Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(54)
“This is your sub?” I look at the lightly toasted top piece and my stomach growls.
He doesn’t notice or is smart enough not to mention how I’ve become a lion. “Yes, but I figure since I’m taking you to dinner tonight, we can split it to hold us over.”
For a moment my heart melts. For real it melts, a puddle right on the floor under my chair, but then I’m still pissy over Melvin and question him.
“What’s on it?” I can’t help it. I get cranky when I'm hungry and have to deal with *s.
“Stuffed squid, anchovies, mayo, lettuce, and pickles.”
The sub doesn’t look appetizing any longer. I look at the side of it and worry I see a tentacle squirming on the end. “Um, no thanks.”
Trey laughs. “I’m kidding, Simone. It’s turkey.” When I still don't make a move, “I swear, turkey, mayo, lettuce, tomato, and pickles. It’s safe. Do you remember ordering a squid sandwich?”
I don’t and I think I’d remember something like that, but his logic annoys me even as I reach out and pick up the half closest to me. “Okay, but if I eat a tentacle I'm never talking to you again.” My first bite is tentative, but when all I taste is turkey and mayo I smile up at him. “Thanks.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The large lobby clock counts down the seconds and I chart each one as the second hand ticks its way around the circle. Eleven minutes and twenty-eight seconds until the work day ends. Eleven minutes and twenty-six seconds until I skip out those doors happy to have survived this Melvin filled day.
I wonder how many people quit because of Melvin? Why does Finn keep him? Ten minutes and fifty-six seconds. Aspen’s man comes off as sweet and laid back. Maybe he has a soft spot for Manic Melvin? Ten minutes and fifty-one seconds. Maybe Menacing Melvin has an important job? Like if they created bombs, he’d be the guy with the second launch key. Would anyone trust Melvin with the second key? I wouldn’t.
At ten minutes and forty-seven seconds, there’s movement to my left and my eyes automatically track it. There’s nothing on the desk except a few pens and the pop-up calendar. Weird. I hope a spider or some other creepy crawling hasn't tried to make my desk his new home.
Ten minutes and thirty-four seconds. A pen rolls off the desk top and lands on the floor. Unexplainably my heart rate picks up and I whip my head to the right. Nothing. Then the fruit basket still sitting on top of the desk ledge jumps. It definitely moves. I swear it moved.
I’ve forgotten what time is on the clock as my stomach tightens with the movement. My body already knows what this is, but my mind refuses to admit it. I look out the front doors. Maybe I expect to see a building across the road crumble or flocks of people running by. I don’t find either. The streets are empty and the building in front stands intact, but I do catch the doors as they jerk a small amount. Shit.
I’m frozen in my chair, but my eyes are set on the doors and connecting wall expecting them to shake. Stationary walls should never move. The second pen on the desk twitches and my mind can’t ignore the evidence any longer. It’s a f*cking earthquake.
My mind races with horrible outcomes. Wasn’t San Francisco destroyed by an earthquake once? Why did I move to a city that plans to break off and fall into the ocean one day?
We’re all going to die.
For some reason I stand and my body takes me to the middle of the lobby. But as I gaze up at the large tile blocks on the ceiling, I decide this might not be the best spot to stay safe from falling debris when the building starts to cave in.
I turn around in another circle and look for a better space in the lobby. I’ve watched movies with earthquakes. What did they do? Things are no longer moving, but I’m not willing to risk it. My body stops at the closet door. People hide in bathtubs, right? I don't have a tub, but there’s a room without windows. I run to the closet and my heels slip on the smooth floor, but I fall in and close the door.
There’s a loud thumping in the room and I panic with worry about gas lines breaking, but the beat matches the one coming from my chest and I surmise it’s my heart. The closet’s dark and I’m scared to turn on the light. Electrical fires, downed lines, and a hundred other horrible outcomes stumble through my mind from all the apocalyptic movies I’ve seen. They always start in California. Isn’t that a clue to us all?
The dark windowless room takes over my senses, and being unable to see anything might be worse than watching the building crumble around me. I step to the entrance and throw open the door. The motion triggers my thoughts and I remember windowless rooms are for tornadoes, door frames are for earthquakes.
I move my feet to either side of the door and then grab on to the white trim with both hands. My knuckles go white and hurt immediately, but I’m not going to let go.
“Simone?”
I turn my head to the left and spot Trey as he looks out from the office doorway. He walks into the lobby and comes to stand in front of me, but I don’t let go.
“What are you doing, Trey? It’s an earthquake. Grab on to something,” my voice is panicked but he looks as casual as normal with his sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons of his blue shirt undone. Are people here so used to their lives being on the line they don’t take this kind of natural disaster seriously?
He reaches up and tries to pry one of my hands off the door trim, but I refuse to let it budge. He’ll have to find his own damn door. “Simone, babe. It’s over. Look."