two

Outside. Raining, coming down rather hard. Eyes blackened, lips turning purple from the cold. My body has fallen asleep, but I keep it up. Standing, waiting, watching. Been a few hours since anyone walked in, let alone walked out. Dead midnight. No one is out tonight.

Except two.

A car pulls up in front of the hotel. Despite the rain the driver runs from the driver’s side to the right rear door, opening it while holding the umbrella. People filter out of the backseat and into the building.

The two.

The driver heads back to his side, slowly. His head lifts in my direction and watches me for a split second. I am nothing to him. I am not here. Without losing stride, he gets back in and drives around to the back. To wait.

For two.

Cross the street, not even bothering to check for coming cars. I move swiftly, carefully. Into the hotel, pass the lobby and towards the elevators. Not even breaking my stride I walk past taking note of who is in front of the metal doors. It’s them.

Kissing two.

I slow for a minute to check closer.

Groping two.

The doors open up, and they enter. I come around the corner and wait. Watching the numbers above for what floor. I reach into my pocket pulling out a tired scrap of paper. The ink is bleeding. Like my heart. 2202 runs down the white scrap. I can hear them.

Cheating two.

The elevator smells of warm rain, cold hearts. Sweat. Dryness. Musk. The smell of shit rising once the doors open. Walk out onto the floor, the shit is getting stronger. Fuller. Deeper. Before the door I listen.

Moaning two.

I could knock. I could enter. Turn of the knob, door clicks open. Walking carefully, slowly, I move further into the room. Shit is strong. At the foot of the bed. Drunkiness is all around. Sex is all around. They never notice. I sit on the edge of the bed, watching, smelling. I lick the side of her face. She giggles and grins. She fucking grins. I get up and leave them.

Fucking two.

Morning has come. Sitting on the porch at home. Joey and Chris are in the pool. Lance is sunbathing, JC is drinking. I’m just… sitting. Watching. I turn to Wade, “How was the show last night?” He mumbles good. He’s eating. Britney sits on my lap, kissing the side of my mouth. I look up at her, “What did you do last night?” She shrugs nothing.

Lying two.