After what seemed like an endless drive in bumper to bumper traffic, we finally turned onto a quieter street and pulled up in front of a hotel that most certainly wasn’t the flea bag rat trap that I’d half expected we’d be staying in. A fancy awning with brass trim overhung the sidewalk with The Fairbourne in elegant gold letters on the front. The building itself was grey stone with all sorts of carved columns and scrollwork and other cool stuff around the windows. And the entrance! I stared in utter delight at the brass and glass and marble. The broad entrance was flanked by two solid doors and in the center of it all stood an absolutely gorgeous revolving door. Brass everywhere, and all polished to a fierce gleam. I’d seen dozens of glass and chrome hotels on our way here, but this place oozed personality and charm and Yes, you want to stay here because I am so very much cooler than the others.
Kyle stopped the car and killed the engine as a young man in a dark green uniform hurried up. Following the lead of the others, I got out and grabbed my stuff as well as one of the coolers, and tried not to look too out of my depth as Kyle handed the keys to the young man. Another man in a dark green jacket and white gloves approached and offered to take our things. Kyle politely declined even as he slipped what I suspected to be cash into the man’s hand.
“The car will be okay here?” I murmured under my breath to Naomi.
She nodded. “I’ll have them put it in long-term parking,” she told me. “We won’t be using it again until we leave, most likely. There are disadvantages to driving in the city.”
“You mean that little bit about the drivers all being complete maniacs?” I asked as I followed her into the hotel—with only a slight delay. I had to make a second round in the big revolving door. When I caught up with the others, I tried really hard not to gape, or rather to gape without looking as if I was gaping, because holy shit this place was nice. Huge lobby with white marble floors bordered with gold-flecked black. A gigantic chandelier that sure looked like crystal and not plastic. Black leather sofas and chairs lined with burgundy velvet pillows. A fresh flower arrangement so big I didn’t think I’d be able to get my arms halfway around it—though I was tempted to try. And uniformed staff all bright and cheery.
“We’re staying here?” I whispered to her.
“That’s the plan,” she murmured back.
“And were going to pay for this how? What is this—some kind of five-star place or something?”
“Only four stars,” she said, and it was obvious she was trying not to laugh. I started to bristle until I realized I was totally playing the role of country bumpkin to a tee. I’d laugh at me too.
“I have money stashed in a dozen different accounts that nobody knows about but me,” she reassured me in a low voice. Her expression grew more serious. “It’ll be worth the expense to have a safe and comfortable place to stay while we plan our next steps.”
With that she went up to the front desk—a massive thing of polished dark wood—while I stayed back with Philip and Kyle and tried to look as nonchalant about the whole thing as the guys seemed to be. After a few minutes she returned with key cards that she handed out to each of us, and then we trooped off to the elevators.
“It’ll be a little crowded,” Naomi explained after we got off on our floor and headed to the room, “but I figured as long as it had two bedrooms we’d be okay. Kyle and me in one and Philip and Angel in the other.”
Wait, what? Philip and me? I started to gently prod for a clarification, but then Kyle opened the door to the room, effectively derailing my thoughts.
Following the others in, I could only stare like an idiot for several seconds before I recovered enough to put my things down and explore the suite. Swanky. Elegant. Two bedrooms—one with a king bed and one with a queen—a living room, dining area with table and chairs, a small kitchen, and two bathrooms, one with a tub big enough to swim in. Plus a terrace, complete with patio furniture. The place was half again as big as my whole damn house back home.
Philip transferred brains from the coolers to the fridge. Kyle hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and Naomi flopped onto the sofa.
I picked up a big book off the coffee table. New York: A Photographer’s Memoirs. “Aren’t they afraid someone will walk off with their stuff?” I asked. My vast hotel experience consisted of one night with Randy at Tucker Point’s Sleepytime Palace on our “anniversary.” Everything there was taped, nailed, or glued down.
Naomi answered with a laugh. She wasn’t laughing at me, but only because she thought I was joking.
Allrighty then. I set the book down again as Philip and Kyle joined us in the living room.
“Now what?” I asked.
Naomi glanced at the clock. “Nine thirty a.m. now. The guys are heading out to take care of business. Kyle and Philip will check the security channels, and I’m going to make some calls. Possible targets for later are Saberton Tower, my mother’s condo, or Andrew’s apartment.”
I sat on the couch, then had to control my groan of pleasure at how soft and comfy it was. “It’s Friday,” I said, “which means invading Saberton is out since it’ll be full of pesky employees.”
Naomi nodded. “Right, and unless we turn up something juicy in the next couple of hours, I think the easiest first step is Andrew’s apartment since my mother’s condo has pretty tight security. It’s not likely Andrew would be home in daytime hours, but I’ll see if I can get anything on his schedule.” She glanced around as if looking for confirmation.
“The apartment is the best option,” Kyle agreed. “I assume you have keys or codes to get past security?”
“I have his building and security code,” she said, then bit her lip. “Unless he changed them.”
“He thinks you’re dead,” I said with a shrug, then winced at the brief flash of pain that passed over her face at the reminder. Shit, insensitive much, Angel? “Sorry, I mean he has less reason to change his codes with you dead than if you’d simply defected.”
She straightened her shoulders and nodded. “No, you’re right. And he’s not really a super technical guy. Don’t get me wrong, he’s smart and savvy, but I don’t think it would occur to him to change his apartment codes. After all, I was supposedly killed less than a week after I ran away from Saberton.”
“We’ll keep our fingers crossed,” Philip said then rubbed the back of his neck. “We need rest before we tackle the apartment. I say we get cleaned up, do whatever preliminary work needs doing, then crash until one.”
No one argued. Philip headed to the shower while I quickly claimed the bigger bedroom and flopped face down on the king size bed. See, I was being nice by letting Naomi and Kyle have the slightly smaller bed so that they could cuddle more. Yeah, that was totally it.
I only meant to close my eyes for a few minutes while waiting for Philip to clear out of the shower, but when I opened them again, the clock on the nightstand said 12:07 p.m. Philip lay on his back on the other side of the bed, eyes closed and face relaxed in sleep. I’d never really seen him like this, with the deep lines of pain around his eyes and on his forehead softer, less prominent.
Low voices from the other room told me the others were awake and moving. I eased off the bed, quietly gathered my things, then crept to the bathroom to shower and dress.
“If we’re leaving the car here, does that mean we’re taking taxis everywhere?” I asked as we rode the elevator down to the lobby. We were all rested, clean, well fed on room service and brains, and ready to take on the world. Or at least one small part of the world. Either way, everyone looked a lot perkier now.
Naomi tugged the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder. “We’ll use some taxis, sure, but it’s a lot faster in most cases to take the subway.”
My mind instantly went right back to my TV-informed knowledge of subways. “Is that safe?”
She turned an exasperated look on me. “Really?”
&
nbsp; Oh. Yeah. Brain eating monsters. We were probably okay. Still, I stuck close after we exited the hotel. Naomi headed down the street in a long, confident stride that the others matched easily but had me practically jogging.
“Hey, I’m working with short legs over here,” I panted after half a block. “I’m going to need more brains at this rate.”
Naomi glanced back, amusement twinkling in her eyes, but she obligingly slowed her pace. “We’re almost at the station anyway.” The amusement increased. “You’re going to love this.”
I didn’t love it. Not one bit. It didn’t matter that I was in a group of mercenaries and zombies, including a couple of zombie mercenaries. The subway scared the shit out of me.
First off, it involved going underground. We didn’t do “underground” in south Louisiana, not with the water table so high. And this shit was way underground. Down several flights of steps through tiled corridors lit with bad fluorescent lighting, finally emerging onto a loud and dirty platform between two sets of tracks where it looked as if a single misstep could send somebody falling onto the rails to be squished by a train—which I knew for a fact really did happen every now and then.
Plus, somewhere down there was a third rail which I’d always heard could kill you with a single touch, or maybe even if you got close enough to it or looked at it sideways. It boggled me that the tracks weren’t absolutely littered with dead bodies and skeletons and other gruesome shit.
And even on the relatively safe platform, there were so many people waiting to cram onto the train! Holy fucking shit, but I didn’t think there were this many people in all of Tucker Point.
On the other hand, I had a feeling no one would notice if I was rotting and bits were falling off. Or maybe they’d notice but wouldn’t say anything. New Yorkers seemed to be really good about making a personal bubble of “I don’t care and don’t fuck with me” around themselves. I guess you had to when you lived in a city with so many people.
The train finally roared up with squealing and screeching and a blast of wind before it. I kept a death grip on the back of Phillip’s jacket as we boarded—which surprised me that we were even doing so since the car already looked packed to the gills. No way could I reach one of the overhead bars above the seats, so I wedged myself between Philip and Naomi, clung to a pole and the jacket and honestly didn’t give a fuck that I probably looked as freaked out as a kitten during his first bath.
I couldn’t see many of the other passengers from my position, but nothing blocked my sharper-than-human sense of smell. Ugh. The odors of cheap perfume, aftershave, old pee, new pee, vomit, and a variety of unwashed body parts merged in a sickening cloud. There were plenty of clean smells as well, but the bad stuff kicked their asses and dominated. I tried breathing through my mouth but that simply allowed me to taste the stench, and I quickly gave that up.
After about three stops the train cleared out a bit, and I didn’t feel quite as “crushed by humanity,” though the smell hung around like humanity’s ghost. Still, I kept hold of Philip’s jacket until we were back on a platform, all the while terrified that I’d lose my grip and miss getting off the train with the others and end up lost in the city forever. Y’know, completely normal and rational fears.
As soon as we emerged into open air again, I let out a deep sigh of relief and released my hold on the jacket. Naomi started off down the street as if she knew where the hell she was going, which I pretty much assumed was true. As we followed, Philip glanced at me and smiled.
“You okay, ZeeEm?”
“Peachy.” I gave him a weak grin. “There sure are a lot of people in this place.”
He nodded in agreement. “I prefer a little less population density.”
Naomi was kindly keeping a slower pace, which gave me a chance to look around a bit. This part of the city didn’t feel quite as claustrophobic. In fact it reminded me of parts of New Orleans. More trees, less traffic, lots of little cafés and shops.
“Where are we?” I asked, “and if you say New York I will slug you.”
“This is the Village,” he said as if that explained everything. When I gave him an exasperated Are you fucking kidding me? look, he grinned a bit sheepishly. “Sorry. Greenwich Village. We’re on the lower west side of Manhattan now. This area used to be an artist’s haven and was considered a bohemian capital. Still is, really, though it’s a lot more expensive to live here now.”
After a couple of blocks Naomi stopped on a corner and casually glanced around as if taking in the sights.
“See where that blond woman came out, down the street by the red car?” she said, not looking anywhere in particular. “That’s the place.”
I did my best to copy Naomi’s casual glancing around while looking for a blond woman by a red car. And even when I found her I casually glanced around some more since the place she’d exited from didn’t seem all that deluxe. “Are you talking about that one?” I finally asked with a head tilt toward the woman in question—who, thankfully, was walking the other way and couldn’t see me looking as if I had a neck twitch.
“Yes, the building with the iron railing on the steps.”
“He really lives there?” I said in disbelief. “I figured he’d live in some glitzy Park Avenue condo or something.”
Naomi scowled. “It’s a very nice place. And apartments in the Village aren’t exactly cheap.”
“I didn’t mean any offense,” I hurried to say, but Naomi still looked annoyed. “Sorry, I just . . .” Shit. I simply figured the next head of Saberton would live a lot fancier, and I started to say so then wondered if she’d think I was implying that she was the fancier type as well. “Nevermind,” I muttered. She was under a shit-ton of stress right now because of her family situation, and the best way for me to deal with her current uncharacteristic bitchiness was to shut the hell up.
“I get it, Angel,” Kyle murmured. I sent him a weak smile of thanks.
“Front door’s the only way in?” Philip asked.
“Pretty much, unless you feel like climbing up a fire escape,” she replied. “But that’s a bit noisy and noticeable.”
“Does he take the subway to work?” I asked.
She started a casual stroll down the street. I fell in beside her while the men hung back and pretended to consult with each other about something on one of their phones. “He cycles, or has a limo come for him,” she said. “Depends on what he’s doing.”
“Did you used to ride in a limo?” I asked with a teasing smile.
She shrugged and didn’t smile back. “Sometimes. Not much. I was away a lot.”
Wow, she was not in a joking fun mood. Probably way more on edge than she wanted to admit. “How do we get into his place?”
“With the code, of course,” she snapped.
“Well, yeah,” I shot back at her. “That’s what you said back at the hotel. I meant how does it work?”
“I’ll handle that part. Don’t worry about it.”
Maybe I’ll go back to shutting the fuck up for a while, I decided since I didn’t want her to finish biting my head off. I fell back a couple of steps, though she didn’t seem to notice. Kyle moved up smoothly to take my place, put a hand on her shoulder and then leaned down to murmur something into her ear. Possibly something on the order of Chill out or you’re going to fucking blow this. But, y’know, nicer.
Whatever he said, it earned him a scowl at first, but she followed it with a deep breath and a nod. She glanced back at Philip and me.
“Sorry, Angel,” Naomi said with a little smile. “Being here is getting to me.” She turned back toward the building. “Here’s the plan. Angel and I will go up to the door since it’ll look less suspicious with only the two of us, and I’ll enter the code. There’s no security guard. We’ll stop at the mailboxes in the lobby, then let the guys in if it looks all clear.”
“I can totally loo
k not suspicious,” I said with a slightly manic smile.
Her mouth twitched. “Right. Come on, weirdo.”
Strolling not at all suspiciously, I did my best to follow her example of “I totally belong here.” As we approached the steps, a tall and slender woman with dark hair and striking blue eyes exited the building, gave us a cursory glance and a distracted faint smile before she turned to walk to the corner.
“That lady’s a supermodel!” I whispered to Naomi, and shamelessly goggled at the woman’s back. “I know I’ve seen her on magazine covers before!”
“Uh huh, she lives across the hall from Andrew,” Naomi said as if it was the most normal thing in the world to live so close to a supermodel, then shot a hand out to grip my arm. “Oh, shit. Shit.”
I followed her distressed gaze to see a black car pull up and stop at the curb.
“That’s his driver,” Naomi hissed. “Angel, duck, move, do something.”
Seriously? Where the hell was I supposed to hide on an open sidewalk right in front of the building? Naomi had been nicely surgically altered, but there was a damn good chance Andrew would recognize me.
Since I couldn’t possibly hide, I chose to work with the “duck” suggestion. Yanking out my phone, I pressed it to my ear and pretended to talk on it, then dropped into a crouch and proceeded to retie my shoe.
“Uh huh, right, look,” I said as the door opened, faking a thick British accent since I figured my real voice might be a giveaway as well. “I can be there for two but you blokes better have the lights set up right this time.” Beside me, Naomi dug in her purse. I kept my head down as a pair of suit pants above expensive-looking shoes swept down the stairs.
How the White Trash Zombie Got Her Groove Back Page 16