A Perfect Stitch

Chapter 23 | the workaholic's menaces

Well, I got to do what I got to do; meet Elizabeth today.

The clock ticked and the countdown started; one hour and fifty-nine minutes left.

Laying on my belly, I stretched my hand to the tiles on the floor and struggled to pick up the telephone cord.

The cord stuck under the cupboard making it hard to reach.

Oh! If only I didn't fling It.

I grabbed the cord and lifted the cupboard a little with my free hand, releasing the cord from its tangled mess.

Wow, that was close.

I released a puff of air and speed-dialed Megan's number.

C'mon, pick, please.

Keeping my eyes on the floor, I resisted the temptation-Clock.

"Hi, leave a message after the eerie key."

Oh!No!

I dialed her number again, she couldn't be ruining things for me.

But Ellis your life is already ruined remember?

Nope, I heaved a sigh and waited as I drummed my fingers on my thigh.

"Fuck you strange number, stop disturbing my hook-ups. Shit! What do you want?"

Megan's yells blasted into my ears.

I made a throat noise and deepened my voice, faking a cough at the end of each phrase. "I'm sorry, please I-"

"Damn you, old shit, what do you want?"

Megan called me old shit.

No time to grumble over spilled milk.

"Is Ellis at home? I-"

"You interrupted my fuck to ask about a Saint? Give her a ring instead of me, old shit!" She scolded.

"Tried, but it's not going through." I lied.

"Whatever, " she heaved a sigh. "Grab a paper and pen 'cause I won't repeat myself. Ellis has a new number."

Lucky day for me, I found a pen in one of the hospital drawers and jotted the number on my palms, there wasn't any paper nearby.

Megan hung on me and it didn't bother me.

I peered at the clock.

One hour and thirty-nine minutes left?

ELISABETH DIDN'T PICK MY calls and they kept veering into her voice mail.

Seventh time trying her number in a roll and with no signs of giving up soon, she picked.

"Hi, I was busy. . ."

"Elisabeth, it's Ellis, we have to meet right now."

She didn't try picking up an argument with me as Megan did, instead, she asked for my location and told me she will call once she was in the building.

For over thirty minutes, I waited on the fixed phone to ring.

I stole a glance at the clock.

I had just fifty-nine minutes left before Jana's arrival.

Out of a sudden, the phone rang and I didn't hesitate in picking it up.

My breathing became fast and out of place and my voice was barely audible.

I needed only two words from her; I'm in.

"First floor Cafe, I'm in."

I didn't know if I should smile, cry or laugh, but something was certain, there was no time, and I better not screw my plan.

The only task left; convincing the bodyguard to take me to the first floor.

"Give me a few minutes, I will be down."

I stopped the call.

Moaning and swallowing the lump in my throat, I plopped my sandals on the tiles and limped to the door.

The catwalk didn't play fair with me and neither did the doorknob bugle an inch.

The clock ticked and I raised my eyes, no jokes; thirty-nine minutes were Left before Jana's arrival.

I persisted and knocked at the door, no backing out.

It opened minutes later and Dwain's bodyguard stood in his black suit, eyeing me from his back shades.

"I'd like to get a cup of coffee, Mr. XY. Can you take me to the cafeteria on the first floor please?"

"I grabbed two cups of coffee should in case you needed one Mrs. Horton."

He picked up the coffee cup from his bench and placed it in my hands.

"Mr. Horton gave me strict orders not to let you out."

This couldn't be happening, why now?

"I desire an iced coffee, not a warm one, getting my point?"

I grumbled, pleading with my eyes.

"I will go get-"

"No!" I yelled. "Take me there, I want to make it myself, please."

I bit my lips.

He shook his head and gave in.

"Okay, I will watch your back, " he muttered and scooted me into his arms. "I will carry you then."

Many people weren't in the lift, and the few in it were going down to the first floor.

Upon arrival, people glimpsed my way, but I avoided them as Mr. XY carried me in his arms to the coffee-making machine.

"Mr. XY, Please, back off a little, I need some breathing space and-"

Some stranger poured a hot cup of coffee on Mr. XY, and he turned his back to me, wailing while the lady in question kept apologizing.

Why did she look so familiar?

Of course, it was Anna.

My eyes bulged out of their sockets.

She placed her finger on her lips and whispered. "Restroom."