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“Hey, hey, hey,” I crooned, grabbing her shoulder to assure her that she was safe with me. “You’re okay. Your father’s not here. And even if he was, I wouldn’t let him hurt you.”
She looked up at me, her nose and cheeks pink from the crying. I had seen her cry before. In anger and frustration. But I had never seen her weep in such distress.
Something in me wanted to protect her, to never allow anything or anyone to make her cry like that again. It almost made me want to hunt down her father.
She bit her lower lip to stop the sob that was about to come out. Then she threw her hands around me, holding on to me like she was hanging on for dear life, her hand fisting in the fabric of my blazer.
“I heard you mention your father,” I pointed out when she didn’t say anything else. I couldn’t help but snake my arms around her, my hands stroking her back, praying that it would calm her down. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She sniffled, her breathing slowly coming back to normal. Then she pulled away from me, wiping her cheeks with the sleeves of her top.
I waited for her to answer because I didn’t want to push her and make her feel uncomfortable.
Then my phone rang, the thing vibrating in my hands. I saw that it was the head of building management, perhaps finally coming to his senses to inform me what was happening.
And although I promised myself not to touch my phone when I was with Reagan, I knew that I needed to take this call. So I stood from my crouching position, and with the flashlight still on, I answered the call.
“What the fuck is happening, Bobby?” I snapped before the manager could say anything.
I checked Reagan on the floor, and she had brought her knees to her chest, her arms on top of them while her head rested on her forearms.
“There’s something wrong with the generator, sir.” Bobby had been the building manager for over a year now. And usually, he did a pretty good job at making sure everything went well. I didn’t know why this elevator issue had not been addressed.
“No shit, Bob,” I snapped. It wasn’t my habit to snap at my employees even when they were in the wrong, but I was pissed right now. So sue me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Something with the electrical control system, sir. Tech support has arrived and they’re working on it to get it started.”
“Look, Bobby,” I said. “I have an employee here who’s having a panic attack in the elevator, and I’m supposed to assure her that this hunk of metal will start working soon, but I don’t want to lie to her. So tell me how long until they get the generator back up.”
“You’re trapped in the elevator, sir?” Bobby asked, cursing under his breath, genuinely sounding concerned for my well-being. But in reality, he knew that my dilemma was his responsibility because that backup generator was also his responsibility. And he shouldn’t have waited for a power outage to make sure that the thing was in mint condition.
“Damn right,” I hissed. “So tell me a timeframe.”
I heard him relay my questions to the technicians in the background. And one of the latter answered with something I couldn’t decipher.
“Sir.”
“Well?”
“They said they could get the generator up and running in five minutes and the elevator in six.”
“Good. Now let’s pray that your guess is right,” I said rudely. I wasn’t going to fire him, and I probably owed him an apology for the way I had just talked to him, but right now, I was willing to do anything to get Reagan out of there.
I hung up the phone and walked towards where Reagan was sitting. I squatted down to sit in the empty space beside her, settling my phone between us, the flashlight casting a light on the ceiling.
I heard Reagan sniff, her head still down. When she felt my warmth beside her, she squared her shoulders and straightened her legs like mine.
Then she sighed deeply before resting her head on my shoulder, her hand crossed against her chest.
“Reagan?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you good over there?”
“Hmm.”
I was taking that as a yes, so I crossed my legs on the ankle, patiently waiting for both the elevator to turn on and for Reagan to say something.
