Welcome to the Show

Chapter 2

"Hello, Mr. Doorman."

"Hn."

"What's good in your neighborhood?" Wiggling my eyebrows suggestively, I gave the easily aggravated doorman a mischievous grin.
"Don't you have anywhere else to be?!" Hissing irritably at me, the doorman opened the door wider and ushered me in with a 'shoo' motion. His glove clad hand grasped the handle tightly causing a squeaky sound to omit from the pressure he was applying. His hazel eyes narrowed down at me; blonde fringe framed his scowling face while the rest was pulled back into a small ponytail that I, on one special occasion, tried to pull but it ended with a failure and colorful words thrown in my direction. Grinning cheekily at the scowling older male, I waved a 'goodbye' before entering the building. Before he let the door go, I turned back and yelled with a grin,
"Try not to miss me too much, K?"
If looks could kill, I would be dead right on the spot. He glared sharp daggers in my direction that made those in the lobby, who was watching our interaction, chuckle to themselves. It honestly amazes me that he hasn't quit or been fired yet due to his usual sour attitude, which he had before I started to mess with him, and etched on scowl that he seemed to rock more than his wrinkled uniform. I'm actually happy he hasn't either, honestly. He can be pretty cool when he wants to be and his reactions are entertaining.

"Welcome back Ms. ____." Called Mr. Gordon who stood behind the reception desk. Mr. Gordon was in his late fifties and was as charming as he was friendly. His peppered hair was kept neatly (unlike a certain doorman) and he adorned a nice tailored dark suit with the emblem of the apartment above his right breast pocket. The emblem was of blue waves surrounding a trident with the word 'Triton' stitched upon it in gold thread. Walking up to the front desk, I smiled sweetly and said,

"Thanks, Mr. Gordon! Did a package come this way for me?" Usually, rather than actually bringing me things, Angie would just leave it at the front desk.
"Let me check." Mr. Gordon disappeared into a room to the left of him and came back within five minutes with a white box. Smiling widely as he handed it to me, I thanked him before making my way to the elevator. Pressing the up arrow button, I waited patiently for the elevator to come down. Finally reaching the lobby, the doors opened and a few people made their way out while I made my way in. Pressing the illuminated 22nd-floor button, I watched the doors close swiftly before the elevator started to ascend.

The inside of the elevator was chilly and made me shiver slightly. Tugging my jacket closer to my form, I tried to gather some warmth from it. My back began to slightly ache due to my bookbag so I placed the (horrid) heavy bag onto the floor beside me. Classical music played in the elevator and made me feel relaxed despite the chills still coursing through my body. The dark steel walls of the elevator reflected my disheveled form. I could only huff as I saw how tired I looked.

"I really need a nap," I mumbled exhausted while running my fingers through my (H/C) ( H/L) hair. Gripping onto the white box in my hand, I stared at it. I wondered whether or not to open it and peek at the costume; I silently prayed it wasn't something crazy like last time. A shiver went down my spine just thinking about the Dora the Explorer costume Angie made me wear last year. Cringing at the thought, I pulled out my phone to check the time.
5:36 p.m.
Ding
Looking up, I noticed the elevator stop on the 13th floor.
'That's strange...' I thought while staring at the bright red glow of the number 13 up above me. No one really went on the 13th floor. It was an odd concept but the owner of the Odysseus Throne was terrified of the number 13. He claimed the number was evil. He didn't want to have 13 floors in any of his buildings - he has 20 in total- but his wife wanted to expand the business. So, in order to appease him, no one was allowed to stay on the 13th floor let alone be on it. That's some things that I had heard of the man from my father. He said the old man was strange and extremely paranoid.
"He was always looking over his shoulder." My father's distant voice rung through my head as I tried to think who could be on this abandoned floor. The doors slid open and revealed a man standing in the middle of the dark and abandon hallway. He had long, silver, messy hair framing his pale complexion; piercings ran up his visible ear as well as the arch of his left eyebrow. Strange, almost real looking, stitch like markings ran down his chapped looking lips. He was wearing the uniform of black and gold; the signature of the workers of this apartment building. He must be new since I've never seen him around here before.