Draw Me A Picture (43 page)

A half-hour later, William stood in his kitchen dressed, shaved and a little more awake; dialing Michelle’s number he listened to the ringing, hoping she was awake. He didn’t want to wait a moment longer to hear her soft voice.

“Hello?” Michelle said as she answered the phone. William managed a tired smile; his ladylove sounded so alive... he felt a bit energized just hearing her speak.

“Sweetheart,” he said, sipping some very strong coffee. “I am glad you are already up.”

“You’re back...” Michelle said, gently. William could almost see her bright smile. “Oh, it’s so good to know you’re in the same hemisphere.” Chuckling, William paused and gulped down a little more coffee; he grabbed his coat and briefcase.

“Thank you, love,” he said, leaving his flat. He resolved to talk to her all the way to work. “I’m on my way to work now, so if I lose you I’ll call back. Did I wake you?”

“No… my uncle’s assistant gets here at 6:30 each morning; I have to be up early or she’ll beat my door down.”

“Sounds delightful,” William said, gaining the elevator; he stepped in and nodded to the attendant. “Ground floor please.”

“Ask him for a hot towel,” Michelle said, giggling softly. William snorted.

“Minx,” he said, breaking into a grin. Her laughter was like cool water on a hot day. “I love your humor, darling.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Michelle returned.

They chatted and joked through William’s taxi ride, into the building he worked at, into the elevator and up to his office. Setting his briefcase on his desk, William glanced at the clock. The meeting began in ten minutes.

“I hate to cut our conversation short, love but I have to prepare...”

“What on earth is that?” Michelle said, suddenly. Puzzled by her tone, William smiled.

“What is what? Is there a mouse?” he teased. “A lover’s quarrel in the next room?”

“A strange ringing sound...” Michelle said, uncertainly. “It's coming from the hall.” Listening intently, William could just make it out behind her voice. “I’m just going to see what’s going on.”

Michelle opened her door. Immediately, her eyes stung and she covered her mouth. The top of the hallway was filled with brownish-black smoke and a red light flashed.

“Smoke,” she said, feebly. “There’s smoke everywhere... it’s the fire alarm!” William stopped still; his breath left his lungs for a moment.

“Close your door,” he said, striving to sound calm. “Get in your room and close the door… if there’s smoke in the hall you shouldn’t go out there. Is there a fire escape out your window?” Feeling almost numb with shock, Michelle did as William told her.

“Uh... no,” she said; her voice shook a little as she spoke. “There’s a maintenance shed right under my window… in the courtyard.”

“I’m on my way,” William said, grabbing his coat. His face was a wall of concern; he swept by Mabel, who gave him a pointed look.

“Sir, your meeting...” she began; William ignored her and ran down the hall to the lift. It wasn’t opening; it was occupied. Immediately, William opened the stairwell door and began descending the stairs, two at a time.

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” he said, trying to speak clearly while running down stairs. “Open your window. Can you hear sirens?” Michelle complied; it was all so surreal... smoke in the halls of the Waldorf -Astoria.

“Why aren’t the fire sprinklers coming on?” she thought, sliding the bottom half of her window up.

“I can’t hear any sirens...” Michelle said, her voice trembling a little.

“I want you to stay calm,” William said to her. Michelle thought he sounded like he was running. “Don’t go out in the hall...” The phone went dead. Michelle stared at it and hung the receiver up and listened again. No dial tone. Placing it down on the receiver, Michelle saw her engagement ring on the desk and hastily put it on. Quickly, she found something to stuff under the door.

“Michelle? Michelle!” William shouted into his phone. Clicking it shut, he ran down the steps, forcing
the rising panic down. He had to get to Michelle. The meeting didn’t even cross his mind.
 

OSCAR MACLANE sat in his office--high up in the newest branch of Felix- Maclane--flipping through a file on the prospective merger clients; they and their entourage currently waited in the newly-remodeled conference room. The morning news played in the background, but Oscar was only half-listening to it. In the middle of a piece on avoiding traffic, a reporter broke in with a special report.

“This just in,” the woman’s voice said, grimly. “There’s a fire reported at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel...” Oscar whirled around to stare at the TV. “Black smoke is visible; our cameras are en route, but a guest is with us now on the phone... hello ma’am?”

“There’s smoke everywhere!” The strained voice of a woman came into the studio, accompanied by the yapping of what sounded like two small dogs. “Muffy and Tiffy are quite distraught! The whole hall is full of smoke... I’m not going out there! The whole second floor is full of smoke!”

“Again, breaking news, fire at the Waldorf. So far the reports indicate that no engines have arrived...”

Oscar leaped to his feet; his coffee fell to the floor, unnoticed. Running out of his office, he called Laurel on her cell phone.

“Is Michelle with you?” he yelled into the phone.

“No, sir,” Laurel said, sounding worried at his tone. “We’re still blocks away; the traffic is really bad today. Are you alright sir?”

“Don’t go near it,” Oscar barked, gaining the corporate elevator; he pressed the ‘close door’ button several times. “There’s a fire at the Waldorf.”

“Oh no!” Laurel gasped. “I hope Michelle’s OK...”

“Bump my meeting with the new clients,” Oscar ordered, ignoring her. “Tell them anything. I’m on my way over to the hotel now.” Snapping his phone shut, he willed the elevator on faster. When the doors opened, he sprinted across the lobby and out onto the sidewalk. He flagged a taxi down in seconds and hopped in.

William burst out the lobby stairwell moments later and ran out of the lobby much the same way. Not seeing a taxi around, William looked down the road. He could see the traffic congestion was already beginning to back up. There was no way even a cab could get through for much longer.

“It’s only eleven blocks...” he said. Without hesitation, William started running, a determined look on his face. He didn’t feel winded; adrenaline pumped through his veins like liquid fire and spurred him onward. He had to get to Michelle. He hoped she had the sense to get out the window fast, into the courtyard.

“Please God... I can’t lose her,” William silently prayed as he bolted down the sidewalk, avoiding the other pedestrians.

In the cab Oscar drew out a large bill and tossed it at the driver.

“Get to the Waldorf as fast as you can!” he instructed. The cabbie looked at his passenger and then at the money.

“You got it!” he said. They made good time for about five blocks, and then a sea of cars met them.

“Come on!” The driver yelled, leaning on his horn. “Dammit!” Oscar looked around a moment, trying to raise the Waldorf on his cell phone. A recorded voice over classical music told him the lines were busy at this time, but please call back soon. Shutting the phone, he looked around at the traffic; he couldn’t see any fire trucks anywhere. About to get out, he looked out his window and saw a familiar figure dash by, running as if his life depended on it. It was William Montgomery. Oscar watched the young man disappear into the morning pedestrian crowds; the expression on his face looked like something close to panic.

“Keep the money,” Oscar said to the driver, getting out. “I’ll walk from here.”

MICHELLE MANAGED to squeeze herself out of the window just fine; she lowered herself carefully onto the maintenance shed’s tile roof. Crawling carefully over it, Michelle saw several people cross the courtyard below, heading away from the smoky side of the hotel, disappearing through the doors to the Park Avenue lobby. She decided to follow their example. Sitting down, she slid down until she was able to jump down the five or so feet to the courtyard floor. Feeling a bit shaky, Michelle stood up and tried to calm herself as she walked towards the doors. It wouldn’t do to panic. Looking back, she didn’t see smoke coming through her window, but that did not comfort her. She prayed that her room wouldn’t be consumed.

The lobby was a madhouse; guests stupidly grouped around the desk, demanding answers. Michelle couldn’t believe her eyes. What were these people doing standing around arguing while there was a fire going on? Over their heads, Michelle could see Mr. Chan desperately trying to direct people outside. The guests with children already headed out the doors; Michelle followed their example. Slipping past the angered crowd, she gained the doors and the wonderfully fresh, cold air of the outside.

Standing on the chilly sidewalk, Michelle turned back towards the hotel; she could see smoke overhead, coming out one window of the second story; her room was on the other side of the hotel and courtyard and Michelle could tell the smoke here was much heavier than by her room. People stood in groups on both sides of the street, pointing up and excitedly talking; some people looked horrified. Traffic was at a complete standstill on both sides of Park Avenue. Whether it was due to the fire or normal morning rush hour, Michelle couldn’t tell. She stood there on the sidewalk, hugging herself for warmth, in nothing but her pajama pants and Stanford camisole. Oddly, she didn’t feel cold. The shock of seeing the smoke in her hallway numbed her a little, not to mention the group of people inside seemingly oblivious to the danger they might be in. Some other guests stood with her, holding their children close.

Finally, a police car drew up; it forced its way to the curb, its lights flashing. A cop with a megaphone got out, grimacing at the amassing crowds.

“Clear the area!” he yelled through the instrument. “No one but hotel guests, Fire personnel and law enforcement in the immediate area! Get back behind the line!” His partner was already rolling out yellow police tape, blocking the sidewalk off completely in front of the hotel. Some people yelled out insults at the police officer, saying they had to get through.

“Cross to the other side!” the cop called back, tying off the police tape. “You cross this line and I’ll shoot you!”

“Kiss my ass!” someone shouted from the crowd. The police officer shook his head. He looked over and noticed Michelle standing in her bare feet and pajamas looking up at the smoke pouring out the window.

“Miss?” he said, walking over to her.

Michelle looked at him blankly.

“There was smoke in the hallway,” she said; the officer had to lean in and listen hard to hear her in the surrounding noise.

“You’re a guest in the Waldorf?” he asked, looking at her bare feet.

“Room 203,” Michelle said, automatically.

“Here, miss” the policeman said, placing a hand on Michelle’s arm. “You’re cold. You wanna wait in the car here?” Looking back at the hotel, Michelle shook her head.

“There are other guests still in there,” she whispered, wishing she’d brought her portfolio with her. It was irreplaceable. The policeman smiled.

“I’m sure it will be OK, miss,” he said. “The fire department’s almost here. It’s their job to make sure everybody gets out.” Michelle nodded. The cop spoke to the other guests, trying to keep them calm. A few more people came out of the hotel, most of them in robes and pajamas.

“Michelle!” A familiar voice called to her, from somewhat far away. Turning towards the sound, Michelle searched for the one who’d called. “Michelle!” She saw William; he ran towards her, weaving around pedestrians and onlookers. Michelle didn’t even think; she went to William.

William saw his ladylove standing on the sidewalk by a police car with a blank look on her face. Relief flooded him; she was alive and looked unharmed. He called for her and she turned at once, looking for him. Reaching Michelle’s side, William wrapped his arms around her tightly.

“I was so worried,” he said, kissing her face. “Michelle... sweetheart...” He just stood there, holding his fiancée; his whole being felt flooded with relief. The fire appeared to be of small size—not the raging inferno he’d envisioned—however, just the prospect of this beloved being anywhere near a building fire had filled William with the worst kind of dread. “You’re coming home with me,” he stated. “There’s no way you’re staying here.”

“William...” Michelle said, trying to talk. William kissed her hard, effectively silencing her protests.

“I’d say she’s taken care of,” the police officer said to his partner; they stood by the yellow line to keep onlookers at bay. The other officer chuckled; he pointed to a news camera-crew just setting up on the sidewalk, not far away from the couple.

“Yeah... it'll make good television, at least.”

William finally stopped to take a breath; flushed and short of breath herself, Michelle smiled up at him.

“I’m OK...” she said. “I’m OK. Look at you... you’re all winded. Did you run here?”

“There was traffic,” William said, refusing to let go of her. “I couldn’t get a cab. Darling... I was so scared I’d lost you.” Tears welling up in her eyes, Michelle leaned on his shoulder.

“The phone just went dead,” she said. “It frightened me a little, I’ll admit.”

“Did you go out your window?” William asked, kissing the top of her head. Her hair smelled slightly of smoke. William squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about what might have happened.

“Yes,” she said. “I slid down the shed there and onto the courtyard. I found my way to the lobby and came out here.”

“Smart girl,” William said, holding her a little more gently now. “You’re coming home with me. Don’t even try to argue. This place is a firetrap.”

Michelle chuckled at this; the laughter helped release the feelings of anxiety within her.

“I’m certain the Waldorf is not a firetrap,” she said, smiling. “There’s only a little smoke. I bet some idiot just fell asleep with a cigarette, or something.” She rested her head against William’s chest, liking the feel of his arms securely around her. It was better than sitting up in a tree; he felt safe and warm. She shivered, the cold air felt acutely apparent all of the sudden. William felt her trembling; looking down, he laughed.