Chapter 6 - A Late Call under the Streetlamp
The cold concrete of the apartment building steps bit through the thin wool of my skirt as I sat huddled against the heavy glass door. The wind off the avenue carried the sharp scent of damp asphalt and exhaust, making me shiver despite myself. Inside the lobby, the security console glowed with an indifferent green light, casting long shadows across the empty mailboxes. My electronic keycard had clicked against the brass reader a dozen times, each attempt met with a flat, rejecting buzz and a small red flash. My account hadn't just expired; it had been wiped clean, the digital footprint of my existence here erased with a few keystrokes from a terminal I couldn't reach.
I pulled my fingers from my pockets, rubbing my hands together to restore some circulation against the autumn chill. My white button-down shirt felt damp against my shoulder blades, and the lingering ache in my wrist from the restaurant hallway flared whenever I moved too quickly. Greg hadn't just been angry back at the lounge; he had been thorough. Locking me out of my apartment at midnight was a calculated extension of that thoroughness, a quiet reminder that he controlled the parameters of my daily life long before I ever stepped foot into that upscale dining room.
Digging my right hand deep into the pocket of my coat, my fingertips brushed against a heavy piece of cardstock. I pulled it out into the dim amber glow of the overhead streetlamp. Julian's card was thick, cream-colored, and unadorned save for a single set of raised black letters bearing his name and a direct mobile number. There was no corporate title, no fancy logo, just a direct line to a man who had stood up in a crowded restaurant and told a desperate man he had three seconds.
My phone screen cracked the darkness when I pressed the power button, the battery indicator blinking red at fifteen percent. My thumb hovered over the keypad. Calling him felt like crossing a line from which there was no professional return, an acknowledgment that my life had slipped entirely past the safety of routine and into something uncharted. But looking back at the dark glass of the lobby doors, I knew the alternative was sitting on these cold steps until dawn, waiting for Greg's next move.
I pressed the digits into the screen with stiff, uncooperative fingers, holding the phone to my ear as the mechanical trill began. One ring. Two rings.
"I'm here," a calm voice answered before the third tone could finish. Julian didn't sound startled, nor did he sound like a man woken from a deep sleep. His tone was level, steady, and entirely present, as if he had been expecting the chime of the call all evening.
"Julian," I said, my voice tight and thin in the night air. "It's the woman from the restaurant. The... the woman Greg was pulling away."
"I know who this is," he replied immediately, the background sound of quiet, rhythmic movement suggesting he was already on his feet. "Are you safe?"
"I'm outside my building," I answered, looking down the empty sidewalk where a lone taxi drifted past with its off-duty sign dark. "My keycard isn't working. The system locked me out ten minutes ago."
"Stay right where you are," Julian instructed, his voice carrying an unyielding weight of quiet authority that brooked no argument. "Don't try to go inside, and don't answer if anyone else approaches you. Can you make it down to the corner of Fifth and Pine?"
"Yes," I said, pulling my coat tighter around my shoulders. "There's an all-night diner there."
"Good. Go inside, find a booth near the back, and order some coffee. I'll meet you there in twenty minutes."
May you like
The line clicked dead before I could reply, leaving me with the dial tone fading into static. I slid the phone back into my pocket, stood up on trembling legs, and walked down the steps toward the corner, leaving the locked glass doors behind in the dark.
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