Prompt: You get into work and find that your boss has left a voicemail message on your phone. The message is urgent. Though, what’s peculiar is that the message is not work related. Write this scene.
I pulled my sleek black car into the parking lot and step out into the cool morning. My heels make a comforting click-clack sound as I cross the parking lot. Today was the day.
All these months of sleepless nights and crazy hours was finally going to pay off. I almost laughed out loud, but the elevator was full so I held it in.
A two toned beep alerted me to the fact that I had a voice mail. My eyebrows knitted together as I rummaged through my purse for my cell. I had not heard it ring. How odd. One Missed Call. I quickly punched in the numbers and pressed my ear to the phone to hear the message.
“Hey Elise,” the sound of my boss’s voice surprised me. “It’s me. Umm…I was wondering if you could come pick me up. I’m at the third precinct, on Harold Street. Ok, I’ll…see you later.”
My breath whooshed out of lungs. What in the world could have possibly happened between last night and this morning. Bee had left after me, so she really hadn’t had much time to get in trouble. I chewed nervously on the inside of my lip and glanced at my watch.
We were meeting with the board in just two hours. If I hurried…
I darted out the elevator doors as soon as they opened. I jammed the button impatiently on the other side. “going down” I tapped my foot in an annoying rhythm. I would have been irritated with someone like me.
Giving up on the elevator, I rushed to the stairwell and ran as fast as I could manage back to the parking garage. “Oh, this better be good,” I muttered as I fumbled with the keys.
Pushing any kind of luck I had, I made it to third street in ten minutes. I was out the door in a flash.
A bored looking woman sat behind the counter. “Hi,” I gushed, “I’m here to get Beatrice Anderson.” I set my purse on the counter and took my checkbook out. Maybe if she saw I was willing to pay, she would hurry up.
“Frank,” she called lazily, “She’s here to get the prost we picked up last night.”
Her eyes closed and opened again slowly. “That’s going to be 700 bucks to get her out.”
I nodded and wrote the check. She indicated with her eyes for me to look behind me. My mouth dropped open in shock. Bee was coming out of a closed door dressed in a tight black skirt and an equally tight top.
“What are you wearing?” I asked in shock.
“Let’s go,” she responded without giving me any answers.
“What were you arrested for?”
“Prostitution,” the police officer answered for her.
“Really?” Her lips grew very thin. “Maybe you could use that today in the meeting we’re goimg to be late to.” I pursed my lips and followed her out the door.