Dangerously Close (A Collection of Fictional Short Stories)

| Their Story |

What does a soldier, a writer, a caretaker, an actor, an accountant, and an electrician have in common? Zora Brown pondered the question with a smirk. She scorned Trudy Knox, the Founder and CEO of Knox Credit Union and wish she'd leave. Tugged in her fancy trench coat and heels, she scrunched her nose at Andrew Carlson whose mouth ran like a waterfall. The poor bank manager's face was blotched red as he followed the privileged woman across the bank's open lobby.

"Just make sure you get it done, Andrew. I want that financial report appearing in my email before I go to sleep tonight," she ordered. "If not, then you are fired!"

"But I told you my wife..."

"I don't care about your issues. Get it done."

Andrew halted in his tracks, but Trudy didn't care. She continued her strut out the door and climbed into her chauffeured car. Zora caught eyes with Amber Zalinski, their only financial analysts, overhearing everything from within her glassed cubicle.

"Are the rumors true?" Zora said. "Is she planning to shut down our branch?"

The manager dabbed his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief and nodded in defeat.

"Don't worry. It's almost time," Zora reassured him.

"Yes, I know," he growled, face turning another shade of red. "I need to call my wife and see how she's doing."

He returned to his office in distraught, leaving Zora shaking her head in frustration.

Andrew was one of those I-put-my-employees-and-customers-first type of managers who wouldn't hurt a fly. He always got his work done and made sure things went smoothly every day just to prevent Trudy from flying to her only branch in Brunswick, Maine. But for the past eight months he had begun to slack when he found out his wife had stage two breast cancer. It only added to Trudy's reasons to close the branch. And everyone knew this woman was known to not be courteous on giving early notices.

"That lady is not human," Amber said in a faint Russian accent.

Zora glanced out the door as she passed by to Amber's cubicle, sticking her thumbs into her uniform's belt. An air freshener of cinnamon spice on the desk gave the area a comforting and welcoming aura. It always lured Zora to stand patrol on this side of the entry. The woman peered up at her through spectacles matching the color of her auburn hair.

"Yeah. She would be the best villain in one of Andrew's crime stories."

"I would love to read that one," she said with a clever wink.

Zora nodded in agreement. She glanced at the clock hanging between two windows on the opposite side of the bank. It was twenty minutes to seven. Almost closing time. Only one customer was left, a usual in her green fur coat that stopped at her dainty ankles. She stood partly on tippy toes as she spoke to one of their bank tellers, Marisol Perez.

"Are you ready for your graduation?" Zora said.

"You know I am," Amber grinned. "Who would ever know that receiving a master's in accounting would take so long. If those three-hour classes don't kill you, the loans will."

Zora chuckled. "I agree. I had to help my nephew with finding his loans. Did you know, he wanted to drop out?"

"No not good. Isn't he the one going to the police academy?"

"The one," she nodded. "I told him if he joined the army like I did, the government would literally pay for your attendance. But the army isn't for everyone."

"True. But good thing we have you to protect us," Amber said giving another clever wink and turned towards her computer.

Zora habitually rubbed her holstered gun, recalling those dreadful days and nights in Iraq. She lost too many friends and comrades to fill every space in this bank. Yet here she was, still trying to survive on the pocket change they called a paycheck. The world was cruel, but one day she will receive the pay she deserved.