Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.
Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers
Chapter 2- Crash, and Lights Out
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.I did not let the alarm clock shatter my ear drums for minutes on end as I had yesterday. This morning, I had a will to rise besides that of necessity. For the first time in a very long time, I wanted to wake up at six in the morning and race to get ready so I would beat the rush to work. I wanted to spend the day behind a desk, and to type random data into my computer, and to drink coffee out of a silver Thermos. I wanted to work today, and I knew that it was because today I would spend the day in front of a ceiling-high window, and finally edit something worth writing. Today was also the day I would meet this mysterious new author transferring to The New York Times from 'somewhere in the midwest' as my boss had said. Of course, she could not be more specific. She never was.
I slid my legs over the edge of my bed, and my arms stretched above my head, sending a wonderful tingle down my spine as I yawned. Turning off the alarm clock, I silently crept into the kitchen, hit the button on Mr. Coffee, and slid soundlessly into the bathroom. The soothing heat of the water pounded against me as steam swirled around the shower, fogging up the clear glass door. I suppose that was one of the reasons for the high heat that I preferred, though I knew Alice and Rosalie were still dead asleep, it made me feel more secure with the glass fogged up, preventing me from having to see my naked, wet self in the mirror above the sinks through the glass. Why the owner of the building did not think to put in frosted glass, I did not know.
I lathered in my strawberry scented shampoo, rinsed, and was out of the shower within ten minutes, a personal best. The excitement and anticipation must have inspired my muscles to move more quickly and efficiently than usual, having not tripped over the rug as I usually did. As I stepped in front of my sink, I saw the faded letters that had been drawn on with a finger on the mirror. Recognizing the handwriting belonging to my two best friends, I smiled, and read the note they left for me last night after their showers.
Bella-
I am so proud of you! You really deserved this promotion! I hope your author is nice, and a guy, and handsome, and available, and not living out of a cardboard box, and is sane...
Anyways, have fun today, and I look forward to hearing all about your day!
Love and hugs,
Alice
Bella,
Kick ass today at work, edit like no one else has before! Make money, and show that author what it means to work with Bella Swan! Be good!
XOXOXOXOXOXOXO,
Rose
P.S. Double what Alice wrote!! Yummy!
Before the fog faded, I hurried to reply to their 'shower notes', as we called them.
R & A,
Love you girls! Thank you, and I hope I have a lot of good things to tell you tonight. Even though I doubt the author will even be a guy, no less cute, available, etc, but it never hurts to hope!
Anyways, see you tonight!
Love Always,
Bella
P.S. However goes to the market next needs to buy band-aids. I haven't tripped yet, and am beginning to worry.
After drawing a smiley face with my finger, I began to dry my hair. I dressed in a cream-colored blouse with black trim and bow in the front that always seemed to mimick my movements in a flattering way, yet was still comfy enough for me not to fidget like I usually did. Slipping on my favorite pair of black slacks and pointed-toe two inch heels that threatened to wobble furiously, I hurried out of the bathroom and filled my Thermos with coffee. I searched for my keys that were, as yesterday, in my purse, and gave Alice a hug before I left.
"Thanks for the shower note, have to go. Love you, bye."
"Huh? Oh, you're welcome. Bye!" Though she was more alert than yesterday, she still had to take a few moments to comprehend what I thanked her for. Nibbling on my granola bar in the short subway ride, I saw the lights flicker a few times. Many things came with the heat, some were sun-bathers, sweat marks, broken air conditioning, high bills, and high electricity usage. One thing was for sure, assuming the stupid Metro did not break down this morning, I planned to hail a cab home tonight. Little was worse than being stuck on a hot Metro train for hours on end. That would certainly kill my first full day of being an editor.
Thankfully, the train rumbled to my stop without delay. I made my way to the glass elevator, and stared at the city below. All too soon, the elevator dinged at the arrival of my floor, and I walked toward the receptionist's desk. She hung up the phone, and I then addressed her.
"Good morning, Gianna. I just wanted to make sure my calls were forwarded to my new office." I said, smiling. With the word 'office', she too grinned, and replied.
"Congratulations! I knew you would get it! Have you met the new author yet?"
"No, I don't even know their name yet. Soon enough, though, soon enough." The phone began to ring again, and the frantic look reappeared on her face.
"Sorry I have to take this. Good luck, though! New York Times, this is Gianna." We waved goodbye, and I set my briefcase in my office. Setting up my iPod and the pitiful boxes I called speakers, I clicked on Claire de Lune by Debussy, and sank into my plush chair. Not twenty seconds had passed before the ring of my phone forced me to awaken from my imaginary world of piano keys and stringed instruments swaying in beautiful melodies.
"Bella Swan." I answered.
"Bella, it's Angela."
"Good morning. What can I do for you?"
"Well, I have a bit of bad news. Nothing to worry about though, just come into my office when you've got a chance." Surprisingly, I was not nervous. I had no reason to believe my job was in jeopardy, or that a mistake had been made, probably just a technicality. We hung up, and I walked carefully to her office, being sure to try to keep myself stable in these dangerous shoes that threatened my lack of coordination. I knocked on her open door, and she waved me in as she ended her phone call. I was still in awe at how busy she always was.
"Make yourself comfortable, Bella." I nodded and sat in the same chair that I had this time yesterday, and folded my hands in my lap. "Unfortunately, your new author's flight got cancelled this morning."
"Oh, that's too bad. Did they say when the next flight was?"
"Not that I know of, and it was in an email, not by phone because they have no service, so I can't call them. Oh well. We should not expect them until tomorrow at least."
"Alright. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?" I asked, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.
"Actually...yes. Since the author will be new to New York City, I thought it would be helpful if you could compile different artistic events, like photo and art galleries, concerts, things like that."
"Sure."
"I had my secretary collect a few magazines for you to start on, just clip out the articles and put them in a folder. Give the author something to look through tomorrow."
"I will start on that now. Thanks, Angela."
"Of course."
"Oh, and Bella?" I stopped at the door and turned on my heel.
"Yes?"
"Whatever you do, don't make this new person sound the least bit interesting to Jessica. She throws a fit when there is new meat around here." I tried desperately to stifle my giggles. I remember how big of an effort she made on my first day just to talk to me, and I am not even that interesting. I could not imagine what she would do if she found out that whoever my new colleague was was as mysterious as he or she is. Upon leaving the office, I stopped at her secretary's desk.
"Hello, Jessica. Angela said she had some magazines for me?"
"Yeah, there right here." Jessica said snidely, and then spun her chair around, putting her back to me.
"Thanks." I said unnecessarily. She had been no part of this, why should I thank her? Oh well, that was just my nature. On the corner of her tiny desk was a stack of at least thirty magazines, ten newspapers, and what looked like a hundred brightly-colored pamphlets. I had my work cut out for me, that was for sure. Because there were no specifications to the articles I was told to clip, the possibility of sore fingers was now an inevitability.
It took me three trips to carry all of the papers to my desk. The first thing I did was organize the stack into three less-threatening piles of newspapers, magazines, and pamphlets. Still, it was intimidating. Eager to procrastinate, I refilled my coffee cup and turned on my favorite playlist on my scratched up iPod nano. Having run out of things to do, I surrendered and grabbed an empty folder from one of my desk drawers. After labelling the folder and sticking on the little white tab, I took out my silver scissors and began cutting and snipping.
I must have seen every recent magazine available at the newsstand. There were many that had nothing that met my criteria, mostly the Cosmopolitans and National Enquirers, but too many of them were so artsy that I kept running back to the ice machine to numb my aching hand. The titles Vogue, People, US, OK!, Star, Marie Claire, O, and even more flashed before my eyes, and three hours had passed before I finished the magazine stack. It was amazing to me how cutting out square, rectangular, and the especially annoying round articles could exhaust and stress a person out. My iPod speakers had died an hour before, and was forced to listen to the radio from my computer.
Not having taken a break in those three hours, I took the time to stretch, crack my neck, and take my lunch break. Expecting to breathe fresh air, I was dissapointed at the soggy heat that filled my lungs once I stepped outside the door. As I walked down to the nearby Quizno's for lunch, my phone buzzed from my sack-like black purse.
"Hello?"
"Bella, this is Angela. I am sorry to bother you on your break, but I just wanted to let you know your author got on a flight and will land sometime tonight. They won't make it to work today, unless by some miracle they get an earlier flight, but they will be here tomorrow."
"Oh good. Gotta love air travel nowadays."
"You know it. I have to go, just wanted to keep you informed."
"Thanks. Bye."
"Bye, Bella." I clicked the end button on my Blackberry, and ordered my sandwich.
One hour and one roast-beef sandwich later, I was back in the glass elevator heading to my office where stacks of articles just begged to be snipped into unrecognizable strips of glossy paper. This time, however, it was packed to the brim with people. I just barely found room to squeeze myself in at the door When I sat back down in my chair, I reached for a Tylenol when the phone began to ring again. Groaning, I answered the phone.
"Bella Swan."
"Bella, baby, it's Mike Newton." What had I done to deserve this? I really must have pissed someone off in a past life.
"Oh, hello. What's, uh, up?" I clamped the phone between my face and shoulder and began the monotonous task of flipping through newspapers.
"Well, I have some great news, although I am sure you already know."
"No, what?"
"Well, yours truly just landed a permanent job at none other than the New York Times! Looks like we will be working together!" No! No no no no no no no! No! Mike Newton was the mysterious author? He couldn't be! He was the crappiest writer that ever lived! Or close to it, at least. Seriously, he thought that 'a lot' was one word. He actually argued against me. Worse than that, we went to the same high school. Bleh. Life certainly knew how to push my buttons, that was for damn sure.
"Congratulations. I guess I will see you Monday then."
"Well, more like tomorrow from the looks of it." Oh no, another confirmation.
"Oh, well, see you then."
"You know it! Bye Bella baby." He hung up before I even had time to yell at him. Ew! Mike Newton! Why? Why, why, why?! Why did he have to be the new author? Why did I have to be so excited about the mystery, and find out it was Newton? And why, God, why, did he have to call me baby? I was not his baby. One date, and he thinks he owns me! I shuddered at the memory of that atrocious dinner. He was exhibit A to my lack of a love life. I would rather die alone than suffer life with Newton. Gross. Sewers had nothing on his grotesque personality.
Had Angela lost her mind to hire him? There was still a chance he was not the author, I mean he didn't say it or anything, but the implications were enough. Well, there had to be something bad about this job, with all the perks my promotion came with. I decided not to bother Alice or Rose with the news, they would hear my rants tonight, as well as me drawing on his yearbook pictures with Sharpie. I smiled at the thought of drawing on childlike devil horns and round glasses, blacking out his teeth to make him look toothless, drawing on pointy beards...the possibilities of stress-reduction were endless! If only they made a Mike stress doll where you can tear off the limbs held on only by Velcro. It would surely be a bestseller if anyone had met Mike and was mentally sane and aware. Hmm, maybe I could get a patent...
I resumed clipping various rectangles from the newspapers and pamphlets for the rest of the day, taking breaks only to get another cup of coffee, to stretch, and to curse the existance of Newton. Though, when five o'clock rolled around, Angela had called to tell me she had even more papers for me. The stack was larger than the first, perhaps twice the height, and each volume was thicker than the last. How artsy did New York have to be? And why did Angela have to know where to find them all? I felt like stomping my foot and throwing myself into a toddler-worthy tantrum. Instead, I was mature, and called Alice and Rosalie to vent.
"Hello?"
"Hey Rose." I said, my voice drooping like a wilted flower.
"Bella! You sound terrible."
"Thanks. Is Alice there?"
"Yeah."
"Put me on speaker." I heard the click of the receiver, and a cheerful hello from Alice on the other end. "I am going to be a little late tonight. Actually, a lot late. Angela has me clipping out art articles out of this huge stack."
"That sucks."
"Poor thing!" They chimed.
"Thanks. I hope to be home before eight, if it gets later than that I'll call you."
"Alright. Wait, did you see the hunk you are working with?"
"Not exactly, Rose. I didn't see him, but I got a call today that pretty much told me who it is."
"Who? Is he single?"
"Yeah, he's single. He's Newton."
"Newton? Newton!" Rosalie seemed pissed.
"As in...Mike? As in, ew, Mike?" Alice confirmed.
"All of the above." I answered to hear numerous 'ews' and various obscenities in the background. "Alright girls, I have to get back to cutting. See you later."
"Okay Bella. Good luck!"
"Bye! And don't worry, we've got wine." Rosalie added.
"Thanks. Bye." I hung up, and continued working into the night. Though my window did not face west, I could still see the orange glow of the sun brighten, then turn to purple, then deepen into black. The clock read five minutes after eight, and I called my friends to tell them of the news. With only a small stack left to sort through and an overflowing trash basket, I gave myself until nine to finish. The hours passed by with longevity I had never felt before. It reminded me of my college days where I would spend entire nights studying for a test, and of those years I spent here before I was promoted, working odd hours to edit pointless stories, and here I was, a permanent editor, still working through the night.
Alice's shoes, Rosalie's iPod, Alice's shoes, iPod shoes, rent, food, shoes, iPod, food, rentI told myself. I looked back at the number written on the post it that was stuck on the top rim of my iMac computer monitor that represented my new salary. A brief smile graced my face, and then I continued working faster than before to finish before the clock struck nine.
Sure enough, five minutes after my self-made deadline, I was finished, and packed up my briefcase to go home for the day. Or night, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, it was far too late to just leave the office.
I was the last to leave. The lights had been turned off, and the only sound that echoed through the empty halls were that of a vacuum, and the footsteps of a custodian dressed in a navy blue coverall.
"Goodnight, Miss Swan." He said.
"Night Robert."
"Oh Miss Swan? Tonight is my last night."
"Really?" Not wanting to be rude, I stayed to chat with him for a moment despite the urge I felt to run the opposite way toward the glass elevators. "Why is that?"
"I am getting hired for twice the amount I am paid now at Cosmo."
"Congratulations. We have both been promoted, sort of. Well, it was nice seeing you Robert, but I am late already."
"Of course. Don't let me keep you." Too late, chatty bastard. I wanted to go home, and was silently praying that the elevators would be fast.
"Bye." I nearly jogged to the elevators. Between my purse, my briefcase, and empty Thermos my hands were entirely full, and my eyes were occupied by watching every step I took, making sure not to trip. I was overdue, I had not tripped or fallen the entire day, and something was bound to happen. That was my luck. I got a great promotion, and Newton. I had a day free from clumsiness in heels, and something had to account for that.
In my frayed state of mind, I did not even glance at the man standing at the back of the elevator except for the strange fact that he was carrying a brown bag of groceries without handles in his arms. Seeing that the lobby button was pressed, and glowing brightly with a yellow illumination, I leaned into the side of the elevator and said hello to the stranger without really looking at him. Instead, I looked at the blinking red numbers above the door.
13...12...11
Crash. The elevator jerked to a stop, the red digits faded into black, and the city lights around us simultaneously flickered off in blocks. In a matter of mere seconds, New York City had darkened into sheer blackness. Fantastic. I was now stuck in a glass elevator in the middle of a New York summer. Why. That was all that I asked. Why.