It was an ultra luxury high-rise across the river. "Take us to the pinnacle," he told the driver. The cab lurched forward. The ride was tense. The smell of cheap air freshener mixed with the heavy scent of gin and Evelyn's perfume in the enclosed space.
Owen sat rigidly on his side of the bench, watching the city roll by. He did the math in his head. The cab fair was going to run him at least 40 bucks. He had 42 in his checking account, plus whatever cash was in his wallet to pay Brenda. He was going to have to skip lunches this week.
"Why are you here? " Evelyn suddenly asked. Her voice was surprisingly clear for a second. Owen looked over. She was staring at him, her brow furrowed. "I'm taking you home.
Nobody takes me anywhere unless they want something," she stated. It wasn't a question. It was a bleak, cynical fact. "What do you want? Promotion?
Money. I want to go to sleep," Owen said flatly. "I want to relieve my babysitter, check on my kid, and go to bed. That's what I want," Evelyn stared at him for a long moment, processing the word kid. Then her eyes rolled back, and she slumped sideways, her head landing squarely on Owen's shoulder.
He didn't push her away. He just let out a long, exhausted breath and stared out the window. When they finally pulled up to the looming glass structure of the pinnacle, Owen shook her shoulder. We're here. Wake up.
Evelyn didn't move. Owen paid the driver with his debit card, praying it wouldn't decline. It went through. He got out, walked around, and pulled Evelyn from the back seat. The night air hit her, waking her up slightly.
"Keys," Owen demanded as they stood on the pristine sidewalk. "I need your fob or your keys to get you in. " Evelyn fumbled blindly at her dress. No pockets. My purse, she slurred. I told you, left it.
Owen looked at the massive glass doors. There was a concierge desk inside, manned by a stoic-l looking guard in a tailored suit. Owen walked Evelyn up to the doors. They didn't open. The guard approached the glass, looked at Owen's cheap, rumpled shirt, and the barefoot disheveled woman leaning against him, and shook his head.
She lives here," Owen yelled through the glass. "Evelyn Mercer. " The guard pulled a radio to his mouth, spoke into it, and walked away. He didn't open the door. He thought Owen was a creep, and Evelyn was just another drunk. They were locked out.
Owen looked at the CEO. She was shivering uncontrollably now, her lips taking on a blue tint. Her knees buckled. Owen caught her under the arms, holding her up by sheer force of will. He had no phone for her, no purse, no ID, and the concierge wouldn't let them in.