Jayla and the It Guy

WEEK ONE

3rd week of January 2019, Friday

The end of the week found Jayla Harris, standing in front of the break room refrigerator, searching for her lunch. It was somewhere in here, she knew, moving aside the bouquets, cakes, sandwiches, fruit and cheese platters, the buffet of all things bridal. Ah, there you are.” Jayla said, moving aside the two bridal bouquets that hid her lunch from view.

Into the microwave it went for a quick heat up. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, easier to find, lined up side by side, on the refrigerator door as she waited. Watching the clock tick down to the zero, she let her thoughts roam to Rio and Racy, the new co-owners of Experience Inc, aka her new boss. Racy was not at all pleased with the outcome and that was too bad as Rio and his company seemed a perfect fit for them.

His company helped startups grow, which Experience Inc, was or one part of it was, Engineered Experiences with Racy in charge, Stormy with small wedding, Delightfully Small Weddings, another startup, offering lower priced smaller weddings, for which there was a growing demand. She was now the new Racy, in charge of the bread and butter, standard line of wedding products, on which the company was founded.

She and Stormy thought Rio was interested in both the company, and Racy the woman, and as much as Racy resisted, she was interested in him. All good, in her opinion. Racy could use a little something other than work. It would be nice if it could be Rio for Racy and she wouldn’t mind a Rio for herself. She could use little something other than work -her love life was for shit, two busy saving the world, or helping out her family for men. Plus, she thought she wasn’t sold on the you have to actively search thing. She was more a recognize him when she saw him type.

Her watched dinged, interrupting her thoughts. Help me was the message. Yes, that Lee Chin, the third member of their four-person team was the sender. Technically, Lee was his own team, contractually obligated to Experience Inc, to deliver state-of-the art whatever. He was their IP guy, great at what he did, a genius in all things tech she’d heard. She wouldn’t know as he rarely, if ever, talked to her. It was as if he’d taken one look at her his first day and said hell the fuck no, and regardless of how welcoming, nice, friendly, or even flirty she was, his response was still the same the fuck no.

So why the text request for help? Had to be a mistake, an error with his texting finger. No other way to explain it. Still. . . She grabbed her food when it dinged and headed to the front, to her phone, to respond.

 Did you mean to send this to me? Her response, watching the phone, waiting for a response and when there was none, she called, cause error or not. It was hard not to respond to a request for help. Four rings and it rolled to voice mail, where his voice sounded in her ear, telling her to leave a message. She did. “You sent me a text asking for help. Are you okay, or do you really need help? It’s a surprise for sure. We don’t talk that much at work, really at all, not my fault, but anyway, if you’re hurt, I could help. I’m available to help.”

She started into her lunch, checking her phone every few seconds, continuing to mull over what to do if he didn’t reply. What she wanted to do was put her food back in the fridge, lock up here and hightail to wherever he was, cause out of the blue, mistake or not, she had been searching for a way to get close to him, a man she’d coveted since he walked through the front door six months ago.

 She checked her phone again. Radio silence, no text response or phone message. He lived closed, she knew, or at least not far in the loop, she thought, if not the exact address. She found it in their directory, yep it was close enough, so why not go check on her coworker? If it were Racy or Stormy she’d be on the road by now. She stood, checked her watch once more, deciding.

“We’re doing this,” she said aloud, tucking her laptop into her bag. It was a mad dash to get out the door after that. To the fridge and back, sending a text to Racy and Stormy , running errands, in case it turned out he was fine, nothing more than a false alarm. It was lights out next, locking the front door, and away we go to her car, an old hand-me-down Honda, from her mom. JaylaTwo she named it. They were both on their second attempts at careers. Giving it their best, hoping to last as long as it was required to succeed. She plugged his address into the map feature on her phone, and peeled out of the parking lot, off to rescue Lee. Yes, girl, yes, she was doing this!

Thirty minutes of bat out of hell driving in this crazy town of always traffic, put her at the backend of his street, in a neighborhood whose best days were behind it. Think industrial, or commercial old C-shaped buildings, a wall in front of it, the shops behind, shaped around a parking lot, and creepy. Old white metal chipped in a lot of places, and somewhere in one of those buildings was Lee’s house? What? In no world would she have put him living here, yet here she was parking beside his dark blue jeep. Three white vans, Hummer Painting the name on the side, parked together near the back were the only other vehicles around.

She grabbed her bag, her phone, and her pepper spray, just in case this was not a joke and something nefarious was at play, and strode to the first building. M Boat Repair was the sign on the door that was closed. So not there, walking past it, onto the next, where, like in all those movies, a door stood open. A hard no, don’t go in fear settled into the pit of her stomach. She was not the first into a building type of girl.

“Lee,” she called out, pushing the door open more and cautiously taking a step inside. “Lee,” she called out again, more steps inside. “Lee,” she whispered, eyeing the contents of his space, scattered everywhere, but mostly on the floor. Concrete flooring with metal shelves knocked over, like dominos, their contents—plastic boxes and those contents also on the floor. Lying on its side, behind the shelving mess, was a six-foot table. What the hell. So much stuff, nuts, bolts, screws, most she couldn’t recognize spilling out of plastic containers. Was this how he lived on the regular? Nah, this was something else, she thought, moving forward, scanning continuously. This felt intentional. Someone looking for something ransacked and on the heels of that, who would ransack Lee’s home, were all thoughts better left for later.

“Lee,” she said, entering into what felt like a clearing, an opening up to the livable part of his place, kitchen in the corner to the right, bathroom to the right of it. “Lee,” she called out again, moving forward, thinking this place was bigger than she thought, passing his desk on the left or what was left of it and its contents, several computer monitors lying on the floor, drawers of his desk open, more contents spilling out onto the floor. On the other side of this wall was Lee’s bedroom and Lee, in his bed, lying shirtless on his stomach. There were bruises, early stages of forming on his back and waist, . Sweat pants covered the lower half of his body and just a little more ass and he would be perfect, an irrational thought, as she stood beside him. His head was turned to the side, facing her, eyes closed, handsome even in this, another irrational thought. There was blood on the back of his head, and some around the front, pooling on the mattress.

“Lee,” she said, and please don’t be dead, she thought, sitting her purse on the floor before touching his shoulder. He moaned.

“You okay?” She asked. Another moan, his response. She touched his throat, feeling it for a pulse. She felt it beating strong, she thought. His eyes opened, blank stare gave way to a confused one, then he smiled, a little sexy this smile, like they were a thing. “stay,” he said, sexy that was too, even as his voice trailed off, and his eyes close again. Hell yeah, she would. Wild dogs couldn’t pull her away.

“Lee.” She repeated, receiving the same no response. She released his hand,  and from her cell, dialed  911. “Lee,” she said again.  

“911, what is your emergency?”

“I need an ambulance. My fiancé’s been hurt.” She said, surprising herself at how quickly those two words popped out. Too much exposure to Experience Inc.’s engineered experiences mixed with her desire to get close to him. She’d wanted it for so long, she’d used whatever she had to keep herself around him. Plus, he’d asked her to stay, so what he looked confused when he said it, better to deal with that later if she had to. For now, she was in.

“What is the address?”

“12344 Herring St,” she said, reading it from her phone.

“What is his name?”

“Lee Chin.”

“Is he conscious?”

“He was for a bit, but not anymore.”

“Is he breathing?”

“Yes.”

“What is your name?”

“Jayla Harris.”

“He’s your fiancé?”

“Yes, and we also work together, not together, but for the same company.” She added. “He sent a text message to me, asking for help. I thought he was kidding, still it was odd, so I drove over just to be sure, and found him here, beaten up, I think. His house’s a wreck, like someone’s gone through it.”

“I’ll send the police too.”

“Okay.”

“How old is he?”

“Twenty-nine.” She said, splitting the difference between the thirty she thought him to be, and her twenty-eight.

“Okay, EMS is one the way, can you stay with him?”

“Of course.” Jayla said, turning her attention back to Lee. He hadn’t moved, eyes still closed. She checked his pulse again. It was strong, he was breathing, she thought, watching his back rise and fall, strong muscular back, starting to bruise, tapering to a trim waist, seeing it free of clothing. She took a seat on the bed beside him, and reached for his hand as she waited, not sure what that was supposed to do, just felt like the thing to do, wondering if she should call anyone. Hard to do, since she knew next to nothing about him.

His phone he would need, which was were exactly? Not anywhere she could see, scanning the room. She released his hand to look. Around the bed, on the floor beside the bed, nope, had to be close to him, for him to send a text, so she pushed her hand underneath his nice firm body, found it, near his waist, also firm, she noted, but she knew that from watching him at work. He would want to have his phone, along with his ID, she thought, searching the room for his wallet. 

“EMS is five minutes out. You okay?”

“I am. He still breathing.”

“That’s good.”

“He’ll probably need his wallet,” she said, still scanning the room for it.

“If you can find it, yes.”

“Yep, got it,” spotting it on the nightstand beside the bed. She retrieved it, flipped open the front cover, revealing his driver’s license picture. Lee’s handsome face smiling at the camera, a sexy kind of bad boy smile. Who knew he could? She’d only see the non-smiling man.

“EMS and the police officer are at your house now. I’m hanging up.” The operator said.

“I’m going to the door now. Thank you.” 

“Sure, hope he’s okay.”

“Me too,” making her way to the front door. “He’s in here,” she said, feeling like captain obvious, leading the paramedics, a male and female, both African American, to the back of Lee’s home. She watched while they worked. For a second his eyes fluttered open again, rolled around a bit, reminding her of a cartoon character, before they closed. She stood while they checked him out, blood pressure cuff on his arm, flashlight to the eyes. They turned him over, spotted the blood on his forehead, and the back. Two knocks to the head, the reason he was unconscious. Engrossed in watching the paramedics about the business of saving a life, taking vital signs, while the other, taking care of the wound to his forehead. She didn’t hear the Police officer arrived until he touched her arm.

“Jayla Harris?” the cop said. “I’m Officer White.” He said at her surprise. “You found him?”

“Yes,”

“What happened?” he asked, listening and taking notes as repeated the story she’d told the 911 operator.

“Do you know what hospital they’re transporting him to?” She asked, at the end. The paramedics were packing up, preparing to transport Lee to a local hospital, and she planned to be leaving with them, having decided to follow him and them to the hospital. He would need a ride back, she reasoned, and it meant more time with him, her goal in life finally realized. Of course she was going. It would look suspicious if his fiancé didn’t and now that she was here, she was not going gently into anything.

“University City.” The officer said.

“Thanks.” She said.

 “So, FYI, you can tell him this when he wakes. There will be a detective assigned to this case. I need his phone number.” He said, typing it in to his tablet as she rattled it off and then hers.

A few minutes of locking up, she followed them to the hospital, keeping close, navigating the expressway faster than she’d ever done, easier when following in the wake of the ambulance. She parked in the Visitor ER parking, then over to check in with the nurse, gave her Lee’s insurance card, from his wallet, and what little info she knew, before sitting down to wait.