Page 2 of Under His Control

Fiona had my alarm bells ringing loud enough to reach God. I got the hell out of there before my bad decision bit me on the ass.

“The split would be better with fewer people,” I say, tossing Fiona out of my mind.

They’d also be better off not giving up their hard-earned money to the biggest legal scam in history.

“More players up our chances. It’s sixteen mil each if we win. That’s plenty. You know what you could do with that kind of money?” A wistful look crosses his face. “First thing I’d do is pay off my mortgage and the car loans. Then I’d buy a boat and sail somewhere warm with Mel. We’ll fuck the entire way to Barbados.”

Yeah, Lewis. I know the benefits of that kind of money. I experienced them and more.

Of course, I can’t say that out loud. I’ll be admitting I’m not truly just one of the guys. I bet he’ll stop inviting me to share lottery winnings too if he finds out I come from money. If he learns the whole truth about me, he’ll avoid me altogether.

“Speaking of my sweet li’l lady,” he continues. “Mel throws a winter party every February. This year’s on Sunday. You should come.”

“Thanks, but I have plans.”

And those plans involve me enjoying my Sunday alone in peace and quiet.

Lewis shakes his head as though he heard my thought.

“You say no to everything, don’t ya? Life’s better when you say yes, you know.”

I shrug. “Depends on what you’re saying yes to. Higher chance for yes to get you in trouble than no.”

“The way I see it, life is a loan you don’t have to pay back. You spend it well by living it to the fullest. Denying yourself because of fear is a fucking waste of a blessing.” He heads for the door. “Anyway, I’m off. See ya later, Jake.”

He leaves the office with a wave. I turn my gaze to the big square window on my right. Through the gaps of the blinds, the sky is a threatening grey, and large patches of snow dot the parking lot’s grassy areas.

Denying yourself because of fear is a fucking waste of a blessing.

Easy for him to say. He’s probably never made a life-changing mistake, or he wouldn’t be repeating trite shit like that. My life used to be enviable. Then it became a cautionary tale in the news because I said yes to the wrong person.

The way I see it, live life with vigilance. Too many assholes are happy to ruin someone’s life to better theirs.

My last task before I’m done for the day is scrolling through the weather forecast. A snowstorm is coming and they’ve been pretty bad this winter.

Each one rolls the dice on a water main break, or a power outage at one of the pump stations, and pissed-off calls from the community.

“If I’m going to be called in tonight, I fucking hope it’s not when I’m already in bed,” I grumble.

It’s just after five when I leave the office and head outside. Jesus. Lewis wasn’t wrong about the temperature. A strong, icy breeze slaps my face and shoves me like I insulted its mother. My nose and ears are stinging. The cold air burns my lungs when I breathe.

As soon as I’m in my car, I turn on the heater and seat warmer. I researched Wenora before I moved here. It once had the lowest temperature in Ontario at almost minus sixty degrees. It sure felt like it just now.

Wenora’s in the middle of nowhere, stuck between old-fashioned and ignored. Go back fifty years, and the only difference would be that the paint on most of the buildings isn’t as faded.

It’s exactly why I choose to live in small towns like these. They’re forgotten, sometimes even avoided. That’s how I want to be too.

I spend the drive home humming to rock songs on the radio. As I approach my house, Robert Plant and Alison Krauss are winding down on Gone Gone Gone when I notice a small, silver hatchback parked out front.

This is an isolated property at the top of a hill. Aside from that time a couple of Jehovah’s Witnesses came knocking with booklets in hand, the only visitors I get are mail carriers or delivery drivers. I’m not expecting anything.

Probably trying to figure out where they’re going.

I meet the hatchback driver’s gaze as I pass. It’s a woman but she’s unrecognizable. Her dark green beanie with pink stripes and hearts is pulled down to her eyebrows. Her grey scarf and wavy, dark hair hides most of her face. However, her rich brown eyes pull at my gut. There’s something familiar about those soulful eyes.

I pull into my driveway. The second I get out of my car, the woman exits hers, facing down the hill with her back turned to me. She’s underdressed for this weather in her thin, beige calf-length jacket and grey leggings.

“Are you lost?” I ask.