I smile at my reflection and savor a thrill of excitement I haven’t felt in a long time. This story was supposed to be my career maker.
I thought it was dead. I thought that dream was behind me. Now that I can see again, I’m reminded that when I was a little girl dreaming of being a journalist, this was all I wanted.
This story of stolen art being returned to its rightful owner is a sign of the times. I’m going to fight for it.
I take a deep breath and step through the revolving door into the opulent lobby of his apartment building.
The soaring ceiling is adorned with sleek moldings and dotted by a row of glittering crystal chandeliers that reflect on the black marble floor and gives me the sense of walking on a field of stars as I cross the lobby.
In the center of the space, an atrium serves as sanctuary for a vibrant arrangement of glossy-leafed ficus trees ringed by an explosion of lush seasonal blooms.
The air is infused with a subtle fragrance, perhaps a hint of jasmine or sandalwood, that’s meant to enhance the feeling of tranquility. Soft music plays in the background, creating a serene ambiance as a trickle of residents pass through.
Plush seating areas are thoughtfully arranged, featuring sumptuous couches and armchairs upholstered in luxurious fabrics. Low coffee tables are adorned with fresh flowers and aesthetically pleasing stacks of coffee table books with luxury brand names on the spines.
I can imagine this place full of people in the evenings relaxing after work, safely ensconced from the real world and enjoying the fruits of their labor with their fellow uber-rich neighbors.
How the other half live.
I pass the sleek reception desk, manned by a concierge in gold-trimmed black livery. I smile at him like it’s something I’ve done a hundred times. He smiles back and doesn’t give me a second glance.
I make my way toward the elevators and duck into the mailroom.
A woman is rooting around in her postbox and wrangling a leash attached to the collar of a hyper little dog that’s straining to be free.
“They cram so much crap in here, right? Who’s still paying to mail out coupons?” she says over her shoulder at me.
“I know, right?” I smile and nod and pretend to rifle around my purse, my head down until I hear the clink of her mailbox closing.
“Come on, Mr. T.” She scoops the dog up. I step out of their way as they pass. She smiles at me. “What perfume are you wearing? Yousmell divine.”
I adjust my sunglasses before I look in her direction with a generic smile plastered on. “I grabbed it off my mother’s dresser. I couldn’t tell you.” I’ve worn the same perfume for five years, and normally I’m apt to share, but I’ve already been here longer than I intended and the last thing I need is for someone to remember me well enough to give a description.
“Ah well, that’s a pity. Have a nice day.” She walks past me and the dog and I make eye contact.
He growls at me like he knows I’m up to no good.
She chuckles. “He’s the meanest little dog ever.”
She puts him on her shoulder and pats his back like she’s burping a baby. “Say bye to the nice-smelling lady.”
He bares his teeth at me as they walk away and I flick the judgy canine the bird. I may be up to no good, but I’m on the side of right.
As soon as they’re out of sight, and I’m sure no one else is headed this way, I step into the front right-hand corner of the room, keeping my eyes on the door and feel the wall until I find what I'm looking for. I hook two fingers on the red fire alarm’s wall switch and pull it down.
I pull my baseball cap down to cover my forehead and then step out into the hallway, positioning myself diagonally from the door to the stairwell.
I’ve never laid eyes on The Wizard before, but I know it’s him as soon as I lay eyes on him. Dark, bald, smooth shaven, taller than average, slim but broad and draped in a black ankle-length tunic and black leather slippers. He looks like a villain.
He’s on the phone, head down tilted down, and most interestingly, holding hands with a woman who is so stunning I forget about him for a moment.
Dressed head to toe in expensive but subdued black, she looks like she could be one of the lifestyle influencers I follow on Instagram.
She’s not.
I’d remember if I’d seen this face before.
Flawless warm brown skin and high cheekbones that give her otherwise delicate face a feline quality. Her eyes are narrow and thick lashed. Her lips might have filler, but it’s so well done, only she and her doctor will know. She’s got the bluntest, fullest, most immaculate chin-length bob I’ve seen in my real life. It’s got to be wig or a sew-in because no one can possibly have strands of hair this immaculate and uniform.
