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I put my plate down on the tray, and gulp down the last of my coffee. “We’d better be going, Mother,” I say. “Scott needs to check in at the hotel, and I promised to show him down.”
“Nonsense,” the Ice Dame replies. “Ser Calvin can’t stay in a hotel. I have a perfectly good guest suite going empty. You’ll stay here with me, won’t you, Scott?”
Zark.
“He has a reservation—" I start to say, but Scott interrupts.
“I really don’t want to impose.” He puts his fork on his plate. “That was the best Beacan Tart I’ve had in ages. Your pastry chef is amazing.”
“Yes, Dav is a treasure. The Gates have been trying to steal him for years.” Mother smiles complacently. “If you stay, you can try his waffles in the morning. They are to die for.”
I can’t believe that phrase came out of her mouth. She’s really channeling her inner fangirl.
Scott shrugs and looks at me, his blue eyes sparkling. “You’ve convinced me. I can’t say no to Dav’s waffles!”
I stomp up the stairs behind Scott and my gushing mother. She points out the famous paintings and sculptures as we climb, describing the special security built into the external walls of the station. She points out the hallway to the private suites, stopping just short of winking at Scott as she does. I try not to vomit and think about bringing up R’ger’s name.
“Annabelle’s room is the first on the left,” she tells Scott.
I gasp—is she trying to pimp me out?
“This is the guest suite.” Mother waves the door open. “Annabelle will send a code to your ID patch, so you can open it.” She doesn’t even glance my direction, as if I’m some menial employee. Well, I guess I am, but I’m also her daughter. Although to be fair, I usually don’t want her to remember that. “I’ll leave you here. Enjoy your night.” She actually winks at Scott this time then disappears down the hall.
I grind my teeth and shove Scott into the guest suite. He opens his mouth, but I fling up a hand. Scrolling through the OS, I double check that Scott’s disruptor effect is still working. “Ok, who the heck are you?” I growl as soon as I’m sure she can’t eavesdrop.
Scott grins at me. “I guess I must be someone pretty important. I can’t remember ever being the object of that much brown-nosing. Of course, I can’t remember anything before this morning, so there’s that.”
“Seriously, cut the crap.” I spit the words out. “The system recognized and tagged you as a VIP. What kind of scam are you running?”
I drop down onto the love seat. Like all the guest suites on the penthouse level, it’s plush. Thick carpet covers the floors and luxurious fabrics cover the walls and the plush modern furniture. Like all bedrooms up here, it’s an internal room. Protection from stray meteors while they slept won out over dramatic views for the top-levs. There’s a spacelight—a window in the ceiling that allows occupants to see the stars—but it isn’t real. The scene is projected by expensive equipment to provide a life-like experience. There are actually several meters of titanium overhead.
The large room holds a small seating area with loveseat and reclining massage chair, a large bookcase that blocks part of the room, and a huge bed hidden behind that. A full bath opens off the far end of the room, beyond the bed. A small AutoKich’n is hidden inside built-in cabinets made of real Kakuvian Oak—thick, heavy wood that screams privilege on a space station made of materials that had to be launched into orbit.
Scott sits down beside me, and I flick open the OS. I pull up the security system, worming my way into the restricted databases. The file Rafe saw has to be stored in here somewhere.
“Don’t forget to give me access to the door,” Scott says.
“I’m not giving you access to anything until I know who you are,” I mutter. “At least this way I know you can’t sneak out and murder us in our sleep.”
Scott’s face falls. “I would never harm anyone! How can you suggest such a thing?”
“If you really have no idea who you are, you don’t know that’s true, do you?” I snap. “And if you’re lying about your memory loss, I have a very good reason to not trust you. Besides, it’s not like I’m locking you up in a cell with a metal toilet. You could live happily in here for months.”
Scott looks around the room and nods thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right.”
“Zark! This file has nothing!” I flip through the screens. “Here’s the approval granting you guest access. It says ‘cleared for VIP guest access’ and your name. But nothing else! How did the system even identify you as this Ser Calvin? Wait a minute.” I flick a couple more details then narrow my eyes at him. “This says you’re Scott Calvin. If your memory is so faulty, how’d you manage to pick your actual, real first name?”
Scott holds up his hands. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s buried deep in my brain and managed to surface. I told you it felt right. Better than ‘Fabio’!” He bumps his shoulder into mine.
I conquer the desire to smile back at him. “Something's not right. I am definitely not giving you access to the door. You’ll stay here for the night, where I can make sure you’re not causing any havoc.”
I stomp out of the room before I can change my mind, making sure it shuts and locks behind me. As I walk to my own room, I set up motion-activated cam alerts outside his room, and double check the latches. I want to know if he manages to get out.
