Alternative

| Chapter Fifteen

Thunder roars across the night sky. I feel like it's been raining every night this week. Like a warning.

Turn around, Ray. Go back.

"Come on Joe, where are you?" I stand inside the elevator of Elizabeth's apartment complex, but don't push a button. Instead, I keep one foot out so the doors may stay open. And I stare down at my phone.

Joe hasn't called to check in. He said he'd meet me here. Even this morning, he reminded me. Apparently, all of the facts he'd gathered together was enough to miss our morning coffee, to skip adding a cup to his glory tower.

Even if he doesn't show up and run the mem-upload with me inside of her apartment, I still need to know he's available. I can't run the programs without him as my backup. He's the main component that makes my copying stream work smoothly.

With a frustrated sigh, I lean against the metal interior and dial his number once more. "Come on, Joe," I hiss at my phone. "Answer."

Come to think of it, he hasn't answered a call since the afternoon. In the morning, I assumed he was researching Elizabeth. When I called for an update and it went to his voicemail, I figured he was up later than I and needed a nap.

But here, now, when I need him the most? I can't go in. Not upstairs. Not with her. "Joe..." I pull my phone away from my ear.

"Excuse me, miss?"

My eyes shoot up at the sound of a voice addressing me. An older woman, much shorter than I am, stands in the complex's lobby. I give her a weak smile. "Evening, ma'am," I say, nodding once.

"Evening." She pulls her red bag in front of her and grips it tightly. "Is there a reason why you're holding the elevator? Are you expecting someone?"

For a moment, I blink, completely forgetting that I had been holding the elevator up for a good half hour. According to the time on my phone's screen, I was ten minutes late for my appointment with Elizabeth. But until Joe answers his phone, I refuse. Not after last night.

"Just waiting on a call," I say, answering the old woman's question as truthfully as I can.

"A call?" She purses her wrinkled lips, painted pink. She eyes the phone in my hands. "Do you need to stand in the elevator for a phone call?"

I stutter, make noises because I'm unsure of what to say. I can't be any more honest, or else I'd end up telling her about the crazy woman who made a contract with the memory company I work for. And that I was avoiding her. With a nine-foot pole.

"For the record, what you're doing is rude." What the woman says catches me off guard.

I shake my head and pocket my phone, trying to think of a defense. What exactly was I doing? How was I rude? "I'm sorry ma'am," I say, trying to stay respectful, "but I don't know what you mean?"

"Just standing here." She nods at me, clutching her bag tighter as she looks me up and down. "It's rude."

My mouth is dry. Does she know Elizabeth? "I mean—" I bite my lip, look away, and run my fingers through my hair. "—I'm just..."

"You're holding up the elevator." The woman throws an arm up, pointing at the numbers on the wall that aren't moving. "Do you think an old woman like myself wants to walk down six flights of stairs?"

I feel all color bleed away from my face. "Um..."

"I've been trying to leave my apartment for over thirty minutes, now, and the elevator never came. And now I know why." She presses her lips out, using them to point at me. "The youth of today just have no manners, I tell you."