Joe Schreiber - Perry's killer playlist

“I haven’t seen them since last night.”

“You’ve been naked since yesterday?”

“Except for a hotel bathrobe and a stolen overcoat,” I said, “yeah.”

“I’ll send the desk clerk out with my AmEx.” Paula shook her head, but she was still smiling. “I have to say, Stormaire, in spite of everything else, when I first saw you tied to the bedposts like that, it got me kind of tingly.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” I said. “Because the way you looked at me, I thought you might try cutting off something different.”

“Are you kidding? After waiting this long? I’d probably miss it more than you would.”

“I doubt that.”

She smiled, then folded up that smile and put it away, all business, all at once. It was uncanny how she could do that, but I couldn’t imagine not having her on my side.

“Can I ask one more question?”

Paula glanced up. “What?”

“How did you figure out what room I was in?”

“You checked in under the name Jim Morrison, Perry. You might as well have hung out a freaking sign.”

“I guess.”

“Now come on,” she said, and gave me a lascivious glance. “Let’s get you some clothes before I lose what’s left of my willpower.”

In a city like Venice, most of the nicer hotels claim to have been palaces at one time or another. But there were palaces and there were palaces, and the Gritti, where Paula said we had a room, was a silk-draped, marble-floored, gold-rimmed old-world marvel that didn’t exactly go along with what I imagined when I thought about lying low. The kid staring back at me in the lobby mirrors didn’t look like he belonged here, but then, at that moment, he didn’t look like he necessarily belonged anywhere.

“You can afford this?” I murmured, gazing across the mostly empty lobby.

“Armitage keeps a suite here.”

“Is he here now?”

“He’ll meet us later for dinner. Just relax, all right? Go stand by the elevators and wait for me.”

Paula went to check in while I hovered behind a pillar, trying to look inconspicuous. I was wearing skinny European jeans and a Venice T-shirt with a baseball cap and sunglasses. I had a garment bag over my shoulder, the one that Benito, the desk clerk at the Pensione Guerrato, had brought back for me before we’d slipped out.

When Paula came back with the key, we took the elevator up to Armitage’s suite, and I gazed out on the Grand Canal and the city beyond, trying not to think about how less than twenty-four hours ago, I’d been trying to get rid of a corpse from a similar height.

“You like the view?”

“It’s great.”

“Perry…”

I looked around. Paula was sitting on the bed, gazing at me in a way that I’d never seen before.

“We’ve still got a few hours to kill,” she said. “Any ideas?”

“We could send down for some champagne.”

“That sounds like a good start, but where do we go from there?”

I sat down next to her on the bed and we started kissing. Paula slipped her hand inside my T-shirt, and we sprawled backwards over the covers, and all I could think was This is it. You’re in Europe now, you’re alone in a hotel room, you can do whatever you want. I thought about how most guys, including my friends, had lost their virginity in the back seat of a car or on their girlfriend’s couch, hoping like hell that her dad didn’t come down and catch them. Compared to that, this was a dream.

Paula sat up and looked at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said.

“You seem distracted.”

“No, I’m totally fine, really.”

“I knew it.” Her eyes didn’t budge from mine. “It’s her, isn’t it?”

“What?” I shook my head. “Who, Gobi? Are you kidding?”

“I’m not stupid, Perry.”

“Wait,” I said, and grabbed her by the arm, “just listen to me, okay?”

She just sat there staring at me.

“I’m telling you,” I said. “There’s no one else I’d rather be here with right now. No one.”

Paula kept her eyes on me, her expression unchanged. Somewhere down in the piazza, a church bell rang. She took a breath.

“Prove it.”

“Perry, you ready yet? It’s time.”

“One second.” It was almost six o’clock now, and I was still in the bathroom, trying to fix my tie. “I’ll be right there.”

“Perry, we have to go.”

“All right.” Taking a big breath, I turned the knob and stepped out of the bathroom. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

Paula didn’t say anything right away. She got an odd look on her face, a kind of half frown, half pucker that I’d never seen before, and bit the corner of her lip. The European-style suit that Benito at the front desk had brought back fit me well enough-in fact, it almost fit too well, the narrow, tapered pants and suit jacket clinging perfectly to my frame in straight, smooth lines. The shirt was made out of some flimsy, silky material that felt like it might dissolve if it got wet, and the lines of the tie were crisp and sharp. My narrow black leather shoes gleamed like mirrors. Somewhere in the universe, every guy that I’d ever hung out with and watched RoboCop was asking if I’d like a glass of chardonnay to go with my Celine Dion Greatest Hits CD.

“You look… great,” she said. “I’ve just never seen you like this before. I sort of want to devour you.”

“Still?”

“Again.”

“Now?”

“Always.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, thanks. You’re looking pretty edible yourself.”

“I packed in a hurry.” Apparently “in a hurry” meant an extremely low-cut black cocktail dress with a stylized zipper running diagonally down the front, a white cropped fur coat, and stilettos that probably could have doubled as projectile weapons. I had definitely spent too much time with Gobi, I thought-now I was viewing fashion accessories with the eye of a Secret Service agent. Her hair was pinned up in back, accentuating her throat and ears, where she wore no jewelry whatsoever. Something about that tan, uninterrupted skin made me want to kiss it, which I’m sure was the whole point.

“Don’t forget your hat and sunglasses.” She offered her arm. “Shall we go?”

We took the elevator down, both of us watching the numbers. She reached over and put her hand on my chest.

“How do you feel?”

“Good.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

She turned to me and smiled. If you had told me at that moment that I had just spent several hours up in a luxury hotel room with a beautiful woman and I’d somehow still emerged from the whole thing a virgin, I think I would have skipped over disbelief completely and gone straight to exasperation. But that was how it had happened. Even as we’d wrestled half naked across the sheets, Paula had managed to keep her cool.

It’s all right, Perry, she’d said. I don’t want you rushing into anything you’re not ready for, especially if you’re just trying to prove a point.

I almost asked her what point she thought I was trying to prove, then realized I already knew.

I guess in the end, we both did.

We walked across the Piazza San Marco, making our way among the pushcarts selling masks and T-shirts to tourists in the gathering dusk. My new shoes felt tight on my feet. Pigeons fluttered and dive-bombed our heads, close enough that I almost had to duck to avoid being hit, and as we walked past the cathedral, I pointed up to the clock tower, where two bronze men swung their clappers to mark the hour.