Devil's Trap

XI

The Meridian Hotel was rather small. It had only three floors, and each room had only one bed. Luckily, there was a small sofa, which Jack claimed first.

"I'll take the couch. You get the bed."

Stella rolled her eyes. "No way. It's your room. I take the couch." Jack threw his belongings down on the sofa. Stella scoffed. "That was a power move."

"Jokes aside, I insist."

She shook her head. "Fine," she said. Her eyes met his, a few words obviously on the tip of her tongue. She took a deep breath and spoke. "I haven't slept in a bed in years."

"Why is that?" His forehead wrinkled with concern.

Stella threw the nearest pillow at him. Laughing, she rolled her eyes. "Wipe that stupid look off your face. I'm fine. My rent got too high, so I've been sleeping at the theatre."

"Stella, you're sleeping in the goddamn bed tonight."

"If you insist."

Jack sat down at the coffee table. Stella pulled out a bottle of gin she had snagged from the theatre before they arrived, and poured some drinks before sitting down herself.

"We should really develop your demon cover a little more. If we have to go back tomorrow, I think we should be borderline ludicrously circumspect." He suggested. Stella had other ideas. She lifted her glass, motioning for Jack to do the same.

"We make a toast first," she said. Jack tilted his head. "Don't look so balled up. I need to get this off my mind. What would you care to toast to?"

He smiled, lifting his glass. "The most angelic demon I've ever met."

Stella's smug expression dropped. She smiled, radiant and raw. Her eyes were melting with exhaustion, but she looked so violently alive that even Jack hadn't picked up that nuance yet. Jack couldn't help but smile a little wider, her golden iridescence somehow touching him from across the table.

"Cheers."

"Cheers," he said as their glasses clinked and Stella chugged down the gin. She slammed her glass back down on the table before Jack had even taken a sip.

She cocked her head. "Don't be a Bluenose, Jack. Drink up. Get bent. You deserve it."

"I'm not going to deserve a hangover tomorrow morning."

"Dry up! Live in the moment, dear." She poured herself another glass. She topped off his as well. "I insist."

Jack just couldn't say no. He downed the gin. Then another glass. And another. He and Stella just sat at that little table for a few hours, both fully aware that neither of them would sleep. They talked about themselves for the entirety. Stella told stories from behind the curtain of the opera house, and Jack from behind a camera. Jack was beginning to get sleepy by the fourth glass of lukewarm gin.

"All right, I'm going to iron my shoelaces and get to bed," said Stella. Jack nodded as she stood up and slipped into the bathroom. By the sofa, he began to slip off his outer garments and belt. Just as he was unbuttoning his shirt, Stella exited the bathroom, wearing a chemise of chintzy white satin. Her makeup was still circling her eyes in a soft blur. Little curls framed her face. She threw her clothes in a heap on the floor and began to roll down her stockings, stopping when she saw him staring.

"What is it?" She said, grinning.

Jack shook his head. "Nothing. You look beautiful, is all."

Stella looked at her feet. When she made eye contact again, she looked pained. "Jack, I want you to know something." He nodded, swallowing hard. Her words were slightly slurred, and she was obviously buzzed from the gin. "I was asked to help in this case because I'm expendable. I'm the kind of person you label 'do not resuscitate' in the hospital. You know that."

"Actually, no. I know a lot of things, but any recollection of something that would make your existence expendable is not one of them. Why do you bring this up?" He walked towards her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"You're so sweet, Jack. A big timer by all definitions," she said. "I think I love you a little bit."

"Stella, are you all right?"

"Yeah. I just have a bad feeling about all this." She shook her head and forced a small smile. With the crack of her neck, she took the pins out of her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders. "But somehow, I wouldn't care if this was the last night of the world."

Jack nodded, staring at the bandage over her collarbone as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He met her eyes, and Stella began to dance. She swayed to the sound of street traffic and starlight and leftover drops of rain from the morning's thunderstorm. Her heartbeat began to align with the beat of his own as the rest of the world began to fall away against their drunken waltz. Stella giggled, melting into his arms. Everything was warm. The caramelized haze of an apocalypse glazed over their eyes.

"Stay with me tonight," she pleaded. Vulnerability seemed to suit her for the first time since they met. Eagerly, Jack nodded.

"Of course," he said, his eyes closing as she rested her head on his shoulder.

It was bittersweet, you see, to have the love of your life confess their love to you under the obscurity of intoxication.

Jack felt her lips curl into a smile on his shoulder, and they began to dream of better things.