Not your call to make, dick.
My mind raced as I strained to remember the sequence of numbers Zoe had punched in. I’d paid attention, while pretending to look anywhere else. I’d suspected I’d want to gain entry again.
32…18?
It didn’t kick me out, just waited. If I’d gotten that sequence wrong, it would’ve errored out and made me start over. So that was the building code. Just needed two more sets of numbers for her particular flat.
I was pretty sure the next number was also in the teens. Thirteen? Nope. Start over. Fifteen? Wrong. Fourteen.
The system waited.
Shifting my guitar to the ground between my feet, I tried a hack that had worked on other systems. A master override, if you will. I quickly hit 00 and waited for it to kick me out—but the door unlatched and the light on the keypad glowed a steady green.
I let out a whoop and pushed inside before the lock changed its mind.
It took me a second to find my way back to Zoe’s flat. I knocked and tilted my head as she peeked out the gap in the door, still held closed by a chain lock. “The security on this place is shit.”
She stared at me as if I was an apparition. “How did you get in here?”
I raised my eyebrows. “See my point?”
“Go away.”
She started to shut the door but I stuck my boot in the crack—and nearly lost some toes for my trouble.
Industrial-strength boots were no match for Zoe Manning.
“Now now, is that how you treat a guest?”
“An uninvited guest who somehow broke in? Yes.” She started to close the door again—my toes be damned—and then seemed to think better of it and pulled it back, jerking the chain. “Let me guess. You asked one of the bikinis outside for her code?”
“That sounds like a disembodied bathing suit, and I can assure you I would run, not make conversation.”
The corner of her mouth lifted and I thought I’d actually get a smile out of her. Instead, she pushed on the door.
“Are you this unfriendly with all males or is it just me?” I had a disturbing thought. “You haven’t started swinging for the other side, have you?” I leaned my guitar case against my leg and mimed swinging a bat.
She narrowed her eyes. Such beautiful eyes, even mad. “You really think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”
“Depends on the day you catch me. Right now, I’m on an upward trend. I had a fucking amazing show tonight.”
“Good for you. Congratulations.”
“That sounds insincere, but thank you.”
“Why are you here bothering me then? Surely you had some breasts in your face to write on.”
I frowned and cocked my head. “That insult sounds oddly specific. And sure, you’re right. But I like yours better.” I wiggled my fingers. “I’d be happy to write my name on any part you’d like though. Don’t even have to use a proper marker—”
“You’re drunk.”
I nodded. “Survey says yes.”
She sniffed. “And you’ve been smoking pot. Or hanging out with potheads.”
“Clubs are rife with drugs. Damn shame, really.” I shook my head in mock disapproval. “Though a joint can be quite medicinal.”
“I just bet. And what’s your condition?”