His Vanilla Girl | ✔

Chapter Two

Sylvester's heart stopped in his chest as the floor of the elevator dropped out from under him. Tweetie screamed. She reached out and gripped his shirt as they continued to free-fall. He planted his feet in an attempt to hold them both upright as he grabbed her with one hand and the railing with the other.

Fear permeated every pore of his body. His fingers gripped the handrail tightly, knuckles turning white. An image of his gray-haired mother, Betsy, wagging his finger at him popped into his head, reminding him that she said his life was going to get him into trouble one day. And her favorite question, how was that life-style supposed to give her grandchildren?

She found a book on the topic in his home one day and wouldn't stop grilling him about it, calling it dangerous. He had half expected to hear the same thing from his Father, but his mother must have been too embarrassed to share her discovery with him. Go figure, hers was the last face he'd see before his death.

The squealing brakes drew him back to the present and to the crying, hiccupping woman in his arms. After a few seconds of the brakes coming on, the elevator jammed to a halt, making them land in a heap on the ground, him partially on top of her. He laid perfectly still, afraid that any movement would send the elevator careening to their doom.

"Are we dead?" came a quiet, soft voice from beneath him.

A chuckle rumbled inside him as he rested his face in the crook of her neck. "If this is hell, then I don't mind spending eternity with you."

She smacked his chest. "That's not funny."

Rolling off her, he sat up carefully as to not jar the elevator car. They were in the dark which means the emergency generator was not kicking in, which was unusual for a building of this size. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I think I've still got all my limbs."

He grinned, not that she could see it. "That's good to know. They'll come in handy someday"

She sighed, and he could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure." Sylvester patted his pockets. "Shit."

"What?"

"I left my phone in my jacket. Do you have a cell?" he asked. He heard the material of her jacket crumple and fractured light, like a broken mirror, filled the car.

"Shoot! It broke when we fell."

"Damn. Here, gimme the phone," he said, wiggling his fingers at her.

"Why? It's not going to do you any good."

Taking it from her hand, he turned it in the way of the elevator panel. "There should be a phone in here."

"Right."

He's never been stuck in an elevator, but there were always phones and alarm buttons, so one of them should work. The panel didn't appear to have any power, like the rest of the elevator. Why didn't the elevator emergency backup work?

Locating the phone, he opened the little hatch and held it up to his ear. "Shit, shit shit!" he grumbled, slamming the phone back down. "It's not working."

She backed up into the corner of the elevator, as far away from him as possible, the light illuminated the fear in her eyes, her body shaking. He turned the cellphone off and they were flooded in darkness again.

"Turn it on," she cried, her voice high-pitched.

Sylvester turned it back on and she snatched it out of his hand, moving as far away from him as possible. "It's okay, babe. We'll be okay."