Out of Order | ONC 2022

6

Logan had enough of the same shrill sound by the twenty-third time Callum had pressed the call button. "It's not working; give it a rest."

Callum's frown deepened, pressing the button one more time in protest, hoping for someone to answer in a last futile attempt. "There's got to be someone down there."

"It's been like twenty minutes. I don't think anyone's going to respond."

Callum's pout made his face nearly opposite of his stern look in the dim light. "Fine, I'll call."

Callum removed his phone from the elevator floor, the light reflecting against the walls, barely missing Logan's eyes, before settling once Callum had placed the phone against his ear.

It was so silent that Logan could hear the operator on the line, asking the typical questions. Callum responded in a more relaxed tone than he had during the meeting or with the call he made to Charlotte on their first trip up. His voice was softer as he spoke to the lady—Bailey, she had introduced herself—and even sounded a bit nervous over the phone when she asked for the location and if medical assistance was needed.

"No, we're okay for now." He glanced at Logan. "Thank you."

Callum hung up and placed the phone back on the floor, the light illuminating the space as it did before. "Bailey said they should get here in about thirty minutes."

"Thirty?"

"Traffic," Callum guessed. "Plus, the fire station is on the other side of the freeway. An elevator call probably isn't as dire as an actual fire or car crash."

Logan pursed his lips, upset at the ETA, but understood what Callum was getting at. His first week in Los Angeles felt reminiscent of his life in New York City, hearing the fire engine sounds in the wee hours of the morning outside his apartment. He wasn't sure which city had the most fire calls or if a town had more fire stations than the other, but the sirens were almost always a constant. A call for getting out of an elevator was only a minor call to the calls they probably got over brushfires, car pile-ups, or burning buildings.

Callum cleared his throat. "This probably never happened in New York."

"What?" Logan tilted his head at his boss.

"Getting stuck in an elevator." Callum pointed to the doors. "Or having to wait this long for someone to open the doors. Isn't there a fire station right next door to the office?"

Logan blinked. "Well, no. Our elevators didn't break when I was there. And the fire station is actually like a block away? It's more on the corner. I did get locked out of my apartment a couple of times, but the front desk handled it and—wait, what does this have to do with New York?"

Callum pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm just saying; you wouldn't have had this problem back in New York. Now you're stuck with a boss with a slew of rumors, and there's a good chance that a rumor could spread about our current predicament."

Logan narrowed his eyes. "About being stuck in here?"

Callum gave him a droll look. "It wouldn't be the first time someone assumed I've hooked up in an elevator before."

"Oh," was all Logan could find himself saying.

Callum chuffed at his response. "What, haven't heard about that one?"

"No." Logan frowned. "It's not like I haven't heard of the rumors; I just think they're stupid and not worth the time and energy to talk about."

Callum finally looked Logan in the eye, and he could see Logan tense at the sudden eye contact. "Even if they concern you?"