“
Allison got to the lobby first, dressed in jeans, a red sweater, and a cropped black jacket. Her feet had ordered her directly into flats the moment she’d gotten into her room, so she’d put on a pair of short black boots. She didn’t see Rick or Kim and flopped down on an overstuffed, garishly-clad club chair to wait. Despite the time of night, the place was packed, and she amused herself by watching people and guessing their stories. Caught up in trying to determine if a woman near the door dressed in a skin-tight black dress and bright red, four-inch, platform shoes was a high-class call girl, or a model, she almost vaulted out of her seat when a voice said, “Anyone sitting here?” She looked up at a man of about forty, dressed in olive green silk pants and a cream colored sweater. He was so attractive Allison couldn’t answer with anything other than a shake of her head. The fact that his eyes were the same color as hers only added to her disquiet. “Great.” He flashed a set of perfect teeth at her briefly, and dropped into the matching chair across from her. “I know you,” he added, “saw you on the ATCE show floor today. You work for Hoyt right? In marketing?” Allison nodded. The man put out his hand, “Craig Simmons.
”
”
J.P. Peranteau (Black Hole)