After a few minutes of this, I whisper, “Drew?”
I don’t get a response.
I can’t imagine how many people would love to switch places with me right now. I’m stuck in a dark elevator with Drew Waters for who knows how long. Sadly, I’ve squandered the time by putting the man to sleep. I’ll never live this down!
Despite the craziness of the situation, I’m falling asleep too. I’ve run myself ragged and my body wants to use my unexpected free time for a nap.
Oh well. At least I’ll be able to tell people I slept with one of the greatest basketball players of all time.
---
I wake up to a bright light shining on my face. I put my hand up to shield my eyes. What the heck is going on?
“Miss! Miss! Are you alright?” a voice shouts down to me.
It takes me a second to get my bearings. That’s right, I’m stuck in an elevator. With Drew Waters. In fact, my head is laying on his chest. How did that happen?
Drew is still sleeping. He has his left arm wrapped around my body, holding me close to him as he dozes. I wiggle myself free of Drew’s arm and sit up. I wipe drool from the corner of my mouth and silently pray I didn’t leave a small puddle on Drew’s shirt. The power hasn’t come back on, so I can’t tell for sure.
“Is everyone okay?” the voice asks again.
“Yes!” I yell back. “We’re alright!”
“We’re with Cincinnati Fire and Rescue. We’ll have you out of there in no time.”
Drew stirs next to me. “What…” he murmurs as he opens his eyes.
“The firefighters are here,” I explain. “We’re getting out.”
The light flashes over Drew’s face and he cringes away from it.
“Sir! Are you okay?” the fireman asks.
Drew squeezes his eyes shut. “Yes! Stop shining the light in my face!”
The light quickly moves. “We’re bringing in a ladder. Lucky for you guys, the top of the elevator is flush with the fourth floor. You’ll be able to walk right out.”
I give Drew a knowing look. I was right about our location.
Drew stretches his arms and legs. “Did I really fall asleep?”
I nod. “We both did.”
“For how long?”
I pick up my cell phone and check the time. 7:30 p.m.! Crap! I’m three hours late for work! “We’ve been in here for over three hours.”
“No shit,” Drew says surprised, “I can’t believe I slept that long.”
“Me neither,” I say as I stand up.
I shake my feet to get the blood flowing in my legs. The floor of an elevator isn’t exactly the most comfortable place to sleep. Drew hands me my sweatshirt and I put it back on. A few minutes later, the firefighters drop a wooden ladder down the trap door.
Drew motions toward the ladder. “Ladies first.”
“Thanks,” I say gratefully, ready to get out of this metal box.
I take my time ascending the wooden steps of the ladder. I don’t want to fall and embarrass myself. Two firefighters pull me up and out of the elevator when I am close enough for them to reach me. One of the firefighters holds my arm as we walk off the elevator and into the hallway. The second firefighter stays to hold the ladder in place for Drew. I look around and see the overhead lights in the hallway are still out. The only light is coming from the emergency back-up lights installed in the exit signs.
“How are you feeling?” the firefighter asks me. He is young and freckle-faced. His hat is too big and his uniform overwhelms him.
I brush dirt off my jeans. “I’m fine.”
“I’ll take you downstairs to get checked out by the EMTs,” the fireman tells me.
“That’s kind of you to offer, but I need to get to work.”
“Miss, you need to be evaluated by…” the firefighter trails off when Drew’s head pokes out of the elevator. He stares at Drew for a minute, then turns back to me. “Is that…”
I cut him off, knowing what his question will be. “Yes. It’s Drew Waters.”
The firefighter drops me like a bad habit and scurries over to Drew. Now’s my chance to get out of here. Before I make my exit, I look over my shoulder and steal a glance at Drew. The firefighters are fawning over him and asking him questions about potential injuries.
“I’m fine,” Drew insists. “I just want to go home.”
“But Mr. Waters,” the older firefighter insists, “we have to be sure you haven’t hurt yourself in any way. Big game tomorrow night.”
“I’m aware of my schedule,” Drew says with bite.
The firefighter shrinks at Drew’s tone, but doesn’t give up. “Please Mr. Waters. It would make us feel a lot better.”
“Yeah,” the freckle-faced firefighter adds.
Drew sighs. “I’ll go see the team doctor guys. Promise.”
I snicker as the men continue to go back and forth, all the while standing on top of the elevator. They are oblivious to me, which is great. I catch Drew’s eye for a second. I tilt my chin up toward him, the way he did to me when he stepped into the elevator.
Then I’m gone.
Chapter Two
I drive as fast as I can to the restaurant. There are several road crews picking up downed trees and cleaning up debris. Most traffic lights are blinking red, and some are completely out. The storm must have been nasty.
To my surprise, the restaurant’s parking lot is full when I pull in. I park my Honda Civic in a drugstore parking lot across the street. I go through the back door of the restaurant and rush into the ladies’ room to change into my work clothes. Tiffany’s dad, Jim, insists servers wear all black. When I first started at the restaurant, I hated the dress code. Now, I love it. It makes clothes shopping easy. Tonight, I’m wearing a black skirt with black tights and a black cami-top under a black cardigan. I pull my hair back into a high ponytail and put on my black heels.
I slip into the kitchen and grab an ordering pad and pen. Dishes clank against the stainless steel countertops and steam rises from the cook tops. The head chef yells out orders as his sous chefs prepare food with lightning fast efficiency.
“Where have you been?!” a shrill voice asks from behind me.
I turn to see my best friend Tiffany dropping dirty dishes into the giant metal sink. She looks uber-professional in a black pants suit with sky high black heels. Tiffany is the type of woman who turns heads wherever she goes. Her grandmother is full-blooded Cherokee and Tiffany is blessed with her beautiful hair and skin tone.
“I’ve had to wait on tables tonight,” she complains. “It’s been crazy!”
“I’m so sorry Tiff,” I say as I tie my black half-apron around my waist. “The craziest thing happened to me.”
Tiffany dries her hands on a towel. “You can tell me all about it later. We’re slammed! We’re one of the only restaurants in town with power.” Tiffany glides past me, her long black hair billowing behind her.
For the next few hours, I rush around taking orders and bringing out hot plates of food. The restaurant is essentially a high-end steakhouse. Why anyone would pay a hundred dollars for a filet mignon and a baked potato is beyond me. But the tips are fantastic and the customers are usually pleasant.