I See You, Tone (Part II)
Still morning. Atlanta, Georgia.
Tony slammed his car door shut and exhaled hard. His body tensed with every step he took toward the building. The sun lit the glass doors in gold, defying the weight he carried inside. He paused, breathed again, then entered.
The hallway buzzed with fluorescent light and hollow greetings.
“Morning, Tony.”
“Sup, bruh. You good?”
“Hey, if you got a minute, can you fix my,”
“No.”
The coworker blinked. “What’s wrong with you today?”
“Nothing.”
“Hey, boo,” another voice cooed behind him.
“Hey,” he replied, flatly.
He reached his office without breaking stride.
Inside, the room was as sterile as ever. No art on the walls. Just a desk, two chairs, and closed blinds. But today, for some reason, he opened the windows. Sunlight poured in. In the faint reflection, it greeted him again.
“I see you regulating already, my boy,” the reflection said from the glass. “Keep that shit up.”
With a smirk, the reflection disappeared.
Tony sat, pulled out the breakfast he’d grabbed on the way, a sausage and cheese croissant,and checked his front-facing camera. He stared at himself. Something deeper, darker, simmered just under the surface.
Then, knock knock.
He lowered the phone.
“It’s open.”
A woman walked in. A beautiful Black woman with a killer smile, dressed sharp enough for the boardroom but bold enough to turn heads. She closed the door behind her and sauntered in, eyes locked on his.
“Can I help you?” Tony asked.
“You okay?” she replied, voice familiar now, Janet. One of the coworkers from earlier.
“I’m good.”
She walked closer to the desk. Tony’s eyes dropped back to his phone, but his mind wasn’t there. The ring on his finger warmed, then burned.
“My computer’s acting slow. Can you fix it?”
He said nothing. Just stared at the glowing screen.
“My bad. How was your weekend?”
“Good. Yours?”
He took a bite of his croissant.
“Pretty good. I finally saw Sinners.”
“It’s a good ass movie.”
She leaned in slightly, reaching toward his breakfast.
“You didn’t bring me none?”
“Huh?”
The moment her hand hovered too close, his gaze shot up, cold, sharp. Her smile faltered immediately.
“Oop! We like that today, huh? You acting… weird.”
“I’m eating. What’s weird about that?”
“You know what, never mind.” She paused, then shifted tone. “So about those videos I sent you to edit…”
“Nope. Can’t do it.”
She crossed her legs and bounced them nervously.
“Why not?”
“Just can’t.”
“Oh, well… delete ’em then.”
Without a word, Tony held up his phone and deleted the files from his iCloud.
“Done.”
“The pictures, too.”
He deleted those, too. Calmly.
“Done.”
Janet raised a brow. “Just let me know when Tony comes back.”
“Will do.”
“I’ll have Will look at my computer.”
“Makes sense. He’s IT.”
Janet turned on her heels and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Tony looked down at his phone and smirked, a perfect mirror of the face that once haunted the glass.
“I give that bullshit performance a zero outta ten,” the reflection said, laughing. “But you, my guy? Whew. Cold-blooded. I almost caught a chill. You do realize how fine that bitch is, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And you just fucked up your chance to ever get with her. You know that shit, right?”
“I guess that’s not my problem anymore.”
“Ooooh. Look at you being less of a bitch. Growin’ some balls! I’m proud of you. When you get off work, go get yourself some dinner. None of that usual peasant shit. Go upscale, Mercedes Grande or something. Don’t worry. You’ll recoup.”
Tony stood slowly and walked to the window. He stared at the reflection.
“Since you named me Bitch,” he said, “you gotta tell me yours.”
The laughter came first. Loud, deep, and unbothered.
“I ain’t gotta tell you shit, Bitch. If you’re worthy enough, you’ll find out on your own.”
“Of course. Another bullshit horror-flick-ass test from a scared spirit.”
“Nice try, motherfucker. You slick, but you ain’t that slick.”
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“It’s open.”