5
I got my jacket and my purse from the closet, left my apartment, and marched toward the elevator, not believing what I was about to do. I felt the pull to look at the number eight painted on the wall but resisted. I had a party to get to—a party a goddess told me to attend. No shiny numbers or lack of taxis would stop me from finding out what she wanted me to see.
Downstairs, Paul was on duty. The concierge stood up when I walked past him on my way to the door. “Miss Sterling, are you waiting for a cab?”
“No, my friend is coming to pick me up,” I lied, flashing him a false smile I hoped was convincing enough. I had my hand inside my purse, clutching my can of pepper spray. “She called and is already coming around the corner.”
“Would you mind waiting inside?” He looked anxious with hi
