Breach of Security

Allison Ashley stepped out from her SUV and into the warm, mid-afternoon sun. Shouldering her hefty messenger bag stuffed to the brim with lesson plans, assignments, and study guides, she pressed the key fob and walked through the parking lot toward the three story apartment building of the winding complex.

Just one more month, one more month, she told herself.

As much as she loved her job teaching middle school English, Allison relished summer vacation. She was looking forward to spending all that free time finally getting a jump on planning her wedding, several months after getting engaged to her fiance, Ben.

Ben of course had little desire to be a part of the planning process, warily eyeing the growing pile of wedding magazines, reference pictures, and contact sheets that littered the dining table.

Allison was neither surprised nor upset though. Several girlfriends as well as her older sister warned that Ben would likely just defer to her judgement in most regards, and she was content with making most of the decisions.

That was how it was most of the time anyway, at least since they'd moved in together after graduating from college four years prior.

Lost in thoughts of wedding planning, Allison was caught off guard by someone greeting her as she made her way through the exterior hallway of the building's first floor.

"Afternoon, Miss Allison," came the deep throated drawl.

Allison turned her head to find Rodney Torrence casually propped up against the wall in an open alcove, a lit cigarette in hand.

She tried to not let her face wrinkle with displeasure while greeting him back. There was, after all, no smoking of any kind allowed on property, inside or out.

"Hi, Rodney, how are you?"

"Doin' fine, ma'am. Doin' fine."

Rodney was one of several security guards that patrolled the property on a rotating basis.

He had immediately stuck out from most of the other staff and residents of the complex when she and Ben had first moved in.

A 42 year old, divorced black man, Rodney wore his long, thick dreads tied loosely back. A thin, pencil mustache crowned his upper lip, and a scant patch of closely trimmed hair covered his chin. Standing at 5'10, he had an average build save for the small gut that hung over the belt of his navy blue uniform.

Faded, poorly done tattoos covered both arms, and he decorated himself with tons of gaudy, fake gold jewelry; numerous thick chains hung from around his neck, a handful of fat rings were jammed onto long, slender fingers, two chunky studs adorned both ears, and each wrist contained sets of heavy linked bracelets.

He even had a fake gold, open faced tooth cap on one of his canines.

But aside from the cigarettes she occasionally found him smoking, Allison liked Rodney well enough, for someone who was employed by the apartment complex that is.

He was polite, always offered a greeting, and occasionally initiated friendly conversations with her and Ben, although he tended to do so more often when she was by herself than when they were together.

"You all ready for summer vacation yet?" he nodded at her overburdened bag.

Allison huffed an over exaggerated sigh, "Always."

"Try not to let them kids drive you too crazy, now."

"Hard not to when they get so squirrelly toward the end of the year."

"Aw, they just anxious to be done with school so they can get wild is all."

Allison bobbed her head, "That's probably one of the few things they and I have in common."

"Oh yeah? You like to get a little wild then too, huh?"

His oily half-smile revealed the gold capped tooth she found so garish, and combined with the sly wink he threw her, gave off the sleazy vibe that Allison sometimes got from him, and also sent a light, unexpected shiver down her spine.

"I meant being anxious to finish school," she chuckled awkwardly.

"I know, I'm just teasing, Miss Allison. Work is long and I gotta get my kicks somehow."

Rodney took a drag from his cigarette, still smirking.

"Right, anyway," Allison shuffled sideways. "Better get inside and unload this thing."

She hoisted the bag further up her shoulder for emphasis, prompting Rodney to step forward and offer his help.

"Thanks, but my door's right there."

She gestured down the hall and began to move in that direction.

"Alright, you take care then, Miss Allison."

"Thanks, Rodney, you too."

"And don't let yourself get too riled up in the next few weeks," he called after her.

Allison smiled thinly and turned away to head toward her apartment, but she could still feel Rodney's gaze on her retreating figure as he stood there smoking his cigarette.

Once she was a few steps down the hall, Allison let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and by the time she was unlocking the front door, she'd forgotten the encounter entirely, sighing with relief upon crossing the threshold.

As the door slammed shut, Allison let her bags drop to the floor, and out of the corner of her eye, noticed a figure sitting on the couch.

"Ben?" She turned toward her fiancé, crouched forward in consternation on the edge of the cushion. "What're you doing home this early? Is everything okay?"

There was a beat of silence as Ben seemed to tense up, then he raised his head and looked at her, revealing an expression of anxious anticipation on his face.

"I-I think we need to talk," he told her, his unsteady voice both sad and fearful.

------

Allison wiped the bit of fog remaining on the mirror. The shower head still softly dripped behind her as she yanked a brush through her blonde hair, smoothing out the wet tangles.

Four weeks had elapsed since Ben had told her he'd been having second thoughts about their engagement.

They'd sat together for hours, alternating between talking and crying as they discussed how he'd felt pressured to propose to her, but did so anyway despite his fears and apprehensions about starting a family, which only became exacerbated as she moved toward making final wedding plans.

When Allison had tearfully asked him what he wanted out of their relationship, Ben admitted he wasn't sure, that he'd been feeling flummoxed and untethered since their engagement, questioning what he thought he knew about himself and the life they had together.

But the one thing he felt sure of was that it didn't seem right to move forward with the wedding, or even the engagement for that matter, at least while he sorted out how he felt and what he wanted.

Exhausted and spent, they'd gone to sleep shortly after, Ben's heartbreaking admission hanging over Allison as she tossed and turned alone in bed that night, while the man she thought she would spend the rest of her life with slept on the couch.

In the morning, a tear spent and resolute Allison told Ben she agreed with him, that if he was having misgivings of any kind, then they shouldn't get married until he sorted them out.

But she also stipulated that it was better for both of them to separate, at least temporarily, while he did.

That had surprised Ben.

He had thought that she'd want to work out things together, but the shock of what he'd told her the previous night had left Allison questioning everything about him and their relationship so far, and she thought it prudent that they each take some time for themselves to separately work through and unpack their respective crises of conscience.

So, Ben had gone to stay with his brother, crashing on the pull out sofa in the den, neither broken up nor together, lingering somewhere in a state of limbo between the two.

They texted occasionally; brief conversations to check in and see how the other was fairing. They'd suffered through only one awkward, stilted phone call, however, and hadn't bothered trying since.

It was just too hard.

The heartache, sadness, and even a small amount of bitter resentment still lingered.

Allison had managed to deal with it though, mostly through work. The last month of school was chaotic enough to require more of her attention than she normally had to give.

But with the last day having ended approximately seven hours prior, Allison was staring down two months by herself with no plans and nothing to occupy or distract her from the implosion of her personal life.

So it was safe to say that she felt as if she were staring down the barrel of a large, emotional gun.

After drying her hair, and dressing in a tank top and sleeping shorts, Allison climbed into bed and began to apply lotion to her arms and legs.

She still wasn't used to sleeping by herself, something she marveled at since it'd taken her forever to adjust to Ben's constant thrashing and obnoxiously loud snoring.

Allison's thoughts were still idling on her not-quite-boyfriend-but-definitely-not-fiancé when the tan line on her ring finger caught her attention.

Her movements slowed.

She'd finally taken the engagement ring off that afternoon, weeks after initially telling herself that she was leaving it on to avoid any prying questions she might receive at school, from students or staff.

However, the actual reason was because a small string of hope had lingered for a while after Ben left, that he'd have a sudden change of heart and come running back.

But the longer they were apart, the more Allison felt as if he would never come back to her, as her fiancé or something else.

A wave of depression crested over Allison, and she threw the covers back to jump up, refusing to spend yet another sad night alone in bed.

After putting on some shoes and grabbing her keys, she slipped out the front door, locking it behind her.

Allison was too keyed up to sit still and drive, so she opted to snake a wide path around the complex instead, briskly walking along the neatly paved, shrub and flower lined pavement.

Despite it being a Friday, no one else appeared to be out and about after ten o'clock at night, which was fine with Allison. She really wasn't in the mood to talk.

Over the proceeding twenty minutes, she walked with a determined vigor, her shapely legs pumping tenaciously as they marched on.

Although she normally exercised often, Allison hadn't been to the gym since before the split, having little motivation to do so.

But it felt good to move her body again, even if it was just a bit of light cardio.

She continued on for a little longer, then paused to survey her surroundings, collect her bearings, and catch her breath.

That was when a familiar, husky voice called out to her.

"That you, Miss Allison?"

Allison felt a twinge of mild exasperation at having her solitary walk interrupted as she reluctantly turned toward the security guard.

"Hi, Rodney," she greeted mildly.

A few feet to her right, the older man was partially hidden in the shadows of the nearest building, smoking against the exterior wall.

She forgot that he worked until eleven on Fridays and Saturdays.

"Whatchu doing out here all by yourself this late at night?"

The ember at the end of his cigarette smoldered in the dark.

"Just out for a walk," she said a bit brusquely before adding in a politer tone, "and it's not really that late, but I appreciate your concern."

Allison wasn't in the mood to linger and make small talk with him.

"It's late enough," Rodney emerged from the shadows to step towards her. "Your man ain't with you?"

Allison gritted her teeth, "No, he's not."

"Huh," was all he said before taking a drag.

Allison was about to use the opportunity to quickly extract herself when she got a whiff of the smoke wafting from his cigarette, making her hesitate.

Because for the first time in years, Allison had the sudden, strange desire to smoke.

"Everything all good between you two?"

"Uhh...," she stammered, caught off guard by his abrupt and intrusive question, "why do you ask that?"

Rodney shrugged.

"Haven't really seen him around a lot lately. Just you, looking a little sad," he took another drag, letting his words settle. "Plus..."

Allison followed his gaze as it flickered to the now bare ring finger of her left hand.

She glanced up sharply, taken aback by Rodney's astute observations, and stared into the heavily lined face quietly watching hers, his eyebrows lifted in expectation as he inhaled more smoke.

"We, um," she paused, closing her eyes to let out a frustrated sigh before continuing, "we're just taking some time apart at the moment."

Rodney nodded as if he figured as much, "Sorry to hear that. Hope you two can work things out."

While his tone was polite, it did not sound particularly sincere.

"Yeah, well," she sighed again, crossing her arms, "I guess we'll see."

The feelings of anxiety and sadness Allison had spent the previous thirty minutes walking off began to needle her again, and when Rodney exhaled another puff of smoke, her eyes fixated on the cigarette in his hand as the urge to let the calming effects of nicotine soothe her flared.

Rodney's eyebrows drew together upon noticing the way Allison's attention shifted to the Newport clutched between his fingers.

"You want one?" He offered.

"Huh?" She murmured, her gaze refocusing on him. "Oh, no thank you."

"You sure? I got plenty more."

Allison waved her hands, "That's okay, I..."

But Rodney had already dug the pack of Newports out of his shirt pocket and flipped it open to offer its contents.

Allison hesitantly glanced down at the open pack, fighting the urge to light one up.

"I really shouldn't..."

"Why not? Seems like you could use one."

She gnawed on her lip, unsure.

"Go on," Rodney urged.

Allison's blue eyes lifted to meet his dark ones, the firm encouragement she found there prompting her to reach out and nimbly slide a single cigarette out of the pack.

Fuck it, why not, she thought.

"Thanks, Rodney."

"Mhm," he murmured.

Rodney handed over his lighter as Allison brought the butt between her lips, and when she lit the other end and inhaled a tentative lungful of smoke, several drunken, late night college memories came flooding back.

Allison shut her eyes and slowly exhaled a contented sigh.

"Good?"

She opened her eyes to find Rodney smirking at her.

"Yes, it is, actually," she took a second, deeper drag.

"Wouldn't have took you for a smoker."

"I'm not," Allison dismissed.

"Coulda fooled me," he watched with singular, pointed focus as she inhaled smoke in one long, smooth pull from the cigarette.

Allison shrugged, "Okay, yeah, in college I'd smoke after I went out drinking or whatever, but never really when I was sober."

"Ain't that how it goes? Liquor loosens you up enough to embrace your vices with open arms."

"That's true," Allison nodded, puffing on her cigarette. "So what's your vice then, Rodney?"

The older man's lips drew back in a slick grin; he snorted, dark eyes glinting as they found hers, "Sex."

His answer, so blatant and crude, caught her off guard, and Allison's eyes went round as she felt her body flush with heat.

She choked on some of the smoke caught in her throat, and a minor coughing fit ensued.

Rodney chuckled in amusement as she clamped a hand over her mouth to cough into.

"My fault, didn't mean to be so blunt about it. Just being honest," the man admitted. "Could never stop myself from chasing a good time with a beautiful woman."

Allison kept her mouth covered as she avoided eye contact, cheeks still bright red.

"It's fine, Rodney," she told him between short, bursting coughs. "I did ask after all."

The end of his cigarette flared brightly as Rodney inhaled from it, still smirking as he observed her flummoxed response.

"Anyway," Allison continued, finally recovering her faculties. "I, uh, should really get going."

"You haven't even finished that cigarette yet," the man pointed out, nodding toward the half-smoked Newport still lit in her hand.

"I know, but it's already late, and I need to be getting to bed soon. Don't want to get too amped up."

The excuse was an obvious one, but Rodney didn't push it further.

"Alright, well you have a good night, then. And sweet dreams, too," he added with a wink.

Allison stretched her lips in a tight smile, "Goodnight, Rodney, and thanks again for the cigarette."

She held up the Newport, which he acknowledged by inclining his head, and walked away.

When Allison was around the corner of the next building, she spotted a trash can nearby and stopped to stub the cigarette out on its black metal exterior before tossing it inside.

Having been years since she'd smoked, the distantly familiar nicotine buzz powered Allison as she strode back to her apartment, ruminating on her encounter with Rodney.

She couldn't believe what he'd said, so overt and crass. It had disoriented her, something Rodney had apparently been amused by, and Allison recalled how he'd once playfully admitted to getting his kicks out of teasing her, although when he'd done it'd been in a much less obnoxious manner.

Allison visualized the way Rodney had smiled down at her in that sleazy way while shamelessly proclaiming his lecherous habit of pursuing women for sex, and a strong shiver passed over her body, leaving her heart rate elevated and goosebumps prickling along her skin.

She tried to shake it off, blaming the strong effects of the nicotine for being so unsettling, but it took a little while to be fully free of the odd sense of disruption her conversation with Rodney had caused her.

------

When her phone lit up with a new text notification, Allison briefly paused applying her mascara to glance down at where it lay on the bathroom counter.

"On my way," she read before resuming the gentle darkening of her eyelashes at a slightly faster rate.

Two solemn weeks into summer break and Allison was on the brink of coming undone.

With her friends at work all day and the sudden absence of what she had planned on doing to fill those empty two months, Allison was left to aimlessly wallow in sadness and pity.

She spent that first weekend deep cleaning the apartment, clearing the dining table of anything wedding related, and reorganizing everything from the pantry to the closet.

But that still left her with so much time left to just drift untethered amongst the debris of her life, and Allison was frankly sick of it.

She was tired of feeling sad and alone, of laying around with nothing to do but wait for Ben to make a decision about what the hell he wanted.

Despite the uptick in how frequently they'd been communicating, Ben had given no real indication as to what kind of resolution he was approaching, or if he was even close to one.

And Allison's feeling of anxiety and anguish had begun to gradually give way to frustration and ire.

So when her older sister had gingerly suggested that the two of them plus a couple friends go out to dinner, Allison, after six weeks of rejecting all types of social engagement, heartily agreed.

It lifted her spirits more than she'd expected, proving to be just what she needed to help pull her out of the deep slump she'd been trapped in, even if only slightly.

She'd gone shopping to buy a new dress for the occasion, and got her honey blonde highlights touched up too, wanting and needing a little pick me up.

Finished with her hair and make-up, Allison moved into the bedroom to get dressed, then stood admiring herself in the mirror afterward.

Her recent purchase was a bit more risqué than what she normally wore. The fitted, black halter mini dress hugged her body tightly while simultaneously showing it off through a short hemline and a low cut bodice.

After pairing it with matching open toed heels, Allison decided, out of desire to daringly reveal a bit more cleavage, to pull her curled hair back into a loose ponytail, the ends of which brushed against the bare skin of her exposed back.