Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

The concierge puckers her mouth into a concerned O
shape. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It was a good thing. Turns out, he was already married.”
She blinks. “Dios mio.”
“Right? Asshole. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he left a
message for me here. My name’s Natalie Peterson. Would you
mind checking?”
“Of course.” She starts typing on her keyboard. “When
would he have left the message?”
“This would’ve been just over five years ago.”
Her fingers fall still. She glances up at me.
“I know. It’s a long story.”
I can’t tell if the look on her face is curiosity or if she’s
about to call security. In either case, she starts typing again,
then shakes her head.
“I have nothing in the system for Natalie Peterson.”
Oh shit. “Is there like a physical place you’d keep
messages or anything? A mailbox? A file?”
“No. Everything goes into the computer. That’s been our
standard since we opened.”
I drop my head into my hands and groan.
All this way for nothing. Why the hell didn’t I call first?
What am I going to do now?
Then a lightbulb goes on. I take out my cell phone, ignore
all the missed texts and voicemail notifications from Kage,
and use the web browser to search for a name. Then I lean
eagerly over the counter.
“Try the name Helena Ayala.”
The concierge has very eloquent eyebrows. Right now,
they’re transmitting that she’s starting to become concerned
for her personal safety because of the crazy lady in front of her
desk.