Chapter 9 The Hotel
THE HOTEL
MAGGIE
Maybe I lost my touch. It had been so long since there was a guy genuinely interested in me that I forgot what signs looked like.
That was the only explanation I could come up with as I followed Zeke into the elevator.
He requested a room on the top floor, closest to the emergency exit that was farthest from the elevators.
That was the safest room in the hotel, he assured me.
I appreciated his forethought and concern. I couldn’t remember a time when either of my parents showed that kind of consideration for me.
When we arrived on the top floor, I stopped long enough to peel off my rhinestone pumps and carried them in my hand.
Zeke was absolutely correct. They hurt like a bitch.
A fact that I tried to hide as I hobbled down the hall, me on one side, Zeke on the other.
Even the small distance between us gave me pause.
He held my hand so easily before, and carried me like I weighed less than a sack of potatoes.
Was he just trying to be polite or had I truly misunderstood his interest?
Zeke, being the one who checked me into the room, unlocked the door with the key card, then stood back so I could open it.
The room was clean and comfortable, with two queen beds and a large white bathroom.
A tv sat on top of a cabinet with a mini fridge, and there was a table with two chairs positioned in front of the window.
I immediately darted to the air conditioning unit under the window, cranking it up so that the cold air blasted into the room. Flopping down on the bed, I tried not to purr from the lush mattress underneath. This was way better than the one I had at Diana’s place!
My eyes shot open a moment later when strong hands pulled my left foot upward.
Zeke sat down on the chair closest to me and had taken it upon himself to start massaging my battered feet.
His deft fingers worked at the kinks in the ball of my foot, and this time I didn’t stop myself from moaning aloud. It felt simply divine.
“You shouldn’t wear torture devices and call them shoes,” Zeke said after a minute. He continued to massage the foot, never going above the ankle.
I nodded in agreement, a spoiled alley cat basking in my pampered dream.
After a few more miraculous minutes, by which time my left foot had turned to putty, Zeke pulled up the other one and repeated the exercise. If he wasn’t careful, I might just take him back to River’s Run with me.
“Do you really not have anywhere to live?” he asked me suddenly, breaking the silence.
Immediately, my blissful, trance-like state evaporated. “I never said that,” I hedged.
“But do you?”
I glanced up, which was a big mistake. Zeke’s blue eyes were thoughtful, concerned. Guilt pooled in my conscience for making him believe such a thing.
“The woman who gave birth to me just made me move out,” I admitted through clenched teeth.
It was mortifying to say such a thing to a stranger, let alone one as kind as Zeke.
If there were any chance of him liking me, that probably went out the window the second he heard what a horrible family he’d be exposed to.
“Wouldn’t that make her your mom?” he asked again after a long pause.
“No.” Even to my ears, it sounded hollow and jaded. “That woman is not my mother.”
“Okay.” Zeke seemed to sense that I didn’t want to talk about it because he poked his tongue into his cheek before saying, “But you found a place? I can pay for another night in the room if you need me to.”
As kind as the gesture was, his charity irked me. I pulled my foot from his lap and rolled over, getting up to head towards the bathroom. “You think this place has a robe I can wear tonight?”
“They should,” Zeke replied. “I’m kind of hungry. Would you like me to order a pizza?”
Eating in front of anyone had become a source of tension for me ever since I started my purging ritual all those years ago.
Most nights, since Diana wasn’t home, I didn’t have to worry about it, and I could avoid eating altogether if I wanted.
But in moments like this, I never knew what to do.
Would Zeke find it strange for me to refuse? Could I stomach something like pizza?
“Um, maybe just a side salad for me?” I suggested. Lettuce I could do. The few calories it might add would’ve been more than cancelled out from all the dancing I did earlier.
But what about all the calories from the alcohol?
The lurking voice in the back of my mind, the one that sounded like a suspiciously high, pixelated version of Diana’s, interrupted me once more.
All those empty calories just to get drunk for no reason!
I needed to purge. Immediately. I didn’t want it all sitting in my stomach, going straight to my thighs.
Or worse—that small bump of my lower abdomen.
“I’m just gonna take a shower real quick,” I told Zeke. “Hope you don’t mind!” I didn’t give him a chance to answer before I scampered into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind me.
I didn’t have the eyeliner pencil with me, so I had to settle for mentally scavenging my body.
Every flaw stuck out to me like it had a neon sign announcing its presence.
My bony knees, red and blotchy in the harsh lighting.
The rat’s nest that had become my hair. All of the makeup running down from my eyes, spots of the foundation peeling off.
I had to use the cheap stuff. I couldn’t afford the good shit that lasted through a night of dancing and sweating my ass off.
The areola of one nipple looked larger than another.
A new array of freckles lined my chest.
Hair on my forearm dark enough to notice that I hadn’t remembered to shave off during my last shower.
Ugly. All I could see was ugliness.
I didn’t even need the toothbrush to make the contents of my stomach come up.
The alcohol burned far more on the ascent, but it was worth it to know the toxins were leaving my body.
I never should have consumed something without checking the nutrition label anyway.
Who knew how many calories I actually swallowed?
Purging wasn’t fool proof, so there was bound to still be something in my system.
That was my penance. I could be ugly and fat. There was no one to blame but that horrendous girl in the mirror.
Hot water beat down on me in the shower a moment later, stifling my sobs. No wonder Zeke wasn’t attracted to me. Who could like such a hot mess of a girl? I wouldn’t be surprised if he had left the room altogether by the time I got out of the shower. He probably ran screaming down the hall.
I stayed in the shower until the water ran cold, washing myself three times with the small bar of hotel soap.
The cheap shampoo and conditioner would undoubtedly ruin my hair color, but I had grown bored with the color anyway, so if I needed to change it, I would.
I double checked my reflection once I climbed out to make sure all of the makeup washed off.
My skin looked a little red from how hard I scrubbed, but it was otherwise free of glitter and eyeshadow.
Only then it dawned on me. I didn’t have any other makeup with me to put on before joining Zeke in the room.
I couldn’t let him see me like this! Forget about running away, he would be flying to the closest news station to report a fresh sighting of Bigfoot.
Very few people, outside of my inner circle with Celeste and Marla, actually knew what I looked like without makeup on.
I cracked open the door a tiny fraction of an inch. “Zeke?” I called out.
I heard the sounds of his soft footsteps approaching, and ducked my head behind the door so he couldn’t see any part of my face.
“Is everything okay? You were in there a long time,” he said.
The worry in his voice softened me, and I wished I had the strength to let him see the real me. That could never happen if I had any hope of him ever developing feelings for me. And I wasn’t ready to accept defeat in that regard. Kisses like that didn’t come along very often.
“No, I’m actually not feeling very well.” Which was actually the truth, if I were being honest. He didn’t need to know that the nausea came from my own self-loathing. “I think it would be better if you went home. I’m so sorry. Thank you so, so much for everything tonight!”
“Oh. Okay.” The words fell flat and I wanted to kick myself for not remembering to bring a purse with my emergency face essentials. Since the plan was to go out with Celeste, I never considered I had a chance of needing it.
“For what it’s worth, Maggie, meeting you was the best part of my night,” Zeke confessed. His voice sounded louder, like he leaned into the door just to guarantee I heard him.
And I couldn’t help but grin. It was the corniest line in the book, but Zeke Hayes didn’t seem like the kind of guy who used it that way.
I waited until I heard the front door to the room close with a snap before whispering back, “It was mine, too, Zeke.”