Find the beat…
Marty Jones
When I boarded on the twentieth floor, a steady beat of pain danced above my right eyebrow, a thumping ache filling my head. At least today I had the elevator to myself.
After I’d begun getting weird looks over my obsessive rides, I’d announced I was evaluating the building’s security system. Not that its anyone’s fucking business. So, okay, sometimes I need a little self-therapy. Make that, often. I don’t know shit about running a big company. But, dammit, I’m running a big company.
So, lots of times I board the elevator for a little sanity time. Smoke, Inc. is twenty floors up and if I push multiple buttons to slow the ride, I usually have a grip on my senses by the time the doors open on ground level. As for the elevator itself, there aren’t any real problems other than, in my opinion, the doors are open too long when the car stops on each floor, and the piped-in music must go.
I had a pile of paperwork waiting on my desk, Elaine, my office assistant, threatening to stay after clock-out-time to help me with it, and Noah March, a friend in hell, on his way to my office to make my life more miserable.
Shit. I had to get my paperwork done because I live in my office and no way do I want to entertain Elaine in my after-work hours. But my administrative assistant, secretary, or old harridan, whatever name fits her, knows I don’t want her hanging around and uses it to get work out of me.
Jesus, I’m such a fucking pussy. Resentment rose inside of me. I did not ask for any of this.
Unpleasant realities and my own short-comings had me grinding my teeth when I arrived on ground level. I braced myself for the inevitable company, and when the doors opened, I automatically stepped back, making room for incoming. Instead of entering the car and moving aside, the passenger stood between me and the buttons on the wall. I liked to look at the buttons. It helped me calm down.
Without shoving the body sideways, I couldn’t see squat. That, plus the insipid piano music droning from the hidden speakers, made the vein in my forehead pulse even harder.
“Twenty,” I growled and got nothing more than a nod. So much for reminding my fellow passenger he wasn’t riding alone. Denied the control panel, my interest switched to the person standing in front of it.
Maybe not a he. The knit cap pulled low left no clue about whether the wearer was man or woman. He/she fidgeted in front of me, as if feeling my stare. Tough shit, you should have moved. I leaned on the back wall and crossed my arms over my chest, analyzing the intruder.
There was a time when men wore the jeans and women wore… womanly stuff. I pondered that. A lot of things had changed and most of the time I felt like a whale beached in the middle of a four-lane highway.
I could feel my blood pressure rising and stared harder at the passenger. Denim jacket and jeans offered the same gender anonymity. Thick wool socks pulled high under laced-up work-boots completed the unisex outfit.
Male or female? And why do I care? Nevertheless, my gaze trailed upward, stopping when I reached hip high. Long legs ended where a nicely rounded ass began. Woman.
Who the hell is she? I hadn’t seen her during my recent elevator escapes. She was either a new hire in one of the offices or a visitor/client just here for the day. I leaned against the back wall speculating about the newbie. Probably heading up to one of the insurance offices.
Since she didn’t move, I continued my inspection.
Nice coat. Though it had spots worn shiny with age, it still looked good, fitting her shoulders and tapering in enough to hint at a narrow waist beneath, before it eased out again. I approved the sheepskin lining as I pondered her identity. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, she stepped from the elevator.
Huh. Didn’t see that coming. Surprised, I gazed at her as her long strides carried her toward Baby Dolls Escort Service. While I watched, her feet did a little skip as her shoulders swayed to a private beat. For once I didn’t mind the extended length the doors stayed open.
Guess she’s one of Maxine’s girls. Renting office space to an escort service in the company’s old building had been a financial decision. Smoke, Inc. had needed the money coming in and Baby Dolls Escort Service had needed a business headquarters.
After the old building burned, it had seemed only fair to offer the former tenants space in the company’s new digs. That, like the elevator music, might have been a poor decision. I pondered yet another one of my possible mistakes on the way up. Elaine stood outside the elevator, ready to grab me as soon as the doors opened.
“You have two courier messages on your desk. Since Noah March delivered one of them and refused to wait outside, he’s in your office, too.”
I would have preferred a root canal. Playtime over.
“Cancel the elevator music contract as soon as it comes up for renewal, tell security to make the doors shut faster, and call Maxine to get me a dance partner for the dance-a-thon we signed up for this month.”
Elaine put-on her cranky face. “You could just invite someone you actually know. Like a woman. On a date.”
When I ignored her suggestion, she added, “I’ll ask Gable Matthews to take care of it.”
“That’ll work.” I plastered on a genial smile and said, “Specify tall,” as I headed for my office.
Holly Smith
Big. Man. Alert. I’d pretended to pay no attention to him, but being neither oblivious nor blind, I hadn’t missed the behemoth wearing a frown and lurking in the corner of the elevator. After I’d turned my back, I’d wished I hadn’t since I could feel his gaze, marking a spot between my shoulder blades.
I hurried from the elevator as soon as the doors opened, resisting the urge to shake my booty at tall, dark and grumpy. I was in a good mood and he wasn’t changing it for me. As soon as we met in her Aunt Maxine’s office, I asked Megan, “Who’s the tall guy who rides the elevator up?”
“Which tall guy?”
“The one taller than me by a half a foot.” Given my own height, that should have limited the possibilities.
“Probably works for Smoke, Inc. They’re all big men and when they’re not out on a job, they’re up and down all day.”
“What’s Smoke, Inc.?”
“Fools on parade,” Megan grimaced. “If it’s dangerous they’ll do it.”
I didn’t wonder until later how she knew and why she cared.