Robert and Walter led Clara into the building, which, judging by the men lounging in the common area and wall of mailboxes in the lobby, was also a dormitory. A few handsome boys in blazers rose from their armchairs to stare at Clara and Lorraine.
Lorraine followed the guards and Clara through a door to the left of the entrance and down the stairs to the basement. Walter scowled at Lorraine over his shoulder on the stairs. “You’re still here? Turn around, and don’t stop until you’re back on your own campus!”
Lorraine ignored him, and he couldn’t do much about it, since that would’ve meant letting go of Clara. The security guards led them into a cramped, messy room. A few security guards as young as Robert were sitting at mismatched desks, reading textbooks and sipping steaming mugs of coffee. A half-full box of doughnuts and a stack of plates sat on an empty table with wooden chairs around it. Another positively ancient guard dozed on a couch against the wall.
“What is this place?” Lorraine asked Robert.
“Security headquarters,” he explained. “And we’ve got a holding cell in the back for the real troublemakers. That’s where your friend is going.”
“You’re putting me where?” Clara exclaimed.
“All right, I’ve got to take over the shift at Hamilton,” Walter said, ignoring Clara and checking his watch. He gave Lorraine one last glare before turning to Robert. “You think you can handle this, Bobby?”
The younger man nodded, his shaggy hair flying as if he were a wet dog shaking himself dry. Bobby reminded Lorraine a lot of a Labrador, actually, with his big, eager-to-please brown eyes. Thank God he was the one sticking around. Lorraine would have Clara out of here in no time.
“Keeping booze and girls out of our dormitories is something we take very seriously here at Columbia,” Walter said to Clara. “If you’re going to get drunk, do it at your own school and let them deal with it.”
“For the last time, I’m not drunk! And I don’t even go to Barnard!” Clara called, clenching her fists in frustration. But Walter was already steering his chubby form back up the stairs.
“Just come with me,” Bobby said.
He walked down a narrow hallway that branched off the office area, then took out a key ring to unlock the last door on the right. When he did, Lorraine could see over his shoulder that it was a supply closet of sorts. Cups of pencils and pens sat next to stacks of notebooks and folders on wide metal shelves. A few wooden chairs sat in the center of the tiny room and there was a coffeepot and mugs on a small table by the door.
Bobby ushered Clara inside. “So like I said before, I’m going to have to ask you to cool your heels in our little holding cell here—just until you’re sober enough to head home. There’s coffee in there—that’ll probably help.”
“I’ve said about twelve times that I’m not drunk,” Clara complained. “Do you want me to walk in a straight line? Recite the Pledge of Allegiance?”
Bobby loosened the collar of his uniform. “Sorry, but orders are orders. It’s not like I even think drinking is such a big deal. Just last week my buddies and I went to this place called the Big Top—”
“Oh, fine!” Clara said. “It’s like talking to a damn wall.” She looked at Lorraine. “Good job rescuing me.” Then she slammed the door to the supply closet shut behind her.
Bobby looked at Lorraine. “You really need to leave now,” he said. “Walter could get you in real trouble if you’re still here when he gets back. I’ll walk you out.”
Lorraine let out a heavy sigh and walked with Bobby back down the hallway. She needed to come up with a plan to free Clara, and fast. She’d prove that she could do something nice for someone else—whether that someone wanted her to or not.
Lorraine stopped at the end of the hallway.
“Why did you stop?” Bobby asked, halting as well. “Is something wrong?”
Lorraine sidled up close to him, nearly pinning him against the yellow wall. She put her gloved hand on his arm and gave Bobby her best sexy sheba stare. “I’m just dying to see the inside of a real jail cell, Officer!”
The security guard’s face flushed and he blinked his big eyes a few times. “I just do this to help pay my tuition. And it’s not a real jail cell. We’re in