I’m frozen in my chair, but my eyes are set on the doors and connecting wall expecting them to shake. Stationary walls should never move. The second pen on the desk twitches and my mind can’t ignore the evidence any longer. It’s a fucking earthquake.
My mind races with horrible outcomes. Wasn’t San Francisco destroyed by an earthquake once? Why did I move to a city that plans to break off and fall into the ocean one day?
We’re all going to die.
For some reason I stand and my body takes me to the middle of the lobby. But as I gaze up at the large tile blocks on the ceiling, I decide this might not be the best spot to stay safe from falling debris when the building starts to cave in.
I turn around in another circle and look for a better space in the lobby. I’ve watched movies with earthquakes. What did they do? Things are no longer moving, but I’m not willing to risk it. My body stops at the closet door. People hide in bathtubs, right? I don't have a tub, but there’s a room without windows. I run to the closet and my heels slip on the smooth floor, but I fall in and close the door.
There’s a loud thumping in the room and I panic with worry about gas lines breaking, but the beat matches the one coming from my chest and I surmise it’s my heart. The closet’s dark and I’m scared to turn on the light. Electrical fires, downed lines, and a hundred other horrible outcomes stumble through my mind from all the apocalyptic movies I’ve seen. They always start in California. Isn’t that a clue to us all?
The dark windowless room takes over my senses, and being unable to see anything might be worse than watching the building crumble around me. I step to the entrance and throw open the door. The motion triggers my thoughts and I remember windowless rooms are for tornadoes, door frames are for earthquakes.
I move my feet to either side of the door and then grab on to the white trim with both hands. My knuckles go white and hurt immediately, but I’m not going to let go.
“Simone?”
I turn my head to the left and spot Trey as he looks out from the office doorway. He walks into the lobby and comes to stand in front of me, but I don’t let go.
“What are you doing, Trey? It’s an earthquake. Grab on to something,” my voice is panicked but he looks as casual as normal with his sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons of his blue shirt undone. Are people here so used to their lives being on the line they don’t take this kind of natural disaster seriously?
He reaches up and tries to pry one of my hands off the door trim, but I refuse to let it budge. He’ll have to find his own damn door. “Simone, babe. It’s over. Look."
I let my eyes fall to the front doors past Trey and notice their standing position. He tries to release my hand again and this time I let him.
“It was a little one, a few seconds tops. Maybe a three on the scale. Nothing to worry about. It’s all okay.”
“Nothing to worry about?” I feel more panic building up inside. This time from anger. “A three on the scale! How big is the scale? Why is there a scale at all? Why do you people choose to live in a place where the ground moves?”
He smiles at my outburst. “The view, the weather,” he pauses and then picks back up again, “most recently the people.” He tugs on my other hand and I let it fall but keep my feet braced. “It’s over now. Everything is okay,” he repeats his earlier promise, but it doesn't make me feel any better the second time.
I open my mouth, but rather than words, my first sob echoes through the tiny space and I back into the dark closet. “Everything is not okay, Trey.” I sink to the floor in the middle of the room and stick my legs out to my side. "I live in a place that will drown me when it crumbles into the bay. And my sister can’t come live with me because I have no place for her to say since I sleep on a couch. My dad still doesn’t know I lost my job out here. I owe a college education in back rent.”
My words are lost on another sob and Trey sits on the floor next to me. His arms wrap around me and he tugs me into his shoulder. The door closes behind him and we’re covered in blackness.
“I just survived an earthquake and I can’t even call my mom and tell her about it. I’ll never call her again.” Thoughts of my mom and everything I’ll never get to share with her take over any fear of the ground falling out from under me. It already did back in September, but for some reason it didn’t take me with it. How can I have lost someone so important, but the world kept spinning without her on it?
Tears track down my face only to be soaked up by Trey’s shirt as my body rocks into his. He tightens his grip on me and one hand slowly rubs my back, but it does nothing to calm my outpouring.
Time slows and eventually my cries even out. I’m able to gain control of my ragged breathing. Trey doesn’t say anything, but he continues to rub my back in small circles. After a few more minutes, I’ve quieted enough to talk again and the embarrassment over what happened in this closet makes my body tight for new reasons. Trey must think I’m a mess. Who am I kidding? I am a mess.
I move my head away from his shoulder and wipe a hand down it even though my palm does nothing to soak up the wetness my tears left behind. “I’m so sorry.” I attempt to inch away from him, but his grip tightens keeping me in place. My eyes are tired, but they can’t take much in from the black closet. A thin line of light brightens the floor from the bottom and I remember I’m at work.
“God. I can’t go back out there like this,” I moan and put my head back into Trey’s wet sleeve.
“Don’t worry. Everyone’s probably left by now and no one comes out this way anyway. The back entrance is closer to the parking lot." This explains why I’ve never seen anyone leave the building after I check them in.
I move my head again and reach for my phone but remember it’s at my desk. “What time is it?”
The circles on my back stop and the room lights up when Trey turns on his phone. “A little after six.”
Wonderful. I’ve been sitting on the floor in an empty closet crying into his shoulder for over an hour. Yes, definitely a hot mess over here.
My face heats and I’m thankful for the darkened room. “I’m sorry.” I try to move away again, but still his arm holds on.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I would have sat on the floor with you all night.”
I laugh a small amount at his words because they came from Trey and there isn’t another response I can muster at the moment.
“Come on. Let’s get out of the closet.”
He stands up and then reaches an arm out to help me. My legs ache after being still for so long and I stretch them out for a second while Trey does the same. He opens the door and I blink repeatedly as the light from the lobby filters into the room.
My face has to be tear stained and red, but he doesn’t comment as I follow him into the empty lobby. I scan the room and take note that besides the pen still on the floor, everything is where I left it when I made my frantic dash to the closet.
Trey opens the door to the offices and sticks his head on the other side before looking back. “It’s empty. Everyone’s gone home. Come on."
My heels click on the floor and it sounds louder than normal. The desk-filled room is empty of people on the other side of the door. The lights slowly flicker back on as Trey flips the switches to our right. The door to Trey’s office is closed. The blinds on his big window are open, but the lights inside are off.
He walks through to his right and stops at the two large sectional sofas that corner off the side of the room. The large television is black, but he grabs a remote and the screen flashes to life. Various gaming consoles and controllers litter the space, dead giveaways this is the area where the boys play games throughout the day.
I stand beside him next to the black leather sofas. “You know this place needs bean bags if you’re going to play up the whole gamer thing.”
He laughs and then jumps over the back of the couch and settles in the middle. “I kept telling Finn to pick some up while we shopped, but he wouldn’t
listen to me. These are comfortable, but they don’t cradle the butt like a bean bag.” He taps the seat next to him. Rather than jump over and risk kicking him in the face, I take the adult approach and walk around.
Two controllers lay outstretched on the floor and he reaches down to pick both up handing one to me. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to pick up your toys when you were done playing with them?” I joke and take the controller from him.
“Nah, it’s easier to find everything this way.” He uses his controls to highlight and click on the play game screen and we wait for the screen to load.
“What are we playing?” For some reason sitting on a couch with my maybe boyfriend to play a video game feels like the perfect thing to do to forget my earlier freak out. It’s almost normal and normal is comforting right now.
“Dragons Reborn,” he answers with ease but doesn’t add the “what else?” comment I hear in his words.
The screen finishes loading and he grabs my controller from me punching a series of buttons I’ll never remember until a female character blinks on the screen. She lands on her feet with the cobblestone street beneath her. Wearing a pair of brown pants and a light green shirt, her long blonde hair is the only indication my character’s a girl. The graphics aren’t as sophisticated as some of the games I’ve seen my cousin play, the scenery and characters a little pixelated and blocky. People fill in the space around us and after we walk a few feet, buildings come into focus until we're standing in a small town center.
“Be careful what you do on the street. All of these are actual people playing on this server all around the world.”
“What can I do besides walk?” I ask.
“Well if you had a sword, you’d want to make sure you have it sheathed or people could see it as a threat.”
I put his warning somewhere in the recess of my mind to use for later should I ever have a sword. It’s a scary to think someone would trust me with a sharp object even in a video game. I follow behind Trey as he walks into a small wooden home. The game loads and the room fills with wooden tables in almost every available space. Each table top holds stacks of different colored cloth. Trey opens a dialog box and enters some numbers before a few pieces of cloth float through the space and magically enter his character before disappearing.
“What just happened?” I ask as we head back out to the road.
Trey walks his character through the winding street and I push random buttons until mine catches up. “I bought some fabric. We’ll find a tailor to turn it into clothing.”
We walk past a shop with an anvil hanging over the door — the universal sign for a blacksmith in this online realm and our real one. I went through a castle phase in middle school, okay? I was on the lookout for my white knight so I could be a princess. The door is closed and the building has a roof rather than being open to the contents inside. We walk by without stopping.
“A real person’s character makes clothes?” The possibilities in this game are a little overwhelming as we pass various buildings some with doors open and some closed.
“Yeah, they increase their skills as they play and make clothes to barter with other characters. There are blacksmiths and tavern owners. A little of everything and more than one shop for each since people aren’t always online."
“So I could design my own clothes in this game?” Did Trey just tell me I could be a Dragons Reborn fashion designer?
He grins in my direction at the question. “Well the options are pre-determined, but sure.”
I use the back of my palm to hit his shoulder in excitement. “I want to be a tailor,” I demand like a small child who decides they want to be an astronaut one day over lunch.
His smile grows. “It takes a while to build up the skills. Some of these players are online most of the day.”
Nothing is going to take away from my excitement of being a fashion designer — neither predetermined outfits or lack of skill set. “It’s okay. I can play during the day. I heard my bosses won’t mind.” I quickly wink at him and then return my focus to the game.
At that he outright laughs but doesn’t object. His character turns down a path to our left and I scramble to follow again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I jerk awake. The rattle of Aspen’s wooden door jarred against the frame so loud I almost fall off the couch in panic. Please, dear God, not another earthquake. Sunlight streams into the room and pools on the floor from a split where two curtain panels come together. The door rattles again and I sit up on the pull-out couch and bring the covers up to my chest.
“Aspen! Simone!” The noise carries through to the apartment and I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m pretty sure a robber wouldn't call out for us first.
Aspen’s bedroom door opens as she fixes her askew ponytail and walks to the kitchen. “I’m coming!” she yells toward the door. “Don’t worry. Only Finn, Mar, and my sister-in-law have the code, and only Jake has the meaty fists required to make the door shake with such passion.”
Her long fleece pajama pants are white with big orange SF logos all over them. They match the logo on her short sleeve shirt. She’s seems nonchalant rather than worried why Finn would try to break down her door at this hour of the day. Aspen makes it to the opposite side of the room and pulls open the door.
“Surprise.” I don’t recognize the voice right away, but I’m also still half asleep. Since Aspen doesn’t scream and run for cover, I assume we’re safe.
“Do you know what time it is, Finnegan?” she asks with a hand on her hip.
The door opens farther and Jake in a pair of jeans and a black fleece jacket walks in. Behind him, Finn in a similar outfit follows and Trey brings up the rear with a full cardboard drink carrier.
“Do you know what time it is?” Finn repeats her question and then stops to look Aspen over.
Trey walks to the middle of the room, his lips stretched across his face in the most joyful expression he’s ever worn. “It’s moving day." He takes a coffee cup from the carrier and passes it to Aspen. “A hot chocolate for the non-coffee drinker.”
“Thanks, Trey. You look happy today.” She smells the top of her drink container. “It’s odd and maybe a little scary.”
I can’t decide if her odd statement is about her hot chocolate or the goofy expression Trey’s had on his scruffy face since he walked in. As if my thoughts have called him, he walks over to me and places a quick kiss on my temple. "Coffee for you.” When he backs away, Aspen, Finn, and even Jake are left staring at us, all of their mouths slightly slack in question.
Their scrutiny racks up my nerves and I shrug. Maybe Trey’s on drugs. I lift the coffee to my lips, but move it back quickly. “One sugar?”
Trey smiles. “Of course.”
My eyes narrow at him. “Poured on the left side of the cup not the right?”
He, Finn, and Jake all laugh as they figure out my Melvin impersonation, but poor Aspen looks at the four of us like I’ve lost my mind.
Jake is the first to get back to business and he walks out to the hallway and comes back in carrying a stack of flattened cardboard boxes.
“Boxes?” I ask.
Trey grabs the stack from Jake. “Yeah, for your stuff.”
My head slants to the side as I process what he’s said. Out of the corner of my eye, Finn pulls Aspen to his lap with a quick head shake as they sit on the edge of the couch together. Even Jake retreats to the side of the kitchen. Everyone’s clearing the space and I worry I'm about to find out why.
“Most of my stuff is already in boxes, Trey.”
He drops the stack of cardboard on the floor. “Even better.”
All the words he’s said since entering the apartment hit me at once and I sputter for a moment. “Wait a second. Why is today moving day?” I have to ask, "Who’s moving?”
I didn’t believe it was possible, but his lips stretch further along his face. “You are.”
Granted it’s been easier between Trey and me since my closet fr
eak out on Wednesday. We’ve eaten lunch together and played Dragons Reborn daily. I’ve even almost won Melvin's trust back since there haven’t been any additional jelly incidents. Of course I think Melvin might have tinfoil stuck to the underside of the baseball hat he refuses to take off, but that’s a problem for another day.
The point is Trey and I haven’t talked about apartments at any point in the last two days. He definitely didn’t mention showing up on Saturday morning with boxes. I’d remember that.
“Why is Simone moving?” Aspen asks from her spot on the couch next to Finn.
Trey sighs, obviously irritated by the lost time in answering questions he feels are redundant. “We have an open apartment on the second floor and she’s next on the list.”
His answer sounds simple, but I don’t believe it. “Aspen said there’s a six-month wait for new employees.”
A throat clears from behind me and Finn stands from the couch. “Let me give you some words of wisdom, Simone, if you don’t mind?” He waits for my nod. "When Trey sets his mind on a task, he’ll work until he gets it. At times like these, it’s best to sit back and enjoy the ride.”
My head flips back to Trey, waiting for his rebuttal, but he only sticks a hand out in defeat.
“I don’t want the other employees to think I’m getting special treatment.” I try one last time.
“Nonsense,” Finn answers again. “We make the rules and there are two open spaces without current employees. We’ve hired less than we planned so there is no waiting. I trust you so I’m waiving the six-month rule.”
“But…” my words stall out when I’m unable to decide what to argue next.
Finn walks next to Trey and crosses his arms over his chest. It reminds me of two linebackers working together. Except these are nerdy linebackers and the most they probably know about football has the name Madden in it.
Lag (The Boys of RDA Book 2) Page 17