I hunt around for a robe and open the door. There’s no one there, so I step out to see if they’ve already left and are at the elevators. A movement down the hall catches my attention and I take another step out because I don’t want that sandwich to escape.
Behind me comes a soft click as the door locks shut.
Then I stand there, wriggling the doorknob and refusing to accept reality. Shit. My phone is in there. I have no key. I go next door and knock on Fangli’s door; no answer. At least Sam has my key, but when I knock, there’s no answer there either. I go back and shake the door for a second time in case it’s magically unlocked in the last thirty-four seconds. It hasn’t.
I’ll have to go down to the lobby in my towel and robe. I weigh the pros and cons. Pros: getting in the room. Cons: public shame. Photos of a half-naked me as Fangli going viral. I lean my head against the door and ask the universe for guidance.
It does not deliver.
As I try to recall the layout of the lobby and if there’s any way I can sneak down a back stairwell and hiss at the concierge while hiding behind the downstairs door, a cart appears at the end of the hall. The universe has taken pity on me after all, because housekeeping can let me in. When I go over and find the woman cleaning the room, she looks me up and down with a bright smile.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I locked myself out of my room. Can you let me back in?”
The smile doesn’t slip. “Do you have a key?”
“No, I locked myself out. I need to get back in.”
“You need a key.”
“Right,” I agree. “It’s in the room. That I locked myself out of.”
“I can call security.”
“Thanks.” I know intellectually this makes sense, since you can’t have people simply claiming they stay here, but I’m in the hall in a towel and my patience is limited. She calls down and I go back to my door. Maybe room service has arrived and they can let me in.
Room service has not arrived.
While normally I would file this under the “Welp, what can you do” category of mischance, the fact that I am in the hall in half makeup means my anxiety about this rebounding on Fangli is inching ever higher. Sam said cameras are everywhere. I don’t need Fangli seeing footage of me-as-her looking like a drowned rat.
I pad barefoot down the hall, sticking to the walls as if I’m a mouse avoiding detection, looking down in hopes the security cameras are all near the ceiling and they’ll only catch the twisted towel on my head. An exquisitely cut black suit comes my way. Excellent. It’s Sam. I’ve never been so happy to see him.
He stops dead when he sees me, looking down at the robe. “What are you doing?” He looks as if he’s prepared for any answer.
“I need the key to my room,” I say. “I got locked out.”
“I gave it to Mei. I realized I was infringing on your privacy.”
“You had it this afternoon. You had it two hours ago.”
“Because I forgot to give it to you when you asked and didn’t want to make it worse.”
I groan. “You had to be a gentleman? Right now? Mei’s not answering her door.”
“She left after I saw her to meet Fangli at an appointment. Why were you out in the hall like that anyway?”
“Got bored and thought I’d go exploring in my new fancy dress.” I sweep a sarcastic curtsy that has the unfortunate result of swinging open my robe and revealing the towel underneath, which only reaches my upper thighs.
The elevator dings and Sam curses under his breath. “Let’s get you inside my room before someone sees.”
I glance back to see the front of the room-service cart appearing from the elevator. “I bet that’s my sandwich.”
Sam takes a deep breath. “I will collect your precious sandwich but right now, in this moment, I need you to get out of sight. Please.”
It’s reasonable. I nod and the towel drops off my head. I kneel to grab it but lose my balance after I twist the towel back on, forcing Sam to lean down and grab my shoulders to prevent me from toppling over. Awkward, but two seconds later, it’s all sorted out. He ushers me into his suite, and as the door shuts, I hear him talking to someone in the hall. I listen at the door and hear another voice. Security. I caused quite a fuss.
While I wait, I try to stop myself from snooping around Sam’s suite. It’s the same as mine but with the rooms backward—where my bedroom is on the right, his is on the left. I will not go into his bedroom. I will not. To stifle my urge, I take a seat on the couch hunched up in my robe and rub at my hair to towel-dry it before wrapping it again. A good thing no one saw us in the hallway.