Chapter Ten

CHAPTER 10

Havana walked up the steps, forcing a confidence into her posture that she wished would seep into her spirit. Inside the building, she pushed the button for Dave Sharlet’s floor. Even from inside the elevator, the differences between her home and Dr. Sharlet’s were apparent. His elevator served sleek city apartments housing successful professionals. The wood was burnished, the handrails polished. Nothing like the rickety elevator that served her building. She thought back. It was just a few days ago that she and Karen were trapped in there together.

Karen had asked, “How’s the new route?” standing there in her new
uniform, as flawless as her sleek up-do and porcelain skin.

Still, she had brushed imaginary lint from the hem of her jacket. It was as if she was trying to get Havana to notice the uniform she was issued when she got the promotion to the international route.

“It’s great. I’m loving it. If I had known how much I’d like it, I would have requested it a long time ago. Seattle’s much more cosmopolitan than I remembered. And Tampa gives me a nice chance to soak up some sun.” Havana hated Seattle, with its airport filled with
pasty tech industry middle managers making their pilgrimage to Microsoft. And she couldn’t bear the stifling humidity of Tampa in the seconds from the airport to the cab and the cab to her hotel.

“You’re lucky. I barely get six hours to myself in Paris before I have to head back to the States. A city the size of Paris, that’s barely enough time to decide what to do.”

Havana had seethed. She should have that route. She was the senior flight attendant.

The elevator lurched, then stopped. The floor skewed almost imperceptibly to the rear. Havana felt unsteady. Karen punched the button for their floor. Nothing happened. She
punched the door-open button, then the door-close. Still nothing.

“Well, that’s rich. We’re stuck,” she said. Havana reached in front of Karen and pushed every button on the panel. They all lit up, but the elevator didn’t move. She hit the emergency alarm button. Maybe somewhere in the airport an alarm was sounding, but she didn’t hear anything. Both women pulled out their cell phones, but there was no
signal in the bowels of the airport.

“We’re going to have to figure out a way out of here.” Karen said.

She’s not going to boss me around. She might have stolen that promotion, but I’m still senior here. Havana looked at Karen’s shoes. She wore four-inch stiletto heels that didn’t meet regulations.

“Give me one of your shoes. I’ll try to pry the door open with the heel.”

“Like hell you will. Use your own shoe. These are $400 shoes.”

Havana looked down at her own pumps, with their broad, sensible inch-and-a-half heels.

“You know these won’t work. Give it up, Karen.”

“There must be something else we can use.” Karen’s eyes traveled around the small, sparse cab. “How about the handrail supports? Do you have a screwdriver?”

Havana’s heart was starting to race. She imagined that the cab was sealed tight, and that she and Karen would be gasping for air before long.

“Just give me the shoe. You didn’t have any trouble taking them off to fuck Tom for the job. What’s your problem now?”