She dipped her chin. A dollop of dried toothpaste perched atop the mound of her left breast.
“Damn it,” she mumbled. “Thanks.”
She frantically rubbed the chalky mess, but the silence in the elevator made her glance his way. He watched her with interest, a little too much interest. Instead of finishing, she folded her arms to hide the mess. She’d deal with this later, without an audience.
His demeanor switched as deep lines burrowed along his forehead. “Oh, shit.” He patted his pant pockets on both sides, front and back, and took two long steps to the panel. He hit “G” several times with his thumb.
Once was all he needed, and she’d been about to let him know, but her own impatient behavior earlier in the garage made her stop.
An exaggerated groan thundered from gears overhead. Thump! Boom! Clunk! The steel box vibrated. Veronica swayed. Thud! The elevator stopped with a jerk. Veronica’s arms flailed. Her feet lifted from the floor. Her purse slipped off her arm. No control, she slammed into the other passenger, sending his hat flying. He wrapped his arms around her waist, but the force of her body propelled them both into the wall. They slid to the floor. Veronica sat posed on his lap, like a ventriloquist’s dummy.
“Jesus. You okay?” His blue eyes widened and blinked a few times as they stared into hers.
Move. Move. Move.
She inhaled, filled her lungs with air, but couldn’t ignore the protective way he still held onto her. “Yes. I’m fine.”
She wiggled to get off and he released her. She shimmied away and pushed herself to the opposite wall, where she sat on the floor and tried to regroup.
“Sorry I knocked you over.” She glanced up and followed the direction of his eyes, right to the spot where her skirt had lifted to the tippy-top of one thigh. Grabbing the hem of her dress, she tugged it down to her knees and glared at him.
He looked up without an ounce of guilt and ran his hand through his black hair, setting the strands askew. “Don’t worry about it.”
Concern etched the corners of his eyes as his gazed skipped over her. He stood and extended his arm. “Let me help you up.”
She shook her head and pressed her hand to the floor. “I’m fine.”
Once up, she smoothed her skirt, adjusted the sash at her waist, and swiped at the caked on toothpaste, loosening a few crumbs. “Next time you decide to change floors mid-ride, you could just hit the button once.”
He raised a brow but said nothing and walked over to retrieve his hat. Replacing it on his head, he went to the panel, pressed emergency several times, and started pounding on the steel doors. “Hey! Anybody out there? We’re stuck in the elevator!”
She stared, silently willing him to stop yelling. Hysteria never solved anything.
“Help! Anybody?” He waited a few seconds and turned to her. “I can’t believe this. I’ve spent the past ten hours at airports, left my cell phone in the car, unless I mistakenly left it back at the United Airlines lounge at O’Hare. And now...now this.”
He turned around and made a fist, one step from giving the door another pounding. Veronica searched the recesses of her memory for the details from an article she’d read online about elevator safety.
“You should relax. Once you push the emergency button, there’s not much more we can do.”
He glanced back and chuffed a disagreeable sound, right before hitting the door several times. After a moment, he gave up and paced in the small space.
She fiddled with the smooth beads of her pearl necklace, but they didn’t bring their usual sense of calm. The stranger continued his random patrol, his thoughts his own.
Veronica recalled the article details. She stepped to the door and peeked through the crack. “There’s light up there.” She glanced up to see where they had gotten stuck and returned to the crack, hoping to gauge how close they were to signs of life. “We’re close to the fifth floor. Someone should be here soon.”
He moved behind her, too close for her comfort. In the space above her head, he pressed his eye to the crack.
She gritted her teeth and stepped aside. “I’d be happy to move.”
He didn’t respond, only banged on the door again and yelled, “Can anybody hear us?”
She sighed, loudly, hoping to make a point. He continued banging. When he stopped, she cleared her throat.
He turned, raised his brows. “Yes?”
“Relaxing in a crisis lets you think clearly. You might want to give it a try.”
His mouth slackened and eyebrows rose, as if nobody had ever asked him to chill. Looking up, he studied the ceiling. “I’ll bet that panel pops out. I could help you shimmy up there.” His gaze dropped to the lower half of her dress, and he wrestled with a smile. “Or you help me up.”
“I’m not doing either. Want to know the first rule of elevator safety?” She tipped her head but didn’t wait for his answer. “Stay put. Climbing out is the last thing you should do. So save your energy, Bruce Willis. We could be in here a while.”
“Bruce Willis?”
“In Die Hard. Wasn’t he in an elevator when he fought those terrorist?” She again brushed at the toothpaste remains. “Not that I typically watch his movies.”
He chuckled and the frustration evident on his face slipped away as he considered her for a moment. He took a step toward her. “Sorry. I’ll calm down. You’re ri—”
The elevator lurched. Veronica grabbed his arms at the same time he reached for hers. They steadied themselves for a few seconds, their eyes locked. The elevator smoothed and each let go.
She leaned over and picked her purse up from the floor just as the doors opened at the fourth floor.
He motioned with a sweep of his hand. “Ladies first.”
She nodded and hurried out, greeted by a short man wearing maintenance overalls.
“You two okay?” he asked.
She hoisted her purse over her shoulder. “I am, thank you. Which way to the stairs?”
He pointed down the hallway.
“Thanks.” She hurried down the hall. If she dropped Duncan’s package off fast, she might still catch the keynote speaker’s address.
“Hey?”
She stopped and turned at the sound of her fellow passenger’s voice.
He studied her with a curious stare, then grinned, kind of sweet, as if they’d become best buddies during their quest for elevator survival. “Bye. Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, right. Good-bye.” She rushed inside the stairwell, flustered but not really sure why. What else could go wrong today?
* * * *
Trent Jamieson wedged his fingers alongside the passenger seat of his car and breathed a relieved sigh when they brushed against the smooth edges of his cell phone. How it ended up there during his drive to the office from Bradley Airport he’d never know.
He retrieved the device and hit the “on” button, but nothing happened. Well, a phone with a dead battery was better than one sitting at O’Hare. He tucked it in his pocket and got on the elevator, despite what just happened. Even in his crappy life, with all his crappy luck, he didn’t think he’d get stuck twice in one day.
Maybe the stalled elevator was a foreshadowing of his future. The powers above