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Show 77 rim of his marguerita. Tides of traffic came to him like the sea. He recalled a summer he had spent, once, in Mexico. He put his sandals on and walked across the open space back to his room; showered, dressed. His phone rang: "It's Victoria," the voice at the other end said. "It's Victoria Speer. Hunt held his breath. He watched the chips reflect in his glass. "The voices say you should paint me," Victoria said. "They say what?" "That you should paint me. While I'm here. That's why they called. That's why they had us meet." "Let me think about it," Hunt said -- then hung up. He bowed his head, eyes clenched. While he was brushing his teeth, the phone rang again. "Mr. Hunt?" a trained voice asked. * "Yes." "Freeman from the front office." "Yes." "We've corresponded." "Right." "You do understand, then -- I don't need to remind you -- about your limits and your durations: the basic junket agreement." "Yes." "Good. They said you'd 'struck and run,' but I said: No; I'd call you; that I was sure you'd understood the terms. Well, good then; I'm glad it's clear. Enjoy yourself." "Thank you." |