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“Victoria Stadler,” he announced through the mask, “follow me.”
Tory waved at Mahira, who was on her phone, took up the handle to her bag and rolled it out ahead of her until she was out the doors and scurrying to catch up with the security man who was already more than ten steps ahead of her.
Inside an elevator, he passed a yellow plastic card over a sensor and made an entry on a keypad. Seeing him wave her over, Tory stepped into the elevator and rode up one level before stepping back out into an empty corridor. Walking along, she noted the swimming pool on one side and a spacious gym with a view of the city below.
At a row of doors, the security man paused. He waved an orange card over a sensor in the door and it unlocked.
Tory stepped inside and marveled for a moment at the minimally appointed room hung with huge, bright Mondrian prints on three of four walls.
“This card will give you access to the pool, the Recreation Center and cafeteria downstairs,” the man in the mask said as he put the card down on a small desk/vanity molded into the prefab wall. “The dinner order should be in the cafeteria by 7.”
He turned and walked out, leaving Tory to collapse on the bed, considering the turn of events.
***
As bright minimal music from Steve Reich and Phillip Glass played from a hidden audio system in the Cafeteria, the three contest winners sat at great distances from each other as they each peeked inside the warm bags of their dinners. Dan Ennick took his mask off and ate hungrily.
“Lincoln’s parents found him a private charter to Toronto. He’ll fly to Taiwan from there,” Mahira said loudly, as Trace Linder walked in.
Must be nice to be rich, Tory thought.
“Hello, I heard about what happened,” Trace said. “It’s awful. You’ll be fine here. The building is fitted with a number of different air purifying and filtration systems. There are creature comforts. Better than most hotels.”
“Why are you still here?” Maihira asked.
“As you may have heard, the design team is revamping the iGo icon. Mr. Dawes and I are both staying on to finish up the work. No wet market virus is going to slow us down at Nextthing.”
Tory paused letting a plastic fork full of brown rice fall back on her dish. Satisfied with the arrangement, for the time being, she did not anticipate being anywhere near Harlan Dawes. Despite being two tables away from Mahira, Tory could read the obvious sudden interest merely in the position of her body.
“You mean Mr. Dawes is staying here. With us?” Mahira asked, quite excitedly.
“The big dog,” Dan mumbled, with food in his mouth.
“He has his own private suite upstairs and by the way this pandemic is looking, we could be here for weeks,” Trace said.
Tory’s mind began to race as her mind immediately began to construct embarrassing scenarios that could easily play out if she didn’t wake up from the schoolgirl-like crush she had begun to develop after catching a glimpse of Harlan in person. Fear and anticipation took hold of her. She loved the idea of meeting Harlan but worried about making a fool of herself if she couldn’t keep her imagination at bay.
She knew she was not the kind of glitz girl that was usually seen on Harlan’s arm and despite the traffic stopping curves she hid on a regular basis, her virginity always made her hesitant in expressing her desires which at heart were bound in enigmatic duality. She had no practical experience in social maneuvers that let her find the freedom held in acquiescing to the intent of another.
In fantasies, she could boldly exact what she wants of men, yet has never found that same boldness effective in life. Men had treated her with caution or if they were interested, had expectations of much more sexually forward action on her part, which genuinely turned her off and made it so that she had no sexual interest in them at all.
Hearing Mahira laugh just a little too loudly at whatever Trace was saying grounded Tory in the moment. She packed up her meal and stood up.
“I’m going to finish this later. Going to have a look around,” Tory said, as Mahira grinned at her.
“Trace was just telling me the pool is heated. Maybe we should take a swim later?” Mahira suggested to her, then looked over to Dan, who gave a thumb’s up.
Chapter 9
After sitting in her room picking at her food while scrolling publicity photos and scanning articles about Harlan on the internet, Tory decided to have a look at the Recreation Center. She took her key card and slipped out of the room.
Drawn to nighttime lights of the city she walked towards the huge window at the end of the corridor. Passing the gym, she saw someone moving. It was Harlan. In a bright polo shirt and a slim black swimsuit, he was working with a pair of gleaming chrome dumbbells.
