HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satire

Chapter Ten

10

Al Smith awoke in a strange hotel room. Two women lay beside him, naked, and the entire suite was a disheveled mess. Al felt sick, dehydrated, desperately in need of water and a toilet to relieve himself.

Along the short hallway, various objects and articles of clothing were strewn. Al gawked into the main room of the suite where a bomb had seemingly exploded earlier that evening.

Lou Seaford was still busy on the floor humping some unconscious girl.

Al stumbled sideward into the bathroom where another unfamiliar couple lay asleep in the bathtub.

Al quietly did his business. Then he stepped back to the bedroom, where he searched for his clothes. On his way out, he thought he should make some explanation to Lou, but he didn't want to look at the man while he screwed. In Al's quick dash for the door he whispered back, "I'm late for the office already."

Lou laughed. "I'll be right there, L. In just a minute or two. Mmm."

"See you later." Al slammed the hotel's door behind him, and he trotted over to the elevators. His clothes hung crookedly, and his belt wasn't yet fastened. He paused there to slide on his shoes. The hotel elevator arrived to whoosh him away.

Exiting the elevator on the top floor of The Smith Company building, Al stepped softly across the outer lobby, in the hope of being ignored.

"Good morning Mister Smith," said the young intern Ashlyn, who was sprightly and innocent and quite beautiful.

"Hi." Al dropped his head, and he continued briskly toward his office suite door.

Anna peered up from her work, and she could instantly see that Al's state had deteriorated. "Mister Smith, how are you?"

"I'm a little under the weather, Anna." Al stepped to his door, and he unlocked it.

"Would you like some soup? I could get it for you?"

"No. No thanks. I'm not hungry. How are we doing?"

Anna smiled. "Excellent buzz on Terra."

"Oh. That's good." Al forced a return smile.

"Have you spoken to your father? Can I get his new contact info?"

"Oh. No." Al retreated back a step. "He was overworked. Doctor said the best thing is total relaxation. No phones."

"I see." Anna tried to return to her computer screen, but she couldn't. "He did look quite fatigued the other day. I suggested that he take it easy."

"That's right you did." Al considered Anna. He compared her now to his view of her when he was so much older. His mind had transformed, along with his body. Everything had changed, and there was only this new moment to deal with as best he could. "I'll be in the sanctuary."

Anna smiled. "That's funny. That's what your father calls it."

"Just keep the world out for a couple of hours."

Anna was again surprised. "That's what your father used to say, too."

Al stepped inside, his eyes closing on their own. Then he popped back out of the doorway. "Except for Mr. Seaford. If he shows, let him in."

"Got it."

Al slept deeply on his leather office couch. He wanted to sleep off the night's excess and debauchery, as if it had never happened.

Above him, a feminine hand paused, and then it wrestled lightly with his shoulder.

Al jerked. His breath reeked of copious quantities of alcohol, and his teeth were in dire need of a brushing.

The angelic blurry form came into focus. She looked just like Victoria. She squinted. She scrunched her eyebrows, and she spoke nervously. "Who the hell are you?"

"Vee," said Al.

"Don't you call me that! Where is my father? And what are you doing in here?"

"It's okay. It's all okay."

"Like hell! I'm calling the police."

"Victoria, no. I believe dad sent you an email explaining."

"Get him on the phone. You've got thirty seconds." Victoria retreated, and she folded her arms. Her lips twisted up involuntarily as she looked down on Al Jr. Victoria's face was beginning to show her age, something Al didn't even want to acknowledge to himself.

Al grappled for the cover story. "He's at a, a spa. You'll have to talk to them."

"Them! Who?" Victoria sneered. The crow's feet beside her eyes dug in deeper.

"Whatever he said in the email."

Victoria waved her cell phone in the air. "You tell me who the hell you really are, or I'll have the FBI down here for kidnapping."

"Kidnapping? FBI? I'm your half-brother, Al Smith, Junior."

"Bullshit! Who's your mother? Where's your birth certificate?"

Al sat up, and he flopped his legs over the side of the couch. "Do you carry around your birth certificate in your wallet, Victoria?"

"That's it. I'm calling the cops. What have you done with my father?" Victoria poked at the buttons on her cell phone.

"No. No. Don't do that." Al scrambled to his feet, and he took a step toward her.

"Get the hell away from me!" Victoria slid around to the opposite side of Al's office desk.

"If you put the phone down, I'll explain."

She reached into her handbag, where she pulled out a crowd-control sized can of pepper spray. "Explain faster. Hello? I need to report a disappearance, and a possible kidnapping."

"That's ridiculous! Vee, just stop this nonsense right now."

"Don't you call me that! You fraud. You impostor!" She pressed the button on her can of pepper spray, and it shot a thick stream of nasty chemicals into Al's face.

Al doubled over down on his floor, coughing and gagging. The mist blinded his eyes, and they seared with pain and a cutting abrasion.

Victoria ran out of the office, and she tossed the can behind her as it continued to fog the air with acrid irritant.

Al crawled over to his bathroom and to his sink. He pulled himself to his feet, and he began a long process of washing his face repeatedly. He tried to breathe, but he felt as if his lungs would give out. "Damn it, Vee. Now what do I do?"

"Oh my God! Mister Smith!" Anna coughed, back at the office doorway. "What should I do? Victoria just ran out of the office, shouting."

"It's all right, Anna." Al splashed at his face, still unable to see. "She just overreacted a little."

"She said the police were coming!"

"That's fine. She's just concerned."

Anna covered her nose and her mouth with a cloth. She ran to the remote controller, and she activated the ventilation system. Rapidly, she scrambled back out fighting the urge to vomit.

Al turned up to the ceiling, exasperated. "I'm fucked." He heaved into his wastebasket, and he collapsed on the hard stone floor in front of his toilet.

The detective flipped through Al's wallet. Both of the public servants held cloths over their noses. The stench of the pepper spray still clung to the air. The partner kicked Al's foot, not too hard, but firm enough to wake up the lifeless executive

"What now?" Al strained his eyes to focus. His face radiated a beet-red color. His eyes were nearly stuck shut from the intense swelling.