Against the Odds

Chapter 2

After running around for several hours, Donna finally gives me the go ahead to take a quick break before the night wraps up. To escape the drone of conversation, and liquor induced laughter, I make my way to the vacant balcony I saw when I went to the bathroom. It's situated in Section 1, just off the east end of the ballroom.

Scanning my surroundings, I furtively take off my stilettos and release a long sigh as instant relief from the cold concrete ground washes over my exploited feet. The cityscape is always beautiful from this high up. With all the glistening signs and dim light glowing softly in apartments, it's never really dark in New York. Just as expected, there aren't any visible stars in the sky, just the occasional rhythmic blinking of airplanes.

As I fasten up the last clasp of my shoes, a stumpy figure trips onto the balcony.

"Hey gorgeous," the man slurs as he approaches me. "What're you doing out here all alone in the cold?"

"Just getting some fresh air before heading back inside," I move slowly away from the inebriated man. These types of encounters usually come with the territory of this job.

The man speeds up his approach until he's only two feet away from me. "Oh, come on honey, I just got here. Don't you want me to warm you up?" He asks, lifting up his head to meet my eyes. I don't know where the confidence to hit on women a foot taller and three decades younger comes from, but I think Mr. Glenlivet has something to do with it.

"Oh, what a...nice offer, but I really need to get back to work. So if you'll excuse me."

Slipping around him I try to bee line back inside. Before I can take another step, there's a hand on my forearm and in a swift motion I'm spun around backwards into the man's arms. Losing my balance, my knee bends and my shoulder crashes into the whiskey glass the man is holding, shattering it in his hand. The man yells hysterically as I stagger backwards. There are streaks of blood rushing down his hand. The man falls to the ground holding his arm and curses repeatedly. Shit.

Shocked and in a panic, I try to remember what they taught us in first aid training. I think the first rule was to stay calm, clearly I've already failed.

Rushing back inside I stop in front of the first table I can find.

"Hi, I need help! There's a man on the balcony. He's bleeding and there's glass everywhere and I don't know what to do!"

A man sitting at the poker table stands up instantly and walks towards me.

"It's okay, relax. I can help, I'm a doctor. Miss...?"

"Lilah, just Lilah." I try to slow down my breathing.

"Okay, Lilah why don't you sit down here, you look a little pale." The doctor gestures to his seat. "Call 911," he adds, directing the command to the poker dealer as he exits onto the balcony.

Legs shaking and heart beating frantically, I take a seat at the poker table. Closing my eyes, I lower my face into my hands.

"You have blood on your shoulder," a voice mutters.

"I have what?"

"Blood. You have blood on your shoulder," the voice repeats coolly.

Raising my head, I glance to my right shoulder, there's scattered red drops on my skin. My stomach instantly curls. The sight of blood didn't bother me until I saw the aftermath of a car accident five months ago.

"Here." The man hovers a napkin in front of me.

Sitting up, I reach for the napkin, accidentally grazing his hand; the contact lasts a second too long, before I pull away. Shifting my gaze from his long fingers to this face, I recognize the familiar sharp shade of green staring at me intently. Commanding my eyes to look away from his perfectly sculpted face, my orders go unanswered. He scans my face, moving from my eyes to my lips and back again. Does he recognize me? My face burns up as I finally break eye contact.