Page 11 of Waves of Fury

“Apologize to Brian,” Barb orders. “He’s only trying to be helpful.”

Kyle smirks at Brian. “Sorry, little dude.”

Asshole.

Ignoring the three of them, I reach past them and hit the help button. It trills and then a deep voice answers.

“We’re stuck,” Kyle tells the operator. “Send someone to get us out.”

“All the elevators in the building have ceased moving,” the operator says in a bored tone. “We have maintenance on the way. Please sit tight until we get them going again.”

“Sit tight?” Kyle grumbles. “As if we have a choice.”

“How much longer?” I ask, already irritated at being trapped here with this douchebag.

The operator prattles on about it taking anywhere from fifteen minutes to a few hours.

Unbelievable.

There goes my damn tip.

Kellen

This is ridiculous.

I’ve waited over an hour since the app showed my sandwich in the damn building. What could this idiot possibly be doing? Delivering subs to every floor until they reach the top? Honestly, I dare the incompetent delivery person to show up at this point.Darethem. Not only are they not getting a tip, but they’re going to get a nasty review too. Unbelievable.

“Kellen,” Frannie says, peeking her head in my office. “Your food has arrived. Also, Barb wants to know if she can have a minute of your time.”

Barb is human resources. What does she need from me?

My already terrible mood sours even further. Kyle. I shouldn’t be surprised. I told him to involve HR if he needed a new assistant, but I didn’t think he’d be so quick to want to move on. Irritation of this shitshow of a day has long since boiled into something bordering on wrath. First things first.

“I’ll see her in a minute. Send the delivery person in, please.”

Frannie frowns but nods before shuffling away. I roll my head over my shoulders, attempting to release the tension in my neck muscles. I’ve had a headache ever since the strange pressure change earlier and it hasn’t subsided. Probably doesn’t help that I’m starving as well.

A kid—no more than eighteen or nineteen—saunters into my office like he doesn’t have a care in the world. His ball cap is flipped backward and he’s sweating. I’m not greeted with a polite smile or perfuse apologies for the wait. No, the little shit starts to unzip his bag like I’m actually going to eat that sandwich that’s probably ice-cold by now.

“I’m going to stop you right there,” I growl, unable to keep my anger in check. “You can keep your shitty sandwich.”

The kid pauses mid-zip and snaps his attention to my face. “What?”

I cross my arms over my chest and pin him with a furious glare my evil father would be proud of. “You heard me. I’m not accepting the damn sandwich.”

“You ordered it,” he says through gritted teeth.

The balls on this one.

“I did,” I agree in a clipped tone. “Almost two hours ago.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” he snaps back. “I’ve been stuck in the elevator ofyourbuilding.”

My ears start to ache again as pressure builds. I rub at my temples in an attempt to make the throbbing subside. “Just go. Take that cold sub with you.”

He gasps, and I wait for his retaliatory answer. But when I look up, he’s no longer glowering at me, but instead gaping out the window. I turn to see what has his attention.

The low, dark, and ominous storm clouds are retreating.

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