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I force a smile onto my face as I hear some version of what my colleagues have joked about a thousand times.
I really need to work on keeping my feelings off my face, I guess. For a while, I was amused by how everyone noticed and teased me about Kyle. It was a way to stand out and fit in at a new job, and everyone found it funny.
Except for me. I’m not laughing now.
But this is my job, and Linda is technically my superior.
“They’re in your closet?”
Linda nods. “Top shelf, clear box. I stashed them up there after they were delivered.”
“Okay. I’ll be back soon.”
I cast one last look at the stage, then turn and rush toward the exit.
Of course, the traffic is insane from the commotion of the event. It takes twenty minutes until I’m anywhere close to Empire’s offices. I pay the driver and climb out instead of waiting out the last few blocks, braving the heat to save a little time. The weekend security guard is a stranger to me, different from Jasper’s usual smiling face.
I tap my foot impatiently as I wait for the elevator, hurrying inside as soon as the doors open.
It feels like it takes forever to reach the right floor.
I head straight for Linda’s desk, setting my phone and access card down on the ledge and patting my pockets for the key she gave me. I walk into the main office and open her closet door. It hits the edge of the heavy glass door that separates reception from the rest of the offices. With an annoyed huff, I shut it, then reopen the closet. I’m trying to be fast, and so it feels like everything is taking twice as long. I locate the bin of passes, lock the closet door, and realize I just massively screwed up.
How many interns have left the office on their lunch hour and forgotten their card, only to find Linda gone from her desk and that they’re locked out?
Rookie error.
One I just made.
I try the handle anyway, hoping for the impossible. When it doesn’t budge, I press my forehead against the cool glass, leaving a mark on the immaculate surface.
Fuck.
I can see my phone and key card sitting on the ledge of Linda’s desk, taunting me.
I weigh my limited options.
Someone will come into the offices eventually. Everyone’s working today. Plus, I know a cleaning crew comes through here on Saturdays from other weekends when special events have come up. But the concert is chaotic. It will be a while before anyone notices I haven’t returned with the passes and before anyone is headed back here after it ends.
I rap my knuckles against the glass, testing its thickness. I have no idea how much force it takes to break a solid panel like this. I’m not sure I’m physically capable of it, and I have no clue how expensive it would be to replace. It’s not like I’m fleeing from a fire and desperate to escape. There’s food, water, and a working bathroom. Couches. Internet. Breaking the glass sounds drastic. Not to mention, I’m picturing myself falling through and landing on a pile of sharp edges.
I glance at the phone sitting on the nearest desk, considering if I should call 911. That’s literally the only number I have memorized. I imagine one of my brothers—or worse, my mother—showing up, ready for an emergency, only to find me sitting, looking sheepish. I decide that’s a last resort too.
Which leaves me with nothing to do, except walk through the empty hallways and pray for a minor miracle.
* * *
I don’t make it back to the park until after six, over an hour after the fundraiser was supposed to end. I wasso closeto calling the police after all when the cleaning crew finally showed up and opened the door.
“I’m so sorry,” I say as soon as I find Linda in the milling crowd backstage.
A tent has been set up with drinks and hors d’oeuvres for the lucky few invited to the after-party.
“I had to shut the reception door to open the closet door, and I’d left my card on your desk. So, I was—”
“Locked out,” Linda finishes, realizing. “It’s all right. Been a crazy day for all of us. I’ll get these to security. Carl was looking for you, by the way,” she calls over one shoulder before rushing away with the box of passes.
I scan the crowd, looking for Kyle. All I find is Carl Bergman.
