Stalker Problems - Chapter 21 - The Elevator Incident
What. A. Night.
I reached out to try to find Ryder, but my hands came up empty. I reached a little further and fell straight off the couch.
Ow.
I opened my eyes. The morning sun pouring through the two-story window of the great room was blinding.
“Ryder?”
No answer.
“Ryder?” I called a little louder.
Still nothing.
Where did he go? I got up to look around the apartment. He was probably just being a jerk and trying to make himself look all pretty so he could make fun of me for having sloppy hair and morning breath. I put my hand up to my mouth and breathed into it. Rank. Shoot.
There was no sign of him in the kitchen. And the fridge was completely empty, which was weird. Who keeps nothing in their fridge? There was no sign of him in the bedroom either. Or the other bedroom. Or the next one. How many bedrooms does this place have? And he wasn’t in the bathroom either.
Oh well. I could wait for him to get back from wherever he went. Maybe he’d gone to get me breakfast! How romantic! Or maybe he was at work…
SHIT!
Today was my first day of work. What time was it?
I pulled out my phone. My heart nearly stopped when I saw the time. 8:42. And work started at 9. I was going to be late. Late! On my first day! That was like…the worst thing ever. I would literally rather die than be late to work ever, much less on my first day. I felt completely paralyzed.
Should I just not show up? Should I borrow Ryder’s toothbrush to brush my dirty whore mouth? I could move across the country and never show my face in NYC again. Or maybe I should just kill myself. Yeah, that would be best.
My phone buzzing pulled me out of my suicide spiral. It was a text from Chastity: “Hey girl, can’t wait for your first day!”
I started to type out a text, but there was no time. This was serious. For the first time in my life, I understood why phones still had the ability to call people.
Chastity answered on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”
She sounded as hysterical as I felt, because I literally never called anyone. Out of principle. Out of the fact that I was a normal millennial. “Everything is wrong!”
“I’m going to need you to be a little more specific. And also stop screaming.”
“I slept over at my stalker’s place.”
“Stalker? What? Who’s stalking you? And wait, you did what?!” she shrieked. “Ah! I need all the deets!”
Oh God. I’d told her about the handsome guy that walked out of One57 every Tuesday and Thursday at 8 pm on the dot.
We’d even tried to run into him together.
But I never actually told her he was stalking me.
And I didn’t have time to go into this right now.
“I’m not going to make it to work. Just tell them I died. ”
“No way. You’re not going to screw me on this. Do you know how annoying the guy was that I had to blow to get you this job?”
“You blew someone to get me the job? You promised you wouldn’t do that!” God, she blew someone! Not showing up would be a crime to humanity and a crime to her lips.
“Yell at me later. For now, tell me what I need to do to get your ass to BIMG in the next fifteen minutes.”
I looked down at my red dress and lack of shoes. None of it was work-appropriate. Including my face. And there was no way I was going to get sidewalk foot fungus. “Go to my apartment and get the outfit I laid out on the bed.”
“No time. I’ll have to bring you some of my clothes.”
“And shoes,” I added.
“Done. Anything else?”
“Makeup.”
“You think I’d ever leave home without makeup?” She sounded horrified.
“Fair point.”
“Call an Uber,” she said. “Now.” Click.
I did. Luckily the Society app had switched off and I had access to all my normal apps. The Uber was two minutes away. Which meant I had just enough time to go find some of Ryder’s shoes to steal.
I sprinted up the stairs and opened his closet.
It was filled with…nothing. Well, not nothing.
It was completely empty except for a pair of…
Crocs? What the hell? Why were there no clothes?
And more importantly…why were there only Crocs?
In any other situation I would have taken appropriate action and burned the entire closet to the ground, but there was no time for that.
Somehow, walking around in size thirteen Crocs was less horrifying to me than being late to work while simultaneously contracting a deadly foot fungus.
Unless Ryder had foot fungus. And Crocs would totally fit that vibe.
Screw me. I slid the hideous plasticky things onto my fungus-free feet.
I sprinted to the bathroom just to see if there was time to brush my teeth. But…there was no toothbrush. Or toothpaste. I pulled open another drawer. Everything was empty. What kind of maniac was Ryder? Who lived like this? Fuck everything.
I kept my black wig on to save whatever ounce of self-respect I still had left as I stumbled out of the Caldwell Hotel in my clown shoes and whore dress.
I expected people to point and laugh while I waited for my Uber, but no one did. In fact, no one even looked at me. Ah, the beauty of New York City. Only the liftman and doorman paid me any attention, and they had mercifully ignored my general appearance.
The Uber driver, however, definitely noticed. I was for sure going to get a one-star review, but I didn’t care.
I watched the seconds tick by on my phone as my Uber wove between angry cab drivers. 8:54. Shit shit shit! Drive faster!
Three minutes later, we arrived at the BIMG building. I didn’t bother to thank him. There was no point in trying to salvage my rating. I was Uber doomed. I’d never ride again in this town.
“Oh God,” was all Chastity could say as I got out of the car. She handed me a pile of clothes and we took off into the building.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked.
“No time.” She dragged me across the lobby and onto the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, she turned to the five people crammed in there with us and snapped her fingers. “You all, turn around. My friend needs to change.”
Here?! Now? What? Why! Whatever. There was no time. I kicked the Crocs into the corner while Chastity literally tore my dress off. Then she yanked off my wig and started to fix my hair.
“Now tell me about this stalker,” Chastity said as she tried to get a comb through my hair. There’s no time for that!
She pulled it harder when I didn’t answer.
Ow. “The guy we tried to find outside One57 the other day.”
“You mean the guy you’re stalking?”
“I’m not stalking him! He’s stalking me .”
“You creep outside his building every Tuesday and Thursday. You’re the stalker in this situation.”
“I am not.” God, now everyone in the elevator thought I was a psycho.
“I’m not,” I said more determinedly. I was halfway into my skirt when the elevator dinged.
The doors opened and I made direct eye contact with the guy waiting to get on.
I had never seen a look of such pure and utter confusion.
And…seduction? Nope. Just confusion. As if it wasn’t already awkward enough - me with my tits out, Chastity holding my wig, and the five other occupants standing in the corner facing the wall like naughty little children who had been sent to time out - I had to go and say, “Top of the morning, good sir.” I curtsied with my skirt bunched around my knees. What the hell is wrong with me?
After that, he and I stayed completely still, staring into each other’s horrified souls, while we waited for what felt like three hours for the elevator doors to close.
Of course he didn’t get on. Because who in their right mind would hop onto this train wreck?
I promised myself right then and there that I would immediately kill myself if I ever saw that man again.
Death. No questions asked. He’d understand.
There was no time to dwell on it though.
We were only three floors away from our destination and I was still half-naked surrounded by a bunch of strangers.
Chastity zipped my skirt while I pulled on my blouse and buttoned the middle button.
Then I slipped some heels on and ran my fingers through my knotted hair.
And that was it. The elevator dinged again and the doors opened.
And I prayed that I looked at least a little presentable.
“Good morning,” said Bee. She was wearing a fancy suit and looked so perfectly chic. Especially in comparison to me. God, I never should have shown up. I backed up and ran right into Chastity.
“Hey, Bee,” said Chastity as she pushed me out of the elevator
Bee smiled. “I see you already know our small business strategist. Ash, it’s so nice to have you aboard. I promise I’m not usually a monster, but this is gonna be one heck of a first day. Because Rhodes VC just called and asked if we could have a presentation ready this afternoon.”
“This afternoon ?” asked Chastity.
“Is that bad?” I whispered. “That sounds bad.”
Chastity nodded. “Uh, yes. That’s bad. We usually have weeks to prepare a pitch.”
“I’m sorry,” Bee said. “But he insisted it had to be today. And if we land Rhodes, it’ll double our business. And your Christmas bonuses.”
Well, that sounded amazing.
“Plus he’s a friend. We’ve been trying to get him to come in for ages. But now that he’s finally coming…I doubt he’ll be taking his business elsewhere. You still need to give him a great pitch though. Just let me know if you have any questions,” Bee said. “See you two this afternoon.”
Chastity and Madison introduced me to the rest of the marketing team and then we worked our asses off for three hours straight.
We made graphics for the slides, tweaked the copy, and went over the notecards for the presentation.
With my help - that’s right, I’m awesome - we finished with an hour to spare.
“So who is this client that we just busted our asses for?” I asked.
“Oh, only one of the richest men in the city,” said Chastity. “Tanner Rhodes. I’m pretty sure he’s a billionaire.”
I pulled out my phone to look him up, but I got distracted by a notification from the Society app. I clicked on it.
“RATE YOUR EXPERIENCE” popped up on the screen with a picture of Ocelot, the possibly gay realtor. Sorry, I mean the metrosexual.
“What’s that?” asked Chastity, craning her neck to see my screen.
“The Society,” I whispered. “I’m supposed to rate the guys I met.”
“Ah! I need to hear all about it. Let’s go in the conference room and pretend to set up.”
Chastity, Madison, and I snuck off to a conference room with the biggest glass table I’d ever seen.
It looked like the sort of table I’d try to stupidly hide behind.
Chastity pulled the blinds closed and locked the door.
“Tell us everything. And don’t you dare leave out any details.
Single Girl Rule #9: If you hear about a well-hung man, share the news. ”
I told them every detail of my evening, rating the men on the app as I described each apartment.
Chastity agreed Ocelot looked gay, and Madison made some comment reminding us that it was totally okay to be gay.
The rest of the guys were a mixed bag. The gym bro was good-looking, but as soon as I described how douchey he was, their opinions of him quickly changed.
Chastity was particularly interested in the two well-endowed men that almost double-teamed me.
Anyway, I didn’t really care about all that. I couldn’t wait to show them my stalker.
“So that part of the date was okay,” I said, “but the last part was amazing. I met my stalker!”
“And this was the same guy who you threw the pie at?” asked Chastity. “The one that you’re stalking.”
How many times did we need to go over this?
“I’m not stalking him. And I didn’t throw it at him.
I accidentally nudged it onto him. But yes, him.
His apartment was everything. I wish you could have seen it.
” I started describing the furniture and the kitchen and the great room.
And then I told them about the FBI raid and the zipline and the gyros.
And how the FBI was fake and that Ryder was really bad at segues but how we kept almost kissing and he liked weird movies and gah! It had been the perfect night.
“So wait…you didn’t bang him?” asked Chastity when I was finished.
“Really?” I asked. “I tell you that I ziplined through the middle of the city and all you can ask is if I slept with him? I’m barely alive right now.”
Chastity shrugged. “I mean, clearly you survived so it couldn’t have been that eventful. You didn’t answer my question, though.”
“No, I didn’t bang him. He was a perfect gentleman. Well, except when he took that selfie of me with my boob out.”
“Can I see?” asked Madison.
“You want to see her boob selfie?” asked Chastity.
“What? No. I want to see the picture of him.”
Suuure. “It was on his phone. But here’s a pic of him.
” I hit submit on my very unfavorable ratings of the rude Indian guy and waited for Ryder’s picture to pop up.
But it didn’t. The app just went to a black screen that said, “Thank you for your ratings!” in big white letters.
“What the hell? Why wasn’t I asked to rate Ryder? ”