Enigma

Chapter 5

Room 14 was nothing but the mirror image of my own. Small, cheap, and the smell of mold drizzled around the chambers. The only light that shined came from the parking lot. The suite remained dim and shadowed. Constant humming and vibrations, from this woman's phone, buzzed and floated throughout the room. It was apparent someone was adamant for her attention.

I sat on the outskirts of the bed while perspiring and attempting to apprehend my breath. The long journey traveling up the flight of stairs with dead weight drained me. I could not help but stare at the woman who I placed here. She remained asleep as a thrown ragdoll that flailed onto the ground. However, the young woman appeared involuntarily peaceful as she laid on the ground. It was a matter of time until she would regain consciousness. With that, it was critical that I act accordingly before things go belly-up.

I rummaged through her purse to see who I was dealing with. The handbag was apparently more like a tote that rained heavily branded and multicolored Louis Vuitton insignias. A clutch bag to match, in its innards, revealed her driver's license. Zuri Hayes was my snoozing soon-to-be-casualty that resided at 620 Tavern Place, Berkeley Springs, West Virginia. She was unequivocally a long way from home.

Zuri's cellular phone continued to vibrate and shine from its LED pixels. Nothing stopped me from answering the phone and putting it on mute.

"Hello? Hello?" The unknown caller answered, "Baby, come on! Talk to me or I'll come to you. I don't know why the hell you always run to that raggedy ass place when shit doesn't go your way."

Whoever was on the other end of the line seemed to be Zuri's boyfriend. Not wasting time, I terminated the call. The impromptu plan has to be postponed as her mate might make an unexpected appearance. My face was still clean as she has not seen me. Quietly, I excused myself out of the room and casually strolled towards the staircase that was on the opposite end once again. The stairs were, without a doubt, made to good use today.

The way I felt was like somebody was waving a tall glass of ice cold water in front of me in the middle of the desert. I yearned for Zuri and— I did not know why. It was the same intense feeling I had with Desire. The desire was growing and festering in my mind. The free will to move on without satisfying myself was no longer an option. I needed to blow her candle out. My possessor had turned me into a modern day menace.

Filled with anxiousness, I can hear the pitter-patter of my own pulse marching at breakneck speeds throughout my head. I was falling victim to starvation. The consumption of nourishment is what my body required to make my possessor gratified.

It was at the diner, that was located across the way from the motel, where I ended up. I was met with a handwritten sign that directed any potential guest to find their own seat if they wished to indulge.

The dump resembled and appeared to be a subsidiary of the motel. The exterior was as downplayed as the inside. Smudged windows, counter with pies under glass domes, metal napkin holders, stools lining the counter like soldiers, and cheap laminated plastic tabletops with chips and scratches was the scenery. There were names etched under anything carvable and gum turned into fixtures on surfaces that had high traffic. The metal cutlery was dull, dented, and dusty. Checkered tiles gave the eatery a dingy chess atmosphere. Flavors gusted through every interstice. The burning flesh from the grill, onions frying, hot oil from the deep fryer, warm steam in the face, spicy chili, generic soups, stews, and sour vinegar from ketchup chased each other right up the nostrils. The over brewed coffee overpowered the pine cleaner from a freshly washed floor. The shack was nothing more than a slummy establishment, however it was a safe haven for unsuspecting regulars. Handful of drunkards surrounded the bar while chattering about political issues and throwing in their two cents.

Three members of the waitstaff glanced at me and one of the bunch grabbed a menu before making her way towards me. My server, whose name tag read Angeline, approached me at the table appearing to be impatient at first impression. A sweet and attractive fragrance illuminated the distance between us. The air was colorful and pleasant, perfumed, as my nose captured it, with the delicate redolence of prairie flowers. The table was sticky to the touch and the menu she laid in front of me was visually greasy. Salt or sugar granules were left on table from the previous party. Pride and effort were both absent with the employees here.

"Can I get you anything to drink, hun?" the waitress started.

My eyes scrambled to search the vile menu for a drink that would leave me content and send the waitress on her way.

"Water with light ice, please," I answered after combing through the menu.

Immediately, Angeline replied with, "Sweetie, I am going to get you something better than water. You're a man's man, right?"

"That I am. What do you have in mind?" I asked.

"How about a whisky ginger. I will add a lil' kick to it since it's your first time here," she added.

With a chuckle, I returned with, "How would you know if I never been here before?"

"This is a small town and I know pretty much everyone on these roads," she answered while pointing to the guests in the establishment, "Maybe I can be your desert if the drink is not to your liking."

Angeline abruptly walked away towards the rear of the diner into kitchen and comes back out after a mere few minutes. She would stroll past my table more than once as if something was misplaced. Maybe it was curiosity that needed to be satisfied. Each lap she made, she would turn her head towards me to look or shake back her hair. Each hair strand would fan out like a turbine-powered windmill. Laughter summoned itself as she would get caught gazing. Eyes and lashes were used to communicate as she gossips to coworkers while eyes are on me. Heat was in the air and it was not radiating from the kitchen. She wetted her lips and applied gloss while returning with my refreshment. All was accomplished while keeping eye contact.

"Here you go handsome," she added while landing my glass on the table.

The look on Angeline's face expressed that she wanted me to taste the concoction before she ventures off as if the look of delight on my face would be appeasing to her. She seemed almost childlike, wanting to show off her work for job well done in return.

Many sips, gulps, and swallows later, I knew I had reached beyond my threshold. I have been ridding my lips of whisky only to indulge with more. It was the realization that I was inebriated and plastered that worried me. My irresponsible actions put me in a place that I was now paranoid. I was walking a tight rope with no experience or a balance stick. My caution flag was held hostage to the wind. My possessor was not jubilant with the fact that my body was not at an optimal state where my motor skills could slaughter an unwary individual. Regret sunk in by not eating before the virus I drank caused a traffic jam in my veins. There was still no sign of food in my gut to delay the absorption of alcohol. We were, in fact, a conflict of interest.