For The Love Of Chéri (CHAPTERS 1-112 REWRITTEN)

Chapter 8 : Exit, Chéri

It was nine forty in the morning, and the strong light filtered through the blinds of the motel room window and flooded the large bed.

Lennon was laying on his front, naked and sprawled out on the bed, with half of his face buried in a pillow. Lennon's eyes opened and he turned around to find the bed empty.

"Chéri?" he asked in a sleepy tone.

Pulling himself up slowly from the bed, he looked around the room, "Chéri...?" he called out, then noticed that Chéri's backpack was gone from the chair, his clothes were missing from the radiator, and his piercings were gone from the small bedside table.

Lennon got out of the bed, naked and lethargic as he rubbed his eyes. He knocked on the shower room door, "Chéri?".

"Chéri? please answer.." he said, before touching the door lightly and watching it swing open slowly into an empty bathroom. There was no more sign of Chéri than some strands of Chéri's black hair in the shower drain.

Lennon looked confused and felt a rising panic as he walked back to the bed. He then noticed his wallet open with the British notes he had in it gone. He tossed it to the edge of the bed and picked up his phone. He called Chéri's number, but it just kept cutting to the answerphone.

Panic, sheer panic.

Lennon had an expression of hurt and confusion as he checked all around for any sign of Chéri. He found nothing so he picked up his phone and texted him.

Lennon: Chéri, my love. When you get this please, please call me. XXX Lenn

Then another text.

Lennon: Where are you? LENN X X X X

He sat on the bottom of the bed staring at his phone for nearly a further ten minutes then grabbed his clothes and dressed. He grabbed his keys and left quickly for the downstairs reception desk, where he walked up to the reception clerk and practically slammed the keys on the desk, "Can you help me...please? Did you see a man leave room 159? You can't miss him! Thin, olive-skinned with lots of flower tattoos, black hair... are you listening to me?!" Lennon asked in a tone that lay bare his frustration.

"Yes, Sir, I saw him leave about two hours ago. He asked if the road ahead was clear and if the airport was still running flights. Then asked about shops and left with an older gentleman." The clerk responded.

"What do you mean, left with someone?!" Lennon asked in an impatient tone.

"Exactly that. A man arrived and waited here in the lobby for him, and they left together." The clerk answered.

Lennon rolled his eyes, "What man? What was his name?!"

"I don't know, sir."

"So, someone's missing, and you 'don't know'?!" Lennon shot back, frustrated.

"No ones missing, sir. He left of his own accord."

"Did they say where they were goin'?" Lennon asked.

"No."

"Did you see the guy's car?"

"No. I didn't, I'm sorry. You need to calm down, sir." The clerk answered.

Lennon sighed in frustration and grabbed the keys off the table before he gave up and walked off back to the room. In his room, he sat on the bed staring into space, then put his face in his hands.

He could feel the tightening of a tension headache taking hold, as well as a rising panic.

Where's Chéri?