“Has your ankle magically healed?”
“No, but… Aren’t I getting heavy?” Her voice goes small at the end, as though she expects the answer to be a yes. “I’m sure I can manage,” she adds when I don’t respond immediately.
I scoff. “I don’t think so. Just to let you know, if anybody ever complained you were too heavy, it’s because he’s a wimp.” I have blunter words—something my former kickboxing trainer might say, but this nice woman shouldn’t be subject to that sort of vocabulary.
She laughs a little. A weird tickling sensation starts in my heart, like something as light and soft as a baby bird’s feather is twirling in the center of it. I can’t decide if I like it or not, so I push it aside.
“Did you go to the party with friends?” she asks after another beat. “I just realized you might’ve left them behind to help me.”
If she’s fishing to see if I went with another woman… Well, she doesn’t do subtle very well.
“No. I went by myself.” Mom found herself a new boy toy to grace her arm. She won’t even realize I left until next week, if then, as long as he doesn’t pull a Fabio on her.
Purple Girl’s plump pink lips curve gorgeously. The sight does something odd to me—something I’ve never experienced before and is a bit unsettling. I can see a glimpse of her eyes—sparkling and pretty behind the mask, and I wish she weren’t wearing it so I could see them better.
But if I ask her to take it off, I’ll have to reciprocate. I don’t want to do that and ruin the charged anonymity of the moment. Even if she knows who I am, as long as we have masks on, we can pretend.
It’s an odd thing to think for an economist. Imperfect information is never good, but here I am, trying to remain ignorant.
When we reach the Aylster, a startled doorman hurries over to hold the door open. I carry Purple Girl into the opulent lobby. The spotless marble floor is set in a complex geometric pattern consisting of triangles of different sizes. Above, a giant rectangular chandelier shines golden light over the guests and their murmured conversations. The crisply dressed concierge smiles in greeting as he passes by.
“Can you send a bucket of ice and several plastic bags to twenty-six-oh-four?” I ask.
He nods. “Certainly, sir. I’ll take care of that right now.”
I thank him. A cool jazz melody swirls from a bar to our left, floating in the air like a lover’s whisper. I walk past it to the elevator bank. There’s a car waiting, and I step right in.
“Reach into my jacket pocket and take out the key card, would you?” I ask. The upper floors of the hotel aren’t accessible without it.
“Sure.” She rummages in my jacket and pulls out the plastic, then pushes it into the slot and hits twenty-six.
I move back, so she can’t reach the buttons anymore.
“Wait, what about my floor?” she says.
I should let her return to her room, but I don’t want to let her go. Not yet.
“Why don’t I ice your ankle first? You said your friend isn’t here yet, and it’ll be awkward to try to do it yourself.”
“Oh… So that’s why you asked that man to send up some ice.”
“Yes.”
“I think it’ll be okay if I just elevate it for a few hours.”
“I doubt it. Trust me.” But she’s probably correct. It’s just that icing will make it feel better faster, and also gives me an excuse to spend more time with her.
“Trust you, huh?”
“Yes. And let me take care of you.”