Penthouse
“NOT MAGIC,JUST technology. The same trusty technology humanity has been using in place of magic since the dawn of man.” Jo did one final sweep of the desktop, making sure she’d erased all trace of her presence on the computer. Even if she could disappear into thin air with a tap of her watch, old habits involving covering her tracks were hard tobreak.
Wayne was unconvinced. “Firstly, technology has not replaced magic from the dawn of man. Secondly, while technology was involved, I know magic when I seeit.”
“Not everything in the world is magic. The supernatural is what technology can’t explain yet,” she countered on instinct. Jo inwardly cringed the moment she espoused the same thing she’d heard for years as akid.
“Really? You have that opinionnow? Just when you seem to be settling in to being part of a magicsociety?”
Jo shook her head. “Ignore me. I’m sounding like my father and I hatethat.”
Wayne watched her carefully for a long second, and gave a nod. “Can’t have that, can we,doll?”
“Definitely not.” Jo unlocked the door, swinging it open just enough before she tapped her watch. The hotel was oblivious to their presence as they stepped out of the private office. Wayne strode over to a grouping of couches, plopped himself down on one and motioned for her to follow. As she sat, he pushed the button on his watch and Jo did the same withhers.
One bellhop seemingly noticed their pop back into reality. He was so startled from his daydreams, staring off at nothing in their general direction, that he nearly fell over standing in place. He blinked at them twice, shook his head, and lookedaway.
“Shall we check in?” Waynestood.
“Why did we sit?” Jo wondered aloud as she followed him back toward the frontdesk.
“I find it’s less jarring if you’re not in people’s line of sight when you activate your time.” He shrugged. “No matter how you appear, they just sort of play it off as if they haven’t been paying enough attention to their surroundings. But that process moves faster if it’s more of a ‘corner of the eye’ kind of thing. Being lower helps withthat.”
Jo looked back at the bellhop who was still regarding them warily. “I get that, Iguess.”
“Checking in for two, Espinosa.” Wayne leaned against the counter smugly. His eyes drifted over the set-up where a woman was presumably pulling up their reservations. If Jo didn’t know better, she’d have said he was the hotelier stopping in to make sure everything was running according to hisexpectations.
Jo watched him thoughtfully, putting aside his tiresome antics of clinging to the 1920s and incessant use of “doll” to see the man with new eyes. His suit, while dated, looked like it was freshly pressed. It was tailored with impeccable skill and had an air of “intentional retro” that almost seemed to fit with the two-hundred-fifty-year-old hotel. He looked well put-together.
In contrast. . . Jo looked down at her bargain-bin jeans and tired hoodie. She did not look like someone who would be checking into the penthouse of a five-starhotel.
Or maybe shedid.
Jo leaned against the counter as well, pretending she owned the place, pretending she owned the whole damn city. She’d seen billionaires who never changed out of sweatpants and heiresses who couldn’t be bothered to think of anything more than their standard-issue black tank tops. It didn’t matter how she looked; it mattered how sheacted.
Jo decided she was acting like she was nothing less than a woman who owned theworld.
“I’d also like a bottle of champagne sent up to the room later tonight,” Jodemanded.
“Yes, of course. . . Do you have any preference on thevintage?”
“The nicest one youhave.”
“Now you’re talking.” Wayne appraised her with a long rake of his eyes, as if seeing her for the firsttime.
“Charge it to the room,” Jo added. They were disappearing on the tab if it was one hundred or one thousand euro. So why not make it one thousand? This wasn’t some small mom-and-pop operation, like the café. A hotel this swanky and established would be fine footing the bill of their mysteriouspatrons.
“Certainly. Is there anything else we can do to make your stay more enjoyable?” the clerkasked.
“Nothing I can think of right now, but you’ll be the first toknow.”
The woman behind the counter looked at both of their wrists. Jo knew what was coming next before it happened. “If I can just have your watch to Bluetooth the roomkey. . .”
“I’m afraid the thing’s busted.” Jo tapped it to life, very careful not to pull it off the stopwatch. “Stuck on thisscreen.”
“No trouble, we can give you temporary keys.” The woman fumbled behind the counter for several moments until she found a forgotten box of plastic room keys, the sort of thing you’d expect to see in a retro motel and not a five-star establishment. Two long minutes, and several apologies later for not quite knowing how the system for temporary keys worked, Jo and Wayne had room keys inhand.
Jo was already paranoid about losinghers.
