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Jason flagged a waiter, and finished the rest of his drink. His stomach was starting to revolt, but the edge was off, and that’s what he needed.
“Call down to the front desk, and get me a room. Any room. Have the key brought to the elevators.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Henley.” And he was gone.
Just like the old days. Before Laine.
Jason helped his date up and escorted her, palm resting at the base of her spine, out of the restaurant to the bank of elevators. His skin felt clammy, and his mind kept wandering off, looking for Laine at every table, behind every door.
What was she doing right now?
A cool hand circled his, drawing his thoughts back into the hotel, to the pretty blonde… who had just started sucking his finger. His dick felt like it was trying to crawl up his leg to get away. Shit.
The elevator doors swished open, and the night manager stepped out. “Jason, we’re booked up tonight. There was some problem with the Fitz downtown, and we got a flood of their customers about an hour ago.”
No rooms. No beds, except for the empty one in his apartment that still carried the scent of Laine’s conditioner on one of the pillows. Hanging his head, he wondered why he’d let the date go on as long as he had. He should have known what a mistake it was when he’d picked Pammy up and his first thought hadn’t been some acknowledgement of her hotness, but to wonder whether she flossed. “Can you get Dil for me? We’ll be down in the lobby.”
Turning to Pammy, he said the only lame thing that came to mind. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
—
Behind the wheel of the Henley limo, Dill wore a look of utter disappointment. “You used to be my idol, man. Now, I don’t even know what to say. Pammy was a sure thing. What a waste, makes me sick to think about it.”
Jason, slumped in the front passenger seat, nodded, then shook his head and finally just shrugged. The vodka was catching up with him. “I’ll send ‘er a dozen roses tomorrow. Enough. Let’s focus. It’s go time.”
Dill turned a slow skeptical eye toward him and then through the passenger window to the apartment building beyond them. “You sure you don’t want to call her instead? I’ve got the phone right here. Or better, wait until tomorrow.”
“No, I screwed up. A romantic gesture is in order. I’m going to do it.” He grabbed the coins off the dash and shouldered into the limo door. On the second try he made it out and started toward the darkened side of the brick building. Most of the lights were out.
Dill came up beside him, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders shrugged forward. “Tell me again why we can’t use dimes or pennies?”
Jason let out a snort. “She’s special.” Then, after testing the loft in his hand, he threw the first silver dollar at the window.
Obscenities ran out of Dill in a steady stream as the first coin rustled through the leafy branches behind them and finally dropped onto the ground. “That wasn’t even toward the building, man.”
“Don’t start with me. Practice throw.”
“Don’t lie to yourself. It was a pussy throw.”
“Fuck, Dill. Language! People live here. This is a romantic gesture.”
“Yeah, yeah, boss. Sorry.”
“And now with the boss business.” Emotion clogged Jason’s throat as he turned to Dill. “I thought we were friends.”
“Throw.”
Jason tottered, picked up the coin and then focused on the building.
“Which window are you aiming at?”
Jason ignored him. Dill wasn’t a romantic; he didn’t understand about a fate.
“Which window?”
“The one this hits!” Using all the strength and coordination he could muster, Jason launched the coin.
“You don’t even know? Is this even her building?”
