The Prospectives

“Lena, Lena, you forgot your purse,” Alex called to Lena, as she rushed to catch the elevator.

“Thanks Alex. This is what happens when I'm rushing. I forget things,” she said with a nervous laugh.

Lena moved around the office with the prickliness of a cactus, and she had been since Joba came down with a suspicious case of the flu two days earlier, leaving her to take his place as reviewer for the Montana energy deal. New York was no place for introverts; all the people squeezed in on top of one another, talking non-stop and unveiling themselves with no reverence for silence. Every day Lena woke up, gave herself a pep talk, practiced her happy face in the mirror, and went to work with a smile and a team focused, can-do attitude. Inside, she was shriveling away to nothing and suppressing the urge to go missing from her life.

She was running behind for her 4:30 flight to Montana. Tardiness had always been a sort of subliminal response to things she didn't want to do. She had never been to Montana and didn’t look forward to working with the Montana team. They had a reputation for being harsh, and she wasn't in the mood for feigned niceties. Maybe it would be quieter, and she could escape the movement of the city.

She thanked Alex again and turned to face the elevator with a sigh as she pressed the down button. In her mind she went over her list one last time: travel bag, check, purse, check, phone, check, laptop, check. As the elevator doors opened, she laid eyes on a statuesque man whose green cat-like eyes unsettled her. He radiated culture, dressed with runway-model precision, and pleased the eyes. Still, the sight of him standing in the elevator made her hesitate.

She stood there staring at him until he asked, “Are you going to enter?”

Lena flushed as his voice reverberated in her ears. She pulled her bags onto the elevator, seeing the lobby button had already been selected. As the doors closed, Lena slid herself in the far-left corner of the elevator, as though it would make her less visible to this haunting stranger. Although he appeared to dismiss her presence, Lena eyed him ready for his advance.

When the elevator doors opened, Lena shot through them and crossed the lobby with the gentleman keeping pace behind her. She hurried through the lobby doors and out to the ever-present crowd, eager to hail a taxi.

“Taxi!”

Looking over her shoulder, she noticed the gentleman behind her signaling for a taxi too. The taxi slowed in front of her, but before it could come to a complete stop, Lena reached for the door handle.

Dragging her luggage, she called to the taxi driver, “JFK, please.”

She reached to close the door when through the window, she saw an arm holding onto the handle preventing her from pulling the door closed. Her eyes followed the contour of the arm, to the shoulder and into the face of the man from the elevator. Lena let out a gasp as the man opened the door and deposited himself in the seat, while she scooted over to keep from being sat on.

The gentleman glanced at her and said, “I heard you say JFK, and since I'm going there too, I thought we could share the ride.”

Lena sat stunned and a bit put-off, but she didn't want him to see her frustration.

The taxi driver turned and said to the man, “Buddy, you can't share the ride unless the lady says so.”

Lena motioned it was okay before saying, “Well since you highjacked my cab at least have the decency to tell me your name.”

“Mephisto, but my friends call me Misty. Trust me. I wasn't trying to be presumptive. I'm just in a bit of a hurry.”

“Misty, I'm Darlene, but my friends call me Lena. You can call me Darlene.”

Misty winced a smile and then proceeded to all but ignore Lena. Surveying him, she noted the quality of his suit and how pronounced the veins vined the back of his hands. His eyebrows moved up and down as he seemed to go from surprise to frustration reading his small black notebook. His jawline neared perfection, his beard manicured like a prize-winning lawn. She tried not to ogle as he alternated between turning the pages and running his fingers through his beard.

Lena thought the book resembled something from the antiquities section of the library, worn with frayed, thin pages. The word Prospectives swirled across the front cover in silver calligraphy. It appeared someone had been flipping through the book for years, yet this man studied it like he was seeing it for the first time. Lena could see faded handwriting on the pages, but she could not make out what it said.

Misty looked up from his reading to catch Lena observing him.

Before she had time to look away, he asked, “What time is your flight?”

“Uh, 4:30, but it's already 3:15, and if the traffic keeps up like this, I won't make it.”

Misty told her with confidence, “If you miss your flight, I'll arrange a private flight for you."

Lena thought of how she felt seeing this man on the elevator and said, “Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I'm leaving two days early, so if all else fails, I'll spend the night at a hotel near the airport and catch the first flight out in the morning."

“Two days early,” he said incredulously.

“Yeah. I hate traveling for work, but whenever I do, I try to tack on extra days before or after scheduled meetings so I can rest or visit some local sites.”

“What do you do, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“I work in the illustrious world of energy regulations. I'm an inspector.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“It's not. I moved here thinking I would manage Broadway plays, but so did half the other people who live here, and they all must do it better than me. I spent two years groveling and starving before I gave up and got a real job. Now I make decent money. I own a brownstone in Harlem. My name strikes fear in the hearts of many, and I'm bored out of my mind. My parents couldn't be prouder.”

“Lena, can I call you Lena?”

“Yes,” Lena said with a blush.

“Lena. Take it from me. Human life is much too brief for you to spend it doing something that doesn't satisfy your soul. What if I told you I could help you become one of the greatest stage managers this city… no, this world has ever seen?”

Lena laughed and touched his arm as a jolt of electricity passed through her. She sat up straight and glared at him both with intense desire and dread.

Playing coy, she smiled and said, “Sir, that is the greatest pick-up line I have ever heard, but I am not interested.”

“Yes, you are," he said with assuredness. “But my offer to you is not for physical pleasure, though I can provide that, too, if you wish. I caution against it as my skills are unmatched and may render you unable to move on when we're done.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Okay Romeo”

Misty moved closer to Lena. “What I am offering you is a chance to live your wildest dreams if you trust me. I will introduce you to the right people and vouch for you with those who might be skeptical. With me, you will never have to concern yourself with rejection again. I will be alongside you, guiding you, helping you obtain everything you want.”

Lena was intrigued but skeptical.

“What profession gives you the power to make dreams come true?” she said with unveiled sarcasm.

“I'm a life-coach of sorts. And it isn't power. It's influence.”

The cab driver turned around and said to Misty, “I always wanted to be a photographer. Can you help me? I'll trust you. I'd put my trust in Satan himself if he could get me from behind this steering wheel.”

Misty chuckled and told the cab driver, “I can help you too. We'll talk later.”

Lena said, “So you mean to tell me you just go around like a one-man Make-A-Wish foundation, granting wishes and changing people's lives just for the fun of it.”

“Something like that,” he grinned. “In the beginning, I was selfish with reckless behavior, changing my world for the worst. I was young and wanted to be seen, even worshipped by those around me. I was an arrogant, angry being who did not care how many people I destroyed. Like most of creation, I changed over time. Now I try to use my influence to do good in the world. It's my way of giving back for all the trouble I've caused.”

“That's a moving story, but how do I know you are not full of shit?”

“You don’t. As I said, you will have to trust me.”

“You keep saying trust me. What does that mean, and what kind of fool puts all their trust in a person they just met?”

“When I say trust me, I mean you have to do everything I tell you. I will always propel you toward your goals, but you can never question my methods. My influence has to pair with your complete trust for this to work. What I am saying is hard for people to accept, so I'm not able to save as many as I would like to. And as for the fools who put their trust in me, they are those fed up with what life has handed them, those sick of never landing on top, those who quiet themselves in favor of the rest of the world's noise, those who have pretended for so long they have forgotten who they are, those who would rather be erased than spend another day in the life they're stuck with.”

Lena turned away from Misty to the window. She thought about her life and the ritual she performed every morning just to stomach the monotony. She could not understand how this would work. Hell, it was insane to let this stranger bewitch her with his words, but she filled with excitement almost to the point of giddiness thinking of her dreams becoming reality. Everything she had been taught told her to run from this man but then wasn't her current misery the result of doing what she was taught. They were getting close to the airport, and she felt the weight of all of her life's decisions.

“Call your boss and give your resignation effective immediately.”

She turned back to Misty with surprise but felt compelled to do as he said.

“Hello, Anne. I have decided to resign, so I will not be going to Montana ... I know … I'm sorry. Bye.”

While Lena talked to Anne, Misty took out a pen, opened his small black notebook and appeared to scratch out something.

“Driver, we're going to take a detour.”

When they pulled up to a theatre, Misty reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a stack of bills wrapped with a $20,000 band. Lena's mouth fell open. Misty sensed her apprehension and smiled.

“I'm a big tipper,” he said.

He reached out for Lena’s hand to help her from the car while the cab driver got her bags.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“You'll see.”

“Where is your luggage?”

“I travel light,” he said.

Misty excused himself and went over to speak with the taxi driver. He handed the driver the $20,000. Lena couldn't hear what they talked about, but the cab driver bear-hugged Misty and kept saying thank you. The driver walked away in the opposite direction, leaving his taxi running, while Misty scratched out something else in his small black notebook.