A Room With A View

Chapter Three - Madeline

September 1st, Friday

Madeline Mills was breathing hard. She had just come from an audition, and needed to rush home before heading out for the next one. She skidded to a halt in front of her building. Phineas Watley was in the lobby.

"Shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot," she muttered under her breath. She skirted around the side to the service entrance. A special key fob could open the door, which would bring her to the service elevator. It was blissfully positioned to let her off just outside her apartment door.

And Madeline just so happened to have the special key fob. She had seen Phineas using it once, and had swiped it. She had felt somewhat badly about that, as Phineas had crawled around the lobby on his hands and knees looking for it, but it was better than facing him and admitting the rent would be late. Again.

She almost had it. One more shift at Dosser's, and then a closing at Café Clark, and she'd have enough. Of course, the utilities were a different matter. But Café Clark had a very nice bathroom, and who really needed to shower anyways when dry shampoo existed?

Madeline fiddled with her keys and held the fob up to the little black indicator pad. She prayed that Phineas hadn't changed the code, a bead of sweat dribbling down her nose. She breathed a sigh of relief as the door clicked and unlocked. Madeline squeezed her way through the crack between the door and the wall (somehow believing that would make her less detectable), and scurried her way to the service elevator. She jabbed the button hard, over and over, nervously glancing back to see if any workers were coming her way.

"Come on come on," she moaned. The elevator was clicking down from 14, to 12, to 11, agonizingly slow. It was at nine, now eight. Just seven more, please, help a girl out.

"Madeline?"

Madeline felt her stomach drop through the floor. It was Phineas's high, reedy voice. She turned, slowly, mentally cursing the elevator with every word she knew.

"Phineas!" she said with a mock brightness.

Phineas smiled, but it was lacking warmth. He stepped closer, his curly red hair mussed and his spit-white sweater vest squeaky clean. If it weren't for the pleated pants, Madeline almost wondered if he could have that hot nerd look about him.

"Madeline, I would like to talk to you about--"

"The courtyard is lovely. I just so enjoy having the space to sit by the flowers and read." The elevator dinged behind her. "Truly lovely," she said, scooting backwards into the vestibule.
     Phineas looked confused. He seemed unsure whether to beam and thank her, or frown and continue his question about the rent.

"Lovely," Madeline said again, dragging out the o. She gave a little wave just at the doors closed. When she felt the elevator start to shimmy upstairs, she allowed herself a deep breath. She dropped her bags and leaned against the elevator wall. Soft music played over the speakers. It was the same bloody song on repeat, all day, every day. Madeline had half a mind to take a hammer to the speaker, but that would only serve to provide yet another opportunity for Phineas to hunt her down.

Two more shifts, just two more shifts.

The doors opened onto her floor and Madeline stepped out onto the soft crimson carpet. She had been living in the Watley for about a year, and had just missed Phineas's grand renovation. From what she had heard, it had been a long and noisy process, so she was pleased to have missed out on that surefire joy.

The wallpaper was a calm cream and the lights were bright, so the hallway felt oddly cheery, like a hotel she wouldn't want to leave. Madeline had been so excited to find something reasonable in Manhattan, that she had just taken it without forecasting out how much the rent would really add up. The previous tenants had apparently gone through a bitter divorce, and just wanted out of the place, so Madeline had jumped at the sublet opportunity. But now that she was paying the full rent, she was starting to feel like she wanted out, too.

Her keys rattled in the old lock as she pushed the door open. A wobbling stack of recyclables tumbled to the floor. Madeline had placed it directly in front of the door so she would not forget to take it out, and had rushed right past it in her morning panic. "I'll take you out today," she promised.

Her apartment had once been an over large studio, but the previous tenants had tacked up a wall and called the new room a bedroom. It was just large enough for Madeline to squeeze in a bed and have enough space for a pile of unwashed laundry in the corner. The rest of the space comprised of a kitchen along the left wall, a little couch below the window, a small TV set up across from the window, and bookshelves on the right. It was tight, but cozy, and Madeline had accented everything with bright fuchsias and periwinkle blues. It was her first ever apartment after graduating from drama school, and she loved it.

"Unique New York, Unique New York," Madeline said, stretching her mouth. She plucked up the sides she had been studying from the coffee table and tucked them into her bag.

"Red leather, yellow leather. Red leather, yellow leather." She glanced quickly out the window at the Watley tower on the other side of the courtyard. She had meant what she said to Phineas. She really did like the courtyard. It was in shadow most of the day, but there was a sliver of time in the evening when it was lit up by the sun and shined like a magical, other-worldly place.

Someone was hunched over a desk in 12F, but the rest of the apartments she could see were dark, save for 17F. Madeline felt a pang of sadness for the man that lived in 17F. He always looked so forlorn. He was nearly bald, and had the hangdog look of a man who had believed life had a different plan for him. Every evening Madeline could see him looking out the window for something, but he never seemed to find it. After a few minutes, he would close the curtain, and his shadow would disappear into the room. Sometimes there was a woman at the window, who Madeline assumed was his wife. She never saw them touch each other, though.

Madeline said a quiet goodbye to Mr. 17F and picked up a soft-spotted apple to munch on before her audition. Despite the number of tenants in this building, Madeline had never met one, except for the old bat who lived at the top of the tower. Madeline had bumped into her in the mail room and heard an earful about the wastefulness of credit card companies, and had been wary of Agatha ever since. Someday Madeline would try to worm her way into Agatha's heart, but not today. She was already running late.

"Crap," Madeline breathed, checking the time. She unlocked her door, and sped out into the hallway, completely bypassing the small knot of recyclables clustered on the rug.

The service elevator was waiting.