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The complainer walked over to the single phone remaining in the penthouse and called the front desk. He spoke in Chinese for about half a minute, then hung up.

Twenty minutes later, a man in a hotel uniform arrived at my door, pushing a cart with two silver domes.

The complainer shooed the man away, wheeled the cart in himself, and removed the domes…

Revealing greasy cheeseburgers and fries.

Figured.

I watched as he and the chair leaner stuffed their mouths like seven-year-old boys.

Ah well.

At leastsomepeople were enjoying themselves.

“Hey,” the chair leaner called to me.

I looked over at him.

He pointed at the bar full of alcohol and raised his eyebrows like,You mind?

“Go ahead,” I said.

I almost saidKnock yourself out –

But then realized that maybe,just maybe,they might.

The gangster grinned and pulled a bottle of Grey Goose vodka off the shelf.

Much to my consternation, he was the only one who drank it.

The complainer stuck to a soda from the mini-fridge. He smirked when he saw me glance at him.

Thought we were BOTH going to get drunk?

Wrong, asshole.

Maybe theyweren’tso dumb.

In fact, maybeIwas the dumb one.

After all, I was the one being held captive…

Because I’d thought with my dick instead of my brain.

STOP IT,I inwardly shouted.

I knew it wasn’t just about sex.

It was because I’d trusted my heart instead of my head.

But in some ways…

That was even worse.

I spent the rest of the evening in a dark depression, lying on my bed and listening to my captors watch an action movie in the other room.

I eventually gave in and had them order me a steak from room service.