Page 14 of The Deception: Hercules Valentine and I
* * *
Even though Iate enough for two last night, as well as downing several glasses of wine while dancing and singing along to songs I’d never heard before, I was starving this morning. So I stood at the refrigerator, munching on a sandwich left over from Monday, getting it down as fast as I could.
Now I’m late for work. Standing in the middle of the expansive lobby, my heart drops to my feet as I observe a crowd waiting to ride up in the elevator. I think it’s worse than it would have been fifteen minutes ago. I probably would have missed the pileup if I’d just wrapped the sandwich in a paper towel and eaten it on the walk to work. I check my watch. I’m so late, and our meeting starts in seven minutes.
“Lark Davenport!”
Recognizing the voice, I turn expectantly. And there he is—the tall drink of water that is Hercules Valentine.
He lifts a hand.
And I raise mine.
* * *
We rideup in the executive elevator in silence. It’s larger than the ones in the lobby. I wonder why one person gets to ride up in such a large space while the rest of us have to be cramped.
I restrain myself from mentioning my observation, though, for fear that if I talk too much, he might remember my voice. Instead, I take in every aspect of his image standing in the metal panel in front of us. He’s wearing black dress pants that are creased. The smell of freshly dry-cleaned clothes coalesces with his delicious cologne. I can’t see his shirt or suit jacket—if he’s even wearing one—because he has on a black cashmere duster. It’s sort of like the coat Max usually wears. Hercules is so grown-up—he’s such a man. No wonder he doesn't recognize me anymore. We've come a long way from high school and college. I don’t think I would recognize anyone from high school today, including Greenly.
My heart flutters as I inhale sharply. I’ve been so focused on his image that I didn’t notice him watching me.Damn it. I have to say something. Why hasn’t he said anything?
