JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

Lisbon by Mike Fleming. Image from Wikimedia Commons.

The Defenestrations
Part 4C
by PJ Caña

Part 1

I don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with shit like this, Melissa thought. Bad enough that she had to handle the fallout after somebody actually died on the company-sponsored trip to Europe, now she had to deal with the dead guy’s mother.

“Ma’am Teepee, would you like to come up to the office? We can talk there.”

Teepee was clutching her handbag to her chest as if she expected burglars.

“Melissa!”

A man was striding towards them in a well-fitting suit. His face was angular and bony, as if all the flesh had been sucked out and all that was left was a thin film of pale skin and severe cheekbones.

Melissa let out a defeated sigh. It was her boss, Nick Romero, the president of Aaah Beverages, maker of Aaah!, the revolutionary artisanal organic energy drink.

It was his idea to invite influencers on the seven-day, seven-country European tour, in hopes the influencers would associate Aaah! with the extravagance and sophistication of the Old World.

Melissa had expressed her reservations. Should they spend so much for a product launch? But he had insisted, saying people liked to be reminded of what they don’t have by pretty people who look like they’re getting paid to say whatever their clients want them to say.

Hate to say I told you so, Melissa thought, but I told you so.

“Sir Nick!” Melissa said, with an impressive display of gladness.

The Cat’s Eye Nebula viewed from the Hubble telescope. Image from NASA.

Part 2

“What a coincidence. Allow me to introduce Miss Teofista Villa-Real…”

“Teepee!” the frail-looking woman said.

Melissa exchanged a look with her boss, whose perfectly smooth forehead wrinkled infinitesimally. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Miss Teepee Villa-Real. She’s the mother of…”

“Yes, yes, I know who she is,” Nick said. “Mrs. Villa-Real, on behalf of the company allow me to express our very deepest condolences for this unspeakable tragedy.”

The elevator dinged just then and belched a swarm of people.

“Mr. Romero,” Teepee said, “I appreciate your sympathy, but I was trying to tell your staff here that there’s been some kind of mistake. I…” She tried to remember what it was exactly she was trying to tell Melissa. Something about her husband and her son and a massage place, but she couldn’t piece it all together.

“I was trying to tell Ma’am Teepee that we should go up to the office so we can be more comfortable,” Melissa said.

“Are you hungry, Mrs. Villa-Real?” Nick asked. “Perhaps we can go out instead. We can drive to this nice little café that’s not too far from here.”

Teepee just stared at the strange, pale man with slicked-back hair and features like a set of cutlery. She was about to object, but she heard her stomach grumbling and realized she hadn’t eaten anything since last night.

“All right, Mr. Romero. I am a little hungry.”

“Perfect,” Nick said. “Melissa, go back to the office and tell Ida to cancel the rest of my appointments today.”

Graffiti Carme. Image from Wikimedia Commons.

Part 3

The car was a black BMW 7 Series with heavily tinted windows. The driver jumped out and opened the door for Teepee.

“Mrs. Villa-Real, are you comfortable?” Nick asked. He reached in the seat pocket in front of him and held up a can of Aaah! in Kale-Infused Vanilla. “Would you like a drink?”

The aluminum can gleamed. She almost reached for it, but she caught herself.

“No thanks,” she said. “I’ll wait for the coffee.”

“You know Mrs. Villa-Real, I knew your son. I’m familiar with his work as one of this country’s top digital influencers. In fact, I was the one who personally invited him to go on that trip.” Nick paused for dramatic effect, gazing out of the dark windows.

“Which is why I feel personally responsible for this tragedy. I have no idea how to even begin to make it up to you but if there’s any way…”

“Let me stop you right there, Mr. Romero,” Teepee said, turning her head to face Nick. “Iñigo was many things, but two things he was not—stupid and suicidal.” Her head was suddenly very clear, as if the maid had come in and vacuumed the thick cobwebs in there.

Nick shifted in his seat. Beads of sweat would have formed on his temple if he hadn’t had his sweat glands surgically altered. Perspiration was anathema to his look. He didn’t need bad publicity when they had just launched a product that everybody hoped would turn things around for their company.

The Widow (Boston Public Library), image from Wikimedia Commons

Part 4

“Of course Mrs. Villa-Real,” he said carefully. “We’re more than happy to extend assistance to you in any way possible. Although I have to say, we got the report from the Prague police and they said it was an accident.”

“How could somebody accidentally fall out of a window?” Teepee said forcefully. Her thoughts returned to the fateful day when her husband was pushed out of a window by a deranged man.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “You know, my son never signed a waiver before the trip.” She let the sentence dangle.

Nick’s smile tightened but never left his face. He thought about the police report, which said that a mobile phone was discovered next to the body. Miraculously, the phone was still working and broadcasting live on Instagram. Clearly Mrs. Villa-Real was wrong: her son may not have been suicidal, but he was stupid.

And you know who isn’t stupid? Nick thought. Me. I won’t let this bitch ruin this company.

“Ah. Here we are.”

They were in front of an old warehouse.

What happens next?
A. Nick kills Teepee.
B. They go to a hipster, third wave coffee shop inside the warehouse.

Our serial continues next week!