Rabbit Punch (Part Six)
BY GREGORY HEDGEPETH
Cover image by Виктория Бородинова from Pixabay. Cover art by Gregory Hedgepeth.
Being summoned to Mr. Hamilton’s office on a Friday afternoon fifteen minutes before the workday ended was odd. Arriving to find him waiting inside with another intern and a security guard was terrifying. As I eased down into the butter-leather office chair, I worried I was about to be fired. The door closed behind me with a sharp thump as I saw we were also being joined by my direct manager, Mr. Bishop Faire.
“Mr. McMahon, Miss Yancey... do you know why we’ve called you two into my office?” My face scrunched as I tried to remember who the young woman was. I’d definitely seen her around the office, but wouldn’t have been able to select her out of a crowd. I had to imagine she felt nearly the same about me. I shrugged as we faced each other blankly, trying to figure out the correlation. “Miss Yancey, when you first joined our coveted internship you had all the potential in the world. You’ve shown up early, stayed late, completed every task asked of you with resounding competence and a true zeal for this type of work that I haven’t seen in anyone since I walked through those doors for the first time. I’ve reviewed your work with Mr. Faire, and well, we’d like to offer you the opportunity to continue your career here with us for the foreseeable future.”
She beamed widely and stuck out her hand. “It would be my honor, sir. Working here has always been my dream. This is the best news I could’ve asked for.”
I stood there with my eyes wide. This couldn’t be happening. Were they hiring us on already? I didn’t think a decision would come for months.
Mr. Hamilton turned to me with an equally confident smile. “And Morris, as for you, we also saw significant potential when you first began. Unfortunately, it has remained just that thus far. However, we see too much promise to let you go so quickly. So, while we get Miss Yancey’s systems and access ready for full use, we’ll be pairing you two on assignments together for the foreseeable future. You’ll be assisting her as administration. We’ll give you a few more weeks to improve your game. If you can prove you’re up to snuff by then, we can discuss extending your employment. Eunice, make no mistake—while we understand how your brilliance could easily rub off on Morris, we don’t expect you to carry his weight. Use him as needed, but make sure he’s able to stand on his own two feet. Don’t feel the need to coddle him... if he fails, it will be his failure alone.”
“Yes sir,” she said, seeming to grow more excited by the second. Meanwhile, I felt like a fucking idiot. I thought I’d been making progress during the internship, but now it felt like I was about to blow everything before I even had the opportunity to prove myself out in the field. I had to find a way to give them what they were asking for.
He turned back to me. “Morris, any questions? I don’t want this to be uncomfortable or emasculating for you. I just want to be sure we’re all on the same page.”
“No, I’m all good,” I mumbled, shrinking myself as small as possible. “I’ll be assisting. I get it.”
“Great. Thanks everyone. Hey Bishop, give me about ten for that little sit down, yeah?”
“You got it. I’ma go grab an energy drink real quick and give my love a call. I’ll meet you down at the lobby and we can head out. That way, we can beat the traffic.”
Mr. Hamilton smirked. “We’re going to have to move this building closer to my house one day or I’m going to start taking a helicopter to work. Anyway, thanks again everyone... sounds like we’re all on the same page. You all have a great weekend.”
Everyone began to empty out the office, beaming from a job well done while I continued to sit there, feeling miserable. I was certain it was going to eat away at me for the next two days. My weekend already felt wasted.
As I stood and looked to follow everyone out the office, I felt guilt pulling me back. Mama had warned me not to let the week end before telling Mr. Hamilton the truth, and even though it was probably the worst time possible, I knew it was time to come clean. I walked towards the door and shut it quietly before turning back to face him. “Mr. Hamilton, can I talk to you? It’ll only take a minute.”
“People always say that and it never takes a minute,” he said gruffly, shuffling papers around on his desk. “What is it, Morris?”
I returned to the buttery leather and slid into the seat. “It’s just... I need to be honest about something. I’ve been feeling real guilty about it and my mother says it’s wrong of me not to say anything.”
His face scrunched in confusion before he shook his head, annoyed. “Let me guess—you or one of your family members is dying of some horrible disease and you really need this job? I’ve heard that from a different person every week for the last six years. You’re going to have to work hard just like everyone else. I love my folks, but I can’t hold you to a low standard just because of where you’re from... you still have to perform.”
I shook my head. “Uh, no it’s not like that. It’s just... well, I’m not sick, but—“ I swallowed hard to keep from stammering any further. It had been so long since I’d revealed it to anyone, I was out of practice. “When I was born, I had... um, I was born with a genetic... a genetic anomaly that...”
Suddenly, he looked at me and his eyes grew wide. “Oh my God, you have the RAAAGE, don’t you? Is that what you are about to tell me? Do you have a trigger? What is it?! Jesus, is it a word trigger! Have I said it already? Oh my god, don’t say it!”
He grew hysterical, continuing to ask rapid-fire questions without bothering to wait for a response. “Mr. Hamilton...”
“Look Morris, this is nothing personal, okay? This is a company. You can’t come in here threatening me, just because I haven’t given you a job. This is why y’all aren’t even supposed to apply for these kinds of internships. You’re not allowed to intimidate us this way!”
“I’m not trying to intimidate you,” I pleaded. “Look, my mother is an old, religious woman. She feels like people who have it should be honest and say so. Even if makes other people uncomfortable. She says letting people know your most authentic self is how you determine who’s really in your corner.”
“Your mother sounds like a smart woman. All I know is if you try to hurt me or any of my people—“
“I’ve never hurt anyone,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “I’ve never even been in a fight.”
“And how can you be so sure?”
I let out a sigh and dropped my hands. “Look, I know the virus leads to memory issues and all that... but it’s not like I’ve ever woken up in a pool of blood or anything.”
His eyes narrowed. “Hmph, so you say. That’s what y’all always say. It’s like you all read from the same goddamn playbook or something.”
“I’m just being honest with you. And I’m honest when I tell you I really want this job,” I said, sitting up straight and looking him in the eye. “I’ve never cared about anything as much as I care about walking through that door every morning to help this company continue to flourish. I’ve dedicated every moment of my life since Junior Primary to getting here. I’m not looking to squander this opportunity. I’m willing to work as hard as I can to make this happen.”
“I’m telling you now—you better get your numbers up! Because our insurance is going to skyrocket now that you’ve revealed this little nugget,” he scolded as he reached down to punch a number into his phone. “All I know is you better not come in here one day threatening to kill a bunch of people, just so you can demand a promotion you don’t deserve.”
Despite pouring my heart out, he seemed unmoved and uninspired. I sat there dejectedly, fearful that I’d just made things worse for myself. But at the end of the day, I agreed with Mama—it would be wrong to win a job with the firm and then reveal my status as a Rager after the fact. It would make me look dishonest and threaten everything I’d worked for. They would simply have to weigh the risks before considering me for a permanent position. I stood and began to make my way towards the door, but he cleared his throat and called for me to come back.
“Look, I get it,” he said softly, just as I returned to the seat. “And your mama’s right. It’s definitely better that you went ahead and told us, because it’s the responsible thing to do. But goddamn it, are you sure you really want this job? You could’ve sabotaged everything just now.”
I swallowed hard. Even if he didn’t feel like I was making much progress, I knew in my heart that I’d been improving every single day. I was proud of everything I’d done so far and ready for the challenge of everything yet to come. I realized it was time to step things up. “I would’ve sabotaged a lot more by saying nothing at all. I’ve never cared about anything as much as I care about this job. I don’t want or expect a handout—I want to be the hardest worker in the room. But I’m not going to be dishonest about something I have to take medication for everyday. I don’t want that to be an excuse or a way to bully you into employment. I just want a chance to earn it.”
He studied me closely, cradling the phone against his ear just as someone came on the line. “Mr. Warren, please. Tell him it’s for me and it’s an emergency...” he paused and turned towards me. “I can respect that, Morris. I really can. I appreciate your tenacity and your honesty. Life isn’t fair—but your opportunity to work here is. You’re doing decent enough work by New Lorraine standards, but now that things are even and you’re out here in the real world, you’ve gotta compete with folks who may have had advantages you can only dream about. And unfortunately, it means you will have to work that much harder to be a success. We’re pairing you with Miss Yancey for a reason. She’s the brightest star here. Learn from her, see what you can do to pull yourself up a little taller. You have the capacity, Morris... but you still have to execute. Now if there’s nothing else, I’d like to get on the expressway before it gets too crowded. I’ll speak with you on Monday.” He slammed the desk phone down and grabbed his briefcase, rushing towards the door just as his phone began to ring again.
“Marnie, that’s Mr. Warren calling—have him dial my cell... I’m gone for the day!” he yelled out to his assistant as he made his way out the office without even waiting for me to leave first.
I headed back towards the door, checking my watch and realizing I still needed to gather my things before the 5:03 pulled up to take all the interns back to New Lorraine.
***
I sat uncomfortably inside Miss York’s expansive home, still frozen in disbelief at the beauty of the sumptuous estate. I gnawed at my fourth stuffed shrimp, taking a gander at the lush garden growing inside the courtyard as we all waited to be seated for dinner. I had been instructed to call everyone by their first names for the night so it wouldn’t be weird for the other guests, but it felt awkward, even though Mr. Hamilton—Hampton—had been pretty much MIA since we’d arrived.
“Well, hello again,” a young feminine voice asked from behind. “Fancy seeing you here.”
I turned to see the young woman Hampton had introduced to me a few weeks back at a company mixer. She was the photographer he’d hired for the event, and although he kept me at his side for the entire night as he introduced me to several of the county’s big wigs, I spent most of the evening catching spare glimpses at her. The only thing she’d been able to tell me was her name and that she lived in New Lorraine. Now that she was back in my presence, she was even more breathtaking than I’d remembered. I attempted to come up with something clever, but went into a coughing fit over a piece of shrimp and carrot that went down the wrong pipe. “Hey you... Dahlia, right?” I choked out as I tried my best to clear the obstruction without making it too obvious.
“That’s me. I never imagined I’d see you here. I thought I was seeing things at first—hey, are you okay?” she asked, passing me a glass of wine and running her hand across my shoulder blades as I bent over in a violent rage of coughs. “Here, have a sip.”
I took a swallow and was finally able to breathe freely. “Thank you so much. That made all the difference. Oh my God—I’m so sorry... I never thought I’d run into you again either, much less here. Did Mr. Hamilton invite you too?” I asked, wanting to make sure I wasn’t overstepping any boundaries.
“Oh no, this is my sister’s place.”
My eyes grew wide. “Wait, your sister owns this house? I thought y’all were from New Lorraine?”
“We are. I’m still living there, but she’s already on her way up.”
I ogled the house’s decor. “Yeah, I can tell. Holy shit, I had no idea.”
“Daytona has always wanted to have her own place like this. With the wrought-iron staircase, the huge garden... the glamorous chef’s kitchen. I’m just happy she’s been able to make it happen.”
“And what about you?” I asked, giving her a sly smile. “When are you getting your big-ass Gigglemug house with the kitchen and the garden and the expensive art on the walls?”
She shook her head and took another sip of wine. “Eh, this life isn’t for me. I just want to do my photographs and keep things simple. I don’t have time for the hustle and bustle. No offense obviously.”
“No, I understand,” I said, hoping I hadn’t inadvertently insulted her. “Not everyone wants to work twelve hours a day.”
“I don’t have a problem with working,” she said with a chuckle. “I just believe there’s more to life than meetings and exhaustion and impossible wealth-building goals and existential crisis. I guess I’d just prefer to spend my time enjoying the little things... the sunshine, the fresh air, the wildlife—you know... fun.”
“I guess that makes sense,” I said with a shrug. I paused to stare at her. I couldn’t understand how a person who had a family member with a house like this would rather slum it out in New Lorraine. It honestly perplexed me at first, but the more I looked into her eyes and the more she smiled at me, the clearer her point became. I could’ve listened to her all night long. Just in the short amount of time we had talked, I could tell she was thoughtful and gorgeous and charming. I couldn’t let her get away again. “So hey... you live in The Wealth, I live in The Wealth—how would you like to go to dinner sometime? I mean, I know that...”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” a suited young Gigglemug stiff interrupted from behind, sliding his arm around Dahlia’s waist. “She’s... attached.”
Without a word, Dahlia rolled her eyes and walked away as the young man gave me a wide but insincere grin. I felt embarrassed. Of course she had a boyfriend. She was too incredible to be single. “Hey man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—“ I started.
“No harm, no foul. I mean, it’s not on you. She should’ve told you someone was already invested in her. She forgets sometimes when she’s had a little too much wine.” I swallowed hard as he stared at me with a puzzling look. “My name is Walker. And you are?”
I extended my hand. “Morris... Morris McMahon.”
He looked at my hand as if he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it and took a step forward without shaking it. “Mr. McMahon, while I’m sure Dahlia may have given you some sort of impression that a future congress could somehow take place between the two of you, let me reassure you that is not the case.”
“What do you m—“
He lifted his hand for me to remain quiet and I was taken aback. “Furthermore, I don’t appreciate you entertaining a tryst with my beloved in the home of my future sister-in-law.”
“But I wasn’t—“
“Dahlia and I have been together for several years now. It would serve you best for our courtship to continue unfettered without any further interruption from a common man such as yourself. I can tell from the hem of your socks that you’ve never sniffed fresh Gigglemug air outside the confines of your job, assuming you even know what it’s like to work everyday. Do you really think you could afford a prize such as Dahlia York? Look at where you’re standing, boy.” He gave me a final glare and cleared his throat before turning his back to walk away. I gazed around the courtyard yet again and the opulence began to reveal itself to me even more. He walked off casually as the sting from his words hung deep inside my chest like a dagger.
“Hey don’t take it to heart,” Bishop said, walking up to give me a pat on the back. “He’s kind of an asshole to everyone.”
“You know him?”
“We’ve talked a time or two. He’s not exactly a people person,” Bishop said just as Walker made his way back inside the kitchen. “Come on... let’s get one of these drinks Hampton can’t stop running his mouth about.”
Dahlia and I caught eyes for a split second and suddenly, nothing made sense for me anymore. Bishop went to take a step forward, but I tugged at his elbow before he could get too far. “Do you think he’s right?”
“Who? Walker? Right about what?”
“About affording a woman like her.”
“She’s not a prostitute, Morris,” he said plainly.
“I don’t mean like that. It’s just... I don’t know... every woman I know always talks about how they shouldn’t have to work... that a man should pay for this and pay for that... I just... I don’t know.”
Bishop looked me in the eye. “Listen, when you’re single, your only loyalty is to yourself. You have to keep yourself fed, clothed and healthy. But when you start talking about a serious relationship with a real woman, marriage and kids and all that... as a man, you have step up and make sure your woman is cared for, protected and looked after. That means physically, mentally, emotionally... and yes, financially. I’ve known Dahlia and Daytona a long time... and no, you can’t just step to them any old way. But would you really want a woman you could step to without having your shit together?” He let out a sigh as I contemplated what he had to say. “Man, look... don’t sweat it, okay? You get this job with the firm and you’ll make enough money to have your pick of women. You just have to—“
“I don’t want my pick of women...” I said, glancing at Dahlia yet again. “I want her.”
He looked at me and gave a slight chuckle. “You sound awfully convinced for a person who’s only spoken with her for a few minutes.”
“I mean, she’s... incredible.”
“Yeah, those York women are something else...” He followed my gaze, looking towards the kitchen. “Come on, let’s get that drink before Hamilton takes it all for himself.”
***
“The only thing I remember after that is throwing up in the bathroom,” I said nervously inside the freezing-cold interrogation room.
“I guess it didn’t take long for all that alcohol to start working its way through your system, huh?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. I assumed it was food poisoning or something, to be honest. I don’t really remember having too much of that punch. I‘m a bit of a lightweight when it comes to tequila, so I barely indulged past the initial toast.”
His scribbling stopped. “So you only had one drink the entire night?”
“For the most part. I mean, I shared that glass of wine with Dahlia—but besides that, it was mostly water for me. For the post-dinner toast, I just held up my glass and placed it back down without taking a sip. I knew I had to make it back to The Wealth. And I’m not stupid enough to get caught out here with liquor on my breath—the cops treat us bad enough when we’re sober and minding our own business. No offense obviously.”
“Hmph.” He started scribbling again. “One final question—do you have any reason to believe that someone at the party wanted Mr. Hamilton dead?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “If I’m being honest, I spent most of my night sulking about Dahlia. I was little more than a fly on the wall once she left—but from what I could tell, nothing seemed too out of sorts.”
“I see,” he said, scribbling down a final set of notes and closing his notebook before pushing it to the side. “Mr. McMahon, I’m afraid I’ve got good news and bad news. The good news is I don’t think you had anything to do with the murder of our victim. You seem like a good kid who’s just trying to make it out. I can’t see why you’d risk all that by killing the man who could make it happen. The bad news is I’m not any closer to figuring this thing out than I was last night—so unfortunately, I have to let everyone go.”
My eyes grew wide. “Wait, what? So his murderer is just going to walk free?”
The detective let out a sigh. “For now, yes. We can’t hold anyone more than twelve hours without charging them with something. We’re hoping to discover more evidence in the upcoming days that will possibly lead to an arrest.”
I dropped my head. I was happy I wasn’t a suspect, but I couldn’t believe that nothing concrete had been determined yet. “What if they... you know... try to leave the state or something? Will you be able to pursue anything if that happens?”
He let out a long sigh. “Our jurisdiction doesn’t extend far beyond Pristine County, so that’s always a concern—but at this point, there’s simply not enough evidence for us to point the finger at anyone. I know you were hoping for justice, but don’t worry—we’ll find the culprit eventually. Things always shake out in the wash.” The look on his face told me how disappointed he was to have to let everyone go. I tried to think back to some tiny detail about the party that might break the case wide open, but nothing became apparent. He stood from the table. “I’m pretty sure Deputy Fernando is done processing your release paperwork by now. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
I stood and followed closely behind him as we left out of the frigid room and made our way towards the processing desk, where the deputy pounded away at her computer. “Hey Gio... just a few more things to enter and then he’s free to go.”
“Sounds like a plan. Thanks Dep. I’m going to go grab some coffee. Mr. McMahon, this shouldn’t take more than another moment. We really appreciate your patience.”
“No problem,” I said sheepishly. “Is there a bathroom close by? I need to wash up. I don’t want to freak out everyone on the bus with all this blood.”
“Yeah, it’s right around the corner there. In fact... hey Dep, can you toss him one of those old department tees? He can’t ride back to New Lorraine like that. I’m going to go grab some java before I pass out from exhaustion.”
“Oh yeah, sure,” the deputy said, reaching under the counter and handing me a shirt sealed in plastic as Detective Giovanni disappeared around a corner. “Your stuff from the early search is under here too—might as well go ahead and give you that as well.”
She handed over a large Ziplock bag with my jacket, some loose change, my New Lorraine ID and a nylon wallet. I thanked her and grabbed the items before heading towards the bathroom.
I took off my blood-caked shirt and scrubbed my hands and arms as best I could. There was still a crimson tinge to my skin and nails, but it would have to do until I returned back home to take a real shower. I ripped open the plastic on the T-shirt and found it was at least two sizes too big, but at least it was soft, dry and not covered in blood. I opened the Ziplock bag and retrieved my wallet and the loose change, shoving them into my pockets. I pulled out my jacket and began to run water over the garment to scrub the blood that had soaked into it when an envelope I didn’t recognize fell out of the pocket. I studied it curiously before bending down to pick it up. I went to rip it open just as there was a knock against the door.
“Mr. McMahon, Dep’s completed your processing,” Detective Giovanni yelled from the other side. “Just need your signature and you can head on out. There should be a bus back to New Lorraine pulling up in a few.”
“Okay thank you,” I replied, stuffing the envelope into my pocket and tossing the pieces of plastic into the garbage.
I walked out of the bathroom, signed off on the paperwork and made my way outside, breathing my first bit of fresh air since the evening prior. I walked across the street to the bus stop, where an older couple had already situated themselves on the bench, happily caught up in their own conversation. I nodded a hello and once I was certain they weren’t paying me any attention, I pulled the envelope from my pocket. I ripped it open and began to read what was inside.
To my dearest Josephine,
I’m writing this to you because I don’t think I could ever find the courage to say these words aloud. I love you and I love our children, but I haven’t been happy in a really long time. I know you may not understand why things had to happen this way, but it’s the only thing I can think of to ensure that your life doesn’t become a complete waste because of my decisions.
Please don’t blame Morris—he didn’t know what was going on... I just knew I wouldn’t be able to do this on my own. Please forgive me and don’t ever stop loving me. You should have everything you need to take care of the kids once the policies cash out. Just... be sure to live a happy life. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me—I just wish I was strong enough to be the man you needed.
I love you. Forever.
— Hampton
I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was reading Mr. Hamilton’s suicide note. How it ended up inside my jacket was beyond me, but it was terrifying to read all the same. It had been me all along. I killed Hampton.
I held the letter in front of me, reading each word again and again in disbelief. This was all the evidence Detective Giovanni needed. And even if I didn’t remember what I’d done, I still had to be held accountable. Mr. Hamilton had a wife and children, friends and family and colleagues who loved him dearly: they needed to have closure. I had to turn myself in.
I let out a sigh and gazed at the old couple in front of me. They were still cuddled up and giggling to themselves about something, perhaps an old memory they shared. I couldn’t imagine being so happy and in love with another person. I thought back to Dahlia and the things she said about spending time enjoying the little things. Talking to her had easily been the best part of my night. I still wanted the opportunity to take her out despite Walker’s warning. Maybe there was still a chance. She didn’t seem to be that happy with him, and she certainly wasn’t as happy as the couple sitting in front of me. I started to daydream about different scenarios where we could end up together. But I knew none of them could come to fruition if I ended up behind bars.
I continued to contemplate what to do just as the bus came around the corner. The elderly man stood and held out his hand to help his wife up from the bench. She gave him a smooch on the cheek in return and happily hopped onto the bus once it pulled up in front of us. I stood at the bottom of the stairs, still trying to figure out what my next move would be. The driver cleared his throat for me to make a decision and I begrudgingly hopped up the short set of stairs. I took a seat all the way in back of the bus, slumping down in guilt and staring out the window, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
Once back in New Lorraine, I hopped off the bus and made my way inside the meager apartment I shared with Mama. I walked in and saw her with her feet up in front of our pot-belly stove, attempting to stay warm.
“Well, there’s my big important businessman! Why didn’t you call if you were going to be gone all night? I was worried about you.” I walked over to give her a kiss on the cheek and she gave me a hug, breathing in deep to make sure it was me. “You smell funny.”
“Yeah, I need a shower, Mama. I partied so hard last night, I had to crash at Mr. Hamilton’s and then we went straight to work this morning. I’m sorry for not calling.”
“Well, it’s okay. I know it’s a different kinda world out there for you now. I managed just fine by myself, believe it or not. I may be blind, but I’m not helpless. You gon’ ahead and take your shower. I’m going to keep myself warm by the fire—I’m just glad LeDarrien stopped by to get it started for me. The house has had a wicked chill running through it since last night.”
“I’m glad too, Mama. I’ll make sure to thank him later this evening. I’m going to go hop in the shower, okay?” I grabbed another log and tossed it into stove to keep the fire going as Mama beamed widely.
I had been telling myself the entire way home that I would turn myself in eventually, but I made a decision, right then and there. As the flames roared to life, I pulled the envelope from my pocket and tossed it into the flames, watching it crackle and char before disappearing into nothingness.
Gregory Hedgepeth is the editor-in-chief of Vital Narrative Press. You can follow him on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter. Feel free to follow on all three. Or maybe just two. Yeah, two’s probably good—he’s not that interesting. Gregory Hedgepeth is also the author of MISCONCEPTIONS ABOUT SUNRISES, THE YEAR THAT ANSWERED and A COLLECTION OF ECHOES. BUY THAT SHIT.