I think the intial meeting of the male & female leads in a story is very important. Sometimes my characters have known one another for a long time. Sometimes they meet under good circumstances. Other times, like in this story, their meeting is less than fortunate.
Elevators are trouble. I’m not talking about their mechanics, like they’re going to fall down the shaft at some inopportune time – though that’s always a possibility. I’m mean waiting for them to get me where I’m going. I hate being surrounded by a lot of smelly people early in the morning on the way to work.
I really resent having to wait for an elevator. I can stand in the middle of the foyer with banks of elevators on either side, eight in all and still wait continuously for a ride up. I’ve gotten in the habit of mashing the buttons on all of them, standing poised in the middle of the foyer and sprinting for an open one the moment it arrives. This isn’t always the best approach, but it works better than standing in front of one and waiting, waiting, waiting…. Adds a bit of excitement, some spice, if you will, to the situation. A guy’s got to find some amusement somewhere in life, right?
Of course, with other people waiting in by the elevator, I usually have to dodge someone to get in. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve collided with morons who don’t look where I’m going. Sheesh. You’d think a man my size would be noticeable, but no. I’m six foot five, broad shouldered, muscular, jacked – unless my mirror lies to me. Some would call me conceited, and maybe I am a little, but I work hard for this body. I think that gives me bragging rights.
Anyway, getting back to the elevators. Cell phone use in and around the elevators should be against the law. Not only do those people not pay attention when the doors open, they keep talking while they’re on the elevator. They block the panels, nine times out of ten, and you can’t get their attention to push a button. I sometimes reach around them and mash, I don’t care anymore. I have enough trouble getting to work on time, I don’t need some idiot with exhibitionist tendencies making me later than I already am.
Today was no different. It’s Monday, I’m slightly hungover and I’m pissed. All the elevators are on the top floor and nothing is coming down. It’s too crowded to play my waiting game, so I’m stuck standing by this Diva on a cell phone listening to her talk dirty to some guy on the other end. At least I’m assuming she’s talking dirty. It’s a language I don’t understand. It sounds sweet, sultry and nasty and makes me think how damn long it’s been since I got laid.
“Yo, Brodie!” My friend Stan waved to me from the third elevator which had just arrived. His dark head popped back from the opening as someone else walked in.
Going behind Phone Princess, I sprinted toward the elevator as he held it open for me. Seventeen other people were also trying to get onto the same elevator, but I beat them to it, shoving men and women aside like bowling pins.
Just as the door closed, Phone Princess, still talking dirty, slipped into the elevator right in front of the buttons. We all started telling her the floors we wanted and she didn’t respond. Meanwhile, the elevator was going exactly nowhere.
“Miss,” I tried being nice, really I did. “Excuse me, Miss, ten please.” I couldn’t politely reach around her because I was going to end up with a handful of tits instead of hitting the buttons. I squinched up, pulling my massive shoulders into as small a space as I could and waited.
Others around me were trying to get her attention, but she was so fixated on her phone call, she didn’t notice. Finally, it dawned on her that the elevator wasn’t moving. She pressed her button and went back to her call. Twelve? She’s going to twelve – great.
I admit, I did the wrong thing, but I’d had it. I snapped. No sex for three months, very little sleep, hungover and I’m simply not that wonderful, understanding guy my friends and family know and love. I’d reached my limit and I turn into an asshole. I had a choice of shoving her aside or taking her phone away. Since she was only five six or so, maybe a hundred and fifteen pounds, I wasn’t going to shove the woman. So I snaked her phone. Suddenly, my big beefy hand worked its way through the crowd, grabbed her phone, hung up and handed it back to her.
“Look, lady, we all have places to go. Could you possibly hit the buttons or move your cute little ass out of the way so one of us can?”
“Excuse me? That’s my phone! That was a very important call!”
“And I have a very important appointment with my desk in less than five minutes. I’d really like to get there.”
I got a few cheers for that as people started calling out their floors. I reached past her flabbergasted face and punched them in. The elevator slowed at four. We lost a few there. At six, a few more. By the time we got to my floor, ten, it was only the diva, my friend Stan and me.
She’d called back her buddy and was babbling along, shooting nasty glances in my direction. So she was telling her boyfriend about the jerk on the elevator, I didn’t care. I was going to be late and I really needed a cup of coffee before running to my desk.
The second the door opened, Stan sprinted to his office which is directly across from the elevators. No coffee yet, I figured, as I started out the door. The diva followed me from the elevator, which continued to the twelfth floor without her.
“Excuse me.” Her tone was not to be ignored.
Turning quickly, I looked a little sheepish. “Look, Miss,” I tried to explain. “I’m about to be late.”
“I don’t really care, Mister Whatever. That was a very important call. Overseas, I might add, to a client in Milan. You had no right to do that.”
“And you had no right to stand in front of the elevator buttons where no one could reach them. I tried being nice, but you gave me no choice. Love to chat, but I’m now officially late. Grazie.” I saluted and dashed to my desk as the hands of the clock clicked to nine oh one.
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