Last updated on May 23, 2021
Emrys looked at the package for the fourth time. “Signature of recipient required. Christopher Shane, Shane Energy Corp.”
A week had passed after the party, and Emrys had given up any hope that the spell had worked. He looked up at the steel and glass skyscraper and wondered if he could…
He double parked, set the flashers, and climbed out of the Fed Ex truck. So he’d get a ticket. This might be worth it.
Emrys held his head high as he carried the long package into the reception area. He nodded to the security guard. “I need to get the actual signature of the recipient,” he said, showing him the package.
“I’ll sign for it.”
“No, I need the guy to sign it.”
“Do you have any idea who this is?”
Emrys forced a blank look on his face. “I need him to sign it.”
“Jesus Christ.” He threw a three-ring binder on the counter. “Sign in. Take the elevator to the twelfth floor. If you’re not back in fifteen, I’m sending someone to get you.”
Emrys signed in, took the visitor’s badge offered, and went to the elevators. He was nearly dancing with excitement.
“If I lose my job over this, I’m gonna kill you!” the guard yelled as Emrys jumped into the open elevator.
Emrys pressed 12 and looked around the gray and silver elevator, listening to the muzak coming through the speakers. It was a bad version of “Take On Me”.
“Floor TWELVE,” said the elevator in a more serious voice than Siri. Sort of like, “Get the fuck outta my elevator now.”
Emrys faced the glass doors with the logo of Shane Energy Corp, an upside-down pyramid made out of four frosted gold blocks. Emrys pulled open the door and came face to face with a dark haired, dark-skinned woman who looked like the elevator’s voice.
“Can I help you,” she demanded, not even asked.
“I need Christopher Shane to sign this.”
“Why didn’t they sign for it downstairs?”
He pointed at the package. “It says for him to sign it.”
She looked down her nose at him, probably thinking about the security guard and how she was going to get him fired. “I’ll sign it.”
“It says for him to sign it,” Emrys repeated. Damn, so close. Don’t deny me this now.
“He doesn’t sign for anything,” she said, and then the door opened.
Christopher Shane, in a white shirt rolled up to the middle of his forearms, tie loosened just so, blond hair sparkling, in dress pants and dress shoes, stood in the doorway. “I thought—” Then he looked at Emrys.
Shane’s mouth dropped. Emrys flushed red. The two men stared at each other for what seemed like hours. It was interrupted by a cough from the secretary.
Shane recovered first. He gulped, and stepped out of the office. “What’s going on?”
“Fed Ex says you need to sign for something, sir.”
“All right,” he said, and signed the electronic pad that Emrys held out. Shane asked him, “What’s your name?”
“D-Dan. Dan Emrys.”
“Dan. Have we ever met before?”
“Not that I know of, sir.”
Shane waved his hand. “Don’t bother with the sir. Call me Chris.”
This time Emrys gulped. “Chris. I’m double parked downstairs.”
“Wait.” He plucked a sticky note from the woman’s desk and took a pen out of her hand. He wrote something down, handing it to him. “Call me when you get done with work.”
“Yes, si—Chris. Sure.”
Shane nodded and went back into his office. Emrys nearly skipped out but turned around to see some guards coming into the office.
“Just leaving!” he cried, as they took him by the arm and frog-marched him to the elevator.