Page 102 of Lucky Night

We can’t get to the roof, she says. The stairwells are full of smoke.

—which would involve firefighters transporting additional sets of breathing equipment as they descend through the building, locating each occupied room and leading guests out individually or in pairs, up to the roof, where—

Jesus, that’ll take forever, he says.

—a painstaking process, as guests’ rooms would essentially be cleared one by one.

Old Brian’s reading our minds, he says.

—also depend on weather conditions, particularly wind gusts at the roof level. Our source cautions that this is only a contingency plan, and despite the seriousness of the fire the FDNY is still optimistic about evacuating all occupants of the building by traditional means.

She turns to him, smiling innocently. Do you think guests who paid extra for their rooms will get priority?

You better hope not, he says. There are penthouse suites above us, babyloves.

She gives him the finger—again! Two birds, one night! He heads once more to the minibar and tops up his wine. He is not drunk, as it happens, and he fully recognizes the hazards of getting sloshed. But he is booze-mellow, pleasantly hazed. They shouldn’t be having this much fun. Because this situation is not good. Still, better to stay positive. He doesn’t want her falling apart again. She seems all right now, but that could change.

Jesus, it’s been a night. So very different from what he’d planned. And Jenny so very different, too. Mortal peril bringing out something new. She’s being hard on him. Driving him crazy from time to time. Being so insistent, and contrary. It’s a whole new side of her.

He likesit.

As he busies himself among the bottles and glasses, he glances over at her. Her face is tilted up, catching the light of the television. She’s never lost? Impossible. She’s got an upbeat disposition, that’s all. An essential happiness. It must be hard for her to be trapped here, with so much to lose. Her family, her soaring career. Things that could be damaged even if they get out of here.

If? Where did if come from? This is not an if situation. They’re getting out. He’s concerned, sure, there was a goddamn explosion after all. It might be dangerous, difficult, but they’re a long way from last rites.

She’s never suffered, she said. Never grieved. Well, she shouldn’t. She deserves only good things. Does she know he thinks that? She’s said things tonight that suggest she doesn’t.Shocked I’m not a total idiot?she’d said.It’s all I’m good for—meaning sex. But that’s not true.

Though she is good for that, of course. His compliments do tend to center around her body. And he has said some things tonight that…some less than generous things. Accusing her of lying, manipulating, et cetera.

He also broke up with her. And he just called her a bitch.

But that was in fun!

She knows, doesn’t she? What he really thinks?

He tops up her wine, sits beside her and is about to put a hand on her leg but stops himself. He doesn’t want to be accused of walloping her like a mule.

Jenny?

She’s flipping channels. Hmm?

You’re extraordinary.

She looks startled. Then she laughs. Okay.

I mean it. You’re an extraordinary person.

Are you making fun ofme?

What? No! Am I so awful you can’t believe me when I say nice things about you?

Pretty much, she says. Oh, don’t look like that! I’m joking. She pauses. Sortof.

This is not going as planned. Not that he’d planned it. Which may be the problem.

It’s not you, she explains. I have a hard time believing people when they say nice things about me. I have to deflect them, or downplay them, or joke them away. Anything but, you know, accept them.

This confounds him. Why?

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