The Briefcase

“…You’re perfect. That’s why.”

Claire blushed with unexpected warmth as her eyes widened in astonishment. Her heart was pounding, and she was having trouble speaking. Finally, she managed a small, shaky smile, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the edge of her seat.

"I need some time to think about it," she said as he walked back to take his seat.

“Take all the time you need, though it’s limited. The event is a month away, and I’ll need your response in a week or less, so we can either begin your training or I find an alternative. I genuinely thank you for your time, please accept this little token as a sign of appreciation.”

As he said this, Big John came over to the table and handed the briefcase to Claire, who received it hesitantly, half expecting a bomb to go off.

“You never know.”

“How do I get to you when I’ve made my decision?” Claire asked as soon as the question came to her mind.

“You don’t,” Lucas replied with a sinister smirk. “That’s all for now.”

He gestured at her to get up, indicating the meeting was over. As she headed out, clutching the briefcase tightly, escorted by Big John, she heard Lucas say from inside, “Think it over Claire. We’ll be in touch.”

The drive back to her house was even quieter than the drive to the meeting. There were just too many questions that it felt redundant to even begin to ask.

As they pulled up to her house, Big John opened the door for her, his demeanor unchanged. "Good night, Miss Claire," he said simply.

"Good night," she replied as she stepped out of the car and watched as it disappeared down the street.

Standing on her doorstep, the briefcase in her hand, Claire felt the night's events wash over her. She couldn’t help but suspect that this was all set up by Craig to help improve her acting skills. The thought seemed absurd, but everything about this encounter also was, almost like it never even happened.

She unlocked her door and stepped inside, the no-place-like-home feeling offering her some comfort.

As she prepared for bed, Claire couldn't shake the feeling that she was on the brink of something mysterious, something far beyond just mere practice or performance. She glanced over at the old clock on the nearby table.

11:37

Curling up under her covers, she replayed the night's conversations in her mind, Lucas’ intense gaze, the mysterious hefty man and the unsettling condition of the unusual proposal. Sleep came slowly, despite the spiraling chaos her thoughts had come to be.

‘Why me?’

‘You’re perfect. That’s why.’

Claire woke to the sharp, relentless knocking that seemed to echo through her tiny apartment.

She groaned and pulled the thin blanket over her head, hoping to block out the noise. However, it continued, getting louder and more demanding.

With a heavy groan, she pushed herself up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Her cluttered studio apartment was faintly lit by the weak morning sun that filtered through the grimy window.

The room was crammed with second-hand furniture and the few belongings she could afford to keep.

Claire stumbled toward the door, rubbing her eyes to clear them of the remnants of her sleep.

"Open up, Claire! I know you’re in there!" The landlord's gruff and irritated voice of the landlord was unmistakable.

Claire hesitated for a second before unlocking the door and opening it slightly.

"Good morning, Mr. Jacobs," she said with a forced smile. "Sorry, I was just getting up."

Mr. Jacobs, a portly man with a balding head and an unwavering frown, stared at her.

"It is the middle of the month, Claire. Your rent is overdue yet again. You promised me last time that this would not happen."

Claire's heart sank. All the payments from her recent gig were going to her student debt. The little money left over barely covered her basic expenses.

"I know, Mr. Jacobs. I'm really sorry. I just need a little more time. I'm expecting a check soon."

Mr. Jacobs crossed his arms, his expression not softening in the least. "That's what you said last month. I'm running out of patience, Claire. If you don't have the rent by the end of the week, you'll have to find another place to live."

"I understand," Claire said quietly, her voice trembling. "I'll get the money, I promise."

Mr. Jacobs gave her one final hard look before turning and marching away, grumbling inaudibly.

Claire felt the pressure of her financial difficulties weighing down on her as she closed the door and leaned against it.

She was clueless about how she was going to pay her rent, much less her other expenses. She fell to the ground and hugged her knees to her breast as desperation tore at her.

And just then, she remembered the briefcase Luke gave her last night. She had kept it in the closet, delaying its opening, majorly out of fear and uncertainty. But now seemed like the perfect time to open it. What more did she have to lose?

“If it’s wads of cash, that’d be great. If it’s a bomb, that’d be equally great,” she thought to herself.

She immediately stood up, wiping her eyes, and walked over to the closet. She opened it and pulled out the briefcase, her hands trembling slightly. Taking a deep breath, she placed it on the kitchen table and clicked open the latches. Her heartbeat accelerated and her hands quivered slightly when she saw what was inside.

“Oh my god,” Claire blurted out unconsciously.