Me: Do you need anything?
I watched the dots come and go, which I could interpret a number of ways.
He did need something but didn’t feel comfortable asking me. Not likely. The man wasn’t shy when telling me what to do.
He was too feverish to form a reply. That also seemed improbable.
Ultimately, the dots stopped with no message.
I walked down the hallway and dumped his ridiculous order in the trash and decided there was only one thing to do.
I knew E.G.’s address off the top of my head because it had been his original address on all his billing information that had to get changed over to the suite. I’d checked it online because of course I wanted to see what all that money would buy him.
However, there was no street view, as he was behind a gated fence.
I figured as a billionaire, he’d probably need that fence when the revolution started. As I made my way outside the building and back to the bus route, I had the unfortunate realization that I was going to be one of those poor peasant servants who probably lost her head trying to protect her billionaire boss when the masses finally did revolt.
I would be all like…no, no he’s a decent billionaire!
First stop was a pharmacy where I bought as many cold and flu remedies as seemed manageable. There wasn’t a convenient bus route out to where E.G. lived, which was west of Houston’s sprawling downtown area. He was tucked away in an area known as Bunker Hill Village, where all the big gas and oil money dudes lived around golf courses. My only option was an Uber, and again I had zero problems putting all of those expenses on the company credit card.
The way I saw it, I was just doing my job.
The Uber driverdropped me off in front of the gate, framed by two stucco pillars, one which held the intercom unit. No security guard or anything. It’s not like he was famous rich. Just rich, rich.
I walked up to the wrought iron black gate, at least twenty feet high, and felt every inch of my five-foot five frame when I looked up at the thing. There were spires on top, which gave a decidedly stay out kind of vibe.
This was a mistake.
E.G. was a grown man and capable of dealing with flu symptoms, but the idea of leaving work to go home on a Wednesday, when there was possibly something to do, just didn’t sit well with me.
Letting out a slow breath through pursed lips, I walked up to the intercom system and hit the single black button available. A camera at the top of the fence swiveled in my direction and I looked up to wave at it.
“I brought some cold medicine,” I said to it, like it might understand me. I held up the plastic CVS bag as evidence. “And some throat lozenges, some herbal tea, and well, basically everything the girl working at the pharmacy counter told me to get.”
The camera stayed pinned on me like it was still assessing my threat level.
Finally, a voice came through the speaker above the button.
“Flowers,” the voice growled.
“E.G.?” I asked. “Shit, you sound terrible.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I think saving your life, based on the way you sound,” I told him.
“Fuck,” he muttered. But somehow, I didn’t think it was directed at me.
Finally, a buzzer sounded and the gate started to open. I could see a winding paved path beyond the gate, and, not going to lie, I felt a bit like Dorothy on her way to see the Wizard.
It worked out okay for her, right?
Deciding I’d made it this far, I walked past the gate with my bag of medicine and heard it shut behind me. I didn’t look back.
No lie, it took a solid ten minutes to arrive at what I assumed was the front door.
“Holy fuck.”
