Dive

Chapter Four

"A cat in gloves catches no mice." – English proverb

Six a.m.

Too early to be awake, yet I am standing in front of the bathroom mirror, putting on makeup. My first coffee of the day sits on the vanity, halfway finished already.

Last night I had a nightmare. Or better said, this morning. I woke up drenched in sweat with the vivid image of a faceless man chasing me through the deserted streets of New York at night. The faster I ran, the harder he laughed – low and menacing, like a monster would do. And just before he caught me, I saw the figure of another man in the distance, shrouded in a halo of light despite the darkness surrounding him. For some reason, I knew, even in my dream, that I needed to get to that other man. He was going to save me. But as soon as the monster's hand grabbed my shoulder, I jolted awake with a cry, the dream vanishing like smoke in the wind.

And that is why, when I put the finishing touches to my lipstick and snap the cap back on, it's still early enough that the city dozing at my feet is just starting to get into its daily rhythm. The insistent honk of a car sounds sluggish and so far away it could come from the moon itself. On the forty-eighth floor not much can be heard, although, from time to time, the busy noises of the street below barely manage to sneak past the fortress of glass and reinforced steel.

"Looking good," I tell myself in the mirror and give an appreciative nod. At least I have not wasted twenty minutes on nothing.

"Talk to yourself often?"

I jump at the sound of Amanda's voice and whirl around to see her leaning against the open bathroom door. She has coffee in her hand and a smile of her face.

"Why are you awake?"

She raises a blond eyebrow at me. "What do you mean why am I awake? I always get up at this hour." She spots the artwork on my face –I went all out with eyeshadow and even black liner– and then the mug on the vanity counter. "How long have you been up?"

"An hour or so."

"Oh?"

"Bad dream. Didn't feel like going back to sleep."

"Anything worth telling?"

I put away the makeup and pick up my mug, taking one final sip. "Just a faceless man chasing me through the streets at night."

She doesn't look impressed with my nightmare. Following me into the bedroom, she sits on the bed and crosses one leg over the other, watching as I pull out a dress from the closet. "Not that one."

I frown as I hold the dress in front of me and give it a cursory look. "What's wrong with this one?"

"It's black. Find an actual color, will you?"

"You're bossy."

Amanda rolls her eyes at me. "Tell me something new. What about the nude pencil skirt and that pretty organza top I gave you for your birthday last year? It's green. Goes with your eyes."

I mull over the outfit she's suggesting for all of three seconds. "You might have a point."

"I always have a point. Go change."

With a mock salute, I grab the items she picked for me and disappear back into the bathroom. When I'm done, I find Amanda in the kitchen, having a piece of toast with her coffee.

"No early meeting today?" I ask, walking to the sink to wash my now empty mug. I'm wearing heels with my outfit, a pair of nude stilettos to go with the skirt and the soft olive green of the blouse.