Elijah

“Is everything set up?”
“Everything is good to go, sir,” Malcolm said. He cracked a tiny smile, but it vanished again in a matter of seconds. “And may I say—she will likely be very flattered.”
“Flattered?” I straightened my tie, catching a glimpse of myself in the limo’s hanging mirror. “Or swooned?”
“Both, sir.”
“Very good.” I glanced down at the roses in my hands, at the colorful array of flowers popping from the bouquet. I’d always found flowers a little tacky, but I felt like it would be best to start back at square one with this woman. I wanted to woo her, catch her attention. If I had to act like a high-school kid to earn her forgiveness, I’d fucking do it. In a concise amount of time, I'd learned that I would do whatever it took for her.
“Here we are, sir.” Malcolm pulled the limo to the curb and got out to open the door for me. I stepped out, holding the bouquet against my chest, my eyes taking in Ava’s apartment building. I noticed the fading colors of the bricks first and saw below my feet the cracked and faded sidewalk. Some teenage boy dressed in saggy, dirty clothes smoked a cigarette on the corner, eying me where I stood. I resisted the urge to grimace.
“This is it?” I asked, and Malcolm nodded.
“It’s been confirmed, sir.”
Shaking my head, I reached my hand into my pocket to finger the key that unlocked Ava’s apartment, the same key Malcolm had gotten a copy of from the building manager. Sure, it had taken about three grand to persuade him to do it, but nobody said no to me, including that bum. Money could buy anything.
“Apartment thirty-six.” Malcolm closed the limo door behind me and looked at his watch. “She’s due home from work in less than fifteen minutes. I’ll wait here in case she kicks you out.”
“Kicks me out?” I looked back at him over my shoulder. “Women don’t kick me out of their homes, Malcolm. It’s the exact opposite.”
“From what I gather after meeting Ava Harding, Mr. Trevino, I’m not so sure she is the passive type,” Malcolm said softly. “She might not see kindly on your antics.”
“Antics?”
“Breaking into her apartment.”
“I’m not breaking in, Malcolm,” I said, frustrated suddenly. “I have a key, even if she doesn’t know it. And I am not stealing anything or destroying the residence. She wanted me to ask her out myself. Well, here I am.”
“Very well, sir,” he said, surrendering both palms in the air. “I wish you the best of luck.”
Before I could reprimand him about it further, he nodded once and slid back into the driver’s seat of the limousine. I looked around to make sure no one was staring—the punk teenager boy was already gone—and then walked into the building. It was just as rundown on the inside as it was on the outside, and I hesitated for a moment in the lobby. Should I wait here for her or follow through with my plan? Was Malcolm correct? Would she be angry?
With a shrug, I shook my head and found the elevator. It groaned as it lifted, setting my nerves on edge. Had anyone even checked maintenance on this thing? Truthfully, I had never been to this part of the city, but I knew all about poverty. I hadn’t always been rich. Far, far from it. But I remembered. Oh, did I remember.
I found Ava’s front door shortly, and without bothering to knock, I slipped the key into the lock and turned it, stepping inside and closing the door behind me before I was spotted. Just as Malcolm had promised, Ava’s apartment had been decorated from floor to ceiling with rose petals. Candles were lit, flickering softly in the dimly lit room, and a box of chocolates rested at the head of her bed. I faced the door, standing ready for when she arrived home, and opened the front door. If sending Malcolm to ask her out wasn’t what she wanted, then maybe this would be.
That is, if she didn’t kill me first.