Night Owl(46)

Maybe today I could meet her for lunch—for real.

I frowned. Would I need to dress up like a "businessman" again? Sooner or later, and preferably sooner, I had to tell Hannah that I was M. Pierce. She would understand. She would see how I'd been cornered into the lie about my line of work. Wouldn't she?

I pulled on a t-shirt and flopped into my office chair. I opened my email. An email appeared as I was deleting spam. I smirked at the sender name: FIT TO PRINT.

That goddamn zine. I subscribed to their updates simply because they were vocally obsessed with the mystery of me. They weren't idiots, either. Somehow they had uncovered my representation by Pam's agency. Keeping an eye on them couldn't hurt.

I skimmed over the subject line.

My body went cold.

My throat constricted.

It wasn't possible. I clicked the link to the story.

M. PIERCE'S IDENTITY UNVEILED; FIT TO PRINT FIRST TO PRINT

July 8, 2013

Author M. Pierce is Denver resident Matthew Robert Sky Jr., an anonymous source recently revealed.

Though Sky forced friends and family to sign non-disclosure agreements protecting his privacy, sources close to his girlfriend say they have long known she was protecting Sky's secret.

"She would never tell and always fudged about his work," said one friend, "but we had a bet going about it. There were a lot of small clues. He controlled and manipulated her with threats."

I tried to keep reading.

The words blurred on the screen.

I knew I was having a panic attack. I knew this. I knew the symptoms.

I couldn't get enough oxygen. The air in my apartment was suddenly frigid. I began to sweat. I needed to breathe. I had to breathe.

Sources close to his girlfriend.

Sky's secret.

She would never tell.

Bethany.

Bethany ratted me out.

I broke up with Bethany and she ratted me out.

My lists.

My lists.

Hannah.

I thought I felt my heart stop.

Where was my pulse? I clutched at my chest.

I was still breathing, but I couldn't find my heartbeat.

My cell rang and rang and rang. How long had it been ringing? The tone was discordant.

I brought it to my ear with a shaking hand.

"Matthew?"

It was Pam.

"Matthew? Are you there? Are you seeing this?"

"Hannah," I managed.

"Excuse me?"

"Is..."

"Matthew, listen. I need a word. I don't care how this happened, it's out. I need to know how you want to spin it. There's a reporter here."

I tried to stand and found myself on the floor.

A reporter.

No, it didn't matter. Pam didn't matter. Fit to Print didn't matter. Bethany didn't matter. My secrets and books didn't matter.

Hannah.

"Hannah," I said. "Where—"

"Matthew! For god's sake. I would happily throw Hannah at this reporter and make him schedule an appointment with me in 2016, but she's not here yet. Listen. I can call security and have him removed, or I can sit down with him and pretend to ignorance. Or we can let the cat out of the bag. It's already basically out, so we—"

Not here yet. Hannah wasn't at work yet. The reporter. The email. Did Hannah get that email? Did she subscribe to Fit to Print?

I don't remember ending the call with Pam and calling Hannah. I only know that her voice was on the line.

"Hey you!" she said.

I could tell that she was moving. Wind rushed over the receiver. She sounded normal. She sounded cheerful.

"Hannah. Hannah, listen."

"Matt?"

I reached for my office chair and it swiveled out of my hand.

"Matt, what's going on?"

"Hannah." I swallowed. I tasted bile. "Where are you?"

"I'm... about five steps from the agency, and about ten minutes from getting growled at by Pam for being late. Look, are you—"

"Don't go," I said. "Hannah. I need you to come over. Don't go in. Don't go to work."

My voice broke.

Hannah hadn't read the article yet, but she was about to collide with a reporter who had.

"Matt, you're scaring me. What's going on? Are you okay?"

"No, Hannah, I'm not. I need you, please. Come over. Now, please."

"I will. It's okay. Breathe. God, Matt, you make me so scared for you. I'm coming right now, okay? Let me—"

"Please just come, please Hannah..."

Hot tears spilled over my eyelids.

"Matt, I swear, I'll be there. I have to tell Pam I'll be late. I'll be there, though, just..."

My mouth worked speechlessly. I wanted to beg her not to talk to Pam. I wanted to threaten her. Come directly here, or else...

He controlled and manipulated her with threats.

"Please," I whispered.

"I'm coming. I'm going in, I'm telling Pam I'll be late, and no matter what, I'm coming over Matt. Give me ten minutes. Five minutes."

"No matter what," I repeated.

"No matter what."

"Promise. Hannah, Promise. Promise you'll be here no matter what."