Chapter 9
Angel's First Appointment
Angel held back from knocking on the door to room 262, also known as Eliza's newly furnished therapy room. He didn't want to be here. Anywhere else would be good right now. Cherri had even offered him an out, telling him to skip and hang out at her place. He had been beyond tempted to do so. However, the shrink had persuaded Charlie to make the damn meetings a requirement to stay. Skipping out could cost him his rent-free living, and the last thing he needed was to owe Valentino more money for living expenses. So, despite himself, he knocked twice.
"Come in," the therapist called. He slowly opened the door, but was pleasantly surprised. The room, dare he say it, looked perfectly normal. In fact, it could pass for a room on Earth. Gone was the toothy motif of the hotel; such an awkward design in his personal opinion. Instead, the room held earthy tones. The walls were off-white, plain but not mind-numbingly boring or eerily stark. A couple pictures hung from the walls; the north-side of the room, between two windows with closed shutters, had a picture of a red rose wrapped in thorny vines. To Eliza's credit, there was no more fitting metaphor for what the hotel was trying to accomplish; at least not in painting form. The other was on the eastern wall, and it was a landscape drawing of Wonderland; a section of Hell that was considered too dangerous for most. The furniture was sparse, but comfortable; two cloth couches, one the color of straw that was pushed against the wall while the other was a dirt brown, and a glass table in between the two. Nothing was placed upon it, at least not for the moment. Perhaps she would allow people to bring food and drink in here.
Under the landscape picture was a light, golden-brown desk, with writing utensils, notebooks and an old-fashioned type-writer. Probably for her to work at when clients weren't in the room. She struck the spider-demon as a workaholic. There was a flower-vase as well, but it was empty. He wondered if she just hadn't found any flowers she liked yet.
"Have a seat, Angel," she invited, motioning towards the dark-brown couch. He complied, having a seat and instantly spreading his long, lean body across it to get comfortable.
Angel looked at the bathroom door to the left of the straw-colored couch, and saw the door slightly open. "Hey Vaggie, poppin' a squat while you listen in back there?" He heard a growl emanate from the room and laughed at the tiny moth's ever short temper.
"Please, do not goad her," Eliza reprimanded. "Her presence is part of my probationary run. She won't always be there, but for the time being, please respectfully ignore her."
"So… treat her like furniture?" Angel asked with a mischievous grin.
"In a manner of speaking, yes."
Angel sighed, giving her a 'you're no fun' look, before looking at the rose picture on the wall. "Well, I can say it's betta than I expected," he began.
"What were you expecting, Angel?"
"I guess I expected, you know… colorless. Kinda like you. I mean, you've got the nice hair, and you wear pretty stuff, but ya don't really strike me as the earthy type. You're kinda the, I don't know… Ice queen, I guess? You've got class and such, but ya don't really get emotional an' shit, you know? Earthy is more… motherly. And you ain't motherly."
"I can be," she stated. Angel raised an eyebrow. Her cool response wasn't convincing him of anything. "But we're not here to talk about me, Angel. This is your time to share."
"Look, toots- Eliza," he corrected, trying very hard to respect her rules. "I know they want me spillin' my guts to ya, but you've gotta understand that this really ain't my thing. Openin' up to you is… weird. It's fuckin' weird as hell."
"Opening up to me?" she asked, pulling out a pen and jotting a note down on her clipboard. "Does that mean there's someone you do open up to? I'm not asking for names, just a yes or no." Angel let out a breath after that last sentence. He felt prickly whenever someone tried to dig too deep into his personal life.
"...Yes," he answered curtly. Cherri was the only face firmly in his mind. No one else understood him like she did.
"Good. That means you have someone you can trust with secrets and whatever bothers you. That's a good thing. I'm here to figure out what's keeping you down here. If you have such a close friend out there who's there for you, he or she can help you along whatever path you choose to follow. My job is the aid in self-discovery. I can give recommendations depending on what you want to accomplish, but where you choose to go with it is up to you."
"So, what? You gonna medicate me or some shit?"
"I oppose the use of psychotropic drugs, personally."
"Really? So you don't believe in antidepressants an' shit?"
"No, I don't. If you can't make the change yourself, then you simply don't want to change badly enough."
"Ya know, while that's comforting an' all… You do know some people need the help, right? I mean, not being forced to take pills 'till I'm a vegetable is great, but change is hard. Some people literally can't do it without help."
"Nonsense," Eliza argued. "Willpower is humanity's most impressive force of nature. Don't underestimate it."
"Willpower? You kiddin' me? Willpower is the most unreliable thing people have! Care about what others think? Willpower sucks. Feelin' trapped in a bad situation? Willpower sucks. Made bad decisions outta curiosity and now you're stuck? Willpower. Fuckin'. Sucks. Seriously, relyin' on willpower to get you through somethin' is stupid."
"So you don't believe you can change?" Eliza asked, hiding her urge to strangle the spider. Her wings were tugging at her back, begging to attack. It was getting painful to keep them inside.
"I can do whateva I want," he countered defensively. "No one tells this sexy man what he can and can't do!"
"Do you think that mentality may be partly what's keeping you down here?"
Angel stared at her for a moment. "How the fuck does that work?"
"Heaven has many rules, I'm sure," Eliza continued. "If you're bettering yourself to get there, you'll have to abide by them. Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can give up your current lifestyle of 'I can do what I want' in order to leave this place?"
"Well… shit." Angel went quiet for a long time, clearly unable to respond any further as he considered her words. Despite his attempts of deflecting the therapy, she had hit home in a way he hadn't expected.
"Angel?" she asked, putting her clipboard down.
"Huh? Oh, uh, what?"
"Are you OK? What are you thinking right now?"
"I…" he began. He felt suddenly very uncomfortable. "Hey, I know these meetings are required an' all, but… We can end early if I want to, right?"
Eliza sighed. "If you wish to, then yes. However, I recommend you not do this very often. Talking things like this out is the reason for the sessions, Angel. And if you continually leave- especially this early- your rent-free living may be jeopardized."
"Yea, I hear ya," he said. "Look, I'm askin' at least this time; can I be excused?" Instead of verbally answering, Eliza reached out towards the door, motioning that he was free to go. When he went to leave the room, he stopped for a moment and turned his head. "Hey, shrink. Gotta question."
With his sudden mental shift, Eliza decided to let the nickname slide for now. "What is it?"
"Do you think that…" he paused. "Do you think I gotta stop being gay? To get to Heaven, I mean."
Eliza briefly wished he had brought this question up before agreeing to end the session early. They would have had time to discuss it. As for now, she could only give a brief, honest answer.
"I have no idea, Angel. I know Heaven has rules, because otherwise people wouldn't come down here. But I don't know what those rules are."
"This hotel really is a fuckin' long shot," he sighed to himself, running a hand through his hair. "See ya in two weeks… I guess." He walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.
Eliza sighed. He would be difficult to work with, but she made some notes. They would discuss that question in greater detail next time.
A month had passed since Eliza's first stroll with Rosie, but it was not the last. Since then she had visited several times, each time dancing around their invitation to enjoy the carnal pleasures of cannibalism. Following Rosie's advice, Eliza fed the crow that she had calmed her first day there, and it started to accompany her around the establishment. It hadn't followed her back to the hotel yet, but she began to feel hopeful. She trusted animals far more than people. They were simpler to deal with, happy with being taken care of and pampered. They were a sight more loyal, too; a quality Eliza could really appreciate.
The Hazbin Hotel was in mostly working order now. Niffty was beside herself with joy, enjoying the fruits of her hard, relentless labor. Alastor had praised her work greatly, offering head-pats that made her squeal joyfully. He had not been idle during her hard work, however. He had successfully gotten the attention of many members of Hell's upper crust, either by cashing in favors or making promises ranging from sheer entertainment to the prospect of making deals with those that failed to make the cut. Of course, Charlie was kept out of the loop on their benefactors' reasons for investing, but until she caught wind of foul play, she wasn't in a mind to complain.
Charlie and Vaggie were in the lobby discussing means of advertisement when Alastor came down to join them. "Hello, ladies!" he greeted in his usual good cheer. Over the course of the last month, Vaggie had learned to tolerate his presence more, but that didn't stop her eye from narrowing. Charlie hadn't yet given up on her learning to trust him, but she knew her beloved moth would need a lot more time.
"Good morning, Alastor," Charlie greeted with a smile.
"I know we've all been wondering how to get word out about this wonderfully refurbished hotel," he began. "I've taken it upon myself to contact different companies to bid against each other to offer their services. While your news interview still lives on in recent memory, there are many more options given to us than relying on a silly television news channel!"
"OK, we're listening," Charlie said hesitantly after sharing a worried glance with Vaggie. The Radio Demon proceeded to talk about billboards, business cards, news articles and more. When Charlie suggested adding social media to the list of options, Alastor curled his lip in disgust. Still, he couldn't say it was a bad idea, but he did inform them that such a venture would need to be undertaken by them, as he was not a part of social media and refused to change his mind on the subject. Still, his old-fashioned method of advertising would be more than helpful, and if he had already spoken with different companies, they were not inclined to discourage the idea.
The rest of the day was spent working out the appearance of the business cards, the information they'd provide, and what they wanted the billboards to say. When Charlie took note of the late hour, a thought occurred to her.
"Where's Eliza?" she asked. "I haven't seen her come in all day."
"I believe she's at Plaisirs Crus," Alastor answered. "She has been spending more time there, recently. I believe the lovely ladies of that restaurant have taken a liking to her!"
"Oh, that's… nice," Charlie said, sincerely happy that the therapist was making friends. "Where's that at?"
"The Cannibal Colony." Vaggie choked on the tea she had been drinking.
"WHAT?!" Before this revelation could be discussed further, someone knocked on the front door.
"Who could that be?" Charlie wondered out loud, standing to go greet the newcomer.
"That better be Eliza," Vaggie fumed. "I have so many questions right now!"
"Unlikely," Alastor piped in. "She doesn't knock! At least, not on the main entrance door. No, it must be a new guest!" He stood to follow Charlie, but Vaggie cut him off.
"Not this time," she warned. "You're staying in here!"
"And why shouldn't I greet what is possibly a new hopeful sinner?" he inquired, looking down his nose at the young woman teasingly.
"Stay!" That was the last that was said about it. Charlie looked back at him and motioned with her head to listen to Vaggie. Upon her instruction, he bowed and backed up behind the wall.
"Hello?" she greeted tentatively, opening the door. Shock anchored her to the ground as her head turned upwards to stare at the towering figure's face. Or, more accurately… screen.
"Hello indeed!" he replied. "It's good to meet you, princess." He pulled out a business card and handed it to her with his left hand, taking her hand with the other to shake it. "My name is Vox, though I'm sure you know that."
Inside the hotel, Vaggie's face paled as she heard Alastor's inner radio go haywire. "Uh-oh."
"May I come in? I wish to inspect the hotel under advisement from a colleague who is interested in investing in your… institution." He chose his words wisely, not wishing to insult the young lady. No, he would be smooth as silk for this one. A TV show host should always know how to woo his audience, after all.
"Uh… sure," she said, moving out of his way. "Come on in." Unable to fit due to a combination of height and his large television head, he merely relied on a short teleportation from one side of the doorframe to the other, a brief bolt of blue electricity the only thing to link where he was to where he went.
"Thank you for your hospitality!" He was laying it on a bit thick, even Charlie could tell, but he froze half-way down the entrance hall. When Charlie stood beside him, she heard the tell-tale sounds of Alastor's angry radio frequencies.
"It would seem I'm not the only one interested in your little venture," he said, his smile growing. Alastor walked out from where he had been hiding.
"Charlie, dear," he said sweetly, taking a moment to purposefully ignore the imposing overlord, "you shouldn't bring such unsightly garbage into the hotel. We're trying to build a better image, after all!"
"I'm sure a bloodstain like you is just as 'unsightly'," the TV demon countered. "How unfortunate your presence must be to these lovely ladies."
"Not at all!" he said, oblivious to the glares Vaggie shot his direction. "I am here to be their generous business partner!"
"Is that so?" Vox turned his two-dimensional lip up in disdain. "I must say, I would never have expected to see you here."
"I could say the same of you! Shouldn't you be running an ad campaign? Causing a scene in public? Begging for Hell's attention?" The word 'begging' dipped Alastor's voice into his demonic tone. "Although I must ask; who told you to come here? Surely you aren't looking to invest in this establishment?"
"None of your business, Radio Boy." The two overlords stood only a few feet apart, neither one willing to break eye contact.
"I'm back." Charlie turned to see Eliza enter the hotel. "I didn't mean to be gone all… day?" She stopped just inside, staring at the source of all the room's tension. "Am… Am I interrupting something?"
"Not at all!" Charlie skipped around Vox and took Eliza by the arm. "Your timing couldn't be better! This is Vox, and he wanted to check out the hotel!"
"I see you on TV whenever I pass by one," Eliza said, bowing slightly. "Wonderful to meet you in person."
Vox turned, holding Alastor's gaze until it was literally impossible to do so. At that point he turned his gaze to the two women standing behind him.
"Likewise," he said. "Are you staying here as a patient? I wasn't aware the hotel was already open for business!"
"No, I work here," Eliza answered. "I'm the hotel's therapist. The guests will be required to see me during their stay."
"I see!" he reached for her hand, and she shook it. "Well, I must be off. I've seen what I needed to." He brought her hand up, but his height made it nearly impossible to kiss her knuckle. Instead, a small static shock traveled from his screen to the back of her hand. It didn't hurt, but it left a tingling sensation that wasn't entirely unpleasant. Alastor's radio static increased in volume, anxious for his rival to leave before his temptation to throw him out overcame him. Vox walked over to the door, teleporting the short distance to get through the frame once more, and climbed into his limousine.
"Goodbye!" Charlie called, waving as the overlord left. She let out a nervous breath. "Well that was… unexpected." She went back inside, where she bore witness to Vaggie practically tearing out her hair as she told off the Radio Demon, who had switched back to a calmer, more playful state. His rival was driven off before he lost control, which would have resulted in some destruction of his investment. All in all, it was a victory, though not a particularly fun one.
The following entertainment, however, more than made up for the lackluster victory, as Vaggie's attention returned to the therapist. "Now that that's over," she spoke through gritted teeth, "What the fuck were you doing in the Cannibal Colony?!"
On his way back to the Porn Studio, he called up Valentino. The two may have recently broken up, but they were still business partners, and as such they shared similar interests. The progression of the hotel, apparently, was of interest to Val, who suspected that his number one porn star had taken up residence there.
"Voxy, baby," the moth overlord purred when he answered the phone. Vox shivered slightly; he really liked it when Val spoke like that. It was like a sickly-sweet honey tone, one that promised pleasure with a threat of pain if you made him angry. It spoke to Vox's more volatile nature. "Did you check it out?"
"I did," he answered. "Apparently the princess has protection. She's working with Alastor."
"The Radio Demon," Val murmured. "That's bad news, Voxy. I hope you have something else to brighten my day. Did you see any sign of Angel staying there?"
"Couldn't get very far in," he grumbled. "The bastard was right inside the damn entrance."
"You could have given him a warm greeting," Val suggested. Vox could hear his smirk over the phone.
"And risk pissing off Charlie's parents if she got hurt? Even you wouldn't go that far."
"Fair enough. Still…" His tone turned darker, like rich, poisonous chocolate. "I need to know why my favorite star seems more sober than usual."
"There is something," Vox suggested. "They have a therapist there. She said meetings with her were mandatory for guests."
"Then she would be seeing Angel, if he's there. Very good, Voxy," he praised, sending another shiver up the TV Demon's spine. "I know we had a falling out recently, but I'd love to give you some... special attention. If you're interested, of course." The moth hung up the phone, leaving Vox to think in silence. Vox revelled in attention, but Hell's most powerful Pimp knew exactly how to make him feel good. In spite of Val's abusive tendencies, he was a drug Vox simply couldn't give up for long. He couldn't wait to get to the studio tower, now.
Val sat in his chair, watching his film crew work through reflective glass, a burning cigarette in his right hand. Angel was there, powdered up to perfection, being thrusted into by two large wolf demons, one behind him while the other held his head in place. The spider was a true beauty; a diamond in the rough. His star made more money in the adult entertainment industry than any other before him. He was a flawless specimen; one that Valentino was loathe to give up. No, the spider belonged to him, and he'd be damned if anyone, even Hell's princess of rainbows and sunshine, were to take him away.
"Princess…" he hissed the word as though it were rancid in his mouth, spitting it to the side. "Trying to make my boy go clean… How fucking dare you." He broke his cigarette in half and stood up, no longer in the mood to enjoy his beautiful star being ravaged by two muscle-bound actors. His favorite toy was coming home, and he had promised him some attention. Never let it be said that Valentino didn't keep his promises; whether they be good, bad or ugly.
By the end of their fun, Vox's screen was cracked along the sides, and his body was coated in sticky sweat, among other things. Say what you want about the worst of Valentino, he was still the best damn lover the former TV show host had ever known.
"Oh, Voxy," Val purred into his ear, still holding him in place underneath his strong, slender frame. His wings were flared out and frayed slightly, covering them both. Their gentle caress along his sweat-slick skin made Vox moan. "That's a good boy. Now, relax. We'll discuss how we can use that therapist chick in the morning." Val got up suddenly, as if they hadn't just had a passionate, hour-long tussle together, and took a shower. He left Vox passed out on the bed before going back to work. Angel had two more shoots to do, and time was money.
