My name is Paul Warner. I’ve never told my side of the story, so I felt like I needed to put it somewhere.
I was a demolitionist for 17 years. I worked in the inspection department for Southwest Demolition in Houston, TX. My job was about as quick and easy as they come. The chief demolitionist would hand me a blueprint, and I’d inspect every space within the property to make sure no valuables or anything of significant capital value was left behind. I was the only employee in the company that did what I did, so I was in constant demand. It usually never took more than a few hours to get each job done, and the money was real. Our company was relatively small and I had my hands full most weeks, but I liked staying busy. Though, it did have its cons. It was lonely with all the driving and property work, but it gave me insights into our business I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise.
I got a call at dinner on a Monday night, and my boss, Larry, told me I had a job at a mall called Applegate in Cypress. Usually people don’t like their bosses, but Larry was a pretty good guy. He had the skills to excel in the industry and he was always happy to share his insights with me. He was a heavy set man with a round face and a piggish way about him. He snorted when he laughed and never looked up when he ate. But he was a nice guy. A good first boss.
I was excited for the project because I’d never done a mall or anything close in size. I usually did smaller stuff like restaurants, houses, churches, but this was a whole new thing. A whole new challenge. The inspection was scheduled for two days, but the money was better than usual. Taking the gig was a no-brainer. So I told Larry I was in, and that I’d pick up the prints the Wednesday morning.
At the time, my wife (Gia) and I just had our first daughter, Shalie. She was born on September 4th. 7 pounds, 11 ounces. It only took a month or so for her to look like me. Big brown eyes. Thin lips. Freckles. Little ears. She had all of it. I remember her sleeping on my chest while I watched M.A.S.H. reruns well past midnight. Her warm little breaths humming at the base of my neck, her chubby little fingers curling in my hands. I struggled to sleep in the months before, scared to death about the dad I’d be. I thought it’d ruin my life. I thought it would take my freedom. But once I felt that little heartbeat against mine, I knew there was no other way I’d rather spend the rest of my life. What I thought would take my life, gave me a new one. A better one.
But Gia was having a really rough time. I had to take care of her and Shalie most nights. She was cramping and bleeding every few hours, and there was nothing I could do besides sit there and hold her hand. There was a deep sadness in watching the woman you love deal with pain that only ends when it decides to end. But when it was all happening, it reminded me of why I loved her in the first place: she never quit. She never asked for help. She never complained or whined or lashed out. She bore the pain and battled every day, and watching her do that, I knew she was the wife and mother I always hoped for. She was everything a great woman should be, and that’s why it was so hard for me to go in to work. It was such a crucial time for our family. But the reality was, we needed the money, and we needed it badly.
I packed a bag and picked up the prints from Larry. When I got to the mall, there wasn’t any question why the place was coming down. It was the most disgusting building I’d ever seen. No one told me how long it’d been vacant, but it couldn’t have been less than a year. I walked inside knowing I bit off more than I could chew, but after turning on the power, it was even worse than I imagined. Broken glass scattered everywhere. Mold festering in every corner. Air so damp, every step felt like you were cutting through it. It looked and felt like an apocalyptic jungle. A post-human world.
I shook my head and dragged myself inside. After an hour of petty work, I found myself in the movie theater. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to find much, if anything. Places like malls that had to close publicly were at the mercy of any greedy locals brave enough to trespass. It only took one broken window or an unlocked door for anyone and everyone to enter. Every space in the mall seemed to be ripped dry, and it was likely everyone in the community had a souvenir.
I found some broken glass in the top row of the cushy theater seats, and noticed the projector window had a giant hole in it. I made my way to the exit and rounded the corner to a dim hallway. The wall was covered in movie poster frames either bashed in or completely torn apart. Glass crunched under my boots as I made my way to the end of the dingy corridor. I stood at a door labeled: ‘STAFF ONLY’. It was locked, but I knew an old trick to get in. I went to the ticket booth and came back with a fire extinguisher. I banged the knob until the lock burst open and found myself at the bottom of a small copper ladder. I climbed to the top and lifted myself into a cramped projector room.
A red brick was at the center of the carpet, a broken chair laid on the floor, and there was more glass than carpet. All the metal shelves were empty, and the projector spilled its wirey guts all the way down to the velvet floor. I searched the room, pulling open drawers, and rifling through files. Just before I could check the place off, I spotted a lone, crumpled flyer in the corner of the room. I walked over to the paper and unraveled it. ‘PLUG UR EARS’, it read. The shaky letter written in a dark crimson. On the floor was a large shard of glass, lying in a puddle of dried blood.
My eyes scrambled. This was a crime scene. A stabbing, maybe even a killing. My hand sprung to my pocket, ready to dial the authorities. I flipped open my cell, but suddenly, I had a realization. I realized getting police involved would extend the demolition date. I’d be questioned for a whole investigation, and I probably wouldn’t be able to work. That meant I’d be making a fraction of what I could’ve made otherwise. Plus, I knew exactly what Larry would say, “a looter junkie got into it with another looter junkie… so what?” But ‘PLUG UR EARS’? What did that mean? This didn’t feel like some random altercation. This felt like something different.
I stared at the dark puddle as I crammed my cell back in my pocket. I felt soulless not calling, but the truth was, blowing it out of proportion wasn’t going to help anyone. Especially not me. Whatever happened, happened. It was done and over with. Besides, we depended on these projects to pay the bills. To feed our families. You delay a project this size for a week, you lose somewhere between 15-25k because your next few gigs have to be delayed, and some of those owners get too impatient and cancel. They’ll look for business elsewhere, and our company wasn’t big enough to lose clients like that. Calling the police meant bringing bad news back to my sick wife, and that was the last thing I needed or wanted to do. I put the flyer back in the corner, and settled on taking some photos. I figured I’d call Larry and let him decide what to do. I put the extinguisher back in its case, shook it off, and ventured back into the mall.
The food court was next. I could smell it from a hundred yards away. Rotten chicken and moldy vegetables lingering at every turn. And it wasn’t the type of smell you get used to. It was too heavy, too potent to go away. It got so bad, I went to the bathroom and ripped some toilet paper from a stall to plug my nose.
Every restaurant I walked into neglected to clean before closing down. Dirty trays. Rusty silverware. Cockroaches and rats scavenging what was left. It was as if everyone left in the middle of the day and never came back.
I circled to the front of a Chick-Fil-A and noticed the register left wide open. Stained cash spilled out from the inside. I went behind the counter and started counting. $247. I looked around, as if there was anyone there to catch me. I stuffed the dirty bills in my pockets, and figured maybe other stores had some treasure too. To my surprise, I was right. $57. $203. $101. Money was everywhere. I leapt from store to store, cleaning out every slot I could find. Soon enough, I had four figures in my pocket. I decided to keep it. I couldn’t help myself. Things like this never happened. Soon enough, every place was wiped clean. I giddily plopped myself down in a chair and started counting. 700. 800. 900. I grinned as the bills rifled through my hands, and suddenly, I couldn’t see a thing. I was plunged into darkness. The lights shut off, and everything was black.
I lost my breath. My chest hiccuped. My ears pricked and my senses heightened. It was so dark, I couldn’t see my feet. I couldn’t even see my hands. The infrastructure groaned and the outdoor breeze whistled down the aisles. I felt for my backpack on the floor. I unzipped it and took out my flashlight with a copy of the blueprint. I clicked it on and scanned for the control room. Luckily, it was only a few hundred yards away. I got up and made my way outside the food court.
I was never scared of the dark. Even as a kid. Only your imagination made the dark scary, and I never had much of that. I never believed in vampires or werewolves or zombies. I never believed the ghost stories at summer camp. I never even believed in Santa. What I couldn’t see or feel were fairy tales to me. But walking around in that dark. That pitch black darkness. I couldn’t say my perspective didn’t change. I couldn’t understand it, but there was something there. Something was watching me.
I could feel it. Pairs of eyes crawling over me, tickling my skin like a pack of spiders. My light burst left and right trying to find it, whatever it was. It lived in the corner of my sight, just on the edge of my peripheral. My eyes sprung to it, but could never catch it. It peered around every corner. It peered from above. It peered from below. I was a sitting duck. A buck in open range. Magnetism coated my skull, and my feet began to flutter. My chest began to close and I struggled to breathe. I hustled to the control room and found the breaker on the wall. I frantically flipped the switch and the electricity rejuvenated in a mechanical roar. The lights flickered back on, and I was safe. I took a deep breath and laughed at myself, tucking my flashlight back in my bag. For the first time, I let my imagination get the best of me. I spooked myself into religion.
After a couple more hours, I called it a day. I left to check in at the Omni just a few blocks down. The lobby AC melted over my baked skin. The lobby was spacious and clean, and everything was made of white marble. The floors, the desks, the pillars. A chandelier loomed overhead, and glass ornaments danced in the sunlight. I unpacked and went to the jacuzzi on the fourth floor. I needed to decompress. I was all alone, soaking in the bubbles, watching over the city through the tall glass windows. The cherry sun dipped below the horizon, and I thought about the note, and the bloody shard of glass, and the way I felt in that darkness. How I’d never experienced anything remotely like that in my entire life. I closed my eyes, soaking in the warm water until my fingers and toes began to prune.
It was getting dark. I got out and dried off. The Texans were playing the Cowboys, and the lobby bar had a TV. I rallied my cash and took the elevator down. An older couple quietly checked in at the front desk while I sat at the bar. Minutes later, high heels clapped against the floor and echoed in the space around. A woman shuffled into a stool at the other end of the bar. She wore a crisp scarlet pantsuit, neck and wrists covered in golden jewelry. Her dirty blonde hair was chopped at her dainty shoulders, and her mascara smeared just below her hazel eyes. She was stunning in a tired way. She looked like she could use a drink. I called the bartender over and sent her a dirty martini. I felt generous after a day of looting.
“For you,” the bartender set the drink in front of her.
She looked up from her phone, her eyes met mine. I gave her a half-smile, and went back to the game. She grabbed her glass and brought it over.
“I don’t take drinks from strangers,” she said, very matter-of-fact. Her perfume matched her jewelry.
“You don’t take drinks from grown men in swimsuits?”
She looked at my swim trunks.
“Just get out of the pool?”
“Fourth floor,” I took a sip of my drink, “got kicked out for splashing.”
She smiled.
“You didn’t put anything in this, did you?”
I raised my left hand, flashed my silver wedding ring. She nodded and settled in the seat next to me. I wished she hadn’t. I should’ve never bought her a drink, but what was I going to do? Tell her to go away? I took a sip and anxiously glanced at the door.
“Here on business or just visiting?” She asked.
“Business.”
“…what do you do?”
“Demolition.”
“Oh, wow,” she said, taken aback. “My ex-husband used to do demolition. Who do you work for?”
“Southwest.”
She took a sip of her drink. “Do you blow stuff up?”
“Sometimes… sometimes not.”
“That’s cool. I wish I got to blow stuff up.”
The bartender eavesdropped as he polished a glass.
“What do you do?” I asked.
“Real estate… residential. I wanna start my own restaurant downtown eventually.”
“Wow. What kind of food?”
“Tex-Mex.”
“My favorite… Do you have a name yet or…?”
“Audrey’s.”
“…that’s you?”
She smiled and nodded.
“Nice to meet you Audrey… Paul,” I extended a shake.
“Nice to meet you Paul,” her hand took mine. “’I’m gonna run to the restroom. Stay right here, okay?” She left before I could answer.
I called the bartender over and asked for my tab. He brought my slip and I signed as quickly as possible. I hated to be so rude, but I couldn’t be seen with her. It wasn’t criminal or anything, but it didn’t feel innocent either. I checked the score as I walked away, and just before I could get to the elevator, Audrey came out of the bathroom. Her mascara was fixed, fresh lip gloss flickered over her lips.
“You’re leaving?” Her confused eyes scrambled.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I gotta get some sleep for tomorrow,” I shuttered.
Audrey checked her watch.
“It’s only 7:30.”
“I know. My sleep schedule is…a little crazy with the new baby.”
“New baby, huh?”
“Yup.”
Her arms crossed. She took a gander.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking…”
My chest hiccuped, my jaw tightened, “what am I thinking?”
“…you’re thinking, ‘oh my god I’m married. I can’t speak or look at any other woman without feeling like the shittiest husband in the world and I need to get back to my room as soon as possible before this stranger makes a move on me…’ Is that it?”
I blinked. “That’s pretty close, yeah.”
“Now, do you know what I’m thinking?” She asked, grin buried in her cheek. She saw right through me. A new energy came between us. A magnetism.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking… I just met a young, married guy I now know has a baby… And guess who the primary target customer is in residential real estate?”
“Babies?”
“No. Young, married guys who just had babies.”
“Makes sense.”
I felt like a narcissist, assuming she wanted to fuck me and all. Who did I think I was? She wasn’t trying to sleep with me. She was trying to sell me a house. I felt stupid.
She smiled, “I’m here on business too… Except, for us in real estate,” she lowered her voice, “you’re working even when you’re not. Make sense?”
“Yeah,” I glanced at the bar, “I guess I could watch the rest of the game, but I really do need to get going after.”
“Fine by me.”
I followed Audrey back to the bar and we drank for another couple hours. We didn’t talk about a single house, but I learned a lot about her. She used to have a husband that ran his own demolition company. She wanted to do law, but ended up doing real estate. She liked Moscow Mules, and couldn’t drink anything without a straw. The whole conversation was so easy it felt like one long blur. She reminded me of my wife Gia. Confident, unrelenting, serene. The game ended and I got a chance to check my watch. 9:14 pm. It was getting late.
I tapped the counter, “I’m gonna close out, thanks.”
“I’ll close out too,” said Audrey.
The bartender brought the bill and it was less than anticipated. I offered to pay for Audrey’s. She refused, but I paid anyway. We thanked the bartender and headed toward the elevator. Her heels echoed in the empty lobby.
“See? Was that so bad?” She said playfully.
“No… I had fun.” My words slurred. I struggled to keep my balance. The drinks had caught up to me.
We made it to the elevator and stepped inside.
“What floor?” She asked.
“Nine.”
She poked nine and twelve, then stepped backward, brushing up against my arm. Her perfume wafted to my nose. I could feel the warmth coming off of her. Gravity pulled downward and the elevator began to lift.
One…Two… Three…
Her hand crept over to mine. Her thumb burrowed in my hand, gently rubbing my palm. She looked at me. Our fingers laced together.
Four… Five… Six…
Her palm caressed my cheek. Turning my face towards hers. Her glossy lips melted against my throat.
“I keep secrets, you know?” she whispered.
Seven… Eight…
Her lips crept to mine and we softly began to kiss. Her fingers slivered down my waist.
DING!
I opened my eyes and swept her aside.
“Get off.”
I strode to the hallway, wrath powering every step.
“Paul!” She yelled. “Paul!”
I sneered at myself, “stupid motherfucker… the fuck are you doing? Husband… father…?”
I plucked my key from my back pocket and struggled to get it in the lock.
“Should’ve never fucking bought her a drink. The fuck were you thinking?”
The door came open and I barreled into my room. My fist slammed against the mattress. Punching over and over again. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t feel. I couldn’t do a thing. I could only watch myself go until my hand wore out. I went to the bathroom, stared in the mirror. Who was I? Never in a million years would I think to do that. I’m not a cheater. That’s never been me. So why now? Why when everything was finally okay? Cheating on the woman I love? The mother of my child? I felt it again. That magnetism. Like people were watching me. I felt like everyone already knew. Like they were all looking in from the ceiling, peering around the corner, disgusted by me. My pupils were growing, and my breaths were drawing from the depths of my lungs.
I turned on the hot shower, fogging my reflection. I threw myself in the tub, letting the warm water run over my spine, turning the heat up to burn myself. So many thoughts at once, I couldn’t hold on to one. I lost track of time. My mind numbed. Fingers and toes pruned. The water was starting to freeze. I got out, wrapped myself in a towel and slivered into bed. I grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels. The TV couldn’t help, why even try? I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I tried to lay down, but that made things worse.
I tossed and turned unable to rest. What was I going to tell Gia? Would I tell her at all? I was drunk. She kissed me. I didn’t kiss her. It wasn’t my fault. What was I supposed to do? Push her? It all happened before I could realize what was going on. Everything was surfacing at once, but there was something deep in my stomach that knew, it was my fault. I knew that deep down—I liked it. I liked the way her lips felt. I liked the way they tasted. Even if I didn’t want to admit it.
But what would I tell Gia? What was I supposed to say? I looked at the clock on the bedside table. 4:07 a.m. I still had a couple hours. I got out of bed and grabbed my camera from my backpack. I started browsing the photos, and saw it again, “PLUG UR EARS.’’ I stared at it. Finally able to think about something besides my marriage. “PLUG UR EARS.’’ What did it mean? My mind spiraled and my eyes grew heavy. My body went limp, and finally, I was soft asleep.