Highway 281
Hotel California
It had been a disappointing several days for Brian Kinney,
something he wasn’t familiar with and surely something he didn’t like…at all.
He had been ‘summoned’ to this God forsaken desert for a meeting with the head
of the Mojave Visitor’s Bureau who all of a sudden decided he didn’t like the
campaign that Kinnetic had worked up for him. Brian and Ted had flown to LA and
rented a car for the drive through the desert to the palm infested oasis that
was trying to rival Palm Springs for the honor of serving the rich and famous,
or those who wanted to be rich and famous. Brian had no patience when it came to
catering to these types of clients, but it was what he had to do to make his
business successful.
Finally, the plan was ironed out and Brian left Ted there to finish up the fine
print while he left, heading back to LA and then Pittsburgh. It wasn’t unusual
for Ted to stay behind in these matters as he was a genius at monitoring the
final contracts.
Brian smiled at that thought. Never did he think he’d call Ted a genius about
anything, but in fact, that was what he was.
So now he found himself driving through the desert at night. The road was
straight and void of any other cars. Brian had the convertible’s top down so the
cool spring desert breeze was blowing through his hair and the sweet smell of
rare desert flowers filled his head.
He pulled a joint from his pocket and lit it. It was given to him by the
concierge at the hotel he just left in answer to his request for “something
good” to make his trip back to LA more bearable.
Things began to get a little weird after just two hits and soon his mind was in
another place.
“This is some good shit,” he said to no one but himself.
A shimmering light appeared down the road in front of him and his eyes were
growing heavy. Even the cool breeze wasn’t helping to keep him alert. He knew he
had to stop for the night.
In what seemed like just a moment he was at the light. Funny, he didn’t remember
this place on the drive out. He looked up at the entryway trying to figure out
where he was.
In the doorway stood the most perfect man he had ever seen. He wasn’t very tall
but his blond hair shone in the light above the porch and his smile showed in
the depth of the blue eyes.
Somewhere in the distance he could hear the sounds of a mission bell tolling and
Brian wasn’t sure if that meant this was heaven or hell. Surely the image before
him could only have come from heaven, but he had the nagging feeling that
something was terribly wrong. Even if it was, he didn’t want it to go away, so
he took the joint with him, taking another hit as he walked up the stairs, never
taking his eyes from the young man in the doorway.
“Welcome to the Hotel California,” he heard voices say from a distance.
That’s when he looked around and saw the other young men dancing to unheard
music. ‘Pretty’ young men; the thought didn’t seem right but that was the only
description he could come up with for the scene. He watched for a few more
moments as their movements became erratic or stopped altogether. There was still
no music and Brian realized the dancing resembled what he had seen at Babylon.
Eyes closed, minds in another world, some dancing to remember, some dancing to
forget.
“Come in.” These words were from the blond in the doorway.
Brian walked through the doorway and down a long corridor. Voices, still in the
distance, repeated the greeting he had heard moments earlier. “Welcome to the
Hotel California.”
“This is your room, Mr. Kinney. The best in the house, as always.”
‘As always?’ Brian thought as he walked into the large room sure he had never
been here before. It wasn’t fitted to his usual taste of modern minimalist, but
somehow it fit into the whole aura of the ‘hotel’. Heavy, dark wood furniture
and red and gold brocade dominated the room. A large bed in the center called to
him and he laid down, still in his jeans and t-shirt. He looked up at the
mirrors on the ceiling taking another hit of the seemingly never ending joint.
He closed his eyes and all he could see was the blond in the doorway. It dawned
on him that the man called him ‘Mr. Kinney’. Had he told him his name? He didn’t
remember; no, he hadn’t told him. How did he know it then?
A soft knock was heard and before he could answer, the door to his room was
opened. In walked the blond carrying an ice filled container with a bottle in
it.
“Wine?” Brian asked, hoping for something a little harder. Sitting up, he laid
the joint on a crystal ashtray by the bed.
“Haven’t had that here since…well, in a long time. Pink Champagne?”
Laughter rang out. “I’m more of a whiskey fan.”
“I know, Mr. Kinney, but I love pink Champagne.”
“Well, in that case, I’d love some.”
There was that smile again.
“How do you know my name? I don’t think I mentioned it and I know I haven’t made
any reservations here before.”
“Everyone knows your name, Mr. Kinney.”
Brian nodded. “In that case, you’d better call me Brian. Mr. Kinney is my
father, whom I’d rather not remember right now. Do I get to know your name?”
“Justin.”
Blue eyes sparkled and Brian could feel himself getting aroused. “Justin,” he
said softly pulling the other man to him. The kiss was hard and desperate. He
had never felt anything quite like it and he knew right then that he was in
trouble. Not danger, trouble.
He reached for Justin again but Justin stopped him and poured them both a flute
of the bubbly Champagne. Before Brian could take a sip Justin clinked his glass
to Brian’s. “To never leaving.”
Brian cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, thinking about the toast. “To never
leaving,” he repeated, wondering what that meant. They each took a sip. Brian
could feel the bubbles in his mouth and was sure they were going straight to his
brain.
Justin watched the effect on the older man and smiled that smile when Brian
reached for him and pulled him in for another kiss.
In a moment they were both naked on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, lips
and hands everywhere.
Brian wasn’t sure how long he had slept, but bright daylight was shining into
his eyes when he finally opened them.
“Justin.”
He was alone in a rental car sitting beside a desert road. He looked around and
saw nothing but sand and tumbleweeds and a long straight road ahead of him. The
joint he had been smoking lay in the ashtray, looking just like it did before he
lit it up the first time. Was that last night? He shrugged and tucked it in his
pocket and started the car, heading to LA.
He was finding it hard to get his mind around the dream he had. It was so real.
He could feel the soft lips on his, the lithe, hard body making love to him. He
could even taste the pink Champagne and remember…
Back in Pittsburgh a day or so later, Brian was getting ready for the next day
when he found a joint in his jeans pocket. He stared at it for several minutes.
He was sober, he knew because he hadn’t had anything but a finger of Beam when
he came home from work.
He lay down on his bed and lit up the joint. He took a few hits and his mind was
in another place.
“Welcome to the Hotel California,” distant voices called.
“Here’s to never leaving,” the blond with a perfect smile and sparkling blue
eyes said in a low seductive voice.
“Never leaving,” Brian said in his haze as he lifted a flute of pink Champagne
to his lips.
5/20/14