Read Call Me! for Free Online Page A

game.”
     
    I sigh.
     
    “What, are you going to pout now?” she says.
     
    “When I get back, I’ll unlock the connecting door.”
     
    “That doesn’t make sense. If he enters the room with you, what reason could you possibly give for unlocking the door to the adjoining room?”
     
    “I’ll work it out.”
     
    “Leave it unlocked,” Carter says. “If the door is cracked slightly, and my side is open, I’ll hear everything that’s going on.”
     
    “Leave your door open,” I say, “and I’ll unlock my side when I get back.” By way of explanation, I add, “I’ll be gone a couple of hours. I don’t want to take a chance someone might plant video equipment in my room.”
     
    “Well, I can assure you no one will be allowed to enter your room while you’re gone.”
     
    I give her a look.
     
    She says, “ What ? You mean me ? You think I’d do such a thing?”
     
    “I always enter a game trusting the players,” I say. “But I’d be a fool not to cut the cards.”
     
    “Frankly, I resent your attitude. As well as your choice of wardrobe.”
     
    “Just be ready to burst into the room when the clothes come off.”
     
    “Burst?”
     
    “I have no intention of standing around in my birthday suit any longer than I have to.”
     
    “Shall we use a signal?” she says, mocking me.
     
    “You’ll be able to peek through the crack in the door. The minute we’re both naked, I’m done.”
     
    “You’re awfully full of yourself, aren’t you?” she says.
     
    “I’ll see you later.”
     
    I leave her room, enter mine, then lock the connecting door. Then exit my room, close the door behind me, and test to make sure it’s locked.
     
    It is.
     
    I retrieve my room key from my purse, and swipe it through the lock. And get a red flash. I swipe it again, slower. Green. It clicks, and I open the door, then close it and retry. This time the door opens after one swipe. I close it and try again. One swipe.
     
    Carter opens the door to her room and peeks at me.
     
    “What are you doing ?”
     
    “It’s a decoy thing,” I say. “You wouldn’t understand.”
     
    “You’re a fruitcake, is what you are,” she says.
     

6:40 P.M.
    I take a quick stroll through the bar and restaurant, refreshing the layout in my mind. It’s early for the hotel bar crowd, in fact there are only two businessmen in the bar and both of them turn to acknowledge me. One holds his glass up, as if saluting.
     
    I smile, but keep moving.
     
    Simon Claire’s is elegant, but I can get in dressed like this. I look around and see only three tables serving guests. But it’s early yet. By eight this place will be packed.
     
    I exit the restaurant and stand in the open area between the bar and restaurant, which includes about forty feet of old-world couches and chairs, grouped to encourage pre- and after-dinner conversation. For the time being, I’m alone in this parlor area. Since it’s serviced by the bar, it’s a perfect place to sit and wait. I can sip a drink while appearing to be deeply involved with my texting. I select a chair that overlooks the elevators, the bar, and the entrance to Simon Claire’s . To my left there’s a small end table and matching chair.
     
    I cross my legs and pretend to send text messages on my cell phone while eyeing the elevator. After a few minutes a waiter appears to take my order.
     
    “Vodka cranberry,” I say, without looking up.
     
    He hesitates a moment.
     
    I look up and see Joe Fagin standing over me.
     
    “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I say. “I thought—”
     
    “You thought I was a waiter ?”
     
    Shit.
     
    “ Seriously ?” he adds.
     
    I laugh. “Can I be honest?”
     
    “Yeah. You can even be dishonest , as long as you keep smiling.”
     
    I look down, try to force a blush.
     
    I say, “The truth is, I said that without even looking up.”
     
    “And now that you see me, I look like what?”
     
    “Honestly? You look like a high-powered