Lori was too upset to joke. "And we need to push back the Miller presentation."

Skyden's disposition soured. "Again?"

"Can you buy us a little more time?"

Skyden winced.

"I know, I know," said Lori. "Thanks." Then, noticing Skyden's computer screen, she asked, "Whose kids?"

She referred to photos of two elementary school girls, arms around one another, all smiles on their angelic faces. One wore a colorful knit hat.

"Megan," said Skyden. "An old friend from high school. They're her girls."

"They're gorgeous. Well, I'll let you get back to work." She buzzed away.

........

Dressed in yoga pants and a workout top, her bag slung over her shoulder, Skyden exited the gym. She checked her Apple Watch and then surveyed the parking lot.

She felt the ache of the exercise in her lower back and in her thighs but it was the good kind of soreness, the kind that paid off when you looked in the mirror. She recognized the sensation of muscle strain from her bike riding days, her pre-kids bike riding days. She could no longer afford the luxury of dedicating an afternoon to a thirty-mile bike ride. Yoga was made for working moms.

A male voice startled her. "Skyden!"

A handsome, prosperous-looking man exited a dry cleaner, carrying freshly-pressed shirts. Skyden did nothing to disguise her displeasure at seeing him.

"Hot yoga just got a little hotter," he said.

She groaned. "Never gets old."

"I like your hair pulled back like that. You look good."

"Thanks." She stepped back, putting more space between them.

"You obviously take good care of yourself," he said. "Men appreciate that."

"Grayson, you're making me very uncomfortable."

"What? It's a compliment."

She was rescued when an SUV pulled to the curb. The passenger door opened and Kelsey jumped out, tennis racquet in hand. Kelsey's friend, Alexa, leaned out the window.

"Hi, Mrs. McKenzie."

Skyden waved.

Alexa's mom said, "Tennis practice ran late. Hope we didn't keep you waiting long."

"No worries," said Skyden. 

"See you tomorrow," Alexa shouted as the SUV drove away.

"Who's this pretty little thing?" said Grayson.

Kelsey gave her mom a 'Who's this idiot look.'

"Well, we gotta get going," said Skyden.

"Good to see you, Skyden," he said. "And Skyden's daughter." He leered at Skyden in her yoga pants as she led Kesley toward the Volvo.

Kelsey asked, "Do I want to hear this story?"

"There's no story," her mom said.

........

When she heard the key in the metal door, Brooke gathered the tattered blanket around herself and huddled against the cold brick wall. She was barely recognizable with tear-streaked cheeks and mussed blonde hair. A ribbon of dried blood from the corner of her mouth curled beneath her chin. She watched her captor with fearful, trapped animal eyes.

The stink of dampness and mold rose out of the cracks in the concrete floor.

"Put it in your hair," he commanded.

She grabbed a red Scrunchie from the floor and pulled her hair back, her hands trembling.

"You're pulling it too tight," he said, advancing.

She sobbed. "I don't know how."

"Fix it!"

"I'm trying. I'm trying."

She closed her eyes and threaded her hair through the Scrunchie again.

"That's better." The threat went out of his voice. "Lemme see. Yeah, that's better."