Page 192 of Damián

“It’s still dumb, Ollie.”

“Zara, they built this to stop people from coming in, not to keep people in.” I check around the desk… nothing. “Besides, seven of the eight Harknetts are the size of a fridge, and Tae hates climbing, so I would assume they think no one could fit there.”

“And you can?”

“Baby, I have the bone structure of Timothée Chalamet; I can fit fucking anywhere… If I manage to open it.” I go to the bar, and I see a bottle opener, but it’s too thick and curved to fit in the screw’s dent.

Damn it, if only I could— I gasp as I see a bottle of red wine with a screw cap.

“What?!” Zara asks at my sudden gasp.

“I’m drunk MacGyvering the crap out of this damn vent,” I laugh, as I run to the wine rack, take the bottle, and screw it open.

“You are Mac-what?”

“I am turning the wine’s cap into a screwdriver,” I explain as I step on the cap, folding it in half with my weight.

I lift it to check that the aluminum folded almost perfectly, so I start stomping on it until I create a line that’s thin enough to fit, while strong enough to turn.

I check it, and it is perfect.

Let this work… let this work…

I chug a bit of the wine, climb onto the desk, use my super invention to open the screws, and… Yay! It works!

Feeling victorious, I undo the rest. The moment the final screw turns, the grate falls forward, but I catch it with my left hand and toss it onto the couch below.

I then stretch my arms to the vent, and sure, I do reach, but I realize there is no way I will be able to pull myself up and climb there.

I decide to go for the leather cushions; they flatten down a lot.

Mmmm… I need something with a sturdier structure.

I look around, and I see the mini-fridge.

Okay, let’s do this.

“What’s happening now?” Zara asks.

I put the phone on speaker, leave it on the desk, and unplug the mini-fridge.

“I managed to open the vent, but it’s too high for me to climb into.”

I push the mini-fridge, and it scrapes on the floor, making it sound like a hyena with a cough is chasing me.

“Arrggghhhh!”

“What is that horrible noise, Oliver? Are you dying?” Zara yells into the phone.

“I’m working!” I pant, lifting the mini-fridge onto the desk.

“And is it working?”

“Let me check…” I say, scooping the phone back up, shoving it into my pocket, and getting ready to climb my masterpiece. But then I stop… “Ah, Zara?”

“Yes?”

“If you hear a loud bang and then nothing else… please send an ambulance.”