like
this. Then I catch myself. I’m pretty certain she’s not here out of the
goodness of her heart. She’s being paid, same as I hope to be. And money can
pretty much buy you anything. Even temporary absolution from death. I should
know. It’s what I’m attempting to do.
“I have a menu if
you’d like to see it?” she presses. “It’s not very extensive but there’s a good
selection to choose from.”
The timely
gnawing in my stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten since a rushed half burrito at
lunchtime. “If it’s no trouble, thanks.”
Her smile widens
as she throws the door open. “It’s no trouble, honey. Besides, putting a little
more meat on your bones is part of my brief.”
Brief . I swear I’ve heard that word more times
in the last week than any other time in my entire life. True, I’ve also thought
about it, specifically the part where it involves my brief interaction with
Quinn Blackwood.
I haven’t been
able to get him out of my head, although the actual reliving of our meeting has
been kept to a minimum, simply because it messes with my head and body in a way
that scares the shit out of me.
Even more
alarming was the gutting disappointment not to have been summoned into Sully’s
office today and sent to help upstairs. A lingering look from a cop on the way
here reminded me why risking exposure in any way could shatter the thin layer
of protection I’ve managed to buy myself.
I enter the room
and stumble to a halt. I hadn’t quite understood that a team would mean more than Fionnella. Three more people from
sectioned off corners of the room turn to stare at me, and I can’t help the
visceral chill of fear that rises.
“Let me introduce
you. This is Wendy, my assistant,” Fionnella says, pointing to the woman seated
at a table draped with lingerie. Beside her are three railed rows of clothes.
Wendy nods, and returns to her sorting.
Obviously not as bubbly as her boss.
“The camera-wielding
fiend over there is Todd.” She smiles at a tall, skinny guy with dirty blond
hair at the far side of room. He sends me a two-fingered wave, but his
attention returns to the expensive looking camera in his hand. Scattered around
his workspace are all types of lighting equipment, back lights and three large
floor lamps. “He’s just setting up. You won’t work with him or Wendy until your
grooming gets underway.”
I drag my gaze
from Todd to a woman in a skirt suit who approaches with a serious face and an
outstretched hand. “And this is Dr. Allen. She’ll be in charge of your blood
work, and a couple of other things. I’ll let her explain, after we get you
something to eat.” I shake hands with the woman who then disappears behind a
screen. Fionnella smiles encouragingly. “Do you have the menu, Wendy?”
Wendy rises
without responding and presents me with a heavy folded menu, the kind you find
in posh restaurants, only in miniature. She retreats just as silently, but not
before I catch a look I’ve been familiar with for most of my life.
Contempt .
I choose to let
her keep the stick up her ass. One less person who takes an interest in me is
one less person to worry about exposing myself to.
Fionnella
indicates a desk with two chairs on her side of the room. As I walk to it, I
wonder again about the man behind the camera.
The man without a
name.
I look around
what was probably a great room or a small ballroom in the original design. The
walls, like the rest of the apartment, are beautifully lined and there are
elaborate ceiling designs that I’m sure didn’t come from some production line
in Taiwan.
On the far side
nearest Todd, a set of French doors looks out onto a softly lit terrace. I
don’t have to be money savvy to know that terraced penthouses in Manhattan cost
millions of dollars.
Right now, the
room is divided into four spaces. The last space is unoccupied, but I see what looks
like a portable massage table and several baskets of grooming products.
this. Then I catch myself. I’m pretty certain she’s not here out of the
goodness of her heart. She’s being paid, same as I hope to be. And money can
pretty much buy you anything. Even temporary absolution from death. I should
know. It’s what I’m attempting to do.
“I have a menu if
you’d like to see it?” she presses. “It’s not very extensive but there’s a good
selection to choose from.”
The timely
gnawing in my stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten since a rushed half burrito at
lunchtime. “If it’s no trouble, thanks.”
Her smile widens
as she throws the door open. “It’s no trouble, honey. Besides, putting a little
more meat on your bones is part of my brief.”
Brief . I swear I’ve heard that word more times
in the last week than any other time in my entire life. True, I’ve also thought
about it, specifically the part where it involves my brief interaction with
Quinn Blackwood.
I haven’t been
able to get him out of my head, although the actual reliving of our meeting has
been kept to a minimum, simply because it messes with my head and body in a way
that scares the shit out of me.
Even more
alarming was the gutting disappointment not to have been summoned into Sully’s
office today and sent to help upstairs. A lingering look from a cop on the way
here reminded me why risking exposure in any way could shatter the thin layer
of protection I’ve managed to buy myself.
I enter the room
and stumble to a halt. I hadn’t quite understood that a team would mean more than Fionnella. Three more people from
sectioned off corners of the room turn to stare at me, and I can’t help the
visceral chill of fear that rises.
“Let me introduce
you. This is Wendy, my assistant,” Fionnella says, pointing to the woman seated
at a table draped with lingerie. Beside her are three railed rows of clothes.
Wendy nods, and returns to her sorting.
Obviously not as bubbly as her boss.
“The camera-wielding
fiend over there is Todd.” She smiles at a tall, skinny guy with dirty blond
hair at the far side of room. He sends me a two-fingered wave, but his
attention returns to the expensive looking camera in his hand. Scattered around
his workspace are all types of lighting equipment, back lights and three large
floor lamps. “He’s just setting up. You won’t work with him or Wendy until your
grooming gets underway.”
I drag my gaze
from Todd to a woman in a skirt suit who approaches with a serious face and an
outstretched hand. “And this is Dr. Allen. She’ll be in charge of your blood
work, and a couple of other things. I’ll let her explain, after we get you
something to eat.” I shake hands with the woman who then disappears behind a
screen. Fionnella smiles encouragingly. “Do you have the menu, Wendy?”
Wendy rises
without responding and presents me with a heavy folded menu, the kind you find
in posh restaurants, only in miniature. She retreats just as silently, but not
before I catch a look I’ve been familiar with for most of my life.
Contempt .
I choose to let
her keep the stick up her ass. One less person who takes an interest in me is
one less person to worry about exposing myself to.
Fionnella
indicates a desk with two chairs on her side of the room. As I walk to it, I
wonder again about the man behind the camera.
The man without a
name.
I look around
what was probably a great room or a small ballroom in the original design. The
walls, like the rest of the apartment, are beautifully lined and there are
elaborate ceiling designs that I’m sure didn’t come from some production line
in Taiwan.
On the far side
nearest Todd, a set of French doors looks out onto a softly lit terrace. I
don’t have to be money savvy to know that terraced penthouses in Manhattan cost
millions of dollars.
Right now, the
room is divided into four spaces. The last space is unoccupied, but I see what looks
like a portable massage table and several baskets of grooming products.
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