Part 4 – Truth Is The Best Lie

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A soft touch on my cheek roughly snaps me out of it. I blink into the bright white light of the ceiling lamps. I'm lying on my back on the bed in my hotel room. For a brief, panic stricken moment I feel as if I'm stuck, as if I'm lying on a molten marshmallow, or perhaps like a fly on sticky paper.

A glimpse of red makes me turn my head. Cally is sitting beside me, cradling my head on her lap. She looks down on me, her face now directly above mine. Our vision is surrounded by the black waterfall of her hair hanging down. She is so beautiful, my breath stops in my throat. I try to tell her I love her, but can't manage to speak.

She smiles and puts her finger on my lips. I tremble at her merest touch. Does she know what I was about to say?

'How are you feeling?' Her voice is soothing. It makes me feel at peace and that is a big deal for me. That is, if there wasn't a twang, a tiny little fish hook of discomfort, stuck deep inside my guts. Bits and pieces of the night before rise up out of the inky deep of the ocean that is my mind. I want to let go of everything, give myself over to her, but I can't. The little fish hook won't let me.

'Sorry to wake you up in the middle of the night.' She continues to stroke my hair and again I try to speak, try to tell her it wasn't her fault, that I woke up on my own. Again, I am unable, mesmerized as I am by her sensuality.

Without warning she stops stroking me, carefully lowers my head back onto the pillows and stands up. Whatever just happened, it's gone now. In agony, I reach out for her, but she is as silvery quick as she is graceful. All I can do is to prop myself up on my elbows so I can continue to look at her. Only now do I realize how sick to my bones I am. Whatever it was I've been drinking, it's now doing somersaults in my stomach. God, I hope I'm not going to puke in front of Cally. Deep breaths come between excessive swallowing.

'Doesn't matter,' I say finally after I've swung my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. The room swims in and out of focus in front of my eyes. I have never felt so tired in my life. 'What time is it?'

'Too late to say, and too early to go to bed.'

'So…' I linger, not trusting to voice my own questions out loud.

'So…' she answers but busies herself with other things. From the looks of it, she's inspecting my room to see if there's anything hidden. Or someone.

'So what happened?' I ask her in all honesty.

'I was kind of hoping you could tell me.' She looks at me long and hard. For a moment all sensuality is gone. A stare, lifeless and cold, is all that can be said about that look. As if I'm face to face with a shark. Nothing but black eyes, devoid of emotion, seizing me up. Then the moment passes and she sidles over to my side of the bed again. 'You passed out because of the ridiculous amount of cocktails you drank. It doesn't surprise me. Judging by the amount of empty glasses on your table it looks like you tried every single alcoholic beverage we have to offer. I'm only surprised you could drink that much and not pass out sooner. Almost as if you weren't alone at your table. Were you alone at your table, Lennard?'

Now I know I'm walking a very, very thin rope. I don't know how deep the fall will be, but the little fish hook turns into a butcher's meat hook and it yanks my guts down towards that imaginary black pit below your stomach, lower than the laws of physics allow.

I feel like a little fish, lost and helpless in a vast and dark ocean. I'm alone and have nothing to cling to except the warm light dangling in front of my eyes. I know it could be my salvation, or the lure of an angler fish, that lurking horror which can only exist outside the light of God, but it is all I have and I am doomed with or without it.

No, damn it! I've been through a lot. More even then the tabloids will ever know, although perhaps not as much as they would like you to believe. After all, according to some of the more popular ones, I've been abducted by aliens and fathered a child with a royal princess. My life has been far from sheltered and care free. I have seen people, loved ones and strangers, die in my arms. I've fought the losing battle of alcohol and drug addiction more than once. Like so many fellow addicts, I always lacked the conviction to truly kick those habits. If one had that kind of resilience, they'd probably never picked up the habit in the first place. But I did go through all the hell and degradation that goes with the downhill slide to the deep place of your self-destruction and the uphill battle to become at least somewhat of a functioning human being again.

I have a son I lost to his mother and who refuses to see me as his father, no matter how hard I tried to make things right with him. His mother poisoned his mind until it was out of my reach. Even so, half the stories she told him were probably true anyway and half the stories would be enough.

I have betrayed and been betrayed by lovers, friends and profiteers alike. More times then I care to remember I trusted someone, only to find out they'd been lying to my face the whole time. It's part of the trade I'm in, I know, but when you find out someone was actually trustworthy in the beginning, just to hear them say there had been a specific moment in time, a cross roads where they deliberately chose to betray you, well – that hurts ten times as much.

So, yes, I've had my share of both ups and downs. I've been dyed in the wool as they say and when my guts tell me not to trust somebody; you bet your ass I trust my instincts.

'I was kind of hoping you'd join me,' I tell her in absolute honesty. I dare not lie to her, but truths are always the best lies. It works. She smiles. On the other hand, she also gets up and heads for the door. She turns around before leaving me alone to face my doubts and fears.

'I guess you need to freshen up. It's the big day today. The whole hotel is in tiptop shape to make sure everything is as it should be. You can always expect nothing but the best quality of service from us.'

'What's the occasion?'

'We're going to hold a feast tonight that will put last night's party to shame. Everybody is invited. It is our way of giving something back to our most loyal guests.'

'I'm not exactly what you'd call a loyal guest. I've only been here for, what? Two nights?'

'Ah, but we're hoping to make one out of you yet. We have many famous people who came by and who never truly left us. Take a shower, put on some clean clothes; you'll fell like a new person. When you're ready, come down to the dining hall.'

'I'd love to, really, but I don't know if I'm up for it.'

Cally smiles and places her hand on her hip. 'Oh that won't do, Lennard. I won't take no for an answer. The whole thing is in your honour after all.'

The door clicks shut before I can voice my puzzled objection. Her red dress still clings to my eyes as an after image and I feel like I lost all control of the situation. Again. As little there was for me to be had anyway.

Repeating the showering ritual of the night before to get some strength back into my rubber limbs seems to work. I step back out from under the foul smelling water and feel much better. I look much better too. I sure wouldn't give myself 61 looking like this. Looking good apparently gives you an appetite too, because I feel my stomach growling. Christ, how long was it since I ate? Come to think of it, I guess I didn't even eat at all last night. No wonder those cocktails hit home to bad. I probably got off lightly with only a couple of bad nightmares.

Tonight I'm going to stuff my face, play it a bit cooler with the drinks and I'll have good night's sleep before calling JoJo again too. It'll be hell talking to him no matter what, with the missed concert and all, so as long as I'm going to be in trouble anyway, I might as well make it a short vacation as well. A couple of days won't hurt. Ha! Perhaps I'll even stay away a bit longer than that. I guess it depends on what happens between Cally and me. I don't know why I freaked out when she's is obviously a business woman. I know her type. An ambitious girl can be as hard as stone and as cunning as a snake. That's ok, it's not like I'm about to ask her hand in marriage. I'll tell her I'm not looking for a steady relationship, but she'll know that statement can go a whole lot of different ways.

I dress myself with the white tux lying ready for me on my bed. There's a small business card on top of it saying: Welcome to the Hotel California in bold red letters. The company slogan is marked across in italic: Such a lovely place. I remember Cally using the exact same words when she first showed me the way to my room. Yep, a professional all right.

The tux is a masterpiece. As soon as I get dressed I don't even care someone has been in my room while I was showering. It fits me like a glove and makes me look twenty years younger, while keeping me distinguished with age. If this doesn't win Cally over, I don't know what will. Damn, I look good. Like Trixie did, but never while she was alive…

The thought was there and gone again before I can do anything about it. This shit is starting to get to me. I don't want to, but I feel as if I should take some sort of action. To take matters into my own hands instead of waiting until Cally or Trixie send me from one absurd situation into the next. Oh man, why did this have to happen right now? I finally found a nice place to lay back a while, shrug off my cares and now I have this weird consciousness, as if Jiminy Cricket himself is taking a crap in my ear. No, it's high time I got some R&R. I deserve it, right? Last night was nothing but a stupid nightmare brought on by too much booze thrown together. As if I was actually talking to some dumb dead chick acting like the ghost of Christmas Past. Screw this, I'm out to party!