Dark circles stared back at me in the mirrored walls of the elevator. I’d tossed and turned for a few hours, but finally gave up on trying to get real sleep at 10 a.m. and headed downstairs to the gym on the first floor to sweat the bullshit out of my head.
The elevator stopped on the fifth floor and a woman I’d seen a few times around the building got on. She was an exotic creature, with wavy black hair, bright red lips and covered in colorful tattoos.
“Hi.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Sneaky. My brother Michael owns the building, and I live here too. I see you around occasionally and thought I’d introduce myself.”
I took her hand in mine and gave it a quick squeeze. “Rémy Grosjean. It’s a pleasure.”
Not in the mood to encourage conversation, I pulled my phone out of the pocket of my
