There was a faint knocking in the hall. A knocking and a whimpering of sorts. I looked over to see if Hayes had heard it, but he was snoring, oblivious. His postorgasmic slumber.
I grabbed a robe and peeked out the peephole but could notmake out much, a lone figure in the corridor, knocking on the door across the hall. A girl.
“Liam, please open the door,” she was saying, soft. “Please. I’m so sorry. I screwed up. Please open it.”
She continued to knock and whimper, and Liam’s door did not open, and finally, I cracked ours.
“Are you okay?”
She was young. Very. Brown hair, big doe brown eyes, sullied with makeup. She was crying.
“My phone is dead and I don’t have a charger and my girlfriend has my wallet in her bag but I can’t find her and I just want to go home.”
“Okay,” I said. “Okay. What do you need? Do you need me to charge your phone?”
“Please.”
My eyes were scanning the corridor for security, but there was none. “How did you get up here?”
She shook her head. Her dress was mature beyond her years. Red, Herve Leger. A lot of effort for a little girl.
“Did you come up here with someone?”
“Simon,” she said, wiping her eyes. She was clinging to a set of keys and what looked like a student ID.
“Where’s Simon now?”
“In his room. Sleeping.”
“Which one’s Simon’s room?”
She pointed to the suite next to ours.
I was confused. “Then why are you knocking on Liam’s door?”
She shook her head, and the tears started to fall again.
“Okay. Okay. Give me your phone and I’ll charge it and we’ll find your friend and get you a ride home.”
Hayes was stirring in the bedroom. “What are you doing up? Who are you talking to?”
“There’s a girl, in the hallway. I don’t know if she’s a fan or a groupie or what. But she’s young, and she’s out there, and she’s crying.”
“Well, get Desmond to deal with it.”
“I don’t know where Desmond is. It’s four o’clock in the morning, Hayes. There’s no security out there.”
“Fuck.” He rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.
“Oh-kay. I guess I’ll take care of it then.”
“She’s not your problem. Don’t get involved.”
“She’s someone’s daughter, Hayes.”
“Everyone is someone’s daughter, Solène. Don’t get involved.”
I returned to the girl in the hall once her phone was charging. “Where’s your friend? The one you came with?”
