Chapter One
“Shit.”
Oh, my gosh, no. Shit, shit, shit!
“Hey! Hey, is anyone out there? I’m stuck in the elevator!”
First day on the freaking job and I get stuck in the elevator. I think. Right? We’re not moving, so that must mean we’re stuck.
Why am I using “we” statements? I’m alone. Alone in a stuck-ass elevator in a prestigious establishment without a friend or a resource to my name.
“Buttons, buttons, buttons. I should press all the buttons.”
Or press none of the buttons? Shouldn’t there be a universal protocol for what you do to all the buttons when you’re stuck in an elevator?
I push the door open button.
Nothing.
The call button.
Nothing.
The little red firefighter hat button.
Nothing.
“I’m going for it. I’m pushing all the buttons.” I let out a surprisingly fierce but feral sound as I slide my hands down the entire panel of elevator buttons, a la Will Ferrell in Elf.
“Rrrrrr-ahhhhhh!”
Dammit.
Nothing.
All right. This is a museum, so the place is crawling with scientific minds, yeah? Surely, someone knows how to get a damn elevator door to open. I’m hella early, though, so I’m not sure anyone else is even around to hear me.
“Not panicking. Not panicking. I’m not panicking.”
I am totally panicking.
“ANYBODY OUT THERE!? GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”
I know what you’re thinking, but I’m gonna stop you right there. This is not one of those stories where the adorable hot mess of a woman spends twenty chapters bumbling and stumbling her way through life until, at long last, she finds a man who accepts all her quirks and crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I love those books, and I love me a hot mess, but that just isn’t me. I’m the opposite of a hot mess. I’m what you’d call a-a-a… cold… clean? Calm? No, that doesn’t really capture the feeling I’m going for here. A warm… organized person?
What I’m saying is I have my proverbial shit together.
Clearly.
“GET ME OUT OF HERE OR IMMA LOSE MY SHIT!”
Nope. Keeping my shit contained.
“Breathing in… breathing out. Breathing in… breathing out.”
Wow, that breathing stuff kinda sorta works. Who knew! I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirrored ceiling. Hm. Have you ever noticed that mirrored ceilings seem to be reserved solely for sex dungeons and elevators? Elevators and sex dungeons… what in the world do they have in common to require the same ceiling design?
Oh man, I’m spiraling. All right, it’s pep talk time. I peer up at my reflection and look deeply into my own terrified eyes.
“Calliope. Girlfriend. Today is not the day it ends for you. This internship is the gorgeous stepping-stone you’ve been waiting for to make all your paleontological dreams come true. You really think you’ve come this far just to die crazed and alone in an elevator sex dungeon in the children’s wing of Philadelphia’s Museum of Natural Sciences? No friggin' way! This is the first day of the rest of your freakishly successful life! Those dinosaurs aren’t going to dig up and study themselves! The world of science needs you! DO YOU SUCKAS HEAR ME OUT THERE? THE WORLD OF SCIENCE NEEDS ME! I AM THE ABSOLUTE SHIZZ, AND I DON’T DESERVE TO DIE THIS WAY!”
“Hehe. Shizz.” The sound of a male voice suddenly rumbles in my head.
“Who’s talking right now!?” My body jolts like I’ve been tasered. I whip my head left and right, but clearly, this dude is on the other side of the sealed-shut elevator doors.
“You are talking right now. To yourself, apparently.”
“You know what I meant, you-you-you… Snarky Jollyman!”
“Snarky Jollyman! Oooh. Already doling out nicknames, are we?”
“How long have you been listening to me?”
“For a bit.”
“O-kaaaay. Do you work here? Are you here to get me out?”
“Yes, I work here, but… wait. Do I seem snarky to you?”
“Our interaction began two seconds ago, so clearly I know nothing about you, but yeah, you seem snarky as hell.”
“Snarky and jolly? Wow!” He laughs.
No, actually. It’s not a laugh. It’s a chuckle. You know those back-of-your-throat chuckles that sound like choking on your own spit and gasping for breath while simultaneously impersonating a seal? Yeah, that kind. The kind of chuckle that signals true joy with zero fucks given for how ridiculous it sounds.
“Cool. Don’t think I’ve ever been called snarky before. Jolly, sure, but never snarky. I recently decided to become more of a bastard, though, so snarky feels like a nice first step. Thank you for the encouragement. And who are you, emotional rude lady?”
“None of your business! And don’t call me emotional! Or lady!”
“You got it, ma’am.”
“I am twenty-two years old, sucka. Screw the ma’ams.”
“Do you call people sucka a lot?”
“Do you stand around being useless a lot?”
“Whoa. Guess I’ll be going then.”
“No, wait! I’m stuck!”
“I’m picking up on that, yeah. It’s just that usually when someone needs help, they are way nicer to their potential rescuer than you’re being to me right now.”
“Uh, you are not my rescuer. I do not need a rescuer.”
“Okay, cool. See ya!”
“Stop! Please!”
“There’s that magic word. Sure. What can I do for you?”
“How about get you me out of here?”
“Did you press the emergency call button?”
“No. I just stood here and used my powers of manifestation to summon your snarky self to this spot.”
“Well then, mission accomplished.”
“Dude, of course I pressed the emergency call button.”
“Okay, good.”
“And the door open button.”
“Sounds right.”
“And the little red firefighter hat button.”
“Fair enough.”
“I pressed ALL the buttons.”