Hooked

At the same time he made this realization, the epiphany struck her as well, on the same track. "You...kinda look familiar," she said.

Really? How can you tell? thought Zachary caustically. But he certainly couldn't say that out loud. He just nodded, filling in the blanks for her. "Gailmore Towers, on Cherrywood Street. You were hitting on me for a minute."

Discovery covered her face and she smacked her thigh. "Oh, that's right! 'Tickle your balls with a feather!'" He blushed and turned away. How humiliating. Shaking her head with an amused chuckle, she said, "Well, gee, fancy meeting you again!"

"Fancy" is right, he thought. He was going to ask if she could possibly get him a key to his room, but now he was apprehensive that she might use it and make off with his wallet, or more.

"Gosh, well, I could possibly get you a key to your room..." she offered, voicing half of his thoughts at the moment. An unreadable expression came over her face, as if she knew the second half of what was going through his mind, but didn't want to say it.

Well, son of a bitch.

But if she tried, he was kind of powerless to stop her, he realized. He came up with a solution. "Maybe we could call down to the front desk for one and ask them for it instead."

"Oh, good idea," she said. "What's your room number?"

"207."

"Okey-dokey..." She dialed down. "Hi! This is Bella Moretti, in room 225...yeah, I have the occupant of room 207 with me, and it turns out he's accidentally locked himself out of the room. Could you please bring us up a spare key to 207?...Uh-huh...hmm...okay, well, I think we can handle that. Thanks!" Click. She turned to Zack. "They'll be right up."

He let out a relieved breath. "Well, thank God."

"Yeah, there's just one catch, though," she said. "They need to see your ID to make sure I'm telling them the truth."

He did not have his ID. Uh-oh. His face returned to worriment. That means...

He didn't want anyone to go into his hotel room without him. Well, hotel staff was okay; he just wasn't sure he totally trusted this girl. She seemed sweet, and she had allowed him to come in her room. Still, he didn't know if...

He had no way of being sure, but Bella was a good, honest person, who'd never dream of stealing from him. But just as quickly, his resourceful mind came up with another solution. "Okay, well, I guess if I could borrow one of your towels, that'd work."

"Oh, sure!" she said, happy to be of help. Problem solved: she pranced off to the bathroom to grab him a towel, he wrapped it around himself under the blanket, and a minute later, up came a receptionist with a key, whom they were both glad to see.

"I could walk you back around if you want," Bella offered Zack.

Very tired and just wanting to go back to bed, Zack didn't exactly see the point of that, but, "Well...if you want," he said.

So making sure she had her own key, Bella and the two of them headed back around to 207. Once inside, Zack held the towel with one hand and flipped open his wallet for the receptionist with the other. "There's all my ID," he said. "Birth certificate, license, debit, credit, everything."

Satisfied that all was as should be then, the receptionist nodded. "All right then, have a good night, sir, and enjoy the rest of your stay," he said. "And please do keep your key with you at all times." And he and Bella were alone together again.

Zachary kind of wanted to say something to him about the timing of their fire drills, but decided not to. If he'd listened that closely to them when he checked in he would have known about it, and he was just glad to be back in his room, and to have avoided a really mortifying situation. He was about to drop the towel, when he noticed that Bella was still standing behind him.

"Oh, yeah, thank you for...y'know," he said to her half-heartedly.

"Of course!" she said, shrugging it off with a big warm smile. "Glad to do it."

Yeah. I bet. He waited a moment. She didn't exactly seem to want to leave just yet.

"...Was there something else?" he eventually asked.

"Oh, no, no, just, uh...just thinking that, you know, if you could...maybe use some company..." she said affably.

Yours? "Uh, thank you, young lady, really, I'm sure you're a very sweet girl, but I'm just really, really not interested."

Right about now he was thankful she couldn't read his mind. She did persist a little, though. "Well, I mean, if you're sure. It just kinda seemed maybe you could use a friend, and—"

A "friend?" Yeah, a friend with benefits, apparently. He could see he was going to have to be firmer with her.

He sighed. "Look, lady...again, yes, I am grateful for the use of your room, but...I really do not enjoy being in the presence of a...sexual...maintenance worker, or whatever you people call yourselves these days, and all of my money right now is spoken for already. I am very tired, and I have plans very early on later this morning. So please...just go away...and leave me alone. Okay?"

As he waited a few seconds, he could see that her face had fallen. To him she suddenly looked terribly disappointed, almost even crushed. As for what Bella was really feeling inside, the description wasn't inaccurate. She was stung. Those words felt like a punch in the tummy. She'd just wanted to be cordial, and hospitable. She didn't particularly expect him to have sex with her or pay her, not if he didn't want to. She really just thought he might like a little companionship. After another minute, she dropped her forlorn eyes to the ground. "Okay," she whispered. She left.

He waited a moment before he let the door shut completely. He sighed, now disappointed in himself for having admonished her the way he did, but at the same time, the point had to be gotten across. She hadn't seemed to want to take the hint. What else could he have...

Oh, never mind, he finally decided. He wasn't lying to her about how exhausted he was. He just wanted this night behind him. He collapsed back into the bed and threw the comforter over himself.

Just go to sleep, Zack...just go the hell to sleep.

***

June 1st, 2:11 a.m.

He couldn't go the hell to sleep.

All he could do was lie awake, his mind relentlessly bugging him with all these troublesome thoughts. How much he really did want out of this overwhelming job, the dread of another uncomfy airplane ride, the realization of how much he really did desire an actual social life, the fright of considering what possibly could have happened to him being outside naked, especially if it happened to be daytime...which of course led to the guilt in the pit of his gut over the way he'd dismissed Bella from his room. He honestly didn't know what her intentions were, but...no matter what, it wouldn't have killed him to be at least a little more civil.

It had been probably about an hour since he'd told her to go away, and couldn't get rid of the queasy feeling following it. Perhaps the most frustrating factor was the fact that even though he felt like he could be in a coma right now, his guilty mind, which could barely think straight, yet still would not allow him to go to sleep. And a bit later, he finally decided that he wasn't getting any sleep unless he at least went back to the girl's room to attempt to apologize.

All right, so he wasn't going to sleep tonight either. He'd already practically become a total zombie; what was one more night?

Clearly, there was no way he was leaving his room naked again, key or not. His only option was his work clothes. Again, he wished he hadn't neglected to bring sleepwear. Great, another wrongdoing to berate himself about. He forced himself up off the bed and started to get dressed.

He didn't go straight to her room. He made a quick stop downstairs first, because he knew right adjacent to the hotel was an all-night liquor store. He thought a friendship offering might be a good idea. He bought a couple of wine coolers, and a bottle of cider just on the off chance. Next stop: room 225.

At least he thought he remembered that being her room number. He certainly hoped it was.

Knock, knock, knock.

No answer at first. He wasn't immediately expecting one. He figured either she was asleep, or wouldn't want any company right now herself. He couldn't say he would've blamed her. He waited a few moments and knocked again, a little louder. Still nothing yet.

He waited another minute. He was going to look to see if there was a doorbell anywhere, though he was pretty sure there wasn't. Yeah, no doorbells. Well, crumbs. He was almost ready to go back to his own room when the light came on inside and he heard the door click. A second and a half later, the door opened and inside stood a sleepy, drowsy-eyed, hair-tousled Bella. She was shielding her eyes from the light with her other hand. She blinked about a dozen times, trying to get things in focus. "Uh...yes?"

"Hi, uh...it's me, Zack," he said hesitantly.

It took a couple more seconds and eye blinks, and his name—which she hadn't heard before—didn't help, but finally she registered who he was. "Oh, hi," she yawned. She couldn't really think of much past this other than a small smile and a, "W-...uh...what's up?"

Hmm...he hadn't worked out a speech beforehand, but he was able to deliver that impromptu dismissive message pretty well. Oh, just go with it, he told himself. Just be natural and honest.

"I, uh, I just wanted to tell you that I'm...sorry—w-real sorry—for the, well, brutal way I told you to leave me alone before..."

She automatically started to wave it off. It was a little bummer, but she didn't want him to feel bad about anything. "Oh, it's all r—"

"No, no, really, please," he said, it being he this time who persisted. "I-I really feel bad about it, and it looked like I really hurt your feelings, y'know, so..."

He let the current sentence trail off. Bella again said, "Ah, that's not your fault. I'm Italian. We can get emotional. And clingy."

"Well, uh..." He reached into the liquor store bag. "I brought you something to try and make it up to you anyway." He showed her the coolers and the cider.

Her face softened at the sight. "Oh, gosh, honey, you really shouldn't have..." she insisted. "It is okay, honest."

He shrugged. "Well, I guess I could take them back," he said, starting to return them to the bag.

Bella didn't want him to do that. "Oh, no, no, now I've hurt your feelings," she smiled at him, taking his wrists. "Come on, come in, come in. La mia stanza è la tua stanza, caro mio."

She led him inside and went to the cupboard to get some glasses. "Go ahead, babe, sit down," she yawned.

"Well, I, uh...I also don't want to keep you from getting a decent night's sleep," Zachary said sheepishly.

"Oh, don't be silly! I'm up now, and besides, it wouldn't be very nice—or neighborly—of me to turn down your lovely gift."

She sat with him, putting the glasses down, and he started to open one of the bottles.

She just remembered something. "Wait a sec," she said. "I thought you told me all your money was spoken for."

"Well, yeah, technically, my money is, but I've got credit out the yin-yang, so..."

"Aw, well, this is a really lovely gesture. Thank you, uh..."

"Zachary. Zachary Harris. You can call me Zack."

"Zack. Right. I'm Bella. Bella Moretti."

"I know; I heard you on the phone," he said, indicating behind him to the phone she had used to call down to the front desk.

"Oh, right," she chuckled. They let a few moments of silence pass, then—

"I hope I'm not gonna screw up your plans," she said.

"Well...whether they end up screwed up or not, those particular kinds of plans have started mattering less and less to me lately."

"Really?...Can I ask why?"

"Oh...my profession...is...a mess," Zack admitted. "An 'international research consultant,' they call me, but that's really just a fancy name for getting on a plane for five hours every other day to sit down and talk with some business venture in another country for five minutes, then back on the plane for five hours again. 'S gotten so beyond old."

"I'm sorry to hear it. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'd love to have a job like that," Bella replied.

Zack's first thought upon hearing this was, I'll bet you would, but he forced himself not to say that, or to make any kind of facial expression to indicate it. The truth was, he and those of his ilk had always snobbishly looked down on prostitutes and their ilk, and their way of eking out a living. But he found himself becoming surprised by this girl. She had to be something like ten years younger than he, and she might have been a sex worker, but she genuinely wasn't what he expected. Somehow, she didn't quite...look like a pro; her face, especially her eyes, had sort of a...a wholesome comfort about them. Now that she wasn't wearing any makeup or her flashy skirt, she looked like...a "normal person," were the first words that popped into his mind. But then he asked himself, well, what's "normal?" Who am I to draw the line at what's and what's not "normal?"

Bella was going on, continuing her thought. "But unfortunately for me, first off, not all of us can be very academically gifted. And if you don't have a college degree, your options are a little limited. And before I go any further, Zack, can I please just tell you that, honest to goodness, I wasn't really trying to get in your pants before. Now, I mean, if you'd wanted to, that'd be one thing, but I could tell you obviously didn't. But that's okay. Really. Believe me, I'm telling you the truth," she said, laying her hand on his. "I sincerely just thought you could use a little friendly company."

He waited a moment, and nodded. "I believe you."

She pushed her weak facial muscles up into a smile. "I'm really glad you do."

"I mean, though, I guess...I guess, y'know, you could see how someone would get the impression that, uh...that you..."

She knew where he was going with this. "I know, Zack, I know. You're right...I'm a hooker. And a whore."

"I never said you were a who—"

She raised her hand again. "No, no, really, it's all right, Zack, it is. Honest. I've come to terms with it. In this world, if you're a girl, and you happen to be that exceptionally sexual a person, you're automatically a slut and a whore. It's incredibly unfair, but..." She shrugged. "...it's just the way it is."

She took a swig and a turn for the solemn. "See, the...the thing the world doesn't understand about us, but I wish it did, is that..." She took another swig. "Y'know, I'll be the first to say it: yes, sex can be wonderful. It can be beautiful, spiritual, intimate and magical—if you let it be. And I genuinely like it. Really. And I accept money for it because...well...it's the only thing I can do. Some of us were shoved into this line of work, and we didn't have a say in it. I don't have any big skills or smarts or anything, sex is all I know, and it's all I'm good at, and...and I have to eat. But hookers are...well, we're still human too. We need love like anybody else. We need to be able to give it and receive it, just as much as your average non-sexual person. We need to know someone cares about us too.

"Oh, and the other thing that's misunderstood about us," she continued, briefly rising from her chair to open the chest of drawers beside the bed and remove some documentation, "Is the myth or the insinuation that we're all 'carriers,' when in reality, we go to the clinic all the time. Look, see?" She showed him as she resumed her seat. "In my active time I get myself checked out at least once every couple of weeks. That's another misconception about us, that we're all filthy, or infectious, but the majority of us are actually perfectly healthy and safe."

She paused for another drink. "Believe me, Zack, this is far from my dream job. But it can actually be nice; sometimes you meet a really sweet guy who overlooks the fact that you have sex for a living, and can give you something meaningful. I mean, yes, a lot of guys, it's just bing-bang-boom, and you're done. But you'd be surprised at how many guys I meet that actually want to talk to me and share their feelings with me in a way they can't with someone else. I sure as hell was. Apparently, we're good listeners, not just good lays. I like that. It makes me feel special—and in a nice way. But Zack, take my word for it, if I had a way out of this, and I could make a living doing something more like what you do...I'd go for it."

Zachary tossed out a small sigh, having absorbed all this. "Hm. How ironic," he remarked. "So, it seems that I'd be happier without the job that I'm in...and you'd be happier without the job that you're in."

"Yeah, but, I don't know about you, but in my case, I'd also be broke," added Bella. "Probably homeless, too."

"You're kidding," said Zack. "You don't have anywhere to live? You just stay in hotel rooms like this?"

"For the most part...pretty much, yeah."

"Oh, geez, I'm sorry to hear that," Zack commiserated. "If there's anyone who knows how old staying in hotels can get, it's yours truly. One night here, next night on another side of the globe...I'm lucky if I get to sleep in my own bed three times a week, or spend an entirety of one day in my own house. After a while you really find out what they mean by saying, 'There's no place like home.'"

Bella smiled at him. "'S nice to be able to confide in someone who gets it."

Her smile momentarily silenced him as he studied its nuances. The dimples, creases and accentuations stretching her lips into the smile were subtle, but simply because she was between periods of slumber. Gentle as her eyes naturally were to begin with, they were softened more still by her giggle lines and her half-closed lids.

He chuckled in spite of himself. "Do you know where I'm supposed to be three hours from now?"

"No, where?"

"On a plane to Oslo."

"Wow!" Bella exclaimed. "Thank God you're not flying the plane!" She giggled for a moment, then her expression turned serious and she looked back at him. "You're not, are you?"

"Heh! Uh, no."

"Can I ask you a question?" she queried.

"Well, apparently so; I believe you just did, but go ahead."

Bella took a second to sheepishly shut her eyes and silently chortle. She proceeded to ask, "What do you really, really want?"

Zachary wasn't ready for a question just that profound. He thought a minute. "Well, geez...'s a pretty tricky question."

"Not if you go with your gut," said Bella. "If you just blurt out the first thing that comes into your mind, it's completely honest. Whether it's something you just want right now, or for the rest of your life. It doesn't matter if it's a visit to the zoo, a bubble bath, an oatmeal raisin cookie, or a hand job; the important thing is that you know what your heart desires, and you pursue it. It's the real path to happiness and fulfillment. It's such an obvious thing, most people aren't able to see it even when it's right in front of their noses. So this time, don't think about it, Zack, just spit it right out: what...do you really...want?"

"Freedom," he answered automatically.

She gave him a clap of the hands. "Goody! There y'go! See? An honest gut reaction. Now tell me more. Freedom from your work?"

"From...everything," he briefly elaborated. He paused again for another sip.

"...Yes?" she prompted. She made a circular hand gesture, urging him to continue.

Zack hesitated, unsure of exactly how to go on. He always chose his words very carefully. "It's...it's-it's more than just my work," he said. "Well, in a way it's my work—mainly because of my job, it feels like I've systematically locked myself in this prison of isolation, of-of friendlessness...celibacy, tedium, monotony. I've just got one friend at work, Dan, sometimes it feels like he's the only reason I'm not going completely crackers while I'm there..."