Wrong Room

"Fuck you," she whispered and grabbed the phone.

Perry's one good eye looked past the air of the room and beyond into whatever eternity he had passed moments before.

"Fuck you!" she screamed at him and lashed out with her foot. The dead body slid sideways and slumped to the floor.

Instead of calling 911, she pressed another button and held the phone to her ear. The phone on the other end of the line rang twice and then the man on the other end greeted her, "Front desk, how may I help you?"

"This is Amanda Fisher in room 745," she breathed, "Could you send security up here and then call 911? There's been a murder."

"A murder, ma'am?" the man repeated.

"That's right," she closed her eyes.

"Are you in danger now, ma'am?"

She looked at Perry and then after a moment said, "No. Just please hurry. I've been shot and there are two dead men in my room."

"Right away," he said nervously, "Don't move. We'll be right there."

"Thank you."

The line went dead.

Mandy tossed the phone aside.

She sat there, back against the wall, naked save for her thong and the slippery coating of blood that glistening across her stomach and breasts. Her hair hung down in thick, bloody masses. Her eyes were wide and filled with life, defying the aura of death in the room. She leaned her head back and breathed deep as the last of the sedative Perry had slipped in her drink wore off. She looked at Roy's corpse on the bed and shook her head.

"Carl," she whispered, "You mother fucker."

The door broke open a few minutes later as two large security officers entered the room. Both were huge, muscular brutes that Mandy had no doubt would end up in a future novel of hers. One was white and one was black, both of them powerful and looking sexy as hell. She laughed inwardly. She must have been okay. She could still appreciate a good-looking man, even in the middle of all this.

"Jesus miss," the black security guard knelt down beside her as his partner offered her a large towel from the bathroom, "You all right?"

Mandy graced them with a confident, secret half smile, "I am now, boys."

"What happened?" the white guard asked, his boyish face pale and shocked. Outside, she could hear the sirens in the parking lot wailing as the night turned blue and red. The cavalry was officially here, ladies and gentleman. The large black man took off his belt and used it as a tourniquet around her thigh to stop the bleeding from the bullet wound.

"Ma'am," the black man asked, repeating his partner's question, "What happened?"

"Give me six months," she said dreamily, "You can read all about it then."

THE END