Chapter 43

“Fuck. No shoes.” I was used to talking to Pocket. I did it even when he wasn’t there. “Well, bare feet will have to do.”

I walked the halls, hoping to find a cleaning cart or hotel staff member I could flirt with. My eyes might work on both males and females, I figured. A key card would make things so much easier. I wondered how I would do if I simply explained—or rather lied—to whoever was at the front desk. “Lost my keycard. I’m such a dummy!”

Would the concierge hand over a master key that would open the banquet room where the party was going to take place in seventeen hours or so? Would the card open the hotel’s main kitchen, perhaps, where the cake might likely be, if the banquet room didn’t have a kitchen of its own?

I needed to do some recon, probably, before I finalized my strategy. I had a couple options. Option one: Me strolling awkwardly through the lobby as if lost.

“Sir…”

Whoever came running after me would tap me on the shoulder.

“My God! Sir!”