I’ll Wait For You

Now, Sunday had arrived. Two days after the proposal, and Elinor had already booked a cab to arrive outside her door in eight minutes, intending to show the driver the address on her card.

Excitement brewed inside, and several more attempts at lyrics blossomed inside her worn black, spiral bound notepad, with pale gray lines on the paper.

She’d opted for casual but sophisticated as her look, wearing a stylish blue and white patterned dress with leggings underneath, and low heel shoes that elevated her about an inch. She wore a blue stone wrapped up as a pendant, which rested in the hollow of her neck, and had painted her nails a dark pink, matching close to the color of her palms, and the lipstick she had smeared on.

She didn’t bother with anything special with her hair, other than to spend longer washing it than usual, so it shone a glossy black.

She examined herself in the mirror. Hot damn, but she looked smoking! Elinor preened herself for a moment, a smug, confident smile coming over her lips, the first one in a long time.

Thinking about seeing Kostya Vasilev again made her wriggle in delight, and do a small tap dance on the spot. She wasn’t quite yet a giggling teenager, but her emotions tendered in that direction.

She was ready for a fresh start, away from the place with the graveyard, and the husband with the accusing stare, and the pain that bled her body dry.

She didn’t want to live in those nightmares anymore.

With a bounce in her step, she gathered her black cotton jacket, which hugged her figure in a flattering way, even despite the small bre*sts, seized her handbag and trotted out of her apartment to meet the cab driver.*****

Elinor gaped at the building. The cab driver speed off with a roar of engine, leaving an ugly trail of fumes that made her cough. The building happened to be a skyscraper. Of course, she lived in Chicago, and the knowledge itself didn’t shock her. Skyscrapers were everywhere, dominating the clouds above. Her apartment building only reached eight stories high, though. This thing had to be at least forty stories, and she felt the back of her neck hurting as she craned it to try and take in everything. The building was colored red and gray. The entrance, two gleaming revolving doors, spun in front of her. She double checked the address with the plaque on the building. Yup. This was the place.

Gulping, Elinor steeled herself and walked into the building.

The receptionists and security guards eyed her with great suspicion as she walked up, heart hammering, mouth dry, clutching the business card in her hand. She made eye contact with a busty light brown haired woman, and placed the card on the desk.

“Hey,” Elinor managed, trying not to squeak, or collapse in a pile of anxiety, “I’m here to be shown to Kostya Vasilev’s studio.”

Both receptionists, busty brown head and blonde anorexic, gave surprised eyebrow twitches to one another. After examining the card, the blonde asked for her name.

“Elinor Rosemary Turner.”

“Yes,” the blonde said, tapping away at her flat-screened monitor. “You are expected. Go to the elevator over there. Floor thirty-four. First door to your left.” She pointed long fingers and even longer nails towards a gigantic elevator, and Elinor nodded.

“Thanks!”

“Have a nice day!” The blonde said sweetly, though the surprise adamantly remained on her features. She kept watching until Elinor pressed number thirty-four on the elevator. Elinor would have bet the two women planned to gossip about her.

What had been so surprising? That she wasn’t thin? That she was black? She didn’t know, and didn’t care to ask.

The elevator took about forty seconds to reach floor thirty-four. She amused herself by posing in front of the mirror, calculating that the space within the elevator could probably squeeze in twenty people on a good day – as long as they weren’t all obese. When she stepped out of it, again, awe froze her to the spot.

So much richness and grandeur in one place assaulted her peasant eyes. She’d never even stepped into a five-star hotel and this whole room resembled some rich man’s play den.

A fountain lay in the center, adorned with birds looking as if they were flying, the bonds holding them up cleverly concealed by the flowing water. The fountain itself glimmered with gold. Holy… was it made of actual gold? Else in the room lay a green carpet around the fountain that resembled a meadow, with the flower patterns imprinted on it. Comfortable leather sofas were distributed at random places. There was a flat screen T.V that covered up one entire wall in a closed off room, and around five people who cheerfully watched what looked like an obscure sci-fi show, Orphan Black. There was a kitchenette, a bathroom and even three bedrooms, each with four poster beds and enough drapes to get ensnared in. Probably great if you were into bondage. Every piece of furniture led Elinor to suspect that they might be worth more than her entire residential block.

Elinor wanted to exclaim, “What the fu*k is this place?” but refrained at the last moment, wanting to maintain a good first impression for the others.

I’m supposed to work here? Elinor resisted the urge to start hyperventilating. She modified her wide-eyed wonder as Kostya Vasilev walked into the center room from the one area she hadn’t explored yet – but from her angle, perceived a quiet spot with plants, a desk and a chair.

She didn’t want him to catch her gaping like an idiot, and reveal starkly the massive divide of wealth they had. Why, he was probably used to seeing this sort of thing every day. Elinor, however, sweated at the thought of accidentally damaging something in the studio. She’d never be able to afford the replacement.

I’m such a peasant. My eyes are hurting from seeing so many expensive things in one place!

When he saw her, a big, eye warming smile lit up his face, and he moved forward to shake her hand. “Welcome! I’m glad to see you here. Let’s have you sign the trial contract, I’ll talk a little with you, and then I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew. The band members are excited to see you. But they’re also excited to find out what happens next in their show, so don’t mind them.”

“Noted,” Elinor nodded, following Kostya Vasilev into the small study space. There she signed the contract. For one second, she imagined she was signing a deal with the devil, and fought a wild urge to burst out laughing.

Kostya examined her keenly, eyes dilated as he tapped the table with a black biro. Elinor, jacket removed, relished the way his eyes raked over her body, clearly appreciating what they saw. It made her feel beautiful, flattered by the attention. It also sent more than a few shivers through her spine. The way he sat reminded her of a lion, carefully checking out the threat or prey in front. The icy blue eyes seemed to stare into her soul.