What Stays In Vegas: Chapter One
Elizabeth had turned to the window to avoid the red light of the answer machine that'd continued to blink much to her annoyance. The rain had been pouring for three days straight and was showing no sign of letting up; it'd interfered with her work all day doubling her workload. She'd managed to get off work early and in her haste to get out before being called back in had forgotten her umbrella. With only the morning's paper to protect her from the falling rain, she'd gotten drenched dodging puddles while jumping from doorway to doorway until she came to a stop at her apartment building.
She adored the views from her apartment, the expansive windows opened up onto a generous view of the city, a selling point when purchasing it, her first home. Stood in front of them, hidden by the darkness of the room having not switched any lights on, as she watched the people below dart from one covered shop entrance to another. Umbrellas starting to pop up and down the street as she sipped at the white wine from the glass in her hand.
Though the thought of being wrapped up inside all day, out the way of the weather had been an appeasing one, the reality wasn't as comforting as her imagination thought it to be. Black clouds were still circling the city, signalling the storm the weatherman had predicted was brewing and was certainly imminent.
A sigh on her lips she ran a hand through her damp hair. Placing the wine glass on the side table, next to the answer machine, she moved across the room until she came to a stop at the calendar that was propped up on the sideboard.
Turning back to look at the open plan living room she debated on switching on one of the lamps. But seeing how she had coped without any light since arriving home, she forewent them in order to prolong her dark mood that the room had seemed to pick up on. Only highlighted by the shadows from the streetlights outside, which flickered shadows against the corners of the far walls of the room.
The answer machine had been blinking, signalling new messages, since her arrival home. She'd bypassed it the first time for the shower and clean clothes, now she avoided it for the last message on the machine. It was the last of four, the previous quick reminders from work and the garage down the street updating her on the repairs to her car.
The voice, though quiet and soft-spoken, had filled the room up echoing in her ears. The message had played no longer than ten seconds before she dashed across the room hitting the pause button no longer being able to bare the sound that came from the tiny speakers.
Dropping down into the chair in front of her computer desk, she watched the rain hit against the windows. Swinging slowly, side to side, she glanced at the clock, it'd been hours since she'd arrived home, and the Chinese takeout she'd ordered to be delivered on her way there, still lay unopened on the kitchen counter.
Spinning her chair around, she pulled the calendar at the side of her desk closer so she could get a better look at the dates. Without realising it, she started to work out how long she'd been living there. By a rough judgement, she worked out she'd been working there for just under a year. Despite being settled for such a long time, she was still struggling to call it home. She'd hoped between various cities before settling on an offer in Seattle, one she certainly couldn't pass up. Elizabeth had been trying desperately to make it home, but no matter how many photos she put up or personal belongings that scattered the shelves it still wasn't somewhere that she felt comfortable to call home.
Tapping the side of the chair the knowledge that her answer machine was still beeping, signalling an unplayed message she couldn't ignore it any longer.
Pushing the chair back under the desk, she walked the length of the open room and without debate leant down and pressed play. It was now or never, and like a band-aid, she knew it was best to get it over and done with.
Static and background noise filtered through the tiny digital speakers, waiting for his voice to kick in she picked up her discarded wine glass, cradling it to her chest as she turned to face the windows once more, watching the city streets that seemed to be thriving despite the rain.
For a moment she thought the message had stopped playing, the quite was unsettling and made her feel nervous, her grip on the wine glass was beginning to become strained. The eventually his voice came through, quiet at first before clearing his throat and starting the message.
There was no mistaking what he was asking of her.
She looked at the photo frame that stood next to the answer machine as she listened to the last of the message. She still didn't know why she'd decided to send him her phone number, guilt perhaps? Either way his invitation was there - if you could call a request an invitation. All she needed to do now was make a decision.
Draining the last of her wine from her glass, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. If she was going to make a decision like that, she was certainly going to need more alcohol and headed to the kitchen for the bottle she'd stashed away at the back of the fridge.