Othello Station (4 page)

“You’re here, you might as well try the burger.” I look at the waiter. “She’ll take the burger.”

“No, I don’t want the burger.”

“Okaaayyy,” the waiter drawls, his eyes rolling between the two of us, “how about I give you a few more minutes and you can sort this out,
mmkay
?” He pats the counter and waltzes away, moving to the next couple that just walked in.

“I’m hungry now. Why don’t we split it?” My fingers run over the greasy menu. I should be eating kale. A lot more kale. Damn this girl for dragging me into this place. I miss this place. “Your recommendation is pretty right on. Their cheeseburgers are damn good.”

“I’m not hungry, okay?” She snaps, pushing the stool back and standing to her feet. “Going to the restroom.” I watch as she marches away, wondering once again where the hell I went wrong. This is what I get for trying to make conversation. This is what happens when you spend time with a chick outside of the fucking bedroom. Things get messy. Confusing. And then you’re left with a fucking headache and a hard-on that won’t quit.

“So?” The waiter bounces back over, with pen and notepad in hand.

“Cheeseburger and fries. All on my tab.” I gesture to our drinks and hand him the menu. He nods and hurries off, and I wait impatiently for Mira to return. For a split second, I wonder if there’s another back door—one I don’t know about. Maybe she snuck out and said to hell with this whole thing, in which case, I wouldn’t blame her. I’m already tired. This is exactly why I don’t get involved with this shit. And yet here I am, getting involved. “Shit,” I huff, rubbing my hands over my face.

Mira returns quietly, like a little mouse, reclaiming her seat on the stool next to me. “You ordered the burger, didn’t you?”

“Yup.”

Her jaw tightens and she shuts her eyes. “I really wish you didn’t.”

“What’s the big deal about a burger?”

“I can’t pay for it, okay?”

Forks clink and chatter fills the diner, but quiet stretches between us.

“You don’t have to,” I finally say, swiveling on the stool. I turn inward, so I’m leaning into her. “Mira, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay. It’s not okay that I can’t order a single thing without calculating every dollar and cent beforehand. That I have to pray to God I have enough tips to buy milk or bread or catch the bus home every day. It’s never okay. I have to wait until some stranger tips me graciously to buy work clothes.”

“The drinks are on me. Don’t worry about it, okay?” I move to reach for her cheek, ready to brush her hair back, but I stop myself.

“No. I have this.” She wiggles on the stool and digs into her pocket, retrieving a crumpled piece of paper. “It’s a coupon I’ve been meaning to use. They’ve been handing them out at the front desk. A late-night deal. If you come after midnight, you get one free drink.”

“Save it for another night.”

“Grant, please don’t do this.”

“Do what? Buy you a drink? Please. It’s six bucks. That’s nothing.”

“It’s a lot to me.”

“Well it’s nothing to me. So I’m buying. Now can we move on? Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or what? I thought things were going pretty good back there.”

“They were.” Her shoulders tense, and her body seems to cave in on itself, curling inward as if she wants to hide from the world.

“So…we stopped, why?” I drum my fingers on the bar, waiting for her to enlighten me. I’m not sure why it’s so damned important to me that I get this, but I need to get this. “If you weren’t feeling it, that’s fine. But I’m pretty sure you were. So, help me out, here.”

“I told you, I haven’t…in a while. I just froze up. It has nothing to do with you.”

“All the more reason to finish what we started. You need a man to fuck you, and I’m more than happy to do the job.”

“Grant!” Mira laughs and drops her head in her hands.

“What? I’m right, I know I am.” The waiter approaches to set our burger and fries down. I thank him and immediately reach for a knife to cut the sandwich in half. I slide the plate in front of Mira and nudge her arm. “Come on. Eat. And then I’ll take you back to my room and finish the job. Ideally, we’d eat afterward, but so be it. Whatever you’re so afraid of, we’ll just fuck it out of you. How does that sound?” I take a healthy bite of my side of the burger and watch in satisfaction as more laughter seizes her. I almost grin with her.

Almost.

“You’re a piece of work, do you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“You make it sound so easy. So…clinical. It doesn’t work that way. Not for everyone. Not for me.” She bypasses the colorful little straw in her drink and goes straight for the gusto, taking a huge gulp of rum and coke.

“It is easy, unless you complicate it. Wait. Let me guess. You’re a feelings type of girl. Well, welcome to the club, sweetheart. There are five billion of you. Being a member doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a good fuck like the rest of them.”

“I never said I don’t like sex. I just haven’t had it in a while.” The humor in her voice dampens and I take it down a notch, wanting to meet her on her level. This one’s clean, I can tell. A white dove. Pure. Untainted. A good girl. A big heart to give.

But someone fucked with her.

I change my approach. My straight-talk won’t work with this one. She needs someone to be gentle with her. She sure as hell picked the wrong hotel door to knock on. “I’m just joking around, Mira. Look, whatever it is you’ve got going on, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. Truth is, I’m no good at this conversation thing anyway. I’m good at my job and I’m good at logic. And sex. I want to make you come. Tonight. In my hotel room. That’s it. Nothing less, nothing more. I’m not giving up. I’m not leaving this bar until you leave with me.” I lean over and soften the edge of my tone, gingerly tucking her hair behind her ear. “We can take it as slowly as you want.”

A haunted look takes hold of her delicate features, and her lashes sweep up. “I thought I could do this. But I can’t. I’m not the type of girl you’re looking for tonight, Grant.” She sets the crumpled drink coupon next to her untouched half of the burger and stands, returning my hoodie. “I’m sorry.” As she slips past me and out the door, the emptiness I know so well swallows me up again. The sting is more potent this time, and the realization pisses me the hell off. She’s just another girl. Another girl with a great ass. Just a body that would have kept me warm for the night, would have filled the crater in my chest, at least for a few hours.

I set my gaze straight ahead, staring blankly at the wall as I sip my beer. Mira definitely picked the wrong hotel door to knock on. And I picked the wrong hotel receptionist to try and nail. She’s right about one thing: she’s not the type of girl I’m looking for tonight.

She’s not the type of girl I’m looking for, period.

The ceiling is way too damn bright. The white paint is blinding. And the more I stare at it, the more I realize how shitty the paint job actually is. So much for being a classy place.

“Grant,” Samantha breathes, slamming down harder on my cock, “hello?” She’s on top, trying everything in her power to keep my attention, but I’m just not feeling it. My dick is, apparently. This is a great position. Girl on top, breasts in full view, hips in prime spot for gripping. It’s usually my favorite. But this morning, after the restless night I had, it just isn’t making the cut.

“Harder,” I grind out, returning my gaze to her hips. “Lean back.” She tilts a bit, arching her chest. “Farther.”

“Oh, are you trying to be bossy, now?” she says coyly, as if there’s any need to be coy. She’s riding my cock. Just as she’s done a million times before. She’s already gotten my attention, thanks to her amazing rack and impressive oral skills. What’s she still playing sex kitten for? It’s really not endearing. It’s grating on my last nerve, actually. She’s trying way too damn hard, and I’m over it. I’ve been over it. I think I’m gonna cut the string on this one as soon as this little fuck session is over.

I don’t play her game, just let my head fall back into the pillow while I feast my eyes on her body. She finally shuts up when she sees she has my attention again. Two minutes later she’s coming, all loud and dramatic, as usual. Half the time I’m not sure it’s even the real deal, but it’s hot and makes me come, too, so I just roll with it and let her do her thing.

As soon as she’s spent, she rolls off of me and rests on my chest, draping her leg over mine. I wiggle beneath her until she moves it and give myself a second to catch my breath. With a deep inhale, I rise up and begin putting on some clothes, throwing my socks and shoes on, too.

“Leaving so soon?” She pouts, watching me from the bed.

“This is my hotel room.”

“Obviously,” she giggles, and I think it’s meant to sound like a sexy school girl giggle, but it’s just plain stupid. “Why get dressed?” She pats the empty spot next to her, dipping her chin down and batting her lashes. “Oh, I know! Let’s order room service! I want breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry. I have work to get done. I’m pushing my luck with this deadline.” I move to the desk and take a seat, popping open my laptop.

Samantha sighs and sits up, pulling her knees up to her chin. She continues to whine. “But I want breakfast. How about I order you something for later? You have to eat
sometime
.”

“I need to work. You should get going. I’ll see you next time.” No, I won’t. There won’t be a next time.

“You’re already kicking me out?”

“I have to complete this project today. You sticking around sort of derails that focus.”

“Well, then.” She abruptly tosses the sheets back and steps out of bed to get dressed. “I wouldn’t want to derail your focus.”

I make some coffee while I wait for the laptop to fire up, letting her go about her business. She’s huffing and puffing as she tugs on her dress, cursing beneath her breath as she struggles to get into her black stilettos. I ignore her protest and start jotting down some notes for what I want to accomplish for the project today. My body’s relaxed thanks to the quickie with Samantha, but my mind is still restless with dissatisfaction. I mull over all of the sources of my frustrations, beginning with the fact that I’m not ready to go home yet. Not even close. Add to that the fact that I’m no longer happy with my current fuck buddies on speed dial.

There’s something else, too. Something I can’t pinpoint. I only know I can’t go back to my place until I sort it out.

Samantha storms out the door without another word, which is fine by me. I immediately reach for the hotel phone, staring blankly at the laptop screen while I wait for the front desk to answer.

“Guest Service, this is Mira, how may I help you?”

“Oh. Hey, Mira, it’s Grant. I’d like to extend my reservation, please.”

There’s a pause, and then she jumps on the request, slipping right into business mode. As if I didn’t proposition her last night. As if she wasn’t half naked, up against my wall, with my hand down her pants. Fuck. How do I get myself into these things?

I glance down at my dick. “You,” I mumble. “You’re how I get into these things.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Mira’s friendly, professional voice calls me back to reality, and I quickly clear my throat.

“Nothing, sorry. Was talking to myself. Uh, so…about my reservation. Can it be extended?”

“How many nights were you looking to extend? I need to take a look at our availability, here.” Keys tap on the other end of the line while she does her business, and I scroll my calendar to give her an answer. The problem is, I don’t have one for her. I have no idea how long I want to stay. I’ll know when I’m ready to go home.

I hope.

“Not sure,” I reply, exhaling on a long sigh. “Can we just add two nights for now, and then I’ll go from there?”

“Sure, not a problem. It looks like we can keep you in the same room for the next two nights. After that, though, there’s no guarantee we’ll have the availability, should you decide to stay. We’re approaching Valentine’s week soon, so our vacancies are going to be limited.”

“I understand. That’s fine. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’ve extended you for two more nights, as requested. The original rate you booked will remain the same for the additional two nights. Anything else I can do for you?” Her tone is so formal, so chipper, so…impersonal.

“No, that’s all for now.”

“Okay, great. If you need anything else during your stay, feel free to give us a call.”

“Oh! Wait. There is one other thing.” I reach over the laptop to snatch up the hotel menu. “Can I have some room service?”

“Sure, what can we bring you?”

“The breakfast sandwich with mixed fruit.”

“Not a problem. I’ll put the order in. It’ll be about twenty minutes.”

“Sounds good.” We hang up and I get to work, throwing all of my focus on my project. I’m working on an album cover for a new indie band, and I’m not happy with the design just yet. It’s close to what I want, but it needs some tweaking. I play around with the font and color schemes until there’s a knock at the door. I toss back some Vitamin D and take a swig of water, then stand and hurry to answer the door.

“Here you go,” Mira says, holding out a covered dish. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

I stare back at her, then at the dish. “You’re delivering room service today, huh?”

“Yeah, they moved me to kitchen duty today. We already have two people working the desk.”

“Alright then,” I take the dish and open the door wider. “Let me get you a tip.” I turn for the desk and fumble through my wallet.

“That’s really not necessary.”

“You really need to start accepting tips.”

“I’m not used to accepting them.”

“Well, better get used to it, because they’re going to help pay your bills. And there are a lot of assholes out there who don’t tip.” She stares at the twenty dollar bill in my hand. “Come on, take it.”

“Thank you.” She hesitates for a moment but accepts the money, quickly turning away to walk down the hall.

“Mira.”

She stops. “Yes?”

“Can I see you again?” I don’t know where that comes from. It’s like word vomit. Out it goes, without my brain’s permission.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I think it’s a very good idea.” I take a step out into the hall, watching her closely. She looks beautiful, as usual, with soft hair I want to wrap my fingers around and deep, dark eyes that beg to be admired.

“Grant…”

“Will you just tell me what the problem is? What have I done?” I hold up a hand. “Wait. I think I know what I’ve done.”

“Do you?”

“I came on too strong. I freaked you out. I’m sorry.” I’m apologizing, now? What the fuck is wrong with me?

“You think you scared me off?”

“Obviously.”

“That’s not…no.”

“Then tell me when I can see you again.”

“It’s pretty clear you’re looking for a replacement. For one of your…for something. I don’t know. I only know I’m really not looking to be a replacement. Or a rebound. Or whatever the hell. I just can’t do this, okay?”

“Do what? All I’m asking is to spend some more time with you.”

“That’s not all you’re asking for, and you know it.” Her chin tilts down and her eyes hold mine. It’s a point-blank accusation, and it’s right on.

I look away.

“You’re probably a great guy. I’m obviously attracted to you, but I can’t put myself in the line of fire. I’m done being a plaything. And that’s exactly what you want—a toy. You should look for it somewhere else.” And just like that, she turns on her heel and walks off, disappearing down the hall.

Fuck.

I shut the door and set my breakfast down on the desk. I start to pace the room. Eventually I station myself in front of the window and watch the rain fall. It’s not a heavy rain, just a light mist. A typical Pacific Northwestern kind of rain, the kind that dampens the day and refreshes the mind. I breathe deeply and return to the desk, sitting down to get back to work. I can’t have Mira. I can’t avoid this project. I can’t avoid anything right now, as much as I might want to.

I glance at the calendar on my desktop.

Except going home. That, I can avoid. At least for another two days. After that, who the hell knows.

***

Light reflects off of something, sending a shooting, blinding light bouncing off the tall, endless window pane in the distance. I examine the pane—a glass shield, some kind of dome—blocking me from the other side of the world. I want to know what’s over there, on the other side. I’m drawn to its frailty, to its exclusiveness. Why is it off limits? Why can’t I touch it, have it?

I walk toward it.

Forbidden and beautiful, it grows closer, clearer. I approach the glass and reach out to touch it, placing my palm against the glass. It’s cold and fragile, just like the world that appears on the other side. But there’s sun. Lots of sun. It’s so bright, my eyes are sensitive to it, leaving me wishing I had sunglasses to combat the light.

A girl appears, mirroring my approach. Her hair is long and dark, with caramel highlights that mimic the rays of the sun, as if they’re soaking up the light. She watches me curiously, a small, peaceful smile on her face. She extends a hand, reaching out to place her palm against the other side of the glass, bringing her palm up to mine. Our hands line up, her fingers matching the position of mine. We stare at our hands, then one another. I feel a smile tug at my lips—the first real smile I’ve felt in a while.

When she opens her mouth to speak, I can’t hear her. The harder I try to listen, the more I realize I have to back away. I have to retreat from the glass wall, have to leave the beautiful angel on the other side. She really does look like an angel, dressed in all white, like she fell from the clouds or something. The longer I stare, the more I see the halo, the veil of innocence that surrounds her, and it only makes me want to run.

As fast as I possibly can.

I begin to back away, retreating into the shadows of my cold, wet world, where the angel’s light cannot reach me. Our eyes remain locked, but I continue to back away, slinking as far as I can into the distance. My back hits stone, a tall, rigid wall, and then the angel disappears back into the clouds, drifting up, up and away. As the stone wall chills my back, a white dove takes the angel’s place, its wings flapping gracefully as it takes flight. And then the dove is gone, too. Gliding somewhere into the distance, somewhere into the other world on the other side of the glass, where I’m sure I’ll never see it again. As soon as it’s gone, a familiar emptiness fills me, taking hold of my chest and gut.

What I wouldn’t give to fly away with the dove. To feel light, like its feathers. To see the angel’s home.

An annoying ring sounds behind me. I think it’s coming from somewhere near the stone wall. Inside it, maybe. I groan and look away from the glass, even though I don’t want to. Even though the angel and the dove are gone, I still want to stare, even if I have to do it from the shadows, where the light doesn’t burn my eyes.

The ringing grows louder, more obnoxious.

I curse and begin to blink, until I no longer feel the hard wall behind me. Instead, my back is resting on sheets, and something else just as soft, like the clouds I’d been watching beyond the glass pane. I bring my palm to my forehead, which is aching, now. Suddenly a new kind of light fills the room—the hotel room. The glass is gone, just like the angel and the dove. Once again, I’m surrounded by an empty void, the one I’ve banished myself to in order to get some work done and clear my head.

But my head only feels more jumbled, messier than before.

I sit up in bed and glance out the window at the Space Needle. It’s no longer raining, but the grey sky remains. My gaze lands on the alarm clock on the bedside next. “Shit.” I throw the blanket off my legs and scramble to get up. It all starts to come back to me. The album cover—I finished it—and then the grand idea I had to plop down and nap the day away. I suppose I had a right to. I did finish the project. But something plagues me, like unfinished business.