The elevator halts and the indicator displays 19 in a white digitized font. When the doors part, I suck in a reflexive breath—laden with perfume and fresh leather. Fuzzy glass distorts the rest of the level into globs of dark reds and silvers. In the glass’s centre, a black, solid, featureless wall stretches into the ceiling. The man steps around me and out of the elevator. A shakiness riddles my skin.
‘What’s your name?’ He tucks a hand into his pocket.
‘Frankie.’ My mom’s name is the first one I can pull. Horrible decision. What if I get caught and they trace it to me? They could find my mom. It hits me that I could be putting more on the line than I expected. My scholarship could tank. I don’t know what I’m doing.
‘Where’s your ID?’
I lie again. ‘I was told I’d meet someone who’d g
