Page 9 of The Escape Room
He took the envelope from me, and then he kissed my cheek and said, “It’s okay. We’re a team, so we share our success.”
As he tore open the flap, I asked, “How did you know what the plaque said?”
“That’s obviously a portrait of Phileas Fogg. Who else would be posing with a hot air balloon and wearing a top hat?”
“Lots of people.”
Ryan pulled out a notecard and read it, and then he complained, “Aw, this one’s super easy, too.” I read the card and drew a complete blank. He was chuckling as I groaned and face-planted onto the couch.
* * *
If I had to guess, I’d say Ryan solved the entire puzzle in about forty-five minutes. The fact that we only had the fake candles for lighting in an otherwise pitch-black room didn’t seem to slow him down much. I provided very little help, aside from one random science fact. Actually, he probably knew it too and just threw me a bone.
Once we produced the treasure chest from a hidden panel behind the bookcase, we sprawled out on the couch facing each other and put on all the riches it contained. I adjusted my plastic tiara and reread the cypher he’d solved to produce the five-digit code that would have unlocked the door, and then I muttered, “I’m an asshole.”
Ryan was wearing my hoodie, and he’d pushed back one of the sleeves so he could admire his faux diamond bracelets. “No, you’re not. Why would you say that?”
“Because I completely misjudged you when we were at the bar. I took one look at the pink hair and the playful attitude, and I wrote you off as an airhead. But in reality, you’re one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met. It’s not just that you know an astonishing amount of trivia, either, or that you solved the logic puzzles like they were nothing.”
“I was drunk off my ass and acting like an obnoxious party boy when you met me, so no wonder. Besides, everyone thinks I’m an airhead.”
“Then everyone is wrong, because you’re amazing.” When he shifted around, trying to get comfortable, I held out my arms and said, “Come here.” He curled up at my side, with his head on my chest and his leg draped over mine. I covered us with the tablecloth, because it was the closest thing we had to a blanket, and said, “If you’re cold, I can pull the tapestry off the wall.”
“This is perfect.”
We ended up talking all night, curled up together in the pool of light from those fake candles. The conversation ran the gamut from trivial things like our favorite movies, to deeper subjects, including the frustration we both felt at our stalled-out careers. He’d seemed so different from me on the surface, but it turned out we actually shared a lot of common ground, once I bothered to look a little deeper.
As the first light of dawn tinted the stained glass window and Ryan started to drift off, I found myself asking, “When can I see you again?”
“I thought this was just supposed to be one night. You’re still getting over the terrible thing your ex did to you, and I’m—well, let’s just say there’s a lot you don’t know about me, and you wouldn’t like me very much if you knew the whole story.”
I kissed his forehead and pulled the makeshift blanket over his shoulder. “Let’s talk about it in the morning. And possibly all day tomorrow, if the power’s still out.”
We both settled in, and after a while, he whispered, “Thank you for tonight. It meant more to me than you know.” Ryan fell asleep soon after, as I held him securely.
* * *
The first thing I saw when I raised my lids a few hours later was sunlight streaming through that magnificent stained glass window. It splashed a kaleidoscope of colors onto the walls and ceiling, and I sat up and looked around for Ryan, so I could show it to him. But he wasn’t in the room with me, and the hoodie he’d been wearing was draped over the back of the couch.
Since the double doors were open and the lights were on, the city had obviously restored power sometime during the night. Ryan was probably downstairs talking to Benji, so I put on my shoes and hoodie and started to go find him.
That was when I saw the note. It was written in a small, tidy script on the back of one of the clue letters, and it said:
Dear Rick,
Thank you for your kindness, and for being so open with me. I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to be open with you, too.
When I said you wouldn’t like me if you knew the whole story, I meant it. The thing is, I’m a prostitute. I was off the clock last night, but I was working the night of the charity raffle. The reason I could afford it was because I gave some guy a blow job in the parking lot, and I used the money on a ticket because it seemed like the perfect place to find some rich clients.
That’s who I am. I wish I wasn’t, but it’s how I survive. And no, I didn’t lie about being a barista, but that part-time, minimum wage job isn’t enough to keep a roof over my head.
It was so tempting to agree to see you again, but guys like me don’t end up with guys like you. We just don’t. As soon as you found out what I was, you’d never look at me the same way again. That would break my heart, because I really liked the way you looked at me.
Anyway, I hope last night started you moving in the right direction, in terms of putting the past behind you. Your ex was a dick, and he never deserved you in the first place. You’re an absolute treasure, Rick, and it’s just a matter of time before you find a man smart enough to realize that. I wish you nothing but the best.
Love always, R.
I swore under my breath as I rushed from the room and down the stairs. Benji was sitting behind the desk, and he exclaimed, “Good morning, Rick! My uncle called a little while ago, and we both want to apologize for what happened with the locks last night.”