EXES AND OH'S

Someone

My skin is soaked in the warm and bright afternoon California sun. The sky is a beautiful haze of soft blues, pinks and oranges. It's so beautiful — it looks like a piece of expensive art.

And I'm never really into art because first, my poser artist ex Zach totally ruined art for me. Second, people nowadays just draw random scribbles, doodles, and ugly shit on canvass and already call themselves artists. Fucking ridiculous. Art just turned into a big joke, and a cover-up for money laundering. Real beautiful art was once rare, until society turned it into a scam, like diamonds.

But this sky? This is definitely art. God put his Bob Ross on this afternoon and painted this big-ass canvass sky with super pretty pastel shades, bringing smiles on everyone's face on earth. 

And ah, the sweet California breeze. I close my eyes and lean my back against the car seat, loving the feel of the gentle wind blowing on my face and hair, and the air is... fucking gone. All of sudden. What the heck?!

I open my eyes and check what just happened. Oh, alright. Levi just rolled up the windows and brought the top down of his dad's turquoise blue 1960's Mercedes convertible. This prick really knows how to turn my mood upside down. 

"Now, why'd you do that? I was enjoying the frickin' summer breeze!" I turn to Levi and scowl.

"I'll get the car roof and windows back down later, I promise. We're almost at our destination." Levi guarantees, flashing me a sweet smile. Seconds later, he pulls up the car right in front of a dingy and worn-out, 1920s Art Deco-style hotel — Stay On Main, it read on the marquee.

The fuck? Is this gonna be our date? Checking in on an old, sketchy hotel in Downtown LA?! Does this twat think I'm a cheap whore? Ugh. I'm so fucking angry and disappointed.

"What the hell are we doing here?" I ask Levi, glowering at him as I cross my arms above my chest. "Levi, you told me you'll date the hell out of me. And now you're just checking us in on a god-fucking-awful hotel?! I'm not a damned prostitute that you can—"

"Whoa, whoa. Chill the hell out, woman." He chuckles and holds up his hands, and quickly leans over for a kiss, effectively shutting me up. Levi pulls away and looks at me with a confused look. "Are you not familiar with this place? You're fucking kidding me, right? You've gotta know this!"

My brows creased, returning his baffled expression. I look again outside the window and check the hotel building.

"Read the old signs at the sides of the hotel." Levi instructs. 

I spot the hotel's old red signage and squint my eyes to read it — Hotel Cecil. 

"Oh, holy fucking hell! We're at the Cecil Hotel?!" I gasp and my eyes widen in awe, wonder, and complete utter shock. I lift my hands to cover my widely-opened mouth as my jaw just fell on the car's floorboard.

"Yes, I thought you'd love to see it. You know, how it really looks like in person and not just from the internet or TV." Levi explains, a huge smile on his face. "I know how much you're fascinated about all that dark stuff — the occult, serial killers, murder mysteries, the whole fucking kit and caboodle. So, I thought, I'd take you here."

And my dark heart just melted. Aww. Levi! 

See, I'm obsessed with creepy, weird, dark, macabre, morbid stuff, just like Levi said. And this hotel, is the absolute landmark for those kinds of shit, it's a hotbed for death. I mean, this was home to serial killers — the infamous Richard Ramirez being one of them, and then his European copycat Jack Unterweger. Hell, even the Black Dahlia lady, Elizabeth Short, was spotted here some days before her disappearance.