by Terri Reid
A moment of silence ensued as we both took another sip. He seemed to be in a bad mood, and I didn’t want to get involved. I had enough trouble of my own; no need to share in his.
“Let me guess,” the man said. “I’m betting that you have dinner with someone a little later. Am I right?”
Now I was surprised. I turned to him and that strange grin of his grew.
“Yeah, I thought so,” he said. “You look like the type.” With that, he finished his drink, and like the other man, laid a bill on the bar and left.
I chalked that conversation up as one that I wish I’d never had. It gave me the creeps the way he laid it out and the way he grinned. Looking back, I wish I had been a little brighter and had taken it as it was meant—as a warning.
The woman working the bar, whom I later found was named Lucinda, apparently heard the exchange. As she removed his glass and wiped the bar, she said, “I believe he has had too much to drink.” She looked at me, waiting for a reaction.
“Sounds that way,” I remember saying as I pondered the meaning of his words.
I had a sudden urge to go back to my room and chill out for a while until I made contact with Maria. I settled up at the bar and walked through the lobby.
The lobby, brilliantly lit, reflected the red-gold color of the descending sun coming through the front doors and windows. Sunset was still an hour away, but the shadows outside the door grew longer with each passing minute.
I began to wonder if I was being stood up by Maria. I had not heard from her, and had no way of contacting her. I decided that if she did not show up soon, I would make my way back to LA as I had originally planned.
When I got to my room, I noticed a note taped to the door. It informed me that Maria would meet me at the gazebo at eight o’clock, and that I should come prepared to go to dinner.
At least then I knew, even if I had to learn it from an anonymous note. The note, unsigned and not written in first-person, indicated to me that Maria had not written it. Just knowing that I would see her soon got my memories from the previous night flowing, and I paced the room, thinking of clever things to say to the mysterious beauty. My desire to impress her was profound, and I still did not know why.
By ten minutes of eight, my pulse rate was higher than normal and tiny beads of sweat broke out on my forehead. I tried to calm down, knowing that my nervousness was not only unusual, but concerning as well. I had only met this woman briefly the night before, so my brain said that if I never saw her again, I would have lost nothing. And yet, my heart beat furiously with the anticipation of seeing her and hearing that luxurious voice with the Mexican accent.
I took a deep breath, brushed my teeth, and headed for the gazebo. The sun had set, but the wispy clouds in the desert sky still reflected red light. The scene in the courtyard looked much as it did the night before. Young, well-dressed men populated the area amid a handful of bejeweled, beautiful women. All of them held a glass, and a few of them smoked. Music had been piped in from some unseen source, and a few couples danced to a classic instrumental.
I walked to the edge of the patio and saw Maria standing in the gazebo, talking to Captain Benson. She whispered something into his ear, and I saw him nod and turn away. Maria then turned toward me, as if she knew I was there, and began to walk in my direction.
Her gait was like no other I had ever seen. She seemed to float along, and yet the tilt of her hips as she swayed with each step was obvious. Wearing a low-cut purple gown trimmed in gold lace, she looked like a princess. As she approached, her eyes locked onto mine.
A large diamond adorned her neck, held in place not by a chain, but by a velvet string wrapped in gold accents. She extended a hand, which I took in mine. With her other hand, she stroked the side of my face and smiled. Like the night before, she took my chin in her hands and turned my head first one way, and then the other.
“Much better, sí?” She then moved into me, her chest against mine, and placed a soft kiss on my cheek.
A mild shock went through me, making it difficult to stand.
“Come,” Maria said, pulling my hand. “Have a drink, and mingle with my friends. The captain is having our meal prepared, and soon we will dine together.”
We walked across the patio to where the bartender readied drinks. Maria spoke to him, and then handed me a drink. Tequila.
We wandered toward the gazebo, which had small lights under the edges of the roof, casting a soft glow toward the interior. I made eye contact with several people as we walked, and each of them looked me over. I felt like I was attending a party where I was not welcome. The looks ranged from cold to curious, and some were downright hostile. I felt that I was doing something wrong. Perhaps I was not properly invited, or maybe, I was just not part of this crowd.
Maria spoke quietly with some of the others, mostly the few women present. I took a seat and pretended to be comfortable while sipping the tequila. Several times, when I spotted Maria, she and the person she was speaking with happened to be looking at me. It was almost as if she were introducing me without me even being there. I thought that strange, but just sat there and endured the sidelong glances and the plastic smiles.
Finally, Maria made her way back and took me by the hand. “Come,” she said. “Our dinner is ready now.” She led me to the nearest entrance to the hotel, and we made our way through a maze of corridors to a dining room. Thirty tables were set with fine linens and silverware. Only half were filled with diners taking a meal at this late hour. The people there ranged in age, some young and some well into their sixties or beyond. The maître d’ led us to a table next to a large window looking out over the dark, wild land east of the hotel. I could make out some tall saguaro cacti silhouetted in the moonlight.
He seated Maria, and I took a chair opposite her.
“Adam,” Maria said. “Please come and sit here next to me, sí?” She pulled out the chair beside her and motioned with a curled index finger.
I did as asked, and adjusted myself in my seat.
“Our meal has been prepared,” Maria said, just as a waiter in black pants and white shirt arrived with a covered, silver tray. Behind him, another server arrived with a tray containing smaller plates and bowls, and she distributed them before us.
There were bowls of spiced chicken, beef, and pork, along with steamed tortillas and fresh vegetables. It smelled amazing.
Starved, I began to pick through the bowls, sampling a bit of it all. Maria barely ate anything, but asked many questions.
“So, señor Adam, how do you spend your time?”
I told her about The Fast Lane and how that kept me busy.
She apologized for having never heard of us.
I told her that I wanted to spend a little more time at home and with my old friends, and how I missed my family in Oklahoma. I told her how crazy life had become in a famous rock band, and that I just wanted to slow down and enjoy life.
She looked at me with those turquoise eyes gleaming. “Then I am very glad you stopped at the Hotel California. Life is happy here, and we have much to enjoy, sí?”
“It’s a lovely place, but it pales in comparison to your lovely face.” After I said that, I really felt stupid. I didn’t normally talk like that, and I couldn’t figure out what had come over me. I felt like that high school kid I had uncovered earlier in the day.
Maria just smiled.
I picked at the food while Maria asked her questions. After an hour, I pushed my plate aside. I think I had told her more about myself than I had told anyone else in my life, and it felt good. Maria was a good listener, and she seemed to care about my answers, many of which I had never realized until that night.
“Come,” Maria said as she stood. “I want some fun now, and I would like to be alone with you.”
Her comment was not a request, nor was it disguised as one.
She took me by the hand and led me outside. We walked in the moonlight around one end of the hotel to a small parking lot. Coming to a
Mercedes convertible, she motioned for me to get in the passenger side.
With Maria behind the wheel, the Mercedes pulled out and headed into the desert. She drove the car into the foothills of a nearby mountain range and navigated the twisting two-lane road at high speed. I slid from one side of the seat to the other as she downshifted and turned. I could hear the tires scream for mercy when she rounded the curves, laughing the whole time.
I tried to maintain a smile, as if I were enjoying the ride, and that’s when I discovered that two parts of me acted independently. My mind begged me to get out of this car, and keep a healthy distance from this crazy woman. Another part of me suppressed those feelings, and wanted more than anything to be right there, right then, with that wonderfully dangerous creature. I imagined Good Sense on one shoulder, shouting warnings into my ear, while Bad Sense sat on the other, whispering that this would be fun. I listened to the whispers, and sat on those leather seats with a grin on my face, while hanging on with white knuckles.
Maria whipped the Benz into a scenic pull-off, skidded to a stop and killed the engine. I sat there, dazed for a moment, before realizing that I was indeed still drawing breath. Maria turned in her seat and put two fingers to the side of my neck.
“Your pulse is racing, señor Adam!” She turned back in her seat, and looked out over the hood. The Mercedes sat five feet from a guardrail, high up on the mountainside. From that vantage point, I could see for miles over the desert floor, a scattering of lights far off in the distance.
Maria raised her right hand to eye level, and I looked at the rings on her fingers. She gracefully swayed them, watching the sparkles in the moonlight. She pointed with her other hand to the ring on her middle finger. I could not tell if the large stone was a diamond or sapphire in the bluish moonlight.
“This one is new to me,” she said with a big smile. “It is beautiful, sí?”
“Very beautiful,” I heard myself say.
“I have many pretty, pretty boys who bring me gifts from Tiffany’s. My friends have very good taste, sí?”
She continued to gaze at the rings on each hand. Grinning broadly as she straightened some of them, her mind seemed twisted by their dazzle. Eventually, she placed her hands back in her lap and gazed up at the stars.
“It’s peaceful, here, sí?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. My labored breathing and her soft, purring, voice were the only sounds.
“Peaceful is good,” she said. “I sense that you do not have a lot of peaceful time in your life.”
“My life is at the other end of that spectrum. I haven’t had much peace in a long time.”
Maria nodded and looked out over the mountainside. The moon lit her face, and everything around us looked to be some shade of blue.
“I have a question for you,” she said, “but first, I must do something.” She then leaned over, pulled my face to hers, and kissed me passionately. My body went weak, and I could feel the muscles in my arms twitch. The kiss seemed to go on and on, our lips pressed together with such force that mine seemed to go numb. But that kiss ended suddenly, when she bit my bottom lip—hard.
I felt her teeth pierce the skin, and then both Good Sense and Bad shouted in my mind. I pulled away with a horrified look on my face.
Maria sunk back into the leather seat and turned her face up toward the moon. Her eyes were closed, and she licked her lips as if she had just finished a piece of world-class chocolate. I said nothing, but my mind raced with chaotic thoughts. Images flashed in my mind, mostly of Maria, some of the hotel, and a few from my childhood. The last image to fade away was that of a rattlesnake, coiled to strike.
She then turned to me again and smiled. When she saw the look on my face, she laughed aloud.
“Señor Adam, have you ever been kissed so well?” I got that sidelong glance and sprightly smirk of hers.
“It was interesting. It ended much different than most.”
She opened the console between the seats, pulled out a tissue and wiped my lip. “When I kiss a man for the first time, it is my intention that it never be forgotten.” As she drew the tissue away, I noticed a dark spot of blood on it before she tossed it out the window.
“And now I have a question for you, Adam, but I do not want the answer right now. You will give it to me later, sí?”
“Okay.”
“If you could be any way you want, what would be the word for that?”
I must have looked at her dumbly, because she rephrased the question.
“If you had to think of one word that would describe how you want to be in your life, what word would that be?”
I started to ask her to clarify, but as soon as I spoke, she put her index finger to my lips and held them closed.
“Not now, Adam, but soon, I will ask you for that word. Just one, simple word.”
I nodded and leaned back in my seat.
“And now, before we return to the hotel, I have something to tell you that might help you find your word. In many ancient cultures,” she said, “the victorious warriors drank the blood of their fallen enemies. Do you know of this, Adam?
“I think I’ve heard something about that. I’m not really much on history.”
“It is true,” she said. “And in some cultures, the warriors would eat the heart of their foes. Have you heard of this? Before I could answer, Maria continued. “It was believed that if they drank the blood or ate the flesh, the warrior would gain the power of his enemy, and would become like two men.”
I sat there dumbly, wondering where this conversation was going next.
“So think about this, Adam. If you could slay your enemy and drink his blood, what power would you gain from him?”
She reached for the key and the Mercedes roared to life.
“Just think about that as you think of your word.”
Maria drove us back to the hotel at a much calmer pace. During the ride, I wondered just what I had gotten myself into, and if there was still time to bail out. I knew that something was wrong, but I felt helpless to stop it. The last twenty-four hours seemed like a dream turning into a nightmare.
Maria parked the Benz in the same place and took me by the hand.
“Please join me again in the courtyard,” Maria said playfully, tugging me along. “We are living it up at the Hotel California, and we have much left to do.”
I had given up on trying to make sense of anything Maria said. It all sounded so bizarre, so cryptic. We have much left to do. I wondered what she meant.
We walked back to the courtyard, and there on the patio, numerous people milled about. They sipped drinks and chatted, just as they had before. The bartender was busy, and classical Spanish guitar music played softly in the background.
Maria asked me to sit on the bench, and moments later, she brought me a drink.
“Think of your word now,” she said. “Choose wisely, Adam, and your life will be changed.”
I took the glass from her and raised it to my lips, not recognizing the drink’s strong, unusual aroma. It went down smoothly, trailing a length of heat down my chest.
Remembering what Maria asked me to do, I began thinking about the word she wanted me to find. While I had no idea as to what this was all about, it did get me to thinking about the happy boy I had once been, and the rich, famous, yet miserable man I had become. It seemed funny to think back to when we first got the band together, and how excited we were to play our music. We had no money then, and we all had big dreams of fancy cars and fast women, and our faces on the front of Rolling Stone.
Now that I had all of that, it seemed ironic to want to go back to when being broke was so much damn fun. Then a word came to me, and I began to ponder it. I tasted it and turned it over in my mouth. Yes, it seemed to meet Maria’s request for one word that stated how I wanted to be. In fact, that one word, I then realized, was truly the only way a person should consider being.
Satisfied with my choice, I walked into the crowd, looking for Maria, but
did not see her. As I walked to the far side of the patio, I noticed the man I spoke to in the bar hours earlier, the one with the nice Rolex. He and a fellow in a red blazer stood away from the crowd, speaking in hushed tones. The man’s eyes shifted nervously as he spoke to the other who had his back to me. As I got closer, the man with the Rolex became silent, and I saw him touch the other on the shoulder. The man in the blazer turned and looked at me, swirled the scant amount of liquid in his glass, then walked toward the bartender.
The Rolex guy nodded at me, and I did the same in return. I walked closer, and he looked at me cautiously. I extended my hand.
“I’m Adam,” I said. The man hesitated, but finally reached for my hand and shook it.
“I’m Blake.”
“From our earlier conversation, I take it you’ve been here many times before.”
“Yes, too many times. Far too many times.” He took a long gulp from his glass. “But I think this will be my last visit. One way, or another, it will be my last.”
I looked at the people in the center of the courtyard, many of whom now danced to the music.
Blake tilted his glass toward the group. “Wine, women, and song. Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.”
I raised an eyebrow at that comment. “Remember what?” I asked. “Forget what?”
“Life before the Hotel California. They all look happy, right?”
“Everyone but you. And maybe your friend who just walked away. He didn’t look too happy, either.”
Blake looked at me funny. “Just wait. You will soon understand what I’m talking about. And when you do, when you become one of them,” he nodded at the crowd, “just remember to bring your alibis.”
With that, he walked away. Perhaps he went to look for his friend, or perhaps he just wanted to be alone with his disturbed thoughts.
I wondered why people around there seemed to speak in riddles. It was definitely the strangest place I’d ever been, and I’d seen some pretty strange places. Then I wondered if it was just me. Something had come over me since I’d first set eyes on this place, of that I was certain. Was it because of the place…or Maria… or a combination of the two? To this day, I’m still not sure.
