The Elevator Up
Chapter 10 - The Elevator Up
The elevator ride to the ballroom lasted forty-three seconds.
Ethan counted because counting kept his hands from shaking.
Victor stood beside him. Cal stood behind them with Victor’s aide. The black envelope rested against Ethan’s palm. Rainwater had dried in his hair, leaving it messier than before. His open-collar suit clung uncomfortably at the shoulders. He looked nothing like the men upstairs.
Good.
He was tired of trying to pass as the kind of person nobody stopped.
Victor watched the elevator numbers rise.
“Your father visited me once after the accident,” he said.
Ethan looked at him. “You met him after?”
“Yes. In the hospital. He brought me a cheap coffee and told me my speech at the gala had been terrible.”
Despite himself, Ethan smiled. “That sounds like him.”
“He said if I wanted to thank him, I should make sure men like him were named before donors.”
“And did you?”
Victor’s expression pained. “Not enough.”
The elevator opened.
Warm light. Music without readable signage. Murmuring guests. Perfume. Crystal. The ballroom turned as Victor entered.
Then they saw Ethan.
Conversations faltered.
People searched him for explanation: celebrity, heir, scandal, threat. Human beings confuse themselves when status arrives without costume.
Victor placed one hand lightly at Ethan’s back.
“Ready?” he asked.
“No.”
Victor nodded. “Good. Honest answer.”
They walked in anyway.
Cal remained at the rear as Ethan requested, standing where service staff usually stood, large hands clasped, face pale.
May you like
For once, he would watch from outside the center.
For once, someone he dismissed would be named under chandeliers.
