The Dirty Hotel King

by Cassandra Dee

  Had Gabriel left it?

  I walked over to it cautiously. It bore a golden seal, and my name printed in fine print.

  Swallowing hard, I opened it.

  Was it a letter from Steele? Maybe he’d explain everything to me. As soon as I opened it, a teal ribbon fell at my feet. I picked it up and saw that it said “Congratulations!”

  Confused, I dug in the envelope and pulled out a neatly folded paper.

  I took a deep breath and read it. The first line of the letter caught me completely off guard:

  “Dear Rosy Butler,

  Congratulations on your acceptance to Hudson University. We look forward to having you study on our campus. Please find enclosed your enrollment paperwork.”

  I slid down on the floor with the letter in my shaking hands.

  I knew it had to be Steele. I remember telling him I wanted to go to college, but I didn’t think I’d be able to.

  College was so expensive, yet Steele got me into one of the most prestigious universities in Nevada. As I read on, I realized that Steele also selected my major. Biology.

  I’d mentioned to him that Biology had been one of my favorite subjects in school, thus my desire to be an ultrasound tech.

  I couldn’t stop my tears from flooding down my cheeks. I curled into a tiny ball and sobbed on the soft, white carpeted floors.

  My heart felt broken yet so grateful at the same time. All in one day I had my own place and an acceptance letter to Hudson University. These were amazing things. And a normal girl would have been thrilled to have them.

  But they could never measure up to Steele. Why did he have to leave like this? Why couldn’t he have just talked to me?

  All the moments we shared, and he was unhappy with me?

  Sitting up, I tried to wipe my face, but it was no use. Everything reminded me of him. The blue couches reminded me of his eyes. The gold bathroom reminded me of his favorite color. And the pink bedroom was a reflection that he listened to me. I had told him my favorite color was pink one night as we lay in bed, my fingers trailing slowly down that broad chest.

  I picked up the acceptance letter and held it against my heart. College had been my dream ever since I started high school. My future depended on it, and just when I thought I’d be stuck in my never-ending cycle of sadness with my father, Steele swept in.

  It was as if he saw something in me that I could never have noticed on my own. All my years of loneliness and being invisible, and he finally saw me. But in the end, he left just like everyone else.

  How could he do that? I loved him.

  I grabbed onto the wall and pulled myself up. Taking a look around the apartment, I forced myself to smile.

  How many girls my age could say they lived in a gorgeous apartment and had been accepted to Hudson University?

  None. So I should be thankful, right?

  I wiped my eyes with back of my hand and walked back into the bedroom.

  Flinging open my luggage, I grabbed a shirt and jeans and pulled them on. I sniffed my sleeve long and hard. The material smelled just like him, and I felt my throat close tightly as fresh tears came to my eyes.

  My love for Steele would never die, that I knew for a fact. He was my first everything, and I was so grateful for him, even if he had disappeared without saying goodbye.

  I took the Hudson acceptance letter and set it on my dresser, then laid down on my bed.

  Memories of Steele kept running through my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, even with the news of Hudson.

  The material things were great, but they’d never compare to Steele. I was happy, but the consuming sense of love I’d felt before just wasn’t there.

  Because if I lost everything – my apartment, my scholarship to Hudson – but I still had Steele, I’d be the richest girl in the world. And I wouldn’t regret it one bit … if I still had him.

  Chapter 18

  Steele

  Three months can seem like a short amount of time, but for someone like me, it was an eternity.

  I couldn’t get my mind off of Rosy. That wasn’t anything new, but as time went on, I only became more and more frustrated.

  Letting Rosy go was difficult, but I knew it had to be done. I just didn’t think it would cause me so much strife.

  Because after leaving the cabin, I decided to leave the country altogether. I needed to be as far away from the memory of her as possible.

  So I took Brazil by the balls. My good pal Jonathan encouraged me to come to Brazil. I was hesitant since Jonathan was a rowdy, partying type of dude, but he stressed how many beautiful women there were, so I flew over without a second thought.

  It was hot and tropical. Tons of trees and exotic animals. I took shelter in a tiny house right off the beach, hoping to keep the familiarity of small spaces.

  Much like the cabin in the woods.

  I’d wake up every day at six o clock, then run five miles. After that, I’d take an ice cold shower, and then chug down cucumber water.

  I had hired a good chef to stay by the hour to serve me fresh meals, but it wasn’t the same. For one, Lucinda, the chef, was older and barely spoke a word of English. I tried to learn a little Portuguese, but I realized it was pointless shortly after arriving – why bother? I was here to forget Rosy, and that was that. Besides, our conversations were short and only were about food. I obviously wasn’t fucking Lucinda. She wasn’t my type by a long shot. She was far too thin, not to mention in her early sixties, complete with a huge family and tons of grandchildren.

  Children scared me, but I knew Rosy wanted them. After I remembered that, I couldn’t listen to Lucinda talk about her family anymore.

  Everything reminded me of Rosy.

  Especially the women I tried to fuck. For some reason, the women in Brazil were either lean and muscular, or nice and plump. I preferred plump. I liked having something to hold onto, and of course, jiggling hips and thighs reminded me of Rosy.

  The first few girls were sexy, but that was all. They were sexy on the outside as they walked past me with their long hair waving in the tropical breeze. But when we spoke – or at least, when we tried to – I was left empty.

  I went out with a few women anyways. There was a girl with long dark hair and seductive eyes that obviously had a plan for trapping me. But it didn’t work: how could it, when this scheming whore was the farthest thing from who I really needed?

  There were more girls, too. But they couldn’t replace Rosy in my heart. Whenever I went out with them, they’d inevitably try to fuck me. And I genuinely tried, a few times. But I couldn’t get hard for these girls. They were different. They weren’t mine. They didn’t live to serve me.

  When I came home one night from a date, all I could taste was Rosy’s sweet kiss, and feel the light touch of her soft hands. I wanted her badly.

  Not just for sex though. I wanted her company. I wanted to hear about her dreams and aspirations again. That melodic voice telling me a story, or just the details of her day.

  The way she would rest her head on my chest haunted me. The rise and fall of her tits as she fell asleep. I was helpless when I thought of Rosy – just the mental image of her was enough to make me beg for more.

  A part of me thought I was dreaming, but I knew it was my new reality. I could have been fucking the world’s most beautiful women in the world’s most beautiful country, but instead, I was miserable locked inside my hut.

  Before I could fall into complete despair once again, Lucinda knocked on my door to tell me dinner was ready.

  I was positive it was late at night, but it turned out to only be five-thirty. I had been out cold since early yesterday. Lucinda told me she was worried I was getting sick.

  I was sick, alright. Sick of wanting what I couldn’t have.

  That night had been so brutal for me, but I had developed the nasty habit of doing whatever I could that could take away the thought of Rosy.

  So I’d drink all day, masturbate all night, and then repeat the
process. Even Jonathan was surprised at my behavior. He tried to break me out of my habits, but I was as stubborn as a mule.

  I thought long and hard about telling Jonathan about the crazy thoughts in my head, but I knew he would never understand because Jonathan never had someone like Rosy before. His world consisted of sweaty club walls and dark alley ways for quick fucks. He couldn’t fathom the softness in her brown eyes, the sweetness of her temperament. He wouldn’t appreciate a girl like Rosy.

  I always wanted more, and Rosy was it.

  I chugged vodka by the gallon to forget her face. It wasn’t much of a help. It blurred that pretty face of hers, and mixed it with colors of my past. It was as if my curse was coming back to drown me in misery.

  In fact, the women I fucked and abandoned were showing up in my nightmares. And after a while, the young, hot women in Brazil began to get on my nerves. At first I’d admired them as one would admire tropical birds in a zoo. They were different and bright and strange, nothing like Rosy’s sweet, trusting American naiveté.

  But when they realized that I wasn’t out hunting for my next mistress, they scorned me. It was just as well. I didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if I could have tolerated their behavior for long, anyways because I already knew which girl I wanted. One morning after coming home drunk, I collapsed on the beach with a beer bottle clinging to my hand. I fell in the sand, sliding onto my back like a dumb piece of shit.

  It was cool from the few traces of yellow dawn. As I closed my eyes, my lips twisted into a smile as I thought of Rosy’s body in bed. She’d always push the covers off and let the sunlight dapple her pale skin, stretching like a cat in the warm rays of the sun.

  She was light. I was the obvious dark that ruined her. Without me, Rosy was likely doing much better. She was in school now, and she was smart so I knew she had to be doing well. But I was too selfish. I wanted her all to myself, even though I knew she was better off without me.

  I was so drunk that I could hardly move. It was a new low for me, and as I lay in the sand, I wondered if death was near. My head felt like it weighed a ton, and my legs were limp. I was freezing even though it was warm.

  Everything hurt. My body hurt, my head hurt. Even my teeth ached.

  What had happened to me? Who was I turning into?

  “Rosy…,” I murmured like a helpless fool. I shook my head. I needed her name out of my head. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I sucked at the sour liquid and groaned as the warm beer spilled down my throat.

  Rosy was sweet. She would never make me feel this way.

  I closed my eyes and tried to drift off to sleep, but the waves crashed onto the shore, splashing my feet with cold water.

  I sat up immediately and forced myself to open my eyes. I crawled up the beach, still clinging to my beer bottle. The tiny house was a few feet away, but the distance seemed like an ocean.

  “Lucinda,” I barked in a hoarse voice. Sand burned my eyes as I hauled myself closer and closer to the small house. “Lucinda, I need help!”

  Silence. “Lucinda!” I called again. I was now at the porch, gripping the wooden floor. My head was spinning, and I knew I was seconds away from vomiting.

  “Mr. Steele?” The lights in the tiny house flicked on, and I saw Lucinda rush out through the sliding doors.

  “I need...water…”

  Lucinda ran back inside to grab a glass of water, then hurried back. She squatted by my side and patted my head in a maternal way that I hated.

  I snatched the glass away and gulped it down. It felt like an iceberg on my dry throat. I could barely catch my breath as I lay panting on the ground.

  “Come inside,” Lucinda urged as she pulled me up. I was shocked at how much strength that old woman had. She pulled me into the living room, letting me fall onto the couch.

  “Shit, you’re strong,” I mumbled as I still tried to catch my breath.

  “Are you done drinking, Mr. Steele?”

  I was paused as silence flooded through the house for a moment. She spoke...English?

  “I thought you didn’t speak English?”

  Lucinda snorted and turned on the stove.

  “You don’t listen then.” She had a very thick accent, but her English was rather good. I smiled and stood up, staggering.

  “So you must have heard my late night rants?” Every time I’d come in, drunk as shit, I’d collapse on the floor and demand water from Lucinda. But I’d always talk about Rosy, babbling like a fool.

  I felt embarrassed. She must have thought I was an idiot.

  “About the Rosy? Yes. Tragic.”

  I fell quiet and walked over to the kitchen, sliding up on a stool.

  “Sorry about that,” I mumbled.

  “No apology needed. But you have no place here, Mr. Steele.”

  I looked up quickly.

  “Excuse me?”

  Lucinda put her spoon down and looked me in the eyes.

  “Brazil is not the wasteland of your sadness. You can’t escape what you are feeling. You need to fix it.” She crossed her arms over her chest and gave me a stern look.

  Her advice stunned me. But if I didn’t stay in Brazil, I would be back in Las Vegas, even closer to Rosy.

  “I can’t see her again….” My voice trailed off.

  Lucinda rolled her eyes.

  “Says who?”

  Exhaling deeply, I slid off the stool and took a piece of strawberry from the fruit salad she was making.

  “Me. I know myself, I know my faults, and I can’t go back. So that’s the end of that.” I started to walk away, but Lucinda grabbed my forearm.

  “If you can’t go back, then why can’t you let her go? Go back to The Grand. That’s where you belong.”

  I sighed. She was right. I didn’t want her to be, but I knew being in Brazil wasn’t meant for me. The Grand was where I belonged.

  I needed Rosy, but maybe if I threw myself into The Grand, I’d be too busy to even think about her.

  That night, I booked a flight back to Las Vegas. I didn’t even sleep.

  I packed all my things and waited for the car to arrive. Before I left, I wrote a thank you note for Lucinda and attached it to the refrigerator, along with a check for ten thousand dollars.

  I was thankful for her humble advice.

  But now, it was time for me to go home.

  ***

  “Welcome back, Mr. Steele! Looks like you’ve gotten a nice tan abroad!” Alicia, my assistant, exclaimed as I stepped out of my limo.

  I nodded and tried to walk away from her, but she was persistent.

  “Anything new?” I asked reluctantly. I didn’t want to actually know, but I knew I had no choice.

  “Let’s see,” Alicia said as she looked down at her clipboard. “The renovations have been completed, and there a few advertising salesmen that would like to speak with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “There were also two guests that got food poisoning from the shrimp pasta dish, so we had it removed temporarily.”