His Nasty Virgin

VIVIAN

When I walked into work on Monday, I was startled to find that Molly’s cubicle was cleaned out. Empty. Not even so much as a bright neon pink Post-It Note left. Her computer had been reset to the company’s default profile, and all her drawers were empty.

I discreetly pulled out my phone and tried texting her. I normally didn’t condone phone use while on the clock, but this was important. An entire chain of my unanswered messages from the weekend filled the screen.

Hey, where were you last night?

Did you get lost somewhere?

I’m at work. Where’s all your stuff?

Hellllooooooooooo Is everything alright?

No response.

A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach crept up on me, slowly but surely, dragging me under. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it in my bones, but I had no words to describe it properly.

I peeked over the edge of my cubicle, peering at my coworkers. Everyone had their heads down, focused on work, staring at their computer screens. The distant ring of office phones, the low murmur of conversation from the water coolers, the click-clack of people typing furiously to meet deadlines… it all seemed so ordinary.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

And yet it was also off-kilter; wrong ever so slightly.

I leaned back in my office chair and whispered to Marta. “Hey. Do you know where Molly is?”

“How should I know?” she grumbled indifferently, returning to her work.

I sighed. I should have known better than to ask Marta for help.

The squeaky wheels of the janitor’s cart reached my ear.

I flagged him down. “Excuse me? Do you know where all of Molly’s things went?”

The janitor, an old man with bushy white eyebrows and thin lips, tilted his head like I’d asked a strange question. “I’m not sure who Molly is,” he said, “but I was instructed to clear out that desk this mornin’.”

“Who told you to do that?”

“No one specifically. I get work order requests through that their system and then I go and clean whatever needs cleanin’.”

I swallowed, my throat uncomfortably dry. Confusion washed over me. This was so weird. First, she didn’t show up to drinks, then she wasn’t answering her phone, and now her workspace was cleared out. What the hell was going on?

I rose from my chair and walked over to my supervisor’s office. A metal nameplate was drilled into the side of the frosted glass wall, the title Floor Supervisor engraved in cursive lettering just below his name. I knocked on his door and peered inside.

“Hey, Arty?”

He looked up from his work. “Ah, Vivian. Just the gal I wanted to see. Come on in and shut the door, would you?”

My stomach flipped, but I did what I was asked. I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, freezing when I realized there was another person in the office already: Alistair McCloud.

“Hello, dear,” he said with a kind smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were already in a meeting. I can come back and-”

“No, no,” Arty insisted. “We were just about to get you.”

“Me?”

Alistair patted the free chair beside him. “Come and take a seat, dear. We won’t take up too much of your time.” I sat next to him, picking at my fingernails.

Arty nodded, warily eyeing Alistair the entire time he spoke. “I’m sure you’re curious about Molly.”

I held my breath. “I am. Where is she? Did something happen?”

Alistair chuckled. “Everything’s fine, dear. We simply transferred her to a different division for her co-op placement. I thought it would help her take in all sides of the business better. Expose her to new departments and connections. Networking is half the battle in this line of work, as I’m sure you know.”

“Yes,” I mumbled, though deep down, I didn’t understand in the slightest.

None of this was adding up. Molly would have told me the second she found out she was moving departments, probably in an attempt to get me to come with her. We texted all the time, so why hadn’t she answered her phone? It wasn’t like her to keep secrets. This wasn’t right.

“I understand that you must be disappointed,” Alistair said gently. “I’ve heard you two are very close?”

I nodded. “Yes. Molly’s my best friend. We… tell each other everything, which is why I’m confused here.” I didn’t miss the way Alistair stole a glance at Arty.

“Everything?” Arty asked.

I licked my lips. “Yes.”

Alistair leaned in, bracing himself against his cane. “Did she, by any chance, mention anything to you that seemed… strange? Out of the ordinary?”

My heart railed inside my rib cage. The whole conversation was making me uneasy. “Out of the ordinary?” I echoed. “What do you mean?”

“She often gets you to check over her work, right?” Arty asked.

“Sometimes.”

“Did you notice anything off? In her work, I mean.”

Something in the back of my head clicked. The fudged ledger numbers I’d shown her Monday. Her sudden disappearance and supposed transfer. Upper management sniffing around and asking weird questions. This was all chalked up to be suspicious, and I didn’t like where this was going at all. Something was afoot, though I couldn’t say for sure what it was.

I had to think of something and fast; otherwise, they’d know I knew more than I was letting on.

“Now that I think about it,” I said innocently, “Molly did mention that she was experiencing a really heavy time of the month.”

Arty sputtered. “E-excuse me?”

I nodded and smiled sweetly. “Oh, you know. Periods? She told me she was having really bad cramps and asked me if I had a Midol, but I didn’t, unfortunately. I normally always carry some just in case.”

Alistair cleared his throat, obviously unnerved by the subject matter. “Oh, that’s, uh…”

“Oh, sorry,” I said with a giggle. “It’s a girl thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

Art cleared his throat. “Well, um… If you remember anything, just let us know, alright?”

“For sure. Does this mean I’m free to go?”

“Yes,” Alistair said, still squirming in his seat. “Have a good day, dear. Thank you for your, er… time.”

I smiled as wide and chipperly as I could, leaving the office and returning to my cubicle. I knew talking about good old Aunt Flo would freak them out enough to let me go without further scrutiny.

I kept a low profile for the rest of the workday. It was probably the paranoia talking, but I could have sworn I was being watched on all sides by someone. Not just Arty, but my co-workers, too. Every move I made felt heavy. Judged. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bigger than myself was going on.

The portfolio I showed Molly… Did it have something to do with her disappearance?

I scrolled through my work pipeline and pulled up the files I’d been reviewing yesterday. My guts tied themselves into an impossible knot when I realized that the files were now password-protected and impossible to access without the right clearance.

This was getting ready.

Had I stumbled onto something I shouldn’t have? Was Molly missing because of me? I had to get to the bottom of this, but not here under Blue Cloud Financial’s nose. I wondered if they had keystroke monitoring built into their computers. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. If I tried accessing the files now, would they know I was snooping around?

I couldn’t risk it.

I proceeded with caution, going about my regular tasks with the same level of care and attention I always used. I was already dangling above a pot of boiling water. Any deviation from the norm could land me right in the middle of it.

Arty was by no means a negligent floor supervisor, but I could have sworn he was hovering more than usual. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he came and went from his office, strolling casually past us in our little cubicles.

He was lingering, I realized, whenever he reached my section of the office. I kept my eyes forward, making sure to look engrossed in my work. A gnawing paranoia ate away at the pit in my stomach.

The second it was time to clock out, I gathered my things and logged out of my computer. I held my breath and walked briskly, hurrying for the elevator. I didn’t stop to talk to anyone, leaving without a single see you later like usual.

Even when I exited the building, I couldn’t relax. Every fiber of my being was tense, threatening to snap. I trusted my gut, and right now, my gut was telling me I was still being watched.

I needed to get as far away from Blue Cloud Financial as I could. I needed to find Molly. I needed help. Fumbling for my phone, I called the only person I could think of. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, Viv. What’s up?”

“Wally,” I gasped. “Wally, I think I’m in trouble and I need your help.”