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Dahlia grasped her shoulder in a gentle squeeze. “And I won’t let you do anything to jeopardize it. Open the doors. I’m going out.”
It took a minute, but eventually, Muriel opened the doors. Dahlia walked down the two steps and pulled out her umbrella, preparing to open it and duck out. At least the top half of her body would be shielded.
“Hey!”
Dahlia glanced over her shoulder.
“Good luck!” Muriel said.
Dahlia smiled. “Thanks!”
When she turned back, she inhaled a deep breath, extended her arm, and opened her umbrella. She quickly jumped down off the step and wasted no time. She rushed down the sidewalk, dodging massive puddles while trying to maintain her direction. Crowds weren’t a concern. I’m the only idiot out in this God-forsaken hurricane. She’d only made it one block, and her legs, straight up to mid-thigh, were soaking wet. The only saving grace was her black skirt. It may have gotten wet, but nothing would show through.
Dahlia lengthened her steps and slipped but was able to catch herself. Falling to the ground would be the absolute worst. She squinted, seeing past the bushes on the corner just as the club came into sight. There was a flash of calm. This was almost over. It would’ve been a quicker end if she’d been headed toward the front of the building. However, Sloane was handling her interview and had instructed her to meet her at the back entrance. Dahlia bowed her head as the rain shifted direction.
Sideways rain. Really? She rounded the corner of the building, hugging tightly to the wall. There was no roof and barely an overhang to provide any shelter. She looked over the back, expecting to see a door. Unfortunately, there were two, and neither one was marked for employees. Shit!
Dahlia walked between both access doors, noticing a key card for one and a pin pad for the other. On a whim, she tried opening it, hoping it was unlocked.
“Of course not, because that would work in my favor, and fate hates me today.” Dahlia knocked, waiting as the rain pelted her side. She adjusted her stance, but she was only evening out being drenched. I’m like a rotisserie chicken, only it’s water, not fire.
Between the bouts of thunder crackling and the rain, it was a miracle she even heard her phone ring. She turned, shifting the umbrella between her shoulder and cheek to stabilize it while she rummaged through her pocketbook in search of her phone. Her hands were damp, and it slipped from her hold two times before she got a firm grip and pulled it out. She didn’t even bother looking at the screen.
“Hello?”
“Dahlia, it’s Sloane, I’m so sorry. I left early, I swear I did, but the traffic is horrendous. They shut down Carver Road due to flooding, and I had to reroute.”
Dahlia smiled, nodding. “I know, and it’s totally fine. Take your time.”
Please don’t take your time.
“It should take me fifteen minutes at most.”
Oh, God. She’d be drenched head to toe in fifteen minutes. At least Sloane would give her some leeway in assessing her appearance.
“Okay, drive safe.” Dahlia paused. “Would it be okay if I stood out front under the awning?”
“Don’t you want to wait in your car?”
“I actually took the bus here, so…”
There was a pained screech. “Oh my God, Dahlia, you’re waiting in the rain for me? I’m so sorry! I can’t believe I did this.”
Dahlia started calling her name, but Sloane went off on a tangent. Half of it was incoherent. But the self-berating was loud and clear.
“Sloane!” Dahlia shouted loud enough to get her attention.
“I’m so sorry.” Sloane’s voice was low and regretful.
“It’s totally fine. Just drive safely.”
“You can’t wait outside. Hang on…”
Dahlia couldn’t hear much, but it sounded like Sloane was rifling through papers.
“The door on the left has a pin pad. The code is 9983. You can wait inside.”
Dahlia peered over at the other door.
