The Citizen Hotel

Sacramento, California

 

Zeke stood outside the room and took a few deep breaths, his thoughts a kaleidoscope of anxiety. Lying was not something he was supposed to do in recovery. Keep it honest, and you don’t have to worry about keeping everything straight, his sponsor told him. It was a rule he took seriously, one that was a linchpin of his sobriety. It wasn’t just about confessing sins and making amends, it was about creating new habits and new routines, about changing everything from his old life to make his new life simpler and easier to deal with.

Lying was a trigger. He’d lied to those people back at the Walmart.

It shouldn’t bother him this much, but it did.

He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and called his sponsor. He didn’t worry what he might be doing because he knew Curtis would answer no matter what.

“I’m on a job, and I…I don’t know if I’m going to make it, man,” he said the moment Curtis answered.

“What’s happening?”

Words jumped to Zeke’s tongue, but they weren’t the words he wanted to say. The words that came to his tongue were about Finley and her nudity, about Finley and a teeny thong with nothing but a transparent triangle to cover her anatomy, about Finley and the way it had felt when she pressed her body back against his. He wanted to talk about his frustrations with her attempts to escape him, about restraining her on the side of the road and worrying about a cop coming along, harassing him until she managed to get away. He wanted to tell him how desperately he didn’t want her to get away, and that he was afraid that feeling didn’t come from a desire to keep his job.

“I can’t really tell you what the job is about, but it’s made me have to lie and deal with feelings I’m not ready to deal with yet.”

“Like what kind of feelings?”

Zeke grunted, struggling to find a way to express himself without being literal. But he couldn’t.

“Is it a woman?” Curtis asked.

“It’s a job. I need this job—I like this job—but my sobriety has to be the priority, right?”

“Always. But if it’s about a woman…you’ve been sober for a year now, Zeke. It’s okay to start thinking about relationships.”

“This isn’t a relationship sort of thing. It’s more about lust.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Just make sure it’s a healthy, consensual sort of thing.”

“I don’t know if I can handle that.”

“Do you feel like you need to use?”

Zeke was quiet for a minute. “No, not really. I just feel a little out of control.”

“We’ve talked about this. You can’t always be in control.”

“I know.”

“It’s okay to be human. As long as you don’t feel like you’re about to go searching for a dealer, you’re fine.”

“I lied. Did you catch that part?”

“Would the truth have hurt someone?”

Zeke weighed that thought in his mind for a long minute. If he’d told the truth, he would have had to show credentials, and Andres would have been called. The whole ordeal would likely have taken an hour or more, allowing Finley to get away. Hell, as it was, it took twenty minutes, and Finley could very well have gotten a ride in that amount of time. It was his dumb luck that she was still there when he caught up with her.

“Yes,” he said finally, realizing that if he’d been delayed any longer and Finley had gotten away, he could very well have lost his job. That would have hurt him deeply because he would have to sit at home alone, day after day, while he waited for a new job to come along. And that would have led to thoughts of drugs, and that would have led him back into his addiction.

“Then a little slip-up is not a big deal. I told you, there will be times when you’ll have to break the rules. As long as you can reconcile those moments with yourself, you’re good.”

“I’m afraid this job is going to push every one of the rules you set out for me, man.”

Curtis laughed softly. “It was bound to happen, my friend. Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Zeke didn’t find that very funny, but he had to admit he felt better when he disconnected the call. Curtis had been sober for fifteen years. He knew every trick in the book an addict might use to excuse a return to bad behavior. He also knew every trick to avoid those excuses. If not for him, Zeke wasn’t sure he would have made it as far as he had.

He’d moved down the hall a little to avoid being overheard. He looked back, pleased to see the door was undisturbed, and Finley hadn’t screamed to attract attention. Maybe he could trust her for the fifteen minutes it would take to go downstairs to the hotel shop. They never did get her any underwear to change into, and God forbid he be the one to compromise her health.

Zeke walked through the shop, avoiding the touristy things that were mostly focused on the capitol building downtown, spending his time looking through the racks of women’s clothing. He picked out a light pink t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants for Finley, guessing on the size, figuring if she wanted new underwear, she might feel more comfortable in fresh clothes as well. He also bought an oversized t-shirt she could sleep in. They didn’t have much in the way of underwear, so he ended up buying a pair of men’s boxers with the governor’s likeness drawn across the backside. It seemed an appropriate choice to him.

There was a toiletry kit at the checkout counter that contained just about everything a traveler could require. Zeke added that to his purchases, figuring Finley would be more agreeable if she could brush her teeth.

She was still cuffed to the desk when he walked through the door, but from the way she was sitting, he could tell she’d been trying to figure out a way to get loose. He’d chosen a good restraint, though. She was good and stuck.

“I got you some things,” he said, tossing the bag with the clothes in it on the couch beside her. “Make yourself comfortable. We leave at first light.”

“You’re going to just leave me here like this?”

“You have enough slack to lie down.”

“But I’m dirty.” She waved a hand down along the front of her pants where mud clung to her jeans. “I need a shower.”

“You really think I’m going to trust you in the bathroom alone?”

“We’re on the tenth floor. Do you think I’m some sort of acrobat, or something?”

Zeke studied her for a quiet second. “You’ve gotten free from me twice now. That’s something of a record. I’m not really interested in seeing how far you’re willing to push my patience.”

“If I promise to be good?”

“You promised before we went into Walmart.”

Tears of frustration filled her eyes as she slammed her hand down on the top of the desk. “I’m just asking for a little common courtesy here! You can come in the bathroom with me if you trust me that little. Sit on the toilet and watch me shower.”

“And have you accuse me of being a pervert again?”

“I apologized for that,” she reminded him. “I’m kind of in a desperate situation here.”

“I’m just trying to do my job.”

“Can you at least let me go pee? I’ve been sitting here with a full bladder since you left the room.”

Her eyes fell to the floor, and she seemed a little embarrassed by the request. That caught Zeke a little off balance because he was trying to think of all her needs, but he’d missed that one. Had it really been that long since he’d been around a woman? His wife could barely make it through a two-hour movie without needing to visit the bathroom. He should have been more considerate.

“All right.”

He pulled the cuff key out of his wallet and unlocked the side that was around the desk leg. He led her through the sitting room and into the bedroom, already trying to figure out where he could cuff her wrist to keep her from trying to do something stupid while he was assuming she was on the toilet. He decided the security bar on the outside of the jacuzzi tub would be perfect.

“Let me know when you’re done.”

He closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, flipping on the television to allow her a little audio privacy. There wasn’t much on but a couple of reality shows he found trite and uninteresting. He was still flipping through when she called out to him.

He pushed open the bathroom door expecting to find her fully dressed and ready to return to the couch. Instead, she’d stripped out of her clothes—her sweater, blouse, and bra dangling from the chain on the cuffs—and was shivering in the cold room with her free hand poised over her pubic mound.

“What the hell, Finley!”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen it once already today.” She smiled sweetly. “I want a shower.”

“I told you—”

“I know what you told me, and I understand why you said it. But I feel dirty, and I won’t be able to sleep without a good shower. Besides, we’re going to be at Waterfall Springs tomorrow evening, and this is my last chance to have a hot shower before then.”

“They have showers at the hospital.”

“They have a room full of shower heads that have very little water pressure and rarely produce a temperature above freezing. Besides,” she lowered her head slightly, “they’ll put me back on those meds, and I won’t be able to feel anything, let alone enjoy simple pleasures. So, let me enjoy this one simple pleasure. Please.”

When he hesitated, she continued. “You can come in the shower with me if it makes you feel better. I don’t mind. Hell, this might be the last chance I get for all kinds of pleasures.” She winked in a very obvious sort of way. “You’re a good-looking guy. It might be fun.”

“You’re married.”

“I was filing for divorce.” Her face darkened when she said it. “I can’t get out of that marriage fast enough!”

He still hesitated. But he finally realized that he wouldn’t hear the end of it if he didn’t allow the shower. He pulled the key out once more and unlocked her from the safety rail, walking her to the shower. He turned the water on, let her guide him in adjusting the temperature, then locked her to the pipe that held the showerhead. There was nowhere else to do it.

“Fuck you,” she said as he pulled the curtain closed.

“At least you get a shower.”

He went back out to get her things, ripping open the toiletry kit so that she could have the shampoo and conditioner that was inside. His face reddened a little when he realized there was a packet of condoms tucked into the back of the kit. Very considerate of the hotel shop, but he didn’t think it would be necessary. A wasted concession.

“Here’s some shampoo and stuff,” he said, shoving his hand around the curtain.

“I can’t wash my hair with my hand dangling over my head.”

“Do the best you can.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Zeke! Please, I know you’re just punishing me. I won’t run again!”

“I can’t trust you.”

“Then get in here and wash my hair!”

“Finley, you’ve got to stop with all this. Things have gotten far too complicated already, don’t you think? Can’t you just finish up so that we can go to bed and get some sleep?”

“Is that really what you want?” There was a brief pause, and then, in a lower voice, she said, “I must be losing my touch.”

She was driving him insane! Seeing her there, so pale and vulnerable, her body completely uncovered as she greeted him near the door—intentionally this time!—made his body respond in a way it had never done before. With anyone. Granted, it’d been a long time since he’d been with a woman, and all those things still worked. Why else did he spend the majority of his free time working out? He had to do something to exhaust his body before his mind—and his hormones—took him somewhere he wasn’t ready to go. But this woman was pushing him down a particular road, and he was no longer sure he could resist.

“Do you understand how vulnerable you are right now? Do you understand what it is you’re asking me to do?”

She pulled open the shower curtain, water dripping down her arm and along the line of her breast until it dripped from her nipple, a little tear drop falling to her feet. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling himself grow impossibly hard as he stared her down. He should look away—he knew he should turn away—but she was challenging him, and he couldn’t back down, or she’d know she’d won.

The thing was, though, she’d won a long time ago.

“I want to wash my hair. Either you can do it, or let me free so I can.”

“Fine.”

He grabbed the bottle of shampoo and poured too much in his hand, watching it slop over the sides of his palm. She turned her back to him, and he slapped it against her scalp, wiping the shampoo into her hair before he lifted his other hand and began to scrub with his fingertips. She leaned back a little, pressing her head into his hands. Her hair was long and straight, falling nearly to her waist now that it was heavy with water. He carefully picked up the length of it, rubbing it between his hands until it was all saturated in bubbles.

“You’re good at that.”

He didn’t answer, but found himself thinking about his oldest boy, Justin. He used to be in charge of bath time when he was little. He didn’t like having water in his face, so they played a little game while he rinsed the soap from his hair, pretending to be pirates attempting to avoid the plank. Justin used to laugh whenever Zeke pretended he couldn’t find the little boy, all while trickling water over the kid’s head to rinse the soap away.

“Rinse,” he said, extracting his hands from her hair.

Finley twisted, having to be careful of the way she moved because of her dangling wrist. Her fingers were turning purple because she was putting too much weight on the cuff, a sight that concerned him a little, but not enough to inspire him to set her free.

They repeated the process with the conditioner, his fingers gentler this time. He found himself brushing his fingertips against her neck, liking the way her skin felt against his. He watched the soap and the lotion-like conditioner run in rivulets down her back and over her ass, sliding down along her legs until it finally fell onto the shower floor. He wanted to touch all those places, wanted to feel all that flesh against his hands, his palms. He wanted to press his lips against her shoulders, to taste that same flesh, to weigh her breasts in his hands and know how perfectly they would fill them. He wanted to—

Fuck! He had to stop this.

“Rinse,” he demanded almost harshly.

She turned again, her eyes brushing over his face as she did. She didn’t say anything, but there was curiosity in her expression. But whatever it was that inspired that look, she kept it to herself. Zeke pulled the curtain closed again, rinsing his hands in the sink as he waited for her to finish up.

This was going to be a long damn night!

He waited until she turned off the water before offering her a towel through a crack in the curtain. When he felt like she was well-covered, he pulled the curtain open. She stood facing him, one arm in the air while the other held her towel against her chest. He unlocked the cuffs once more, sliding the open end over his own wrist. Her eyes narrowed as she watched, but she didn’t say a word.

“We’re going to have to learn to get along,” he finally said, watching her struggle to comb her hair with one hand. “We’re stuck together until we get you to Oregon, like it or not. I can’t be chasing after you every time we stop for something.”

“Then don’t take me back up there.”

“I don’t have any other choice.”

She turned, moving between him and the sink, her body covered by nothing but that heavy terrycloth towel. She ran her hand down along the zipper of his jeans, her fingertips seeking out the erection that throbbed there.

“I can do some pretty intensive things with my mouth,” she said softly.

Zeke jerked back. “You think you can convince me not to do my job in exchange for a blowjob?” His eyes scraped over the length of her. “I thought you were better than that.”

“I’m desperate. Desperate people do stupid things.”

“Brush your fucking teeth. I’m done with this!”

Something like disappointment touched her big, green eyes. She turned away, staring at the sink as she did what she was told. When she was done, he dragged her across the bedroom and back to the sitting area, releasing her long enough to allow her to dress. Then he cuffed her back to the desk leg.

“Get some sleep. We’re back on the road first thing in the morning.”

He left her there alone, his heart pounding, his body aching. He slammed the bedroom door and leaned against it for a long time, physically hurting with the need that wouldn’t leave him. Even the act of going about his nightly routine—a hundred each of sit-ups and push-ups—did nothing to calm the desire. Just knowing she was on the other side of that door was driving him insane. He tossed and turned for hours, finally drifting off to sleep sometime close to dawn.

And then she screamed.