The Bad Gentleman
I’m not sure what tonight is even about, but it’s my second time out of the mansion, so I’m going to make the most out of it.
It takes about twenty minutes for us to reach our destination, a huge and very busy hotel, where when the car stops, my hands start feeling clammy. Ricardo turns around and hands me a pass that has the name Roman with a little +1 beside it. I take it from him, looking away to my car window, watching people as dressed up as me step out of their respective cars.
“How am I going to find him? I don’t have a phone,” I say, my eyes still locked on the window.