She glanced at Marion, and recognition dawned for them both. “Hey, aren’t you the woman who helped me out at the grocery store the other day? That was outta sight, what you did.” She scrambled for her purse. “Here, let me—”
She was young, she saw, probably about ten years younger than Marion.The corners of her eyes creased into half-moons, but not before Marion noted her wide black pupils. Speed? Marijuana? She sniffed. Marijuana.
Marion held out a hand. “No need. You’re going up to five, right?” she asked, pleased that she knew.
“Far out! How’d you know?”
The elevator bumped then began its slow, humming ascent.
“Actually, I live right beside you. I’ve heard you practicing. I even heard you play at Chez Monique one night. You were great.”
“Far out! I’m Sassy. I’m in—”
“Five thirteen,” Marion finished with a smile. “I’m Marion. Five twelve.”
“Groovy. I can’t believe you heard me that night. That’s wicked. Did you have a good time?”
“I did. I hadn’t ever been—”
All at once there was a thump, and the lights went out. The elevator jerked to a stop, and the tiny space was suddenly pitch-black.
“Oh no,” Sassy wailed.
“It’s the storm,” Marion said, disappointed. She enjoyed storms, but not from inside a box. “I wonder for how long.”
“They’ll come for us, right? I mean, they know we’re here?”
“Of course. But it’s a pretty big storm,” she murmured. “Might be a while.”
Sassy’s voice was small. “Bummer. I don’t like dark places. Especially small ones hanging in elevator shafts. I’m kind of claustrophobic.”
“The electricity could come back on at any moment. Let’s not worry.”
“I can’t even see you,” Sassy said.
“Our eyes will adjust,” Marion assured her.
There was a pause, then Sassy asked, “Hey, did you see the moviePsycho?”
“No!” Marion cried, aghast. “I don’t think we should discuss scary movies right now, do you?”
“Cool.”
After a while, Marion heard Sassy slide down the wall of the elevator and sit. It seemed like a good idea, since they didn’t appear to be going anywhere for a while. She unbuttoned her raincoat then sat on the floor as well,feeling the hard edge of the guitar case beside her and Sassy’s foot jiggling with nerves.
“We’re safe in here,” she told the girl, closing her eyes.
“Are we, though? I mean, yeah. Okay. If we don’t run out of air or the cable doesn’t bust and drop us.”
“Neither one of those is going to happen.” But now Marion was going to think about it.
“Okay. It’s a downer, though. I’ve had the worst twenty-four hours. It would have been cool to have something go right. I’d die for a smoke right now. Oh wait.” She fumbled in the dark, and Marion heard the latch on the guitar case click. One of the instrument’s strings hummed when it was touched accidentally. “There you are, my little darlings. I think a Mother’s Little Helper might be just right for this situation. Want one?”
“I’m sorry?” Marion asked.
“Mother’s Little Helper. From that song. Mick Jagger, you know? Mother needs something to calm her down?” She stopped when Marion didn’t say anything. “No? It’s V. Valium. Want one?”
“Oh, diazepam,” Marion answered quickly. “Uh, no thanks.”
