Running Against Time

The windshield wipers screeched at every pass and she was nearly blinded by the glare of the stop lights that reflected off of the wet road. She glanced briefly at the dash. 10 minutes was all she had. She looked at the tightly bundled brown paper box on the passenger seat. A light sweat broke out all over her body as her heart began to thunder in beat with the rain pounding on her car. Her shoulders and legs tensed as her hands gripped the wheel. Damn the red lights.

She maneuvered into the right lane and turned onto a side road. 7 minutes. Come on, come on, come on! She pressed a little harder on the gas pedal as she scanned the side street looking for- “ah there you are.”

She turned down the alleyway laden with dumpsters and smoke coming out of restaurant chimneys. The smell of penne ala vodka filled her nostrils and made her stomach whine in protest. She exited the alleyway on a kick of gas that made the UPS truck swerve into the next lane, the driver honking and yelling at her through the closed door. She threw up three fingers and yelled “read between the lines jerk off!”

She looked at the dash. 5 minutes. Stopped traffic reared its ugly head pushing her to a standstill and right next to the UPS driver who was still bent out of shape. Shit all. She saw the building and her heart picked up pace, her fingers trembled. She shoved the car in park and reached for the box, hefted it onto her lap and into her arms. Grabbed the umbrella and bounded into the street. As she passed in front of the UPS truck she put her fist to her forehead -calling him a dick head in sign language- and started running and skirting her way through the lines of cars.

She made it to the doors of the building and pushed through them heading straight for the elevator. She pressed 20, and glanced at her watch. 2 minutes. She leaned her weight on one foot and then the other. Smoothed out her hair. “Come on elevator fairy, hurry up.”

Finally the ding sounded in her ears and the doors opened to a spacious and decadent lobby. She straightened and briskly walked to the thrid office on the right. She knocked.

“Come in.”

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Cutting it a little close aren’t we May?” Cynthia said over red rimmed reading glasses.

“What can I say, I like to live dangerously,” she said as she sat the box on Cynthia’s desk, “But all jokes aside, the last chapter had to be rewritten after an idea struck me around 3 this afternoon.”

“Naturally.”

Detecting the seemingly unimpressed air in Cynthia’s tone, May quickly added, “You’re going to love it.”

“I’ll hold you to that. I’ll start on it tonight.”

“Thank you Cynthia. I’m on my way to get some penne ala vodka. Would you like to join?” Feeling a rush of relief pool over her and then a twinge of panic, I first need to get my car out of the street.

“No, I have a deadline to meet myself,” she pushed up to stand, “but thank you for the offer.” she walked May to the door, “I will give you a call tomorrow and let you know my thoughts. You have a goodnight, you’ve earned it.”

After a slightly awkward hug, Cynthia closed the door and retook her seat. She waited until she heard the ding and the doors of the elevator close before she dialed.

A dark gruff voice answered. The man behind it, even darker. “Well?”

“I have the box. Should I destroy it?”

“No Cynthia, that would be foolish. Deliver it to me. Now.”