Saturday morning greeted Hakuba with an uneasy feeling of loss. His bed was empty next to him, sheets cold to his searching hand. He got up, got dressed, and unlocked the door for the weekly cleaning crew. They came while he was reorganizing the contents of his dresser drawer, and somehow found things to clean in the already spotless room.
He ate with the staff in the dining hall, went for a jog, hit the country club for tennis, and then returned to his room to get ready for that evening’s event. He showered. Shaved. Dressed. Combed his hair. And when he looked in the mirror he saw that he was as he should be.
Spotless and empty.
The evening’s event was a birthday party for a rich and powerful socialite’s son. Hakuba hadn’t wanted to go, but his father couldn’t attend and the detective, admittedly, had nothing else to occupy his time. He went, made a good impression for the Hakuba family, and drank. More than he should have, really, though he was far from the slavering idiots that he watched from the ballroom floor. It was when enough inhibitions were gone that he, with some reluctance, went through his usual routine of selecting a conquest and wooing them to bed with him.
The girl he’d chosen was intelligent but cruel. Dark brown hair, striking blue eyes. A smile that was wicked and mischievous. She was a player in the game and knew it well. Their courtship was a section of evening spent with banter, witty remarks, too-close touches, near kisses, dancing with other partners. And then, as if they had come to the party with the events pre-planned, left together in the same cab.
Hakuba didn’t take her back to his father’s house. Not for evening, certainly not for the weekend. He took her to the Hyatt, booking a room via his mobile phone with the ease of just a few subtle button presses.
She was impressed when they’d arrived and the accommodations were already set. Sarcastic remarks and kisses were exchanged in the elevator. He couldn’t keep his hands off of her in the hallway. They barely managed to get the requested bottle of scotch open in the room before they were breathless on the couch. Hands slipped off pieces of clothing which littered the room to the bed. They spent the night together. Heated. Passionate. Meaningless.
When Hakuba looked into the eyes of that evening’s lover, he didn’t see what he wanted to see. They were the wrong shade of blue. They held none of the genuine warmth and charm. Her gaze was too harsh. And it hurt. It ached inside of him like a memory he’d long since buried. He kissed her harder, chasing that pain with a fiery rain that washed him to shores of exhaustion. With this came temporary reprieve… but it was only temporary.
Sunday morning came and went, just as the two went their separate ways with nothing more than a ‘nice to see you’ and the empty promise of ‘perhaps next venue’ and ‘we should get dinner some time.’ Both knew that the other wouldn’t call. Really, aside from awkward glances at future events, they would have no interactions with each other.
Hakuba returned to his father’s house and showered for the second time that morning. Got dressed, spent time with the staff asking trivial questions and making ridiculous requests. An awkward, business-passing-for-conversation over dinner with his father, and then back to his room. Hakuba did his homework in silence. Then it was cross-examining case files and more scotch, waiting for sleep to beg for him as that woman had.
He looked to his bed, sheets and blankets tucked, pillows arranged just so. Everything neatly pressed and folded. Spotless. Empty.
Hakuba worked until he fell asleep at his desk. Working too late was at least better than knowing that there would be nothing but loneliness to greet you in bed.
