Killer Genius 2: Attack of the Gym Rats

The gym had come to life with clients, Beasties and early morning talk shows on the cardio area monitors by 5:50am. Exhausted from the lack of sleep and comforted by the normalcy, Janice managed to feel safe enough to take a nap. Because there were no spin or yoga classes, Sundays were usually an autopilot kind of day. Her nap wouldn’t be interrupted for about a half-hour later.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” Timothy the janitor had been making his usual rounds, sweeping up debris and emptying small wastebaskets into a much larger one on wheels, when he’d barged in on her. In his defense, the blinds were down and the lights were low, so Timothy had assumed she hadn’t come in yet. When he opened the door, Janice jolted awake and stood up straight so fast that she sent her office chair slamming into the wall behind her.

Her heart was pounding, but seeing as how she’d managed to scare the middle-aged West Indian man almost as much as he scared her, she maintained her polite demeanor. “That’s all right, Timothy. No harm done.”

“Child, I swear I did not know you were in here! I’ve been here since a quarter to six. Normally, you’re at the front desk around this time.” Not forgetting that he was in her office for a reason, Timothy stepped forward and took a few swipes at her office floor with his broom. “You look sleepy as hell, girl! You good?

“No, I’m not feeling so great,” Janice retrieved her chair and sat back down. “But it’s only because I didn’t sleep very well.”

Timothy observed that there was nothing in her wastebasket and began his exit. “Next time that happens, you need to give me a call. My cousin, Ray, he got some shit! You’ll have the best sleep of your life.”

Had Timothy waited for a response, he would have heard Janice say, “Probably no good sleep for a while, I’m afraid.”

An alert ‘beep’ sounded from the computer in front of her, compelling her to hit a few keys and move the mouse around until she found an email marked ‘Urgent’.

Need to have a staff meeting today. Just some new procedural stuff to go over. Unfortunately, I need to ask everyone to be there, so we will do it at 3pm, just before the shift change. Nightshift will not be paid for the extra hour, but will get an extra hour off during the week. If today is your day off, please phone in and we’ll put you on speaker.

“Janice. Where is Pamela?” He could tell he had frightened her, but was unaware of how deep the fear ran.

“Uh, we switched shifts today. What do you need, Jon?” She was speaking faster than usual.

“I did not mean to surprise you. I just need to ask if I can borrow the key to the supply closet. I can’t seem to find the 16-pound medicine ball.”

“Sure. Just give me a second.” Janice reached into her pocket and fumbled with her keys, trying to remove the supply closet key from the ring.

“Janice, I am just going to the closet. I’m coming right back. I’m not going to steal your house keys. Of course, if you gave me house keys, I could be waiting for you with dinner tonight.”

Janice finally frees the key from the ring and holds it out to him. “Jon, please, just take the key.”

“You not feeling good?”

“I mean, yesterday, you threaten me with trip to Human Resources, when I make joke about taking you out. Now, I make joke about waiting for you at your apartment and I get almost nothing.” He chuckled at her visible discomfort.

“Maybe I figured you’ll get the hint eventually.”

“You shouldn’t be so guarded. I’m actually a very nice man.”

“I’m sure you are.” She struggled to sound calm and not betray the sheer incredulousness she felt hearing this maniac describe himself as a ‘nice man’.

“One day, you will get to know me and you will see. I promise you.” His smile was sincere, yet sickening for Janice to see. Once Jon left to search out the medicine ball, Janice sighed and shook her head slowly.

“Sweet Jesus, get me through this week.”

While many generalizations are not always fair, or truthful, it can often be assumed that any place of employ will contain at least one type A personality, base model ‘company man’. As far as Beastmode Fitness was concerned, that man was Site Manager Mike Redboard.

Mike consistently won over the owners of Beastmode by doing one thing well; protecting their money as if it were his own and there was none to spare. Even though Beastmode made record profits over the last ten quarters and showed only growth in all areas, Mike helped to further drive those numbers by managing employee expectations and keeping those same employees feeling just insecure enough about their standings with the company that they don’t question their expectations being managed. And one of the paths to the latter goal, or so he came to realize in a ham-handed, self-taught manner that encompassed his six years at Beastmode Fitness, was surprise meetings to discuss things outsiders might consider banal.

“Okay people, I know we said we were going to come up with a strategy about the clients taking the towels. Unfortunately, we’ve received some complaints on the website about one of you confronting a client in front of other clients. So, the note from the front office is to continue to try to save the towels, but be more discreet.”

A mix of eye-rolling, muttering and dark chucking ensued amongst the gathering of day and night shift employees who had filed into the conference room for the 3pm meeting. Mike paused to see if the ‘Beastie’ whose behavior had prompted the online complaint might confess. When that didn’t happen, he moved onto the next topic.

“My next order of business is that something appears to be wrong with the security control system in the basement. It seems to be going in and out. I don’t know if it’s a computer malfunction or if it’s connected to the other matter that I’m about to bring up, but it is up to you guys to maintain the system and call in a repair person if something is wrong.”

Janice tried not to notice the Ratkevich siblings sharing a knowing look, or the smirk on Jon’s face.

“Mike, no one really checks the security system because people died down there,” Pamela interrupted. This prompted almost everyone in the room to look in her direction, especially, Jon, Clarissa and Janice.

“Pam, what are you talking about?” Mike asked.

“Years ago, before the neighborhood was gentrified, this was a nightclub. They used to have strippers and illegal card games for crack dealers in the basement. Once there was a big shoot-out and 18 people died. I think because of that it feels weird down there. That’s why we haven’t been going. We are freaked out.” Pamela explained as the black Beasties all looked at her with mild admiration. Look at the white girl knowing local history.

“Be that as it may, Pam, we paid a lot of money for a state of the art security system that is supposed to be providing video to the front office. That video is not getting recorded and it’s a problem. So, someone is going to have to be brave, check the device from time to time, all while reminding themselves that there are no such things as ghosts. I don’t really care who, so long as it gets done. Does everyone understand that?”

Everyone in the conference room either gave a half-hearted, ‘okay’ or nodded quietly.

“Well, so much for that,” Jon whispered to his sister in Russian.

“Maybe,” Clarissa noticed that Janice glanced at her, but thought nothing of it.

“Now, the last thing on the agenda before I let you guys go, is our policy of people being here after hours.”

Jon and Clarissa looked slightly alarmed, but only Janice noticed.

“Look, I know things happen. Subway delays and whatnot. I know there was a big ruckus on several Brooklyn lines last night, for example. However, the company guidelines are very clear about this sort of thing. Once we close shop, we go home. Now, the front office has noticed a lot of log-ins at a lot of strange hours. Pam?”

“Who has the password we gave you?”

“A couple of people. Jamal. Henry. They’ve each had to open for me that week I had tendonitis.”

Mike cast a quick look at Jamal before continuing. “Well someone has been using your password after the night shift bails. See me after the meeting and we are going to get you a new one.”

As Pamela glanced at Jamal, the nineteen-year-old quickly reminds everyone that he’s nineteen by taking umbrage, without waiting to be officially accused of anything. “Yo! I have never spent the night in this place, man! Don’t look at me!”

“Well, someone has been making themselves at home,” Pamela said.

“Then ask Henry. I don’t know nothing.” Jamal shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t. Henry is off today,” Pam answered. In her heart, she knew she was going to end up apologizing to Jamal, especially if she ever wanted him to cover a morning shift in her absence again. But she also knew she could not afford to appear too glib about employee regulations if she hoped to keep her shift supervisor position.

“Henry? Are you with us?” Mike shouted at the speakerphone in the middle of the conference room table. There was no response. “Well, you guys can talk to Henry offline. Whatever. The main thing is that it needs to stop.”

Pamela shot Mike a skeptical look. “Mike, clear something up. What did you mean by ‘my password’? Isn’t there just one password?”

“No. You and Janice were given different passwords. Every time either one of you punches in the code, or someone uses one of your codes, it gets fed to the main computer log back at the front office. I mean, I know there has been some occasional weirdness. Maybe on occasion, some of you have been out partying and stopped by to use the bathroom. It doesn’t matter. The point is, it stops today, people. Especially after whatever the hell you guys were doing in here last night.”

“You used both passwords?” Clarissa hissed to her brother in Russian.

“No! I only know Pamela’s password.” Jon’s eyes were the widest they had been the entire meeting.

Equally as large and just as alarmed were Janice’s eyes, as it dawned on her that she had to get Mike and Pamela to stop talking about passwords.

“Mike, what do you mean? What about last night?”

“I’m sure whatever happened, there won’t be a repeat of what happened last night, so let’s just say we move on, huh?” Janice blurted as fast as she could.

Jon remembered Janice’s apparent anxiety from earlier that morning.

“Both passwords were used last night. And Janice, no sense in denying you were here, since you sent your resignation e-mail from your office computer around 3:37 this morning. Wish we could have talked about whatever is bugging you before you did that, by the way.”

As all eyes found Janice, Jamal decided to be proactive. “Oh shit, you’re quitting? Can I get your locker? Mine is too small, for real.”

Pamela was not pleased. “You’re quitting? When were you going to tell me?”

“I…um… Just decided this morning.”

“Shit!” Clarissa snapped in Russian.

As everyone’s gaze turned to Clarissa, Jon explained her outburst.

“What my sister means to say is that Janice will be missed. Never seeing her again, it will be difficult.”

Most of the ‘Beasties’ had never heard either Jon or Clarissa say anything nice about anyone before and appeared taken aback by the sudden wave of affectionate verbiage.

Clarissa recovered and followed her brother’s lead. “Yes, that is exactly what I meant. In fact, I think we should throw Janice a going away party tonight.”

A mild, yet still surprised mumbling arose from the Beasties.

“That’s very nice of you, but I would rather just leave quietly. No harm, no foul, no problems. There’s no need to get excited or do anything crazy.”

“You’re being entirely too dismissive.” Clarissa said as she glared at Janice in a way that might easily have been mistaken for lust.

“Don’t worry, Janice. We will figure out the best way to send you off.” Jon added.

If anyone else said anything, Janice, Jon and Clarissa did not hear it.

Janice pushed her way out of the conference room so urgently, everyone assumed she had to go to the bathroom. That is, everyone except Jon and Clarissa Ratkevich.

Clarissa moved fast as well, marching straight to the front desk and the gym’s sound system. As a confused Beastie looked on, Clarissa turned the knob on the stereo to ten and grabbed a mike that was only to be used to page people to the front desk. “All right everyone, time to get motivated! If anyone wants to sign up for personal training sessions with either myself or my fantastic brother, please walk right up to the front desk. There is no time to lose if you want a summer sexy body!”

“What is that annoying bitch doing?’ Pamela wondered aloud.

“Maybe she thinks this is Club Med!” Jamal shouted over the music.

Mike, who had almost made it to the front door, overheard Pamela and Jamal mocking Clarissa and chose to double back to defend her. “I think Clarissa is being a go-getter. If more of you borrowed a page from her book, instead of treating this place like a hotel, who knows how good things could be around here.”

While Pamela was mortified that Mike had overheard them, Jamal remained unimpressed. “Nice seeing you, Mike! Have a safe trip back to Manhattan!”

Back in her office, Janice thought about calling 911, then opted for grabbing her personal things out of her desk. Only dimly aware of the distraction that Clarissa had produced, she was convinced that she would be able to get back upstairs, get to the front door and safely to a police station without either Ratkevich being able to stop her. She underestimated Jon’s resolve.

As she turned to exit the office, Jon appeared in front of her like a magic trick. In two fluid motions, he simultaneously kicked her office door closed and grabbed her by the throat. Because her blinds were still closed, no one outside the office noticed anything.

“I can’t admit this to my sister, but I would have liked to have maybe had sex with you one time, before killing you. I do enjoy black women and their big asses. Oh well.”

Thinking he can strangle her with only one hand, he proceeded to do just that. It turned out to be a mistake, as Janice still had her keys in her hand. Her strike nearly liquefied Jon’s right eye, causing the big man to scream.

“You fuckin’ bitch!” Jon let go of her and grabbed his face, giving her ample time to kick him in his shin. He screamed again and stumbled back, but still seemed to have the presence of mind to block the door.

With the keys still clasped between her fingers, she picked up her desktop monitor and hurled it through the window in front of her. Glass shattered and blinds tore out of their housings and everyone working out on the lower level turned and looked.

Emboldened now that she had witnesses, Janice took another swipe at Jon. He managed to move out of the way, but the point had been made; she wasn’t going down without a fight.

Jon turned and ran past puzzled clients, ignoring anyone offering help and nearly knocking down anyone who didn’t get out of his way fast enough. Once upstairs, he ran to the front desk, where his sister stopped her phony cheerleader routine at the sight of his bleeding face. “We have to go!” he cried in Russian.

“Hey guys, what the hell?” Mike tried to intercept Jon and Clarissa in the doorway only for Clarissa to knee him in the groin. As he fell to the ground, they pushed him out of the way and exited. By the time Janice made it to the top of the main level stairs, the Ratkevich siblings were gone.

Out of breath and still shaken up from nearly being murdered at work, Janice could only think of one thing to say. “Someone call the fucking police!”

Except for a few people in the cardio station wearing over-sized headphones, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at Janice. When it became apparent that she had everyone’s attention but not their understanding, she continued. “They’re murderers! They just tried to kill me!”

Mike picked himself off the ground, as Pamela turned down the music just in time for everyone in the gym to hear an SUV’s engine rev up, immediately followed by the sound of screeching tires.

“Is that why you’re quitting?” Jamal asked as the engine noise faded away.

Only Mike seemed to understand the urgency of the matter, if only so much as how it related to himself. “Yes, I’d like to report an assault on my person,” he said into his cellphone.

Pamela made her way to Janice. “Sweetie, why would they, or anyone for that matter, want to kill you?”

Janice shook her head in frustration. “Because of something I can’t even fucking prove.”

While Pamela put a comforting arm around Janice, many of the gym goers started making their way to the locker rooms. Many of them were still getting dressed or in the showers when the blare of police sirens filled the air.