A knock on the door alerts Doug to the fact his food has arrived. The uniformed attendant wheels in the food and asks, “Is there any particular place you would like me to set this up?”
“It’s no trouble, I can serve myself.”
“If that will be all then, would you mind signing for the food?”
Doug takes the offered receipt and then reaches in his pocket and pulls out a twenty dollar bill, handing the money across and says, “Thank you.”
Looking at the currency, the young man smiles and says, “Thank you very much, sir.”
The attendant walks out of the room and before closing the door says, “Have a nice evening, sir.”
“Thanks,” Doug says to the back of the door.
He sits in the empty room again. Will the guy who brought him his food be the last person he interacts with in his life? Too hungry to be bothered with the significance of his esoteric question, Doug turns to the tray. This is perhaps, the second time in his life he’s ordered food service, and the splurge feels nice. Placing the white cloth napkin on his lap, Doug tucks into the food with gusto, rather surprised at his appetite. Deciding the Winchester will get the money from him, no matter what, he pairs the meal with some wine from the mini bar. As far as last meals go, this one is heavenly, and, licking his spoon after finishing the very last of his cheesecake, Doug feels sated.
His eyes dart to the bag on the table.
Still not quite ready to go through with ending his life, Doug goes into the bathroom and luxuriates under the spray of the hot shower.
Stepping out, drying off, he wonders if he should feel any different. With water dripping off him, he waits to see if some rational part of him will stop or remind him there’s something worth living for. Should he be sad? Should he feel any emotion at all? Tucking the towel around his waist, he walks into the room and begins to pull out the plastic sheet from his luggage.
A trilling sound sends his pulse racing.
With shaking hands, Doug realizes his cell phone is ringing. He has very few friends, and those he did interact with on a daily basis have no reason to be concerned with his wellbeing. The call cannot be his parents – he called them yesterday with the pretence of something else, but mostly to say goodbye. He hopes it’s not his brother. Having also called Clint yesterday, Doug learned later this summer his older brother and Tony, his long time partner, would be getting married. Not being able to attend his brother’s upcoming nuptials is perhaps Doug’s only regret in committing suicide.
Who, then, is calling?
Placing the plastic sheet aside, Doug looks at the number and recognizes the prefix is not one of the many Los Angeles area codes.
He hesitates, trying to rationalize who could be on the other end of the phone and if the effort is worth picking up. After all, his interaction with the room service waiter was as pleasant an interaction that one could ask for. What if the person on the line is a telemarketer? Does Doug want to risk his last conversation discussing extending his line of credit for a card he will no longer have use for?
Still, if not a local number, who could it be? Curiosity finally gets the better of him and he opens the phone and answers with a tentative, “Hello?”
“Is this Doug Lewis?”
“Yes, who’s calling?”
“I’m not sure if you remember me – this is Kate, Kate Hannady.”
He is quiet a moment and looks at the photograph on the bed.
“Doug?”
Answering hoarsely, he responds, “Yes, I’m still here.”
With his positive response, she launches ahead, “I know this must seem completely random, but I ran into your parents awhile back and we got to talking and they gave me your number. I hope it’s not a big deal.”
His throat still tight, he answers, “They didn’t mention it.”
“Oh, I’m not calling at a bad time, am I? I can call you back later.”
“No… I was just… It’s okay.”
“Great!”
He’s glad to hear her cheerful manner hasn’t dimmed over the years. He finds himself grateful that at least one of them has had a good life. She deserves the best. Realizing he needs to say something, he forces a happier tone and says, “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well, when I was talking to your parents they mentioned you moved to Los Angeles, is that true?”
“A few years ago, why?”
“Remember we said we were going to visit the Hollywood sign?”
He remembers the night well. It was the first time he had sex. They had talked all night and near dawn lost their virginities. He clears his throat and answers, “I remember.”
“Have you seen it yet? I mean, duh, I’m sure you’ve driven by it a million times already, but I was hoping you hadn’t actually visited it yet.”
Doug thinks to when he first moved to L.A. Although he’s seen the sign from a distance and subconsciously thinks of her every time he passes it, he has not specifically been to the site. Clearing his throat, he asks, “Why are you asking?”
“I’m going to be in town!”
Hearing her excitement startles him. He asks, “When? Why?”
“Actually, this weekend. I’m flying in early for a convention.”
“And you thought to call me? It’s been a long time.”
“I know, but since I knew you were there and the only person in town I would know and we made that promise…”
“You really want to go see the sign?”
“And you, of course. How have you been?”
He holds his breath. How can he answer? What can he say? Instead Kate rushes ahead and says, “Well, you can tell me all about the last fifteen years when I see you this weekend.”
“S-sure.”
“Will you be available on this number?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent – my plane gets in Saturday afternoon. I’ll text you when I land and we can figure things out from there.” She pauses, then asks, “You didn’t have any plans, did you? Sorry, I didn’t even ask. I’m kind of being rude today, aren’t I?”
Whether or not the universe is trying to send him a message, Doug decides to listen. The thought of Kate is enough to keep him curious for the next week. Freed from his job, Doug can do whatever he cares to. “Not at all, in fact, I’m really glad you called. And no, I’m not up to anything special.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. Talk to you soon!”
“Yes, see you on Saturday.”
He hangs up the phone and sits down heavily on the bed. His hand hovers over the plastic sheet and he puts the material back into the bag, forcefully pulling the zipper closed. What he had been so determined to do now feels like the wrong choice. Kate’s visit isn’t so much a reason for living, as a reason to stay interested in life. If he chooses to, he can book this room again for a week from today. The room will still be here. He will still have the ability to end his life.
Lying back on the bed, Doug suddenly feels extremely exhausted. Barely able to stay awake, he closes his eyes and thinks to rest for just a moment.
CHAPTER SIX
January 30, 5:21 A.M.
Doug Lewis is disoriented when he awakes to the sound of birds chirping. The first sound he usually hears is his alarm radio clicking off to Kevin and Bean on KROQ.
Where then, are the birds coming from?
In a flash he realizes where he is and sits up.
Having not dressed after his shower, he still wears the towel from last night. The remains of his dinner sit by the desk. He scrambles to check his phone – to see if there were any calls made last night. Typing in the password to his iPhone, Doug is relieved to see he did receive a call last night. Walking out onto the small porch he looks out into the golden sunrise. The streets are being cleaned, deliveries are being made – all in all just another day in Los Angeles.
And yet, the day has never looked better.
Walking
over to his bag he pulls out the suicide letter he had prepared, then rips the paper into many pieces and flushes it down the toilet. Deciding he wants the rest of his life to start now, Doug packs his things up and looks around the suite. Feeling he cannot leave the room without some sort of mark, Doug sits down at the desk and pulls out one of the free postcards. With pen in hand, he writes a brief message:
You are important. Someone is thinking about you.
He searches the room for a good place to store the note and decides inside the Bible will be the best option. Perhaps the housekeeping staff will throw away his note later today, but maybe someone else will read the message and feel better about themselves. Hopefully, his message will get through to a person who needs to hear what Kate has more or less reminded him of.
CHAPTER SEVEN
February 3, 5:17 P.M.
After ensuring the minute strand of hair sealing the door to the suite has not been broken, Agent M walks into the room. To the front desk, she’s known as Sally Kessler, a stay at home mom in town for a shopping trip with girlfriends. To her employer, she’s a mole, someone who’s been in place for months gathering information from the R&D department of a high stakes telecommunications company. In the past six months, her work has paid off. Although the research is not allowed off site, with a nearly perfect eidetic memory, she can reproduce the plans of the prototype that is prepped take the industry by storm. She’s kept the company who’s hired her in the loop about developments, but today marks her final payment and delivery of information. To the company she’s been clocking in for, well, no one said corporate espionage was fair.
Hopping on her highly secure computer, Agent M finalizes the last details of the file. Saving the information on an external thumbprint zip drive provided by the company, she opens the details to her Swiss bank account on her iPhone. She has already received one million dollars as a deposit and increments of $250,000 as and when various reports were delivered. Today will mark the remainder of her complete fee of five million dollars.
Her handler, someone she knows only as Mr. S, should arrive in less than an hour to complete the transaction. She does not know what will become of her contributions, nor does she know how the opposing company will react when they realize she’s not returning from the weekend. For either outcome, she cares little.
Finally freed from her alternate persona, Agent M goes to the bathroom and takes off her wig. For months she’s been living as a brunette. Allowing her blonde hair to be free feels liberating. She also removes her color contacts, steps out of her heels, and then peels off the rest of her corporate uniform. As of this moment, ‘Charlotte Martin’ is a person who no longer exists. Pulling on the fluffy robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door, Agent M opens the sliding glass door and brings the trash can from under the desk outside. Although she doesn’t like damaging hotel property, she has no choice and goes through her ritual of burning what evidence remains, all while sipping champagne from the mini bar.
Today is a day for celebration. Having absolutely no contact with her former life for the past six months, Agent M looks forward to reconnecting with her friends and family. Her lifestyle is an unorthodox one, but the important people in her life are used to her coming and going and dropping off the face of the planet for months or longer at a time. She did have to miss an important wedding, but there was no way to go without compromising her cover.
With everything burned and smoldering, she goes to the closet. Knowing she is going to check out of the hotel as a new woman, Agent M brought two bags up to the room – one full of her office attire and the other filled with garments she feels comfortable in. Pulling on a pair of Seven for All Mankind jeans and a colorful Tory Burch tunic shirt, she tucks a small blade into her waistband and begins to feel more like herself again. Opening the safe, she takes out an envelope and looks at her identity and corresponding documents – everything is ready for her seamless departure. By this time tomorrow, she will be in her hometown, sipping sangria with friends.
A knock on the door catches her attention. She places her original identity back into the safe, locks it again and looks through the peephole. Checking to make sure the blade is still tucked at her back, she breathes out in relief as she recognizes the person on the other side. Still, to be safe, she asks, “Are you picking up the budgets?”
“Yes, we need them for the quarterly report.”
This is the agreed identification, so Agent M opens the door. Mr. S, carrying a slim briefcase, walks in and she closes the door behind him, securely locking the device. He makes no comment about her changed appearance. Prior to this meeting, they have only seen each other once before. For privacy and security reasons, the pair communicated via e-mail addresses which they will never use again after today. Additionally, they each have simple ‘pay as you go’ mobile phones which will be destroyed after the money is transferred.
She shows him to the desk, where she’s laid out her report (complete with plans and supporting documents). Taking a seat, he loosens his tie and asks, “Do you have everything?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think they suspect you?”
“I haven’t given them any reason to.”
“What is your best estimate of when their product will go to market?”
“Six to eight months. They want to launch it in time for the holiday season.” She does not particularly care if Mr. S’s company can get to market first. She motions to the desk and says, “If you’d like to review the schematics?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Water?”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
Agent M busies herself at the mini bar. Out of habit, she’s tried to glean details about the man occupying the room with her. She’s deducted he is well educated and from somewhere in the Midwest. He is not married. Not only is he not wearing a ring, he has no tan lines to show he’s removed one either. This conflicts slightly with his age, which she believes to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties. His hair has already gone completely silver, but it suits him in a masculine, Anderson Cooper type way. His eyes are a peculiar washed out color, almost the exact grey of his hair.
And yet, for all her abilities, she hasn’t been able to find out his name.
Always one to keep one step ahead, Agent M has spent more hours than she would care to admit looking through various corporate websites and communications to try and identify the man in the lounge, but hasn’t been able to.
For this second in person meeting, she looks over at him and attempts to gather further details. He cares about his clothes. He is wearing a bespoke suit, which complements his large muscular frame. Agent M believes his attention to detail and perfectionism proves he is someone high up in the company – perhaps vice president of research and development, or similar.
“Agent?”
“Yes?” She walks back over with the beverage and places it next to the laptop.
“Just a few questions.”
They spend the next half hour discussing various details of the plans – how they can be implemented, which factories the competitors are using. Seemingly satisfied with her conclusions, Mr. S opens the laptop he’s brought with him. Connecting to the internet, he types in a few buttons and her iPhone dings letting her know the money has arrived.
Looking at her, he asks, “Everything is satisfactory?”
“Yes.”
“We appreciate your professionalism throughout this process.”
Mr. S has been careful. Throughout their transactions, he’s never once referred to his company, used a company e-mail address or even his full name, title or referenced anyone within the organization. In the event of legal action, Agent M has kept copies of their transactions, but as of now sees no reason to have to use them.
“I don’t suppose I could ask for a reference, could I?” she asks, smiling and allowing some of her true personality to come through.
Apparently unus
ed to such humor, Mr. S looks alarmed for a moment and answers, “My apologies, but such arrangements were not written into your contract.”
“I was kidding.”
“Oh.”
She wonders if they had met under different circumstances how they would interact. In her job, she doesn’t get many chances at long term relationships.
They silently put their laptops away. Collecting his briefcase and standing up, Mr. S shakes Agent M’s hand and says, “A pleasure doing business with you.”
“Happy to help.”
Mr. S moves to the door and in the vestibule stops and before he reaches the door, she comments, “I wonder…”
He turns around and she finishes her thought, “If you might like to join me at the bar downstairs for a drink, now that we’re officially off duty.”
Against his better judgement, he looks her over for a moment and says, “That would be… nice.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
February 4, 3:03 P.M.
“Greetings, Oscar, how are you today?” Nancy asks from her seat at the desk.
“Pretty great. Thanks for talking to me on the phone last week – my schedule was a little hectic over the past month.”
“My pleasure. However, please let me remind you that you’re not going to get better until you make time for yourself. When all the other people in your life demand time of you, and you do not firmly create time for you, or you and Dani, then we won’t be able to make much progress. I know there are excuses you can give me, but think hard about what you want to accomplish.”
“Okay.”
She looks at her file and says, “On the phone, we last spoke about your relationship. Can you tell me what progress you’ve made in the past couple of weeks?”
“I’m trying to communicate more.”
Room 702 Page 4