Chapter 5 - Locked Out and Left Behind
The cab dropped me three blocks from my building because of a street-paving detour, leaving me to walk the remaining distance under the sickly amber glare of municipal sodium lights. My sensible black heels clicked sharply against the cracked concrete pavement. The cool night air carried the sharp scent of damp asphalt and distant exhaust. Every shadow in the recessed entryways looked like a dark suit, every passing set of headlights made my shoulders tense. I kept my hand buried deep inside my coat pocket, fingers curled tightly around the heavy cardstock rectangle of Julian’s business card. It felt like an anchor I wasn't yet ready to drop.
When I reached the brick facade of my apartment building, the heavy glass front door looked welcomingly familiar. I dug into my leather handbag, pulled out my slim plastic keycard, and pressed it firmly against the magnetic wall reader.
Instead of the crisp, high-pitched double-click of the mechanical lock unlatching, the reader flashed a harsh, angry crimson. A low, abrasive electronic error tone hummed through the glass panel.
I frowned, pulling the card away and wiping it against the fabric of my black skirt before trying again.
Bzzzt. Red light. Access denied.
My breath hitched. I pressed the silver intercom button beside the directory, waiting through three long, hollow rings before the scratchy speaker clicked alive with the raspy voice of Arthur, the night building manager.
"Yeah? Who is it?" Arthur muttered, background static crackling over the tiny speaker grille.
"Arthur, it's me. Unit 4B," I said, leaning closer to the metal grating. "My card isn't working. The reader's flashing red. Could you buzz me through?"
There was a heavy pause on the other end, punctuated by the faint rustle of papers and the clink of a coffee mug. A low sigh rasped through the speaker.
"Hold on, let me check the console," Arthur said.
I waited, shifting my weight from one tired foot to the other. The wind picked up, swirling a dry autumn leaf across the concrete porch and rattling the metal mailboxes mounted beside the door. Through the glass, the small lobby looked quiet, illuminated by a single overhead fluorescent tube that buzzed with a faint, steady frequency.
The intercom clicked back on. "Look, miss, I don't know what's going on with your paperwork, but your keycard was just flagged in the system ten minutes ago."
My stomach dropped as if an elevator cable had snapped beneath my feet. "Flagged? What do you mean flagged, Arthur? I've lived here for two years. My rent is on automatic debit."
"Not according to the digital notification that just came down from corporate management," Arthur replied, his voice dropping into an awkward, defensive cadence. "Corporate lease instructions, miss. Master account override. The property management group handling your unit just transferred the lease administration back to the parent company. As of ten minutes ago, your digital credentials were automatically revoked from the central database. I'm under strict orders not to issue temporary passes or override the system for revoked units."
"Corporate management?" I stammered, the cold realization crawling up my spine like ice water. "Greg's firm holds the corporate housing contract for half the junior analysts. He didn't just transfer the lease—he wiped me."
"I don't know anything about Greg, miss," Arthur said, sounding thoroughly uncomfortable now. "All I know is the terminal says access terminated. You're going to have to call your landlord or your office in the morning. I can't let you in."
"Arthur, wait—all my things are up there. My laptop, my clothes, my passport—"
Click.
The intercom line went dead. I tapped the silver button twice more, but only a flat, dead hiss answered me.
I stepped back from the glass door, staring at my own distorted reflection in the dark windowpane. My white blouse was rumpled from the struggle in the restaurant lounge, a faint smudge of dark wood polish marking the shoulder where Greg's hand had gripped me. My hair had come loose from its knot, stray strands whipping across my face in the chill night wind.
There was nowhere else to go. My friends from the office were too terrified of Greg to take my calls after dark, and my parents lived three states away in a house I couldn't bear to burden with this corporate nightmare.
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Slowly, I turned away from the locked glass door and walked down the two shallow stone steps. I sat down on the cold concrete stoop, pulling my knees together and wrapping my coat tightly around my chest. Setting my handbag down beside me, I reached into the interior pocket, my fingers brushing against the heavy cardstock of Julian's business card. I pulled it out into the dim light of the streetlamp, staring at the embossed black lettering that spelled out his name and direct private line, watching the silent numbers glow against the dark.
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