“Maybe she won’t come in here, though,” I say.
I should really learn how not to jinx things.
There’s a rush of bare feet over the hard floor, everyone’s rushing for the entrance to the hall.
“Be quiet,” Wrigley says, and then the door to the showers opens.
Just a fraction of a second later, another door opens from the other side, and I’m wondering how inconspicuous a locked stall door is really going to be if someone walks through here looking for trespassers.
“Who’s there?” the woman’s voice comes, her voice reverberating against the tiled walls.
Wrigley and I hold our breath. The light turns on just as the door to the hallway closes. It sounds like everyone else got out, but Wrigley and I are stuck in here.
Right now, I’m not so worried about anyone else getting caught; I just want to get the hell out of here with Wrigley and not in handcuffs.
“Hello?” the woman calls.
I was really hoping she’d hear the other door close and figure whoever was in here had left, but she’s not giving up so easily. Her shadow is just on the other side of the stall door.
“Thank God,” Wrigley says.
“Who’s in there?”
“I had to use the bathroom and then the lights went off. I couldn’t see anything.”
“Who do you work for? Why are you in here so late?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Wrigley says.
“I’m Paula Owen, I run the company that owns this floor,” the woman answers. “Who are you and why are you in this bathroom so late?”
Wrigley turns and puts her feet on the floor. “I’m sorry, Miss Owen,” she says. “I didn’t know that was you. I’m Janet, one of the new assistants. This is kind of embarrassing, but I kind of have a thing about using public restrooms. It’s a privacy thing. I don’t like going where I think other people are going to, you know, hear anything.”
I really hope that works.
“Janet,” the woman repeats. “Whose assistant are you?”
I whisper, “Intern.”
“I’m sorry,” Wrigley says. “I meant intern.”
There’s a long pause.
“You know you’re not supposed to be in here after 10,” the woman chastises.
“I know,” Wrigley says, “I’m very sorry about that. I just get really uncomfortable if I think anyone’s going to hear me.”
There’s another long pause.
“Well, all right,” the woman says. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t, Miss Owen,” Wrigley answers. “I promise.”
With that, the woman turns and walks away. Neither Wrigley nor I move until we hear the door to the pool area open and close again.
“You’re going to have to move like nobody’s business,” she says. “Go and wait at the other door. I’ll see if I can distract her until you get on the elevator. Just wait for me outside and have a cab waiting for us, all right?”
“All right,” I answer, and with that, we move.