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Chapter 2
Begrudgingly I delivered the files to the ninth floor. I had a face of steel and mean kick in my step. Who did he think he was telling me to do his job.
"Hey Vicky, what you doing down here?" Trisha asked, her face lighting up. Trisha ran the front desk in this department, answering calls, doing pretty much the same as me, except she was surrounded by bustling labs and not offices.
"I have these for Dr Stevenson," I half smiled, trying my best to place the hefty load onto the desk carefully, because that's what decent people do.
"Someone's not so perky today, Dr Lane treating you like a pack mule again?" Trisha observed, peeling back a yellow sticky note and crushing it onto the pile. She quickly scribbled 'Dr Stevenson' on it before pushing the files aside.
"Something like that. Just having a pain of a week," I huffed "Had an altercation with this guy earlier,"
"You have to be more specific than that, was it Simon the creep? Horrid Harold?" I shook my head no. "Pervy Pete?" She asked, deeply thinking of more male co-workers that she wasn't fond of.
"No he's a new guy, he works for Dr Lane, so I think I screwed up by pissing him off," I sighed, perching slightly on her desk.
"I'm sure he will take it on the chin. Are you still coming out for a drink with the girls tonight?" Trisha asked, changing to subject abruptly.
"I can't, I just really can't afford it, I totally would if I could though, I miss seeing everybody outside of this prison," I half joked.
"I already told you we can help you out, get a couple of rounds, you need to let your hair down," Trisha made a good case, but I felt guilty sponging from them.
"Thanks Trish, I'll think about it and text you later is that okay?" she smiled and nodded. I felt like crap letting her and the girls down, but I knew they'd have a great time regardless.
"Shouldn't you ladies be getting back to work?" An older man in a white lab coat sneered.
"Sorry," we both said monotonously as I jumped up off the desk. He stared death into us before sneering, and waltzing back to his lab.
"I should get back I guess," I smiled, "Oh Trish… you've been here a few years, I was just wondering about Dr Lanes' son... no ones ever really mentioned him," I queried.
"There isn't much to say really, he died apparently a long time ago. I think he was killed by a Lycan or a vampire or something." She said as she began to type away at her computer keyboard. My face screwed up, confused. Killed? He was stood in front of me not thirty minutes ago! The death threat seemed that bit more genuine now; a dead man can get away with anything.
"Why do you ask? Did Dr Lane say something?"
"No, no I was just... Curious," I smiled nervously.
"Okay honey, remember text me later about drinks, it's on me," Trish winked as I headed towards the elevator.
My mind was a shambles for the rest of the work day, I was a nervous wreck. Who wouldn't be? Quint admitted Dr Lane was his father, it wasn't just a figment of my imagination, and I definitely didn't miss-hear. Why would anyone fake their death? Maybe Dr Lane was trying to keep him safe, away from the media. Perhaps it made a good sob story for Dr Lane to convince the people we should develop a cure. Maybe Quint was attacked by something, but it didn't kill him. Maybe I'm just getting in way past my head and should not pry into things that are none of my business.
"Victoria, you can get off home now," Mr Sutcliffe, the Director of Finances, said as he collected his coat from his assistant Jasmine, whose desk was just down the hall.
"Thank you Mr Sutcliffe, Goodnight," I smiled, he was a middle aged man, not too bad looking, he was a tall proud man, with an edge to everything he said that made it seem like he was being a bit snarky.
"Jasmine, please just go over my office with a duster once more, give it a little vacuum and then you're dismissed," He pulled on his trench coat and toddled off down the hall as I began collecting my things.
"Goodnight Jasmine," I smiled pitifully as I tip toed passed her desk. I hated my job for many reasons, poor pay, and long hours; being treated like dirt… the list goes on. But Jasmine had so many more reasons, she was the butt of every joke, always being told to stay behind, and come in early. I kept telling her to quit, or stick up for her-self, but years of being put down had made her spineless.
It was a thirty minute walk from Antigen to my little apartment on Miracle street. Ironic right? No miracles had ever happened here, it was a slum, the whole neighbourhood was overrun with gangs, thugs, you name it. But it was the only place I could afford at the time. The cold wind whipped around my ears and blonde hair as I tried to bury my face into my coat. I grabbed my keys out of handbag, placing one through my fingers as a makeshift knuckle duster, just in case. Thank god I'd never had to use that kind of force on anyone yet, but you can never be too careful.
Grabbing my post from my pigeon box I made my way up the three flights of stairs to what I called home. I struggled with the door to my apartment as usual, kicking and pushing the door in certain places just to get it to free from its frame. Finally inside I slammed the door shut, and threw on the latch. It was a tiny studio apartment, with just one pint sized space that contained my kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom. I did have a separate shower room though, but it could have easily been mistaken for a broom closet. Monty greeted me with a high pitched meow, rubbing up against my legs and trying to trip me up with every step. I peeled off my coat and dropped my handbag onto the sofa. I plonked myself down next to it, putting my feet up on my beaten coffee table. Opening each letter one by one made me want to die a little more each time. Overdue payments, utility bills, and the last one was the killer: Hospital bills.
Fed up, I decided to make myself some dinner; food is the best way to earth your feelings after all. Except I didn't have any food, my cupboards were empty. The only thing I had was cat food.
"You eat better than me," I sighed, reaching the tin down from the barren shelf. I emptied his food into the dish and presented it for him. "You know what Monty, I'm going to go let my hair down," I spoke, giving his back a little stroke as he dug in. Reaching for my phone I immediately messaged Trisha.
Victoria: Hey babe, decided I do need 2 let my hair down, where we meeting? Xx
Just the idea of going out already made me feel so much better. I tried to push aside the irresponsibility of it, I just needed one night.
"Now Monty, what should I wear? Little black dress? Or should I go a bit more smart casual, jeans and a nice top maybe?" I dug through my wardrobe, trying to find something appropriate, yet cute. Perhaps I'd finally find a rich, young successful man with a lot of money willing to rescue me from my life of debt. I snorted to myself, yeah right.
Trisha: Yay! We are at Off the Tap at 7:30, cocktail hour! Xoxo
Victoria: What u wearing? Xx
Trisha: Dunno, a dress I think xoxo
I finally settled on a well worn pair of black skinny jeans, I wasn't freezing my legs off for no man. I paired it with a strappy baby blue vest top with delicate beading around the neckline, and some killer high heels.
"Crap what time is it?" I asked myself suddenly, checking the time on my phone. 6:08. Still time to put my face on. I let my ashy blonde hair down from it's ballerina bun, running my hands through the tangled waves. I touched up my make-up, flicking on some mascara, and bronzing my cheeks, putting some life into my pale skin. Grabbing my coat and my handbag I rushed out the door, but not before saying my farewells to Monty, and locking it behind me.
"Your rents due Newgate," Bobby slurred from behind me. He was my landlord and stalker.
"I'll get it for you ASAP, I get paid in a few days so I'll have it then," I negotiated. He leaned on the wall in front of me, blocking the stairwell.
"Or you can forget the rent money and come back to my place," His words sent shivers down my spine, I'd rather be homeless I thought to myself.
"That's a really generous offer Bobby… but I have to go, I'll have your money in just a few days," I smiled nervously slipping past him, manoeuvring my body like a kitty that didn't want to be petted.
Outside I hailed a taxi cab, and climbed inside before someone else tried to hassle me.
"Where to?" The driver asked.
"Off the Tap, the bar on Greengate please,"
I arrived at two minutes to seven, and the girls were already inside the packed bar.
"Olivia!" I called out over the crowd, I could spot her fiery red locks from across the room. Her head spun round, smiling. She waved me over. Tasha and Rachael spun around waving enthusiastically.
"Hey guys," I giggled, hugging the trio. It had been so long since I'd been out with the girls.
"I almost thought you were going to bail on us," Trisha laughed, she handed me a bright pink drink in a martini glass.
"Thanks honey, what is my choice of poison tonight then?" I asked swivelling the liquid around the glass and taking a sip from the tiny straw.
"Cosmo of course," Rachael giggled, clinking her matching pink cocktail against mine and flipping her mahogany locks over her shoulders.
"Shall we try grab a seat?" Olivia asked, already heading off through the crowd. We managed to find a bar table with three plush stools, I was fine with standing.
"So what happened at work today?" Rachael asked, taking a sip from her drink.
"What do you mean?" I furrowed my brow, remembering Quint's threat, and to keep my mouth shut.
"Trish said you got in a fracas with someone," She continued.
"Oooh a guy?" Olivia asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
"It wasn't like that okay, he was being a jackass and I called him out on it," I shrugged it off.
"Boring," Olivia purred, she had obviously already had a few before she got here.
"One of the lab assistants got fired today, It was really dramatic," Rachael half whispered.
"I didn't hear anything, what happened?" Trisha asked, completely shocked. She wasn't shocked someone got fired, that's an everyday occurrence at work, she was shocked she hadn't heard about it sooner. Trisha is the eyes, ears and gossip of Antigen.
"She gave the wrong dosage of a drug to one of the Lycan's, it died, five years of work, gone, apparently they nearly had a cure on their hands," She gasped.
"Urgh, shame, they'll have to start from scratch now," Trisha tutted. The whole world had been eagerly waiting over a decade for Antigen to develop a cure.
"That poor man, I hope he didn't die in pain,"
"It was a Lycan Vicky, who cares," Olivia laughed.
"But they're still like people aren't they, during the day and stuff?" I asked, the quest for a cure was for the greater good, but it did tick me off that in order to develop a cure, people had become subjects to experiments, and other awful atrocities that we assistants and receptionists never got to see behind closed doors. One of my friends in high school, he was a confirmed Lycan, you wouldn't even have guessed it, he was a geeky gentle little thing. They shot him dead with silver bullets outside the school gates one morning.
"How's the boyfriend Olivia?" Trisha asked, forcing a giggle, doing her best to change the subject, not many people shared my view on Lycans, they were like very dangerous, very big rats to most people.
"Amazing I think he might be popping the question soon!" She squealed. Everyone gushed over Olivia's love life, she was the only one of us able to hold down a relationship with a decent man, she was the envy of everyone. "And he's taking me skiing at Christmas! And then for my birthday…" She carried on.
"How about another drink? Would you two like another round?" Trisha asked, dragging me away from the gossiping duo and towards the bar, Rachael and Olivia shouted yes, of course. We squeezed into a tiny gap and waited for the barman's attention.
"I'm so glad you're here to save me from them tonight," Trisha laughed, glancing over to Olivia and Rachael.
"I'm glad I'm here too, you were right I do need to let my hair down," I smiled. She ordered another round, this time it was a tall glass filled with a yellow and red slushy cocktail. I took a large sip and tried to let loose.
"That guy over there is eyeing you up," Trisha grinned; looking passed me and down the bar.
"Is he really? Last time you said that the guy was trying to look at the wine list," I laughed.
"Definitely, one hundred percent, look yourself," So I did, I glanced around over my shoulder in the direction Trish was looking, and was completely utterly horrified to the bone, it wasn't some nice guy looking to chat me up, it was Quint.