Television Romance

Elevator Business

Vian was almost uncharacteristically content as she walked toward the exit with Richard. She was back at work. She loved work. (That was one of the many things she had in common with him.) She had recently gotten back from a lovely sightseeing trip to London. And now she was going to get lunch with the love of her life. Everything was starting to make sense, at least for now. Maybe it was a blind optimism, but she Next to her, however, Richard was stormy. When she looked over, his face was frozen in a stern expression that she never boded well.

"What's up?" she asked, "Tough day at work?"

"No." If life was a video game, Vian would have seen "Mood -10 points" flash above her head in big red letters. She debated letting him stew without stirring the pot, but she couldn't help but reply.

"I know you want to say something so just say it," she said in a hushed tone. The hallway was empty, but sound carried well on the thirteenth floor, a fact impressed upon anyone who had ever been present during Hugo's operatic hours. For a guy who rarely said more than six words at a time, he sure could go on singing. Richard stopped walking.

"I didn't like the way that guy was flirting with you."

"What?"

"The guy with the black hair."

"Jerry?"—Vian made a noise part-scoff, part-scorn and started laughing—"Jerry doesn't flirt with me."

"He was sitting very close to you." Richard didn't particularly appreciate her flippant attitude, but he began to lighten up at the sound of her laughter.

"He broke his arm. I was helping him write." Vian's laughter was bubbling now into a boil. Richard cracked a smile.

"I just don't like the idea of guys coming on to you," he said. Vian decided it was probably not a good idea to mention Michael. Michael, who teased her about her lawyer finance and winked at her during table reads. Michael, who flirted with everyone in sight. It's kind of hot when he's jealous, she thought. A bad idea popped into her brain.

"I-" she started, but a red-headed woman she didn't recognize was toward them. Vian waited for her to pass before resuming.

"I'm not that hungry," she said, "But do you want to... maybe..." She met his eyes and knew he got the message when his eyes fluttered. His eyes were so green, like sea glass.

"Uh, yeah. Duh." Vian giggled and pulled him by the hand to the elevator. There were plenty of closets and empty rooms on the fourteenth floor. Bill was in rehearsal, his dressing room would be open. Vian debated the merits of having sex in her friend's green room as the elevator doors opened like show curtains to reveal a small but very much alive donkey.

From behind them, Reese came running, then stopped in front of the door. She put her hands on her knees and panted. Her black bangs hung into her face.

"I had to take the stairs. Not enough room," she explained, as if that was the confounding part of this scene. The donkey stared dully at the three of them. Vian and Richard stared back.

"Actually," Vian said, "Maybe we should take the stairs too."