Total pages in book: 15
Estimated words: 14086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 14086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 70(@200wpm)___ 56(@250wpm)___ 47(@300wpm)
“I have no idea. I thought the doors would unlock automatically when the power went out. Hang on, let me try calling my uncle.”
I turned to Ryan, who was right beside me. He was holding one of the pillar candles above his head and looking at its base, and he said, “Did you know these are fake? It’s made to look like a flickering candle, but there’s a bulb inside it and a battery door on the bottom. Why would anyone want something like this?”
“Because real candles are dangerous.”
“They’re also pretty, and romantic. This is kind of meh.” He looked around and added, “But since the sun’s setting, I guess it’s a good thing we have these fake-ass candles. It’s going to be pitch black in here pretty soon.”
He was right about that. I knocked on the door and asked, “What’s your uncle saying?”
Benji called, “Just a minute.”
Ryan carried the candle over to the bookshelves and started perusing the titles. Then he asked, “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a fifth-grade science teacher.”
“I was sure you were going to say you’re a dancer.”
“Why?”
“Because of the way you carry yourself.”
“Well, you’re not wrong. I’ve been studying ballet since I was five, and I’m part of a dance troupe here in Oakland, but that’s just for fun. I don’t dance for a living.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not good enough. I was great when I was a kid, but not anymore. At my age, there’s not much chance of turning things around.”
He returned to my side and asked, “How old are you?”
“Thirty-one. What about you?”
“I’m twenty-seven. Why don’t you think you’re good enough?”
“I’m just not,” I muttered. “Technically, I do everything right. But the feedback I’ve been getting is that I need to loosen up, and that I hold too much of myself back.” That probably applied to my whole life.
“Can’t you do something about that?”
“I don’t know. It’s frustrating. I try so hard and push myself to the absolute limit of what my body can do, but it’s still not enough, and…why am I telling you this?”
He shrugged. “Because you have nothing better to do.”
I redirected the conversation by asking, “What about you? What do you do, besides working as a barista?” As I leaned against the door, I could hear Benji talking on his phone, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying.
“My dream is to become a famous makeup artist. That’s what I absolutely love, and what I’m passionate about. But right now, I’m not even working in the industry.”
“Why not?”
He looked defeated. “I’ve been trying, but nobody’s all that interested in what I do. I guess I’m not skilled or talented enough.”
“Maybe you just need the right inspiration.”
“Maybe you do too, with your dancing.” He probably had a point. I regretted letting the conversation get that personal though, so I just shrugged.
Benji called, “Um, guys? We have a slight problem. I just got off the phone with my uncle Sy. Apparently something went wrong.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“When the power goes out, the door locks are supposed to disengage, so our customers don’t get trapped. But that didn’t happen.”
“Okay. So, what’s the plan for getting us out of here?”
“My uncle’s going to call around and try to find us someone who can help, but he said he might not be able to get anyone out here until tomorrow morning. He’s probably right about that. It’s getting late, and according to my phone’s local news updates, the storm and the power outage are making a mess of things all over the city. He said he’d come if he could, by the way, but he’s currently out of town.”
I asked Ryan, “Are you claustrophobic, diabetic, or anything else that might present a problem in the near future?” When he shook his head, I told Benji, “We’ll be alright in here until your uncle finds someone, or until the city restores the power, whichever comes first. It’s usually back up in a couple of hours when something like this happens.”
Benji asked, “Are you sure? I could bust out the fire axe and try to hack through the door, but that seems a bit extreme.”
I grinned as I pictured him reenacting Jack Nicholson’s famous scene from The Shining. “We don’t quite need that level of intervention, but let us know if you figure out a way to trip the locks. In the meantime, we’ll just make ourselves comfortable.”
“Thanks for being so understanding. Can you imagine what the fire marshal would do if he found out our doors stayed locked in an emergency? Not that you guys wanted to be our guinea pigs or anything, but it’s good that we found out about the problem now, and not like, when the building was on fire.” Benji quickly added, “Um, don’t think about the building burning down, because that’s totally not going to happen. Even if a fire did break out, I’ve got that axe to bust you out of there.” Given Benji’s size and the thickness of the door, that actually seemed pretty unlikely.