The Flight of the Honey Bee
By Bounty Hunter Lani
I put on my lipstick. I examined my eyeshadow and gave my strawberry locks a toss. I could see the reflections of the other girls in the dressing room, putting on their costumes, identical to mine. I ran my hand across my stomach; across the smooth yellow and black striped material, to make sure there were no unsightly bulges. There were none. I applied my blush liberally and powdered my nose. Then I peered at myself in the mirror.
I looked quite perfect.
I was by far the most beautiful of the girls. No lock of hair was ever out of place; my shoes and outfit were always shiny and clean. I smiled at myself to practice and made a few sensual expressions as well. Then, wiping a bit of lipstick from my teeth and blowing myself a kiss, I turned to face the other girls. They were bustling around, smearing on makeup and struggling with their hair. They cursed amongst themselves, for there were only a few minutes until opening time. I smirked at their behavior.
They were competing with me.
We were the Honey Bees: we spent our nights doing things no one teaches their little girls to do and what people hope that their children never hear about. We spend our days preparing for night. We don’t do this of our own will necessarily. Oh no. We are considered property. The Don Corneo owns us, because of debts or other money related affairs, and if he wished for us to work in his Honey Bee Inn, that is what we must do to the best of our ability, or it would be the end of our debt to life. We’ve grown accustomed to this lifestyle, and not many of us know different, for you see, we are sent here to pay off our father’s debts, too, at very young ages. We never wanted this life, and often think of means of escape.
I often think about my friend Claira, known here as "Sugar". Claira ran away last year with a man she’d met through the inn. They fell in love and shared a long affair that no one knew about; not even me. Then one night, they escaped and ran off together. She was able to leave this horrible life behind her. How lucky. I often wish for the same thing, but no man here has ever shone any real kindness to me. Not that I’ve ever been taken with a man here. They all look the same to me and every night brings on new meaningless events and acquaintances. A girl meets a man in the hall, allows him to choose a room, and is doomed never to remember his name or be able to distinguish his face from the men she met the days before.
I hear the intercom. It’s time for the first girl to come out. It isn’t me. It’s Tessa, or "Bunny". Who came up with these pathetic, meaningless names? But, ever so appropriately, I’m known as "Honey". A few moments pass and there are no more calls as of yet. I don’t believe it’s even dark! When there is extra time, I slip off into my own little dream world where as soon as I step into that hall, a tall handsome man walks in and I fall head over heels just by looking into his eyes. He doesn’t really know what brought him here. Fate. We go into a room and simply talk the whole night through. We live for the very sight of each other and one day, he would come and steal me away from this place. He would take me somewhere to live the good life. That life of love and prosperity would finally be mine! Just love would even do. I shouldn’t be too picky.
My name reaches my ears, returning me from my dream, and I step through the double doors and enter the large empty hall. No one is around and my heels clatter noisily. Sleepy, sensual music drifts in through the cracks. I can’t hear what is going on in the rooms aligning the hall; I don’t want to know. It’s all the same.
The doors of the inn slowly open before me: a man is being admitted. I tilt my head and thrust back my shoulders to make myself look more prominent. I pout my lips and make my eyes look flirtatious; that is, until I see him.
My heart skips every other beat. I feel my whole body flush. He is beautiful! Absolutely the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. His golden hair is styled in an unruly manner. His eyes are clear blue and reflect every crystal of the chandelier overhead. His eyes reach me and a cold chill darts up my spine. He doesn’t seem to be sure about what to do. His form is tall and thin, but not scrawny. He is perfect! His every pore radiates with beauty! I would say he is even more beautiful than I! This man seems strong, yet confused; gentle, yet firm. I am in love.
Moving his eyes, he searches the hall. His gaze crosses the balcony and the
stairs and all around before finally finding its way back to me.
"Choose a room, sir." I offer.
He shook his head a moment and then walked around the room, reading the headings on all the doors. You can tell a lot by a man by which room he chooses. I watch him intently. He examines every door and almost seems to listen to what was going on within. I almost swear I see him peek through a couple of keyholes. But he can not be like this: not this man. He doesn’t belong here. He is here for me. It was destiny we should meet each other here! But, weren’t men who peered through keyholes perverts! Why do I not think that about this man? Is it my quest to find everything I desired in him? No, it isn’t me. He cannot be like the others. Not this man.
He finally makes his way up to one of the gold encrusted room doors.
"I’ll take this one," he says to me.
I peer up at the name over the door. The word in the title shocks me, and I dare not say it aloud. I should want to be ladylike tonight. How rough his choice seems! Then again, it is the only room available besides the group room; at least he only wants to be with me.
"All right, now all we have to do enter the room," I say, trying to sound sweet. "You’re not going to have a change of heart are you?" I tease.
He stands for a moment and then turns towards the door. "Don’t make me repeat myself."
"Oh, don’t be angry with me..." I play. He’s obviously the violent type, but I would learn to like it—for him.
I step forward and unlock the door. I can feel his breath on my neck as he waits patiently. I allow him to enter first, taking in a large whiff of his smell. The small of hot metal, light sweat, cologne, and faint gasoline fills my nose. I like it.
I watch him as he peers around the room and I close the door and lock it. He looks at the large round bed and the heart shaped hot tub. The lights are low. I can feel him wondering what he is doing here.
"What’s your name?" I ask. I have to know! What delicious title will drip from his honey dew lips?
He is silent, but speaks up suddenly and coldly. "That kind of thing matters in a place like this?"
I am a bit hurt, but don’t let it get to me. "I just wondered—for my sake."
He turns his face towards me and my heart speeds up.
"Cloud."
Cloud! How utterly perfect! It fits him wonderfully! Is that what are floating in his eyes–or is it just the Mako?
He doesn’t seem too interested in my conversation. I am in distresses, but no matter. All will come. There is plenty of time.
"I guess we should get started." I say, and head to pull the covers back on the bed. He doesn’t look at me, but I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He appears to be shaking his head. Then suddenly, he falls to the floor. I scream in astonishment.
"Help! Someone–! Help!" I yelled as I ran towards him.
I lean down on the floor beside him and tilt his head. Is he dead? No; he’s still breathing his beautiful breath. Don’t scare me like that, I think to myself, as I lye his head in my lap and run my fingers through his golden hair. I examine his face so closely that it would make one’s eyes hurt, but I enjoy every moment. I plead with him in my mind to return to me; to wake up in my arms, but he sleeps on. I breath in deeply his wonderful smell. I will never forget it. I run my hand across his face and then kiss his perfect lips: for the first and last time.
My kiss lingers only for a moment until the door behind me bursts open and Mukki bounds in, massive chest beared and mustache curling.
"Out of the way, love. There’s some work to be done here!"
He knocks me out of the way, separating me from my love! How can this happen? I am made stand by the door while Mukki pummels Cloud back to consciousness. How awful! My perfect night is ruined! I watch Cloud jumps back when he awakes and finds the large, strange man pounding his sides. He and Mukki share a few words, but I don’t listen. I want everything to pick right up where we left off.
I do however, hear Mukki tell Cloud his time is up. No! But without another word, he turns his face from me and heads for the door with nothing but a scratch of his head. He doesn’t even give me another glance. The bitter taste of rejection falls into my mouth and I want to go be sick. What can I do but let him walk away? I want to shout aloud and proclaim my love, but it will do no good. I stand silent. After he is gone, I straighten up the room and remake the bed, gloomily. Perhaps he is not the one. But why am I still thinking of him so deeply? How can love be so cruel?
For the rest of the night I can see no one else. I have other girls take my place as I sulk down the long corridors, pondering my life’s meaning. I feel so pathetic! My every thought revolves around him. Him, with his gorgeous shining eyes and hair—he had given meaning to life for a short while. But that feeling left with him. I scold myself time and again! How can I be thinking of him still? I even saw a woman downstairs earlier, dashing in and out of rooms with blonde hair and those same blue eyes-----but I knew it was only my imagination. Strangely, I had seen his face on her! I was sure I was going crazy. Why did everyone look like him? Was I really in love or was I fooling myself?
I walk down one of the long halls, the sounds of my heels against the floor are my only companions. The questions weigh down on my mind: so heavy! I don’t know where I will be lead, until I look up. A door opens in the hall before me and I see him! His wonderful face peering out, looking both ways across the hall! He has come back for me! I knew he would! He will take me far away from this place! Sure, it will be awkward at first, but soon we will be so in love that it won’t matter. I’ll even learn how to cook, and perhaps even let go of my perfect figure to have children! Yes, we will be so happy!
Just as my daydream becomes real in my mind, he pushes the door open and darts out—hurrying down the other side of the hallway, away from me. And he is not alone. I take one look at her and my heart shatters into a million tiny glass pieces, stabbing me to my death. I choke silently as I watch her. Her pale skin is untouched and her long brown hair trials silkily behind her. Even though I have never seen her before, I know she must work here because of the way she is dressed. The tight blue dress clings to her figure; perhaps hers is even better than mine.
I look down at myself ashamed. He came for her, not me. He was rescuing her from this place. She had been sent to the Don’s men and he had gotten her out of there in the nick of time, to rush her away and have a family and live a happy live, never to think of this place again, but to laugh and smile of how their romance blossomed here. How romantic. How disgustingly amorous! They’ll speak of this one day with their children. But I thought he was for me....
The cold wind whips around me. I can see the whole place from here. The slums are lovely this time of night, with their tacky, bright neon lights. I can see the Don’s mansion and the market. Strange, for a moment I almost felt—alive. It was all taken from me in an instant. He will never think about me again. Cloud–will never think about me again. He was in love with someone else, but I wish them well. His happiness is my happiness. Before I jump, I wonder what life would have been like to keep living. Would I find someone else? Would that someone I’d been waiting for suddenly appear? I am sick of waiting! Every night is the same! Will this be the man? Will this be the one for me? But nothing ever happens! It is much to late to have a change of heart. I am falling now, my hair becoming disheveled. I close my eyes and picture his face. We could have been so happy! But then again, he is happy now. I finally realize that beauty does not make one happy. I could have possessed it all, but never found meaning. No one will miss me. I was only a beautiful girl in the world; the sad, lonesome world that spends every night crying into its pillow for pathetic ones like me! Just one; one beautiful girl—a spot.
Now I would make such a beautiful spot on the pavement.