The December Selected Writer is Dominique Lamssies

Please feel free to contact Dominique at: onigumosheart@yahoo.com

APPLE SEEDS
by Dominique Lamssies

The first time Bonnie came through the lobby of the Douglas Hotel, she was shocked. She was only paying $40 a night to stay there. The pictures on the website made it look nice, but the internet always makes a place look ten times nicer than it really is.

Not so at the Douglas. The chandelier was Swarovski Crystal. The couches were real suede leather, and the marble floor was imported, tile by tile, from Italy. The entire staff was well dressed and bent over backwards to be helpful. There was no way the owner could be making money on the place.

For being Off-Strip, ten minutes away from Las Vegas Boulevard where all the famous hotels and casinos were, the Douglas was strangely busy. The hotel had no casino, shops, shows, rides, or attractions. Nothing to suck people in and take their money. Yet most of the people who came and went didn’t seem to be staying there; they just appeared to be passing through.

Bonnie wasn’t thinking about that when she came through the lobby again that night. Her first impression had been twelve hours, ten beers, and two shots of vodka ago. They’d only been out for a couple hours, and her friends figured that if she was already plastered, they’d have to spend the night babysitting. So Bonnie’s friends decided the best place for her was the hotel room.

Bonnie’s arms slung over their shoulders, they hauled her through the lobby. 

“Anthony is a dick!” Bonnie drunkenly shouted at no one, her head bouncing against the back of the friend who was dragging her through the lobby. “I give him everything and what does he do? He stomps all over my heart. Fuck him!”

Her friends weren’t listening. She’d been saying the same thing with a different choice of four letter words since the vodka had kicked in. They were surreptitiously glancing at the front desk, where a man was yelling.

“This is where she was staying!” The man waved a piece of paper in the hotel clerk’s face. “I have the credit card statement right here! There’s a charge to this hotel!”

Giving an indulgent smile, the desk clerk said in a soothing voice, “I’m sorry sir; our computer crashed last week and we were unable to retrieve all of our data. I can speak to my supervisor. I’m sure he’d be happy to refund your money.”

“I don’t want a refund!” the man screamed as Bonnie’s friends passed behind him. “I want to know where my wife is! The police said she was here, so where did she go, huh?”

Hotel security crept forward and Bonnie’s friends decided to move a lot quicker. They took Bonnie to her room and dumped her on the bed.

“Bastard. I hate him…” Bonnie muttered to herself as she passed out. Her friends disappeared.

What woke her up was something sharp poking her cheek. She pushed herself to her knees, blinking against the irritation in her eyes. She had fallen asleep with her contacts in.

She brushed at the irritation on her cheek. Whatever was stabbing her dislodged itself and tumbled to the marble floor with a soft tapping sound. She raised her head high enough to see what had fallen from her cheek. It looked like an apple seed. 

She glanced around and saw the floor littered with more apple seeds than she could count. Then something else caught her eye.

There was a man in the corner watching her. He was sitting with his back against the black wall.  His hair was short and dark, disheveled in a sexy, inviting way. He was very handsome.

Her eyes lingered on him for a moment before going back to searching the room. It was all black marble, top, floor, and sides. A dozen lights were deeply set into the ceiling. Everything seemed smooth and cold. The entire room would be considered immaculate if not for the apple seeds scattered all over the black marble floor. 

“Where are we?” she asked softly.

The man said, “We’re being held captive.”

Alarmed, Bonnie’s heart jumped into her throat and horror spread across her face. She sat straight up in bed. “Captive? What? Who are you?”

The man tilted his head. “Calm down. Getting all worked up isn’t going to help the situation,” he said, his voice so soft that it eased her anxiety. “What’s your name?”

“Bonnie,” she said and began blinking rapidly, thinking that he had not answered any of her questions.

The man sat forward and asked, “Is there something wrong with your eyes, Bonnie?”

“It’s these contact lenses. They’re killing me. I’m supposed to take them out before I sleep, but I guess I got drunk last night.”

“Why don’t you take them out? I’ll help you if there’s anything you need to see.”

Bonnie looked down, which just made the irritation worse, and said with an embarrassed smile, “I don’t actually need them.”

The man looked confused. “Then why are you wearing them?”

“My fiancée,” she stopped and corrected herself. “My ex-fiancée liked blue eyes. Mine are brown, but these lenses turn them blue.”

“Well, I’m not your ex-fiancée, so why don’t you take them out?”

She nodded. She took each lens out, flipping them across the room. “I guess I don’t need them anymore. Good riddance,” she said, scrunching up her eyes to get the moisture back in them.

“Your eyes are a perfectly lovely shade of brown,” the man said.

Bonnie frowned. “Look, who are you, anyway? And why are you in my room? I don’t think you’re going to hurt me, or else you would have by now.”

He smiled. “Sorry. I’m Paul. Did you dye your hair for your ex-fiancée too? You’re not a real blonde.”  Her face scrunched in confusion so he added, “Your roots are showing.”

Bonnie gave an embarrassed little smile, but she was thinking that he still hadn’t answered all her questions. “Yeah, that was for him too. But why are you in my room?” 

“I thought this was my room. Why did you come to Las Vegas?”

Bonnie gave a defeated pout before she said the name Anthony in a low voice.

“He was the ex,” Paul prodded. “And I believe it was Anthony who broke off the engagement?”

“Great,” Bonnie huffed, glaring at the wall. “Some guy I’ve just met can tell what a loser I am.” Then she turned back to face him, and she was conscious that she was still wearing her previous night’s clothes. “Listen, Paul, my friends put me here last night. I was drunk. Did they put me in the wrong room?”

Paul still watched her as he said, “People come to Las Vegas when they went to ignore the rules. People want to ignore the rules when they are either celebrating or distraught. Since you said ex, and you seem rather upset about him, I can only assume that he broke it off.”

“How come you don’t answer my questions?”

“I do answer your questions,” Paul said, then continued, “You shouldn’t be so upset over Anthony. If you went as far as to dye your hair and wear those awful contacts and he still left you, you’re better off without him. It’s not that hard to find someone who can appreciate you for who you are, when a lady is as beautiful as you are.”

She swallowed and looked down. But then there was a mechanical whirring sound from behind her. She turned quickly and saw a door spring out of the wall.

Bonnie shrieked as a man stepped in. He was tall and sleek, not overly muscled but clearly strong. His short blonde hair was slicked back out of his face. He wore an immaculate black suit that blended into with the walls around him.

Bonnie grabbed the blankets on the bed and held them to her chin. She tried to propel herself backwards on the mattress but there was nowhere to go. She shuddered in fright.

But the man didn’t even look at Bonnie. He ignored her as he approached Paul, holding a small dinner plate.

“Who the hell are you?” Bonnie screamed.  “Get out of here or I’ll call the police!”

The man continued to ignore her. Once in front of Paul, he offered the plate of apple slices to the sitting man.

Paul’s expression was suddenly cold. His eyes were the only part that moved as he looked at the plate, then up at the man. “There are no seeds.”

“I don’t think you have any use for the seeds yet,” the man said, his voice carrying the empty, reasonable tone of a late night clerk humoring a difficult guest. “Unless, of course, you’re going to work with me. Then I’m sure the seeds will appear.”

Bonnie eyed the open door. Slowly, so she didn’t make a sound, she slipped off the bed and began to slide along the wall. Neither of the men seemed to notice her. 

When she was within a few feet of the door, she bolted to it. Her heart lurched in her chest as she reached the opening unnoticed. She gave one last glance into the room to make sure she was clear, but when she looked back into the hall there was a hand coming at her. It covered her face then shoved her back into the room. She squealed as she fell to the marble floor covered with apple seeds.

The men didn’t move.

Bonnie sat up on her knees as Paul's eyes shifted to her. “Let me go.”

“I’m sorry,” Paul said. “There appears to be someone in the hallway that doesn’t want you to leave. I told you we are captives here.”

“Why?”

“You believe I am not answering your questions, but if you review our conversation, I have been answering them all. Now I want to ask you a question. Are you hungry?”

Bonnie started to cry. She looked between Paul and the blonde man, who still hadn’t bothered with her. “I just want to leave.”

Paul looked back to the man in black and raised an eyebrow.

The man slumped a little. He turned to Bonnie with the cold, polite tone of a waiter in a bad mood. “You are our guest. What would you like for dinner this evening, ma’am?”
“I just want to leave. Please let me go.”

The corners of his mouth twitched into a frown. “Very well,” he said, his voice barely clinging to its politeness, “I’ll bring you the House Special.” 

With another whirring sound he walked out the door in the wall, and it slid closed and vanished, turning the wall back into an impenetrable black slab.

Bonnie stared at the marble wall, and she couldn’t see any evidence that there had ever been a door. She looked back at Paul. “I want to trust you. I have to trust you.”

Paul’s head tilted. “Everything is fine. That was just Turner. He’s a concierge.”

He held up the plate of apples. “Do you mind if I eat? He should be back with yours soon. I don’t want to be rude, but I’m rather selfish with my apples.” He smiled at her, his face handsome and sexy, and even kind.

Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but smile back. She felt he was on her side, a captive in the Douglas Hotel just like she was. “You must have a thing for apples,” she said, pointing to the seeds on the marble floor.

He smiled kindly as he ate, ignoring the comment. “You really did love Anthony, didn't you?” he asked. “Was there anything you wouldn’t have done for him?”

Bonnie looked down, her eyes wandering over the seeds on the floor. “No. In fact, if he called me now, I’d probably run right back to him.” She felt tears sting her eyes. “What did I do wrong? I wish I knew.”

There was a clink as Paul set the empty plate on the floor. She looked up and saw him lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Why would you think you did something wrong? He broke off the engagement, didn’t he? It seems to me you did everything you could to make him happy.”

“I tried, but it wasn’t enough.”

“You’ve never dumped a man, have you? In fact, you pretty much gravitate to any man who pays attention to you, am I right? Even me, right?”

She felt pathetic, but couldn’t help saying, “You seem nice.”

“I hope you really think so,” he asked smoothly, his voice so quiet and husky that it sent a shiver down her spine.

Then came the whirring of the door opening again. Bonnie looked away quickly, to hide the blush that came to her cheeks at her own shame.

In came Turner, balancing a tray on one hand. He walked to her and set it on the floor.

“Why are you keeping us here?” she begged when his face was level with hers. He met her eyes for only a second. Then he glanced at Paul before silently turning from them both and walking out the door.

It closed behind him, again blending into the wall.

She looked down at the tray. There was a generous cut of prime rib, mashed potatoes with gravy and some asparagus.

Her eyes fixed on the food, Bonnie asked, “Do you think we’ll get out of here?”

He said, “Anthony didn’t appreciate you, you know that?”

She felt he was again avoiding her questions, then wondered if he had even heard her. Perhaps she was the one not being clear. She wasn’t sure. She looked at Paul and saw something smoldering in his dark eyes. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to think of something to say.

There was the whispering of cloth as he moved from his chair in an almost gliding motion. He crouched on the floor, touching the apple seeds. Then he inched toward her, sliding forward quietly on his hands and knees.

Bonnie’s eyes widened as he closed in. It was creepy, the way he approached. Why was he crawling?

With one hand, he pressed the tray aside and sat on his knees in front of her, still on the floor.  He rose up until he was kneeling, and caught her chin to force her gaze into his eyes. He seemed so kind, so serene, that Bonnie felt no fear.

“Would you do something for me?” he whispered.

Her lips fell open. She was drawn to him, this handsome stranger. It seemed surreal, like she was an actress in a movie mystery. She stared into his eyes for a moment and then, not even knowing what he wanted, she said, “Yes.”

His free hand held out a few apple seeds. “Eat these.”

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. Bonnie hesitated. “But eating those makes you sick.”

“You did anything for Anthony, and he didn’t appreciate you. I appreciate you. I am only asking this one thing,” he told her. Then he kissed her and she felt as though she would swoon. As soon as his lips left hers, he pressed the apple seeds onto her tongue and closed her mouth. Not a thought other than desire crossed Bonnie’s mind as she swallowed.

“Eat,” he said softly and she did. Neither of them spoke over the course of the next half hour as she cleaned her plate of the prime rib.

And then something felt wrong. Her stomach seemed to shudder inside her and her throat tightened. Her chest contracted. She hunched forward and vomited all the prime rib onto the black marble floor.

When she was done, she looked up to see Paul’s face fall in disappointment. Pain edged into his eyes. He reached forward and pushed Bonnie's long hair back to keep her face clean of the mess.  As he put a comforting hand on her back, she said, “I’m sorry.”

He leaned down and said softly, “Don’t apologize, Bonnie. There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. Remember, I am not Anthony.”

He placed his hands on her shaking shoulders and sat her up. He wiped at her face with a napkin, then gave her some water to drink. Finally, he looked into her eyes and said, “I’m the one who is sorry, Bonnie.”

She let out an enormous sob then slumped against him, her forehead pressed to his shoulder. She wondered if she loved him. His arms closed around her. He held her shaking form as she cried, leaning against him on the bed in the Douglas Hotel.

Slowly her sobs subsided. She was about to move when she heard him speak very softly. “You should be careful what you say.”

Bonnie was about to tell him she hadn’t said anything, but then a voice came from behind.

“The sound is off. It doesn’t matter what you say.” It was Turner, his voice irritated and loud.  “It’s been hours, Paul. This is unacceptable. There is a bet involved. The gentleman in the next room is a very good friend of Mr. Douglas. Mr. Douglas has promised him a show. I would be much obliged if you would give it to him. Now.”

Bonnie heard Paul’s even breathing as she lifted her head, which seemed to mean he wasn’t upset. She wondered what kind of show they were talking about, but she trusted Paul and felt that he was her protector.

A growl came from Turner. “What’s your decision?”

Paul stroked Bonnie’s hair. “You know my answer,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The footsteps that left the room were quick, and so was the door shutting.

Bonnie blinked rapidly, trying to understand what was going on. What were they talking about? Paul was trying to get them out, she assumed, but what kind of deal was he making? Turner had said something about a bet and a show. What kind of bet? What kind of show?

“Are you feeling better?” Paul asked.

She looked up at him. “I think so. But what did Turner mean? You sound like you know what’s going on, so why don’t you tell me?”

He gave her a comforting smile. “There’s nothing to worry about. You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?”

Lost in his eyes, Bonnie asked, "Do you like me?”

The smile fell from his face. “I love you,” he whispered, “almost as much as I loved her.”

“Who’s her?” Bonnie asked, her eyes wide and her heart fluttering with an irrational jealousy.

Paul looked down at the seed littered floor. It was a moment before he said, “Bronwen.”

“Bronwen? Is that a name?” she asked delicately, her eyes moving over his profile.

“She was someone I knew a long time ago.”

She touched his face. “I’d like to hear about her,” she urged, wanting to know about her competition for his affections.

He picked one of the seeds up off the floor and pinched it between his index finger and thumb.  “I was a little boy when my parents died. I was sent to an orphanage, where I lived for a few years. I thought I would be alone for the rest of my life. But I was adopted by a wonderful couple. You know how sometimes something truly terrible happens in life, but where you end up because of it is a much better place than you would have ended up if it hadn’t happened? I felt guilty for a while, that I could find so much happiness and it was because my parents had died. But I know my parents had loved me, and I know they didn’t mind, because when you love someone, you want them to be happy.” 

He looked up, his head tilting back. His eyes wandered the ceiling and Bonnie could see the tears in them. “When I was ten years old, I met Bronwen. We loved each other from the start, even as children. We were inseparable. She was the one with the thing for apples. She loved them. She ate one every day. She could even eat the seeds and not get sick. No one could figure that out. She smelled like apples when I held her close. She tasted like apples when I kissed her. She was all I needed.”

He looked back at Bonnie with a grim expression. “When I was seventeen, someone broke into my house, meaning to rob my adopted family. My parents came home and surprised the thief. He killed them. Once again, my parents were dead. But Bronwen was there, every day and every night, and eventually, it started to get easier.” 

He paused and looked down. He swallowed, and Bonnie’s heart went out to him for the effort he was making to tell this sad tale. “Eight months later my Bronwen died. A car accident on an icy road. I don’t even remember what I did for the next few years, but I managed to survive.  Otherwise I wouldn’t be here. And now I’m here for you.”

Bonnie saw that his tears were gone, but the pain wasn’t. She reached out and turned his face to her. “Let me help you like she did,” she told him. She leaned in and kissed him.

The smile that tugged at his lips was as sad as his eyes. “You really are wonderful, Bonnie.” He reached out and embraced her. “So beautiful.”

The door slid open. Turner took two steps into the room.

“Do I have to say it again?” Paul asked calmly.

“Clearly, you love her,” Turner said. “Why are you making such an issue of this? It’s one thing to tell her, another to show her. Are you going to simply let her walk away without showing her how you feel? She deserves better than that.”

Paul’s expression hardened. A satisfied glint came to the concierge’s eyes, as though he knew he hit a nerve. They stared at each other for a moment before Paul repeated, “Do I have to say it again?”

Turner sighed and strode from the room, his footfalls conveying his anger. The door closed.

“Let me guess,” Bonnie said. “We’re being videotaped and the ‘show’ is supposed to be sex. I really don’t mind having sex you, even if it is in front of someone. We have to do that for them to let us go, right?”

He didn’t smile back. “This isn’t about sex,” he said delicately.

Her face scrunched petulantly. “Then tell me what it is about. You’ve known all along. Maybe I can help you get us both out of here.”

He took a breath. His eyes stayed on her as he spoke. “In Las Vegas, you can gamble on anything if you know where to look for what you want. Two and a half years ago, Turner found me and offered me a job. I perform here. He brings me women—lost women on a downward spiral like yourself—and if I fall in love with them, Mr. Douglas has special guests wager on how I show it.”

Bonnie looked at him in dismay. “You perform?”

A smile played on his lips. “I’ve fallen for everyone he’s ever brought me. You’d think, as many times as I’ve given my heart away, I wouldn’t have anything left. But every time someone new comes along, I find more love to give.”

She turned away. “I thought I was special to you.”

He took her face in his hands and looked at her intently. “I don’t want you to think for a moment that you’re not special, that I don't want to show you how much I love you. I do; it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to restrain myself from doing what needs to be done. But I’ve been here for two and a half years. He didn’t tell me it would go on this long.”

He hugged her again, crushing her to his chest so hard it became difficult for her to breath. “My God, Bonnie, I do love you! But I need my freedom, and I want what’s owed me, and that’s why I can’t show you how much I love you. Do you understand? Please tell me you understand.”

Her brow knit. What the hell was he talking about? Was this place making him crack? He did say he’d been here for two and a half years. She didn’t know what to say.

He seemed alarmed by her silence, and he took hold of her face. “Bonnie, please tell me you understand, please!” he begged, his face so pitiful it made her forget her confusion.

“I understand,” she said, although it was a lie.

Not noticing that her expression revealed the untruth, he slumped forward in relief. He kissed her again and whispered in her ear, "Anthony never appreciated you. Do you want my heart? I think I would tear it out of my chest for you.”

She didn’t care that this was a strange situation, being held captive in a hotel room with Paul. She had always thrown herself at men, and she figured this was no different. She loved Paul, despite the weird and scary circumstances at the Douglas Hotel, or maybe because of them. She was no stranger to chaos and always sought out drama in her life, and this was just a different way of experiencing it.

But before she could analyze any further, Turner came in again. “I’ve spoken to Mr. Douglas. Interest in you has started to wane. You’re old hat, Paul. You’ve become predictable. We need a fresh attraction. This is the last time, and then your contract is complete and you can go.”

“Me too, right?” Bonnie asked, the hope revealed in her voice. “That means I can go too?”

Turner’s eyes were the only thing that acknowledged her and even then, only for a second. He didn’t answer.

Paul broke in. “I told you before, Turner. It’s not enough. I won’t do it.”

Turner’s shoulders jerked in apparent anger as he grunted, “I have yet to fully comprehend what it is about this particular girl that has you so petulant. Not only have I brought you far more attractive women, but I’ve brought you ones you have felt much more deeply for. Haven’t I always looked after you? When have I failed to find someone you could love? Now come on, it’s time.”

Paul's face was stolid. “I only give to people I love. I don’t love you, Turner.”
At that, Turner snapped his fingers. The door to the hallway opened and someone threw a knife into the room. It hit the marble in front of the pair with a loud clang. He snapped again. In the hall behind him, the invisible person tossed a duffle bag filled with money into the room.

Bonnie’s eyes widened as she looked from the knife on the floor to the two men. And suddenly she understood. Paul was supposed to kill her! Then he would be free and have all that money. 

She let out a full-throated scream. She shot toward Paul and grabbed his leg. “You can’t hurt me! You said you would take care of me!”

Turner stopped long enough to say, “The words ‘to take care of’ can have two meanings.” Then he walked out. 

Paul looked horrified. “Bonnie, calm down.”

But she screamed and scrambled away, retreating into a corner, each breath a screech as she looked at him like a frightened animal.

And then he crouched down on the floor amidst the apple seeds. He began that creeping crawl again that made him appear as a spider, arms and legs forward and back, inching him along.

“Oh Bonnie,” he said, creeping forward. She shut her eyes and wished she had a drink. She was thinking that she never seemed to pick decent men. She didn’t feel the knife move across her throat until the pain told her it had been slit.

She could feel a sticky, wet warmth sliding down her chest and she could hear something liquid dripping onto marble floor. Vacantly she wondered if her blood was mixing with apple seeds that lie beneath her. She could feel Paul stroking her hair, but she was starting to feel lightheaded and dizzy with the loss of her own blood. Her vocal chords were severed, so she was unable to make a sound, but she could still hear.

*****

“I love you, Bonnie,” Paul was saying. “I’m doing this for you. This is for the best. Now no one can ever hurt you again.”

He paid no attention to the blood that soaked his clothes and pooled on the floor between them.  He held her until she fell still and he knew her heart had stopped. Then, very gently, he laid her on the floor.

As soon as he did, the door in the marble wall opened and Turner was telling him that he could have the money now.

But Paul’s eyes lingered on Bonnie’s face. He reached out and brushed back her hair. “I only want the apple seeds that are covered in her blood. All of them.”

And Turner wondered if Paul had always been insane or if the past two and a half years in the Douglas Hotel had driven him there.

Dominique Lamssies is from Portland, Oregon. She has lived all over the United States, as well as Ukraine and Japan (where she masqueraded as a teacher to cover her real goal of studying ghosts and folklore). She has had several articles about Japanese travel and folklore published in Eye-Ai Magazine, and is the author of several pieces on the HubPages website, including the “Horror Anthropology 101” and “Zombies!” series. This is her first short story published.