The driver rolled up to the curb. Miles jumped out of the limo before its wheels stopped. No, it was not going to end like this—not before they had a chance to truly explore what was growing between them. Miles charged up to the front foyer of the apartment complex. It was almost midnight and the entire building was quiet with slumber. Miles buzzed Maribel’s apartment number, then stood back from its façade, searching for a sign—any sign—that she was there, waiting for him. “Maribel!” he suddenly shouted up to her third floor window. He felt consumed with desperation. “Maribel!” “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…” Emma Jean suddenly threw open her window. Her hair was webbed with a net and her face was smeared with nighttime cream. “What the heck are you doing? Trying to get arrested?” “Please, have you seen Maribel? I need to see her.” Miles stepped back and shouted again, projecting his voice past Emma Jean’s window. “Maribel!” Emma Jean hushed him. “Jeepers. Stop your hollerin’ for chrissakes, and come up to talk to me like a normal fella…” Miles heard the vibration of the door buzzer, unlocking the foyer door. He passed through it, shuttled up the stairs to the third floor, then banged on Maribel’s apartment door. “Maribel, please… please open the door.”
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