It's Not As Easy As It Looks

It was Saturday, and I was dragging myself into work early to make sure I was on time. I didn’t realise how cold it was in New York till we got out of the hotel and walked towards the cab. My face stung with cold, my breath coming out in puffs of steam. I wished I had put on my scarf and gloves if only to walk a few steps.

It was December – so of course it was cold, but I always imagined that being brought up in England meant I could face the cold winters, but I had not felt cold until I felt New York's winter.

I got into the yellow cab and shivered, the Asian cab driver noted I was dithering and turned up the heater. “Thank you,” I smiled, as I continued to look outside.

The hotel I was staying in till the band went back home now had Christmas decorations up, which made me smile and feel all festive. But there was an underlying emotion of worry coursing through my body; this was my first time alone on Christmas… I had no friends, no family… nothing, and no one.

All of a sudden the tears weld up in my eyes and I just let it all out, sniffling and breathing in deeply as I pressed my hand to my mouth.

“Are you okay?” He had a thick Indian accent, but I could understand the worry in his voice. “Would you like a tissue?”

I just nodded, as he reached out for a tissue box and threw it to the back of the cab where I sat. “Thanks,” I sniffed, taking a tissue out of the box and wiping my eyes, then other to wipe my nose.

When we finally got to the building, I paid the cab driver and walked into the lobby, seeing a familiar face I’d rather not see… especially after waking up awkwardly next to the guy yesterday morning. But, with my luck, Billie Joe had pushed it into the back of his mind as he walked over to me with a big smile on his face. “You’re early,” He said, smugly.

I just fake laughed and rolled my eyes. “Wade complained to you?” I asked.

Billie put his hand up and shook it. “Meh, not really complained but sort of – he just didn’t want an unreliable employee,” He said, honestly.

I looked at him and then sighed, feeling really bad about missing a day’s work after only being on the job for two days. “Well, I’m here now, nice and early,” I put on a smile and started walking over to the elevator. “What happens if I’m stuck in traffic? It was terrible this morning.”

As the elevator doors opened, Billie gestured that I went in first, and then he followed, pressing the seventy fourth floor button. “Just call him and be truthful; your cat didn’t die, your alarm clock didn’t go off – forget about those, he gets pissy.”

I laughed imagining a member of Green Day using lame excuses like those when they were rock stars.

Billie raised his brow at me and I stopped laughing when more people got on the next level. I stood further back so I was pressed against the mirrored wall of the elevator.

As each level went on, random people started getting on, it was like they were wanting to suffocate as the oxygen was now being used up by a colossal amount of people. Where were they even coming from? There surely can’t be this many people in this whole entire city!

Everyone got on from models, to hippies, to nerds, different ethnicities. It made me feel out of place since I was sort of dressed like the “ordinary” girl, wearing dark blue jeans and a tight fitting white t shirt with typography splashed across it.

I failed to mention I was a tad claustrophobic, didn’t I? Yeah I did. I think I failed to mention it to me as Billie was the first to notice that my breathing became more rapid, and then suddenly black dots appeared over my eyes as Billie grabbed onto my shoulder and we pushed our way through and out of the elevator… twenty levels early, mind you.

“Are you okay?” Billie asked, looking down at me with concern in his eyes. I just nodded and leant against one of the walls. “We can catch the next one… or walk twenty floors.”

“Ugh, we can catch the next one,” I said, idly, as we pressed the elevator button and waited for it to come back down and fetch us.

After what seemed ages it did, finally, come, and it was full already – I was surprised the “maximum capacity” thing didn’t stop us from getting on, but we could, for some reason, and it was better standing at the front with the doors, rather the squished at the back.

When everyone started to get off the elevator I wondered what was going on – maybe it was a party or something, I mean, I knew it was a magazine – Mode or something. Pushing curiosity to the back of my mind I tapped the silver railings that bent all around the elevator shaft. Only five more floors… and boy was it uncomfortable in here.

The elevator jolted – snapping me out of my thoughts, I looked around and at Billie, panicking, I screamed out. “WHAT! NO!” I sighed and rubbed my forehead, looking to Billie who had walked over to the elevator doors and put his ear firm on them. “Good going, Billie, maybe you can hear the elevator pixies.”

Billie turned around to face me, his brow knotting in frustration. “Shut up, I was seeing if we were still moving. You know you’re kind of bitchy.”

I bit my lip and slid down onto the floor, sitting Indian style as I looked up to the guitarist. “Scared, actually,” I whispered, and then looked away sheepishly, feeling my cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I-I have a panic disorder.”

I heard Billie chuckle and move closer to me, sitting down close by. “Don’t worry about it; I suffer from panic attacks a lot.”

I smiled at how he was at least trying to help, in I guess, his own little way.

It was only now in the silence that I had a chance to truly take in Billie Joe, not the rock star, but the person. He had no eyeliner on, no hair spikey, he looked like a normal man, a handsome man at that. He also smelt really good, and after being trapped in an elevator it was all I could smell. Not that I was complaining...

He wore black skinny jeans, and those worn black and white converse. He was wearing a long sleeved black shirt, that was tight fitting, but also snug. I could tell he had a necklace of some sort on too, as his top button was undone.

After a few moments of silence, I decided to break the ice. “So, I –er – about yesterday…”

Billie put his hand up and kept a straight face. “Don’t… we were drunk and tired, nothing else, forget about it.”

I nodded and ran my hand across my head. “Forgot it,” and it was soon forgotten as Mr. Raindrop echoed throughout the small enclosed space. I took my phone out of my jeans pocket and stared at caller ID.

“Crap,” I muttered out loud, before flipping open the phone and sighing. “If you’re going to bi--,”

“Where the fuck are you?!” I heard a screech; the terrifying voice belonged to my supposedly close friend Jasmine. “I’m wasting a ton of credit to call your ass, so explain fast.”

“Uh, I'm kind of trapped in an elevator at the moment, but on the plus side the signal here is amazing!” I joked and half heartedly laughed.

There was a bit of a delay before a heard a huff and a puff on the other end of the line, suggesting Jasmine was about to rant at me. “What the hell are you talking about?! Where are you?!”

“Calm down will you,” I sighed, remembering Billie was in the room – his face held the most confusion I’ve saw any man with, I flashed him a brief smile. “I moved to New York for a job, but I'll call you later to explain, sorry!” Was all I said before I gave her a chance to fight back as I flipped my phone shut and squished it into my back pocket.

“She sounded delightful,” Billie sarcastically added, laughing a little. “Old friend?”

I just nodded; he didn’t need to know my past story of how I arrived here, atleast not yet. “She’s just a little cranky about something,” I lied. “Though she’s always cranky,” I dryly added as an afterthought. “It’s weird.”

“Your friend?”

“No,” I started to giggle. “No, no. Just the lady luck, I suppose, you know, if I hadn’t of been so damn claustrophobic we’d be up on time for work,” I glanced to my watch and winced. “Now I’m late for work, and stuck in an elevator,” I sighed and rubbed my temples, as Billie stood up and started to pace the floor. “Stop pacing,” I calmly said, and he just looked to me before lightly kicking the door with his foot.

“Work, please,” He pleaded, still lightly tapping his black and white converse against the door, hoping it would move, even just a tiny bit. “Ugh, like that would ever work,” He muttered to himself and joined me again, squatting down.

When more light cracked through the doors, I realised they were, indeed, actually opening up. My face lit up with excitement as I ran out of the cramped elevator, Billie being a little slower than me on rushing out. “We’re free! I made it out ALIVE!” I shouted, feeling more alive then I had done the past three days. I would never act like this around strangers, but, well, New York has this effect on people.

“We need to get you up quickly, come on,” Billie said, eagerly, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the staircase. “I’m sure you can manage it.”

---

By the time we made it up I was exhausted, but, at least I was finally at work for my second day. When Billie and I pushed through the double glass doors we came face to face with Mr. Brands, not looking amused one bit. He coughed, to get our full attention then raised his brow. “You promised.”

I looked up to Billie, nudging him with my elbow so he’d defend me. “Uh, Wade… the lift sort of broke.”

“Well, it is fashion week, so everyone’s been using that elevator at once, and it was bound to break,” He said, quickly believing Billie without any second doubt. I smiled at the fact I was forgiven that easily by Wade and set out to start work.

I was given my own nice little desk where I had put my laptop I brought from home. I started making the desk feel a little more homely by adding pencils, papers, anything messy, really. I put a photograph frame up, my fingers tracing the edges of the wooden frame. It was a group photo consisting of me and about ten friends, including my mother. I missed them, damn I missed them like hell… but I knew I couldn’t go back, I had chosen this life, and I had to live with it.

I face planted the desk and sighed deeply. I was worrying about the things I shouldn’t be thinking about just yet, like ‘will I be sent home once this job is done’ or ‘where do I live once this is all finished.’

I span around on my chair, and turned to face the window. It had gone past midday now and I could see all of bustling Manhattan below me. They looked like ants I could stomp on and for once I felt like I had the world in my hands, though, I was just a photographer, nothing more.

Turning back around, my arm came into contact with a coffee mug on my desk, sending it flying off the side and spilling its contents onto the floor. Ugh.

Lady luck hates me.