tossed and turned in her sleep and several times pulled the blanket off herself.

Each time Rogers put it back on.

 

Finally, at about four in the morning she sat straight up, pulled the blanket

off her, and looked straight at him. “Who the fuck are you?” She didn’t seem to

be embarrassed that she had no clothes on. “Your phone will explain.” “What?” “A

message from Mr. Quentin.” She looked around, seized her phone, and accessed the

message. “You’re Paul?” she said groggily. “I was at the front door when you

came in. I’m the bouncer.” She looked down at her bare chest. “Where the hell

are my clothes?” “I don’t know. I covered you with the blanket.” He got up and

looked around. Then he got on his knees and pulled her skirt, top, and a bra and

underwear out from under the bed. He dropped the articles of clothing on the bed

and said, “I’ll wait for you in the other room while you get dressed.” He closed

the door behind him.

 

He heard her get up. He also heard her stumble, apparently hit her knee, and

loudly curse. A minute later the door opened. She was still zipping up her

skirt. “Any idea where my shoes are?” she said crossly.

 

He reached behind a sofa pillow and pulled out a pair of stilettos. “Thanks.”

She sat and put them on.

 

As they walked down the stairs he said, “I’m afraid I’ve only got a crappy van.”

“If they had Uber in this shithole I’d use them. I’m in North Carolina. It’s two

hours.” “Mr. Quentin told me.” “Mr. Quentin just fucking left me?” “Looks like