"That's not technically—"
"Not now!"
We push through to the concourse. Wider. Faster. I'm scanning the signage for anything that says VIP, Premium, Authorized Personnel, or even just a door that looks more expensive than the others.
"There—" Grace points toward a corridor near the east entrance. A rope line. A security guard.
I course-correct. Power walk. Grace jogging to keep up behind me.
"Ma'am, this section requires—" the guard begins.
"I know someone. He's in there. Weston Prescott. He's—"
"I can't let you through without—"
"He's my—" I stop. What is he? My boyfriend? My fake-ex-boyfriend? My very real current whatever-we-are?
"He's my person," I say.
Grace leans past me. "She's his girlfriend. Show him the bracelet."
"—that's not how—"
The guard looks between us with the patient expression of a man who has heard every excuse and none of them have ever includedshow him the bracelet.
"I can radio up," he says. "Name?"
"Jane Cooper."
He speaks into his radio. Waits.
Static.
More static.
Grace is vibrating besideme. Five more minutes of overtime intermission. I can hear the building's energy shifting, tightening, recalibrating for what comes next.
I’m praying for a miracle again.
"Go ahead," the guard says, stepping aside even though he didn't get a radio response.
I don't wait for an explanation. I'm through the rope and moving down the corridor at a speed that is technically still walking and absolutely not dignified.
The corridor opens into a small landing above the lower bowl. Better seats. Better sightlines. A handful of people standing near the glass—not sitting, standing, too wired for chairs.
I'm scanning faces. Moving too fast. The landing narrows near the stairwell and I'm not watching where I'm going because I'm looking up, looking left, trying to triangulate from a Jumbotron angle I saw for three seconds—
Someone turns.
I collide.
My balance goes. One foot catches the edge of a step. My center of gravity tilts past the point of diplomatic negotiation.
A hand catches my arm.
Reflex. Fast.
The hand tightens instead of letting go.
