“There’s a story,” she started again when I didn’t move farther, “about The Pope Hotel in Meridian City. Do you know the place?” I eyed the screen, barely seeing her outline in the dark. The Pope? That multimillion-dollar waste on the shitty side of the river? I closed the curtain, taking my seat again. “Who are you?” “There’s a rumor about the twelfth floor,” she went on, ignoring my question. “It exists, but no one can get to it. Have you heard that story?”
