My legs are al dente noodles smothered with weak marinara sauce by the time I'm within the city limits. Bo wasn't lying -- the warehouse district really was close to the city proper. If you were in a car, that is. But I had only my human legs to carry me, so it still took 20 excruciating minutes to be amongst the apartment buildings. As I head into the city, I can tell I'm not in the nicest part of town. Several homeless people glance up at me blankly from where they huddle beneath bridges as I pass them.
"Are you lost, baby girl?" slurs a drunkard sloppily. He shoves forward a bottle of something. "You should have some of this alcohol. It's very good and tasty," he giggles drunkenly.
"No, no thank you," I say quickly, sidestepping him.
"You sure?" He garbles, leaning forward more. His breath smells of alcohol. "Don't want to do the booze? The grog? The adult juice?" He does a drunkenly intoxicated little tap dance with the bottle.
"No thanks, mister." I state with every ounce of confidence I can.
"'Kay. Let me know if you change your mind." He winks groggily and stubbles drunkenly back into the alley from whence he came, still tap dancing. I take a breath and carry on.
As I get farther into the city, the buildings get nicer, and the looks I get are stranger. I can't blame them. A bedraggled 14 year old girl stumbling unattended through the city at 2 in the morning would draw my eyes, too. After asking for directions from several slightly alarmed looking folks, I finally found myself on Haven Row. My jaw drops. For one thing, this was clearly a business district, and for another, each building was at least 20 stories tall. I steady my nerves and stumble inside the lobby. I feel my steelified muscles relax slightly as I step into the heat. The lady behind the desk looks up with her customer service smile already plastered into place, but her expression falters slightly when she sees me.
"W-welcome to Columbia Records. How may I assist you?"
"Umm.. hello there," I stumble shakily. "I need to get to the top floor."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. The top floors are for staff only."
"But... Bo sent me. He said I need to go there."
She looks surprised at that. "Oh. Well, in that case follow me, ma'am." She quickly hurried out from behind her desk with a nod to me. I expect her to go straight to the elevators on the far wall, but she instead opens a nondescript door labeled "STAFF ONLY" and gestures for me to follow. Through the door is a short hallway leading directly into another elevator. She hits a button on the panel labeled "P" and steps aside so I can enter first. My jaw drops again. The elevator is made entirely of glass, so I can see the city lights spread out in front of me.
"You must understand," she says as we begin to rise, "we can't let just anyone who comes in asking for the top floor up. I apologize for the misunderstanding."
"Uh, no problem." In truth, I don't even know where exactly I'm headed to. I just hope it's warm and made of wood and linoleum or something other than bricks.
A short ride later, the elevator lets out a cheerful little ding! And deposits us on the top floor. I step out into a lavishly decorated landing.
"Feel free to take the elevator back down when you've finished your business," the woman says, already hitting the ground floor button again.
"But wait, what—" I try to say, but the elevator doors have already shut again. So well for asking directions. I feel tears pricking my eyes as I think of how Bo sacrificed himself to let me escape. I trust him with my life, from his viridian orbs to his leather pants. So there's nothing left to do but walk.
YOU ARE READING
Bricks
FanfictionHydrangea Emerald Eversky's father makes her eat bricks. Yes, that is correct. Her father makes her eat bricks. But one man carries her through her suffering: Harry Styles. A completely serious and non-ironic tale of love, loss, and indigestion.