prison, though, I admitted to myself as I stepped into the open concept living space.
There were floor-to-ceiling windows spanning two whole sides of the apartment, showing breathtaking views of the city below, the light already mostly gone for the day, making me realize I had lost something like twelve hours in that trunk. No wonder everything hurt and my bladder was screaming and my stomach was grumbling.
To the right of the space was a kitchen with dark wood cabinets, stainless steel appliances, and white countertops. Directly forward was a long L-shaped sectional in a deep gray with an oversize gray and white striped ottoman, everything facing the massive TV attached to the wall, floating above a wooden console table that matched the kitchen cabinetry.
Off to the side of the TV wall was a hallway that led back. To the bed and bathrooms, I figured.
Even just the main area was a massive space. I could fit my entire apartment into the kitchen.
A part of me was impressed.
The other part was angry that I felt that way for a moment because I knew where the money for this apartment came from.
From people like my father, like me, who were indebted to them, who struggled to pay their bills each month, while they lived in the lap of luxury.
"All this seems self-explanatory," Lorenzo said, waving an arm out at the space. "Feel free to help yourself to everything in the kitchen. Save for the aforementioned knives and heavy instruments," he added, giving me a boyish smile as he moved over toward the hall. "And down here," he said, waiting for me to follow behind. And, with little other choice, I did. "We have the half bath, then the guest room. Your room," he clarified, opening the door, revealing a sleek, understated space with more dark woods, and crisp white bedding. I glanced hopefully at the window above the bed, but felt my spirits plummet when I saw that it, like all the windows in the main area, was solid. There was no exit. "You have your own full bath. Don't get too excited," he said, making me turn back and see the wicked smirk he was giving me. "There is no exit from there either."
There had to be an exit somewhere.
It was basic building code fire safety.
There had to be at least two exits.
The elevator barely counted since you couldn't use that in an emergency.
"I am across the hall," he went on, moving back into said hall, extending an arm toward his door. "And then there is the gym," he said, leading me to the end of the hall and into a space slightly larger than my bedroom, stocked with all the basic essentials: treadmill, stationary bike, a stair climber, a weight bench, and about every size free weight known to mankind. "Yeah, might have to do something with those too, huh?" he asked, and when I glanced over, his hand was rubbing across the back of his neck. "I could just lock you out of here, but I figure this situation sucks enough for you. I can't deny you a little activity now and again. Alright. Why don't you settle in? I'd offer you something to wear, but I think you'd look like an infant wearing their father's clothes if I tried to give you any pants. I can give you a shirt though. I will have things picked up for you. But I imagine you are going to want to clean up now."
"I, ah, yeah." I needed to find a way out. Or find a way to incapacitate him, so I could take the elevator down and run. It wasn't hard to get lost in the city. And once I did that, I could figure out my next move. But no one said I couldn't clean up first. I felt gross and sticky from the car ride. I needed to brush my teeth.
"Alright, come on," he said, walking into the hall, waiting for me to follow him into his room.
His bedroom was unnecessarily massive, dominated by a California king-size bed with black bedding, heavy black drapes, and doors open to a bathroom and a walk-in closet that made me want to weep.
"Would you rather a tee or something heavier?"
"Since you keep the air set to arctic, I think I will take something heavier," I told him as he ducked into the closet, coming back with a red sweatshirt that likely fit him normally, but was going to be a dress on