Some say man is hard to satisfy. The more he gets, the more he wants. And no matter how much money, power or fame he possesses, he always seeks more.

I agree.

Seeking more sex elsewhere and money in his career had probably been why Seb left me in the dust three months ago. But that was more speculation than fact, as he refused to give an answer when I asked for an explanation.

From my perspective, things were looking up for us. We were moving fast toward the good life. He had celebrated his promotion at a big tech company. We had been discussing our commitment to one another and what that meant for us, going as far as envisioning our future children and their likeness.

Which one of us would they'd take after most? Would they have my thick, kinky hair and dark brown eyes or his noticeable dimples and brilliant mind? As much as I had enjoyed gazing into his bright blue eyes, our children would most likely adopt my dominant genes and become the proud owner of dark brown eyes and deep brown complexion.

The four-inch heels of my shoes click-clacked along the sidewalk as I approached a drunken man holding a cardboard sign that referenced something about the government, the elite, or people in power and the evil they're leashing upon the world. The typical.

The city had been running rampant with conspiracy weirdos since the switch up in the highest office, so that was nothing new. But the word unfortunate couldn't describe the increased homeless population, which had also been running rampant lately. Sadly, seeing the misplaced sick and unlucky lying along the gutters and alleyways had quickly become custom.

The displaced easily became part of the scenery. Few people considered them worthy at all. The least I could do was hand the sign-holding man my daily coffee budget as a folded ten-dollar bill, something I did often to soothe the sting of guilt in my heart. He mumbled his gratitude through his overgrown salt and pepper beard, and I nodded a welcome before continuing.

Canyon Avenue ran up and down an upscale part of Paradise Valley, which was known for its luxury resorts and high-end real estate. But my quick trek from the parking garage to the high-rise building made me question if the city would lose that honor. As if the expectation of the high and mighty city would one day flip on its head like an unforeseen plot twist, taking the residents by surprise as if the clues weren't always there.

I finally made my way through the double doors of the twenty-story building. With my waist-length single braids pulled into a neat ponytail, just like Seb liked it. I turned into the furnished and spacious lobby that showcased Native American art pieces, an out of commissioned masonry fireplace, and other lavish features.

I click-clacked past the security booth that sat the hefty guard who was supposed to patrol the ground floor halls most nights, but opted to monitor the security cameras instead. I gave him a friendly nod, which he decided not to return, but it was nothing new. On most of my visits, he had either acknowledged me with a sneer or pretended not to see me at all. He always held that stoic, no-nonsense demeanor. The attitude he exuded left no question that he took his job seriously and took pride in his position.

The sun had just gone down for the evening. It hovered below the horizon and its dying light shrouded the west wing of the building in an orangey glow that cast shadows on certain parts as light ricocheted from the glass doors and their metal trim.

The summers in Phoenix always seemed to overstay their welcome, extending the sunlight and heat late into the evenings, but I tried not to complain—

A blow to my arm startled me as someone bumped into it, pushing me aside as they rushed by. I stumbled but caught my balance just as I grasped a look at the back of their petite feminine shape that was draped in a lightweight beige cardigan before they disappeared around the corner toward the elevators.

None of the few people who hurried back and forth stopped to see if I was ok, but I preferred their obliviousness. There were fewer reasons to be embarrassed if everyone pretended not to see me fighting my duffle bag for balance.

Most of the small crowd came and went from the set of six elevators around the corner. Which was my target, as teetering up thirteen flights of stairs in a pair of stiletto high heels wasn't on the agenda.

I readjusted the strap of my overnight bag on my shoulder, hoping I wasn't jumping the gun and reading too much into Seb's invite. We started dating six months ago, but three months into our spicy romance, he called it off.

His behavior became like night and day. One minute, we were blissfully driving off into the sunset together. The next, we were speeding toward a cliff.

He stopped calling and refused to see me after I showed up at his place, and I was never one to pressure a man, so reluctantly I backed off. Until I received his invite last week. He had tucked the pretty handwritten note, the size of a credit card, into the frame of my front door.

"I miss you. Come see me, 7pm this Wednesday. Our little secret."

At first, I thought he wanted me to visit for a quick romp in bed, but he knew I wasn't a fan of the one-night stand, no matter how long we'd been romping. Been there, done that, wouldn't recommend it.

My heart pitter-pattered at the fantasy of him begging for my forgiveness and wanting me back. And not empty promises to get what he wanted, but a genuine commitment. But if I were honest with myself, all he had to do was apologize for breaking up with me, and whip out what God had blessed him with, and I was all his.

I shook my head at how pathetic that sounded, hoisted the bag under my arm, and turned the corner to the elevator.

The call button illuminated. So, I quickly checked my phone for the time. Satisfied with seeing the seven on my screen, I tucked the phone inside the zipper of my bag.

After a quick glance around the space, I noted a handful of people awaiting the lift, but most noticeably the woman in the beige cardigan. She saw me when she looked over her shoulder, but quickly avoided eye contact by turning back around.

I didn't want any trouble. It may have been second nature for some to assume I had a sour attitude from judging my looks, my resting bitch face, or even by how someone bumped into me earlier, nearly knocking me to the ground and went on with their life without apologizing. So, I smiled. Because the next time she or anyone glanced my way, they would see that even though I wouldn't forget, I could forgive, and I was no threat.

When the elevator bell dinged, the crowd shifted, getting ready to board. I saw a fidgeting man off to the side but didn't want to stare. I jotted down mental notes of his tattered shirt and scuffed jeans to piece together his story.

Still, as a lover of art, I couldn't shake the habit of people watching. Coming up with scenarios about them and backstories about where they came from. Which might have been what others did to me, too. Assuming my character and—

The elevator doors opened, and a couple of people exited. But before they completely vacated the cabin, a tall, bald man with abundant hair on his tanned forearms made his way in. His biceps nearly ripped through his short sleeves. His stature gave off the illusion that few would fit in the elevator with him without violating his personal space.

I followed the shorter, fidgeting man inside. His potent body odor assaulted my nostrils as he made his way to the corner of the cabin. I stood toward the front, providing ample room for the others. But my eyes locked onto the cardigan wearing woman who seemed hesitant to enter. I smiled and coaxed her in with a wave of my hand, stepping aside to give her space. She gripped her handbag and joined the rest of us.

I pressed the button to floor thirteen and politely turned to her. "What floor, ma'am?"

"Uh, floor sixteen." She nodded.

"Nineteen." The bald man's deep voice caught me off guard.

"Seventeen, please," the fidgeting man mumbled.

After pressing the buttons, someone approached from around the corner. They were heading straight toward the elevator when the cardigan lady pressed the button to close the door. And as the metal panels slowly met in the middle, my sights landed on the eyes of the approaching person. I mouth the word sorry. They made a beeline to one of the other elevators, and the doors closed.

In the reflection of the doors, I watched the people behind me. The elevator shifted slightly as it ascended, and an uneasy energy of the space made the hairs on my forearms stand on end.

The look on the woman's pale face clued me into her instability. She must have been having a bad day. Maybe she just got demoted or, worse, laid off. Maybe today had been the worst day of her life. Whatever irked her, the anxiety on her face shown through her eyes as they darted from each of us.

Her glare burned into the side of my head. I flashed her a nervous smile, but it did nothing to change the scowl on her face.

I put my attention on the glowing ascending numbers above the door. I counted in my head as the numbers went by a little too slowly for my liking. The increasing stench of body odor offended my nose, and I fought to keep myself from reacting to it.

The glowing number just passed the number nine when the cardigan wearing woman slammed her palm on the emergency stop. The elevator screeched to a halt, jarring us off balance.

I gasped, buckling at the knees.

"What the hell, lady?!" The bald man grabbed the hand bar for support. The bass in his voice was enough to send shockwaves throughout the building.

I anchored myself against the cold steel doors to catch my balance and couldn't help but remember her bumping into me in the lobby and nearly knocking me down.

The terror in the dingy man's eyes frightening me more than her act. His unkempt eyebrows raised toward the edge of his hairline. But he kept quiet, although he appeared to have harsh words resting on the tip of his tongue.

Even though the woman's glare passed from each of us, her eyes hovered on me a little more than the others. "So, I bet you're wondering why I've gathered you here."

I narrowed my eyes in confusion, my heartbeat throbbed in my fingertips. "What's going on?"

"You shut up!" She pointed a scrawny finger.

I lifted my hands and backed into the corner to show her I wasn't a threat. I could only imagine what might have been going through her mind. She grew more unhinged the more I analyzed her demeanor. And for a minute, I wondered if her apparent anger toward me had to do with me being the only other female in the elevator.

I shook it out of my mind and glanced at the bald man to pass the spotlight placed on me. He probably dipped his head when passing through doors. He towered above us all, and the veins in his arms probably intimidated most. Out of all of us, he could handle this.

"Listen, lady." He stepped forward. "Today's not the day for this. Okay? So, how about we call someone to get you some help, and we all go on with our lives as if this never happened?" His words were more of a statement than a question.

The other man nodded in agreement, but kept his big, anxiety-fueled stare.

She shook her head. "You can only leave after you share your deepest, darkest sin."

I inched my hand to the zipper on my bag where I had tucked my cell phone. My eyes never moved from hers, seeing a fear and an uncertainty, while I slid the zipper halfway.

Her sights landed on my hand. "Hey, stop!" She backed herself into the corner, closer to the control panel, and pulled a switchblade from her pocket.

"Whoa!" The big guy paused. "Hey, hey. It's ok, alright? Put the knife down, ma'am."

She wouldn't take her eyes off me. "Tell God your sins. The ones you won't even tell yourself."

A warmth flowed from my groin and down my legs and I dared not remove my gaze from the tip of her knife to investigate. My breathing quickened, my hands trembled, and all I could force myself to do was scream.

~~~

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