She nods.
“I share very little about my personal life, but I’ll tell you this: I met someone incredible and if I don’t pull a date out of my ass for tonight, the shit is going to hit the fan and she’s going to hate me forever.”
I leave out the part where I gave Felicity a fake name, pretended not to know her when we met, pretended to be a janitor, and told her there is a date at the end of this road we’re on.
A good one.
A romantic one to ring in the new year.
She won’t be kissing me when the ball drops if Sheila doesn’t help me fix this, that’s for damn sure—she’ll be slapping my face.
Not that she seems like the violent type.
“You know what would be neat,” Sheila finally says. “Have you ever seen that movie where the little kid plays matchmaker for his dad?”
I stare, clueless.
“The kid calls into a radio show about his dad being single and how he wants him to meet someone?”
The receptionist is glaring at me now, disgusted that I haven’t any idea what movie she’s talking about. “Anyway, the kid ends up writing this letter to this woman named Annie and tells him to meet the dad at the top of the Empire State Building on Valentine’s Day.” She pauses. “Or something like that, I don’t know, it’s been years.”
“So… you want me to meet my date at the top of the Empire State Building several states away?” My eyes practically bug out of my skull. Is Sheila insane?
“No, you chump — the top of this building.” She smiles, hit with a memory. “I once had a date set up a picnic lunch up top, but that was the 90s when men made more effort to woo a gal. Granted, he really only wanted to get in my pants, but it was a night I’ll never forget. Like Rose on the Titanic.”
Jesus, I didn’t need to be reminded that Sheila is probably still out there sleeping with men, nor did I need to know our rooftop patio was defiled back when I was playing hide-and-seek up there with some of the board members’ kids. If I didn’t need a shower before, I feel the need to scrub more than once. Who knows what these hands have touched up there.
“You do know Jack would have fit on that raft.” I can’t help pointing out the obvious, much to her chagrin. “He didn’t have to die.”
She is not amused. “Do you want my help or not?”
“Yes.”
“Then pick up that phone and call Timmy Wells. He’s Skeeter’s back up when that old bastard forgets to show up for work, and I’m pretty sure I saw him on the tenth floor earlier when I went down for a donut.”
“Do you ever sit at your actual desk?”
“Rarely.” She shoots a look at my phone.
“What am I supposed to say to him when he answers?”
“Tell him you need a favor, and that you’ll pay him cash to stay tonight and open the roof, put a table and two chairs outside, drag some of the potted plants from the lobby on fifteenth, and the potted tree from eleven. Bonus if he can locate a few strings of lights, and a few heaters.”
My mouth falls open. Christ, it’s like she’s done this before. “Anything else?”
“That should do the trick.” I don’t move fast enough, and she’s twirling her hand impatiently in the air to move me along. “And we’re dialing… and we’re dialing…”
Wow. She’s worse than a honey badger, and twice as petrifying. I wonder what would happen if I didn’t follow directions.
I pull up Timmy Wells number in the directory and call him rather than texting — he picks up immediately.
“Yeah?”
“Hi, um — Timmy.” Why does it feel so odd calling a grown man Timmy? “This is Harrison McGinnis, up on the twenty-eight floor—”
“My boss, Harrison McGinnis?” He interrupts.
“Sure.” I agree uncomfortably. “Listen Tim… my. I have a favor I need to ask of you and I hope you can accommodate me.”
Sheila gives me an encouraging thumbs up.
“I seriously hate asking this of you, especially on your night off, but I’m willing to pay you for your time and effort.”
The line is silent. Then, “I’m listening.”
“I need someone who can get me onto the roof tonight for a date I’m trying to impress. And I need some things to accomplish that, and a reliable man to help me.”Me: T-minus five hours until midnight.
Felicity: Does that also mean t-minus five hours until Date Time?
Me: If my math is correct it’s only four and a half…
Felicity: Hey, I’m the number cruncher here…
Me: Okay okay okay — speaking of which, how was the rest of your day? You done yet?
Felicity: YES!!! **twirls and twirls in desk chair** DONE done done with my reports and can finally unchain myself from this desk! I’m about to shut everything down and blow this hot dog stand.