Page 1 of Elevator Pitch

1

GRAHAM

I straighten the lapels on my tux and wait patiently for my best friend, Jace. Any minute now he’ll appear alongside his fiancée dressed to the nines for their Vegas wedding. No doubt the Venetian ballroom cost a pretty penny, but the hotel feels like a dream. Almost like you’ve been transported to an Italian countryside with their old-world fixtures and painted ceilings. It’s easy to ignore the rumbles of thunder and cracks of lightning from the storm raging outside when all you see above you are gold sconces, fluffy clouds, and blue skies.

The gondolas are a bit much but seeing Jace and his soon-to-be husband, Rob, riding on one last night was pretty epic. Even more so while a hunky guy sang to them in Italian. I didn’t feel a tug in my gut at all. Besides, me and relationships don’t really mesh. I’ve tried and failed one too many times. Jace says it’s because I always choose unavailable men, but I don’t buy that. If someone wants to be with you, they’ll put in the time and effort.

Jace’s parents are all smiles from the front row. The hotel provided just enough bright white chairs for the intimate ceremony. I give them a thumbs up as I consider the post-nuptial plans. The reception takes place immediately after the vows, and then we have a couple more days of sightseeing, gambling, and delicious food until I’m back home to Seattle.

The speech I need to deliver at the reception will come easily enough. These two are meant for each other. More than likely the guests will be too busy eating from the delicious menu I helped Jace and Rob select to listen to me blather on about our friendship. I’m a bit of a foodie, so I was more than happy to help them settle on the chocolate buttercream cake as well.

Jace got all choked up choosing the two grooms as a topper, so I already know he’ll be crying during the vows, and again after I hand them the rings.

My back straightens almost painfully. “Holy shit, the rings! How could I forget them?”

My gaze swings wildly around the room noting that some of the seats are still empty. I think I have just enough time to retrieve them from my room before the ceremony starts.

“Be right back,” I whisper to Jace’s parents, then turn and hightail it toward the hallway, trying not to alarm anyone as my panic builds with each step.

The moment I get to the lobby I jog at a good pace heading toward the bank of elevators. Any sweat that accumulates from my harried state will be worth it if I get those rings. One of the elevators stands open on my approach.

“Hold the door!” I yell to the person inside, and given his raised eyebrows, I’ve startled him. Despite wariness crossing his features, he still thrusts his arm out to stop it from closing, giving me enough leeway to sprint inside.

I bend forward to catch my breath as the doors shut. “Can you punch fourteen?”

“Sure thing,” he mutters, and I lift my gaze to see a long finger on a large hand make the button light up.

When our eyes meet, my heart kicks up a notch noticing his shaggy chestnut hair, tall stature, long and lean muscles, and broad shoulders. He averts his eyes, obviously not interested in a conversation, and I get it. I wouldn’t want one with me either. Not while I’m a sweaty, disheveled, gasping disaster.

I straighten fully as we start to climb, and I count the seconds going by, hoping I get back downstairs before Jace even notices. I blow out a sigh of relief when the elevator slows as it approaches my floor.

All at once we’re jolted forward as the elevator comes to a hair-raising, screeching halt. “What the hell?” The lights above us flicker on and off for only a couple seconds before we’re thrust into total darkness. My hand reaches out to grip the wall for leverage.

“Looks like we lost power,” the man mutters and I can hear the edge to his voice.

“How—because of the storm?” It’s hard to hear any thunder and lightning in our current location, which only emphasizes the fact that we’re essentially trapped in a steel box.

“I’d assume so. Fuck ,” he swears under his breath.

“This cannot be happening!” I slouch against the wall, feeling nauseous. “Oh God, the wedding!”

Jace is going to be so devastated. And when he realizes I’m not even in the ballroom, he might panic. Like I’m doing right now.

“Is that why you’re wearing a tux?” the guy asks.

I breathe in and out, in and out, before replying, “Yeah.”

“Shit, that sucks. Is your bride waiting somewhere for you?” I can hear the sympathy in his tone.

“Oh, I…I’m not getting married, my best friend is,” I sputter. “I’m the best man and I forgot the rings in my room. That’s why I was running for the elevator. God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. It could happen to anyone.” His voice is coming from the opposite side of the elevator now, so he must’ve placed distance between us. “Besides, it’s more than likely that the entire hotel is out.”

“You’re right.” I suddenly remember I have a phone. “I can at least try to call him and explain. Maybe he can send help.”

“Good idea.” Both of our phones light up. “Shit, no service. How about you?”

“Nope.” I make a frustrated sound. “Fuck my life.”

“Looks like we’ll have to wait.” His screen illuminates his face, and I marvel at his attractive features again. His full lips, sharp jaw, and aristocratic nose. Suppose it could be worse. I could be stuck with Jace’s totally obnoxious cousin instead of a gorgeous straight dude.

“At least our flashlights work.” We both flip ours on and aim them around every corner of the small space.

He punches the emergency button that sounds an alarm, then aims the flashlight toward the doors. I notice they’re open a crack, and when my gaze scales to the top it’s easier to tell we’re not exactly level.

“I think we’re stuck between floors.”

“I think you’re right. Do you hear anyone?” I feel a bit off-kilter, which makes me desperate to get the fuck out of here. “Help!”

There’s no response. I try again, this time louder.

“You might want to save your voice—and your battery. We’ll try again if we hear anyone.”

I sigh because he’s right, and with one click, we’re plunged into darkness again.

I find the wall behind me and lean against it. “Poor Jace and Rob.”

“Are those your friends?”

“The grooms.”

“The grooms? Oh, okay…I get it.”

“Yeah, two guys getting married. It’s legal now for us gays.”

I try to tone down the sharpness in my voice, especially since I have no idea what his views are.

“Of course, I knew that. Since 2014.”

“2015, actually.”

“I was close.” He chuckles. “Can’t say I’ve ever been to a same-sex wedding.”

“Well, they’re pretty much all the same, aren’t they? Two people committing to each other, reciting vows, and exchanging rings?”

“Did I say something to offend you?”

“No, sorry.” Chill, Graham . “My bad. I think it’s my automatic defense mechanism to people thinking straight is the default.”

There’s an awkward moment of silence before he says, “How do you know I’m straight?”

His voice is sort of shaky and quiet, and I wonder if he’s ever said that out loud. I rub at a stitch in my chest, feeling guilty.

“I wasn’t making any assumptions…okay, maybe I was.” And you know what they say about assumptions. “I should probably stop talking.” I huff out an exasperated breath.

“It’s okay. You wouldn’t be the first,” he says. “I’m not out. Yet. Or ever. Not in my profession. Christ, why am I even saying any of this to you? You’re a total stranger.”

“It’s all cool.” My lips pull into a smile. “Besides, there’s something about spilling all your secrets when the other person can only hear you but not see you. Probably why that one reality show is popular.”

“Which one?”

I try my best to describe the premise. “The one where they can’t lay eyes on each other for days, so they just sit and talk from separate rooms. Damn, what is it called?”

“ Love is Blind ,” he blurts out.

“That’s it!” My voice is a little too loud. “There have been a few love connections on that show. Not that we’re trying to make one now—so, what profession?”

“Huh?” Likely he has whiplash from my sudden change in topic.

“You said you’re not out in your profession.”

“You…you mean you don’t know?” His voice pitches up an octave. “Oh, I…was sure you recognized me.”

I wince. Likely I stared a little too long when I got in the elevator.

But, I mean, he didn’t look familiar. At all.

“Are you someone famous?” Now I’m more than curious.

“Sort of. To my fans, at least.” He sounds shy now, almost self-conscious.

“Are you an actor?” I inquire.

He huffs out a laugh. “Hell no.”

“A musician?” I wrack my brain trying to think of a thirty-something singer or drummer who is that drop dead gorgeous.

“What is this, twenty questions?” His tone is full of sarcasm now.

I hitch a shoulder even though he can’t see me. “I figure we have the time.”

I hear him shift, and now his voice is carrying from the floor. “I’m a goalie.”

I consider sitting as well, but I’m in my expensive tux, and the electricity is going to come back on any minute, I’m sure of it. And then not only will I be sweaty, but dirty too.

“A goalie…soccer then? Or football if you’re any other country.”

He laughs and I can feel my face flame. Not good. It’s clammy enough in here.

“What’s funny?”

“Sorry.” He clears his throat. “I guess it’s sort of refreshing that you don’t know.”

“I don’t know sports if that’s what you mean. They bore me, unless I’m checking out the pants.”

He sounds amused when he asks, “The pants?”

I really need a kill switch on my brain’s path to my mouth.

“You know—baseball pants—or football pants. And well, for soccer it would be shorts and who cares about those when you’ve got muscular legs to focus on.”

“Wow, I had no idea there was a whole fan base for sports pants.”

“Gay, remember?” I quip, then decide it’s time to get back to the subject at hand. “So, if not soccer then…what?”

“You ever hear of hockey?” he muses.

“Yeah, of course,” I scoff. “It’s very Canadian.”

He laughs again and I find I like the sound of it. It buzzes over my skin and fills my stomach with warmth.

“I play for Colorado.”

“Oh.”

My legs are getting tired so I sink to a squat, knowing my knees will be next. Jace might just have to forgive me if I end up sitting on gum…or worse.

“Even Vegas has a team.”

“I didn’t realize, but I’m not from around here…”

“Is anyone actually from Vegas, though?” he asks with a chuckle. “Where are you from?”

“Seattle,” I reply absently because I’m too busy loosening my bowtie and unbuttoning my shirt. It’s getting hot in here, and not because of the company. Obviously, the air conditioning is no longer piping through the vents.

“Seattle has a popular hockey team.”

“What is it?” I stand again to remove my coat.

“Begins with a K…?”

“Now who’s playing twenty questions?”

He chuckles.

“Stop laughing at me. If we had Wi-Fi, I’d look it up on my phone.”

“Sorry, it’s just that I’ve been around so many rabid hockey fans lately, I forget that ordinary people are just living their lives and don’t really give a rat’s ass about my sport.”

“If you have rabid fans, you must be pretty popular, which makes sense because you’re—” I slap a hand over my mouth.

“I’m what?”

“Oh, um…I’m gonna guess you’re a really good goalie and all that.”

“Uh-huh, I am. Not shy about admitting it either. I’ve trained for years to get to this level.”

“I’m sure.” I would love to be able to see him right now, to see that spark that would undoubtedly be in his eyes. I feel that same flicker when I’m filming for my audience.

“So, famous goalie, what’s your name so I can stalk you online when all this is over?”

The throaty, sexy laugh again. “Caleb Burnside.”

“Cool name. I’m Graham. Graham Adler.”