Cherry Pie

by Sotia Lazu

  She visited a lot this week, to arrange for seminars, talk schedules with Sheena, or talk with her about a meeting, and she was always bright eyed and bushy tailed.

  Which was why we were all worried to see her sad and exhausted when she came in on Thursday.

  “You okay, hon?” Once Sheena decided you were one of hers, she was protective of you for life.

  “Yeah. Sure.” Cecilia sounded distracted.

  “Is something wrong? You can tell us,” I said.

  Cecilia rubbed her eyes. “Had a long night. Nothing to worry about.”

  Sheena tapped her phone repeatedly. “You went out? I didn’t have anything on your schedule for last night.”

  “No, no. I was home. Just stayed up late.” She avoided our gazes.

  My phone chimed with a text from Sally, who was across the room. I glanced at her, a what the fuck? in my gaze. When I read the text, I understood.

  Should I mojo her for answers?

  I shook my head. It was one thing to thrall our way into an early appointment, and another to use vampire powers to extract answers from someone against their will, on what was obviously a personal matter.

  Cecilia looked no better the next day, and I happened to notice another bruise on the other side of her neck.

  Okay, so I looked for it, but the point is that it was there, and I was no longer sure it was a hickey. I shared my finding with Sheena and Carrie, who was our designated undead babysitter du jour.

  “So she’s into kink.” Sheena shrugged. “It’s always the quiet, vanilla-looking ones.”

  But that’s not where my mind went. “I don’t think that’s it. I mean, think about it. She’s tired, moody—”

  “She could be on her period,” Carrie said.

  “And the bruises? Nah uh. I think she has a vampire problem.” Bet I impressed them with my mad deductive skills.

  Sheena grabbed her tote and motioned for Carrie and me to get out so she could lock. “Because of two hickeys? You should be a mystery writer.”

  Carrie snorted. “Anything to take her away from the agency, huh?”

  Sheena glared and took off down the stairs. Carrie hovered next to her, and I chased after them. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing,” Sheena said over her shoulder.

  If I heard that again, I’d flip out. “Say nothing one more time, and I’m throttling you.”

  She kept going, while I hobbled on my heels three or four steps behind. “You can’t say this is your dream job,” she said.

  “No, but—”

  “I mean, you keep rolling your eyes at people.”

  “So do you,” I said with more force than I meant to.

  “I’m the boss, and you roll your eyes at me too, which is fine at home, but not at work.”

  I made it down to the ground floor with no shortness of breath and no ache in my knees. Go me. “You’re right,” I said. Not panting.

  “And you’re snappy. Bordering on rude, more often than not,” Carrie supplied with a grin.

  “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll be better next week.”

  Sheena rolled her eyes. See? “You won’t be here next week. Surgery, remember?”

  Right. I’d go up a cup size or two. Though I wasn’t going with the double-Ds that would benefit my old career.

  “I won’t need the whole week; Sally said she’d help me recuperate.”

  Carrie scrunched her nose. “I’m not sure that’ll be good. Implants are foreign objects. Vampire blood may make your body reject them.”

  Why didn’t I think of that? “So I’ll be out of commission for a few days.”

  Carrie cupped her breasts. “More like a few weeks, unless things changed since I got these babies.”

  I didn’t know those were fake. “Weeks?” I caught myself stealing glances at her cleavage and raised my gaze to her face. “I don’t want to be down for weeks. And if Sally doesn’t heal the incision points, there’ll be scarring.”

  “Then don’t get the boob job,” Sheena said.

  Fuck. “I’ll think about it. This being-human thing is losing its glamour day by day, though.”

  We stopped at the crossing, and I noticed a car at the street light. What looked like a very upset Cecilia was in the passenger seat, shaking her head and moving her hands animatedly. I couldn’t make out the driver. “Hey, is that Cecilia?” I pointed at the car.

  “Might be. She lives nearby.” Carrie turned to look, but the light changed, and the car sped off.

  “I think we should check in on her tonight,” I said, breast augmentation taking a back seat in my thoughts. “Whatever is bugging her may be paranormal.”

  “Or she’s having a difficult week with her boyfriend,” Sheena said, leading the way toward the parking garage.

  “And I guess by we should check in on her, you mean me?” Carrie harrumphed. She took out her phone and searched for something I couldn’t see.

  “I’ll tell the girls you’ll be late,” Sheena said.

  “Got Cecilia’s address. I’ll walk there. It’s too early for me to fly after them.” Carrie turned to me. “If it’s nothing, you owe me big time.”

  “Totally.” But I was thinking about my upcoming procedure again. Should I go through with it? Larger breast had been a dream of mine since I was out of puberty with my current set. Trying to make it in the adult-movie industry was a good excuse to bite the bullet and buy myself a pair, but my life had changed since. I had changed. And with how my back complained if I stood for too long, I doubted it’d thank me for the extra weight.

  Or I was a wimp and didn’t care for the painful recovery. Younger me was braver, stupider, or had a greater tolerance for pain.

  I could live with that. And without implants.

  Damn. Was this what maturity felt like?

  Should I also try accountability on for size? “Hold on, Carrie. I’ll come with,” I said.

  Chapter Twenty

  CECILIA DIDN’T HAVE a vampire problem. She had an asshole-boyfriend problem.

  Carrie rounded the building and flew to the first floor windows, where she thralled a tenant to buzz me in. I waited for her, and we went up floor by floor, looking for Cecilia’s apartment. Full disclosure—without Sheena around, I used the lift.

  We heard yelling coming from a fourth-floor apartment, and I recognized Cecilia’s voice. I was about to point out the door to Carrie, when she started banging on it. Made sense she’d hear Cecilia before I could. She was a vampire.

  A guy yelled, “Go away,” from the other side of the door.

  Carrie mouthed human. When I whispered, “You sure?” she nodded and pointed to her ear and then the left side of her chest. She’d heard his heart.

  I was searching for something to say that would convince him to let us in, when Carrie kicked in the door.

  A shirtless human man in his early twenties was flung backward, yelling, “What the fuck?”

  I followed Carrie in the apartment and saw Cecilia cowering at the corner of the living room. There was blood at the corner of her lip.

  “You hit her.” I wished I could rip him limb from limb.

  “I’m going to kill you, bitches. You can’t break into my—”

  He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Carrie had him by the throat. She raised her arm, and his feet stopped touching the ground.

  I rushed to Cecilia, and she averted her face.

  “We’re here to help,” I said. “Has he hurt you anywhere else?”

  She shook her head. “Not today. But you have to go. He has a gun.”

  I looked at the man, who kicked and thrashed. “Don’t worry about him,” I told Cecilia.

  “Bitch. Let me down. What the fuck are you?” he yelled.

  Carrie shook him and looked at me. “I need a catchy phrase, for when assholes ask that. How about, your worst nightmare?”

  “Eh. Maybe, someone who’ll kick your ass?” I asked.

  Carrie grimaced. “I don’t hate it, but...
Oh, I know. We’re the monsters under the bed.”

  This cracked me up, and I felt horrible, because Cecilia was trembling next to me. I gathered her in my arms and whispered, “I swear to God you’ll never have to worry about him again. Believe me.” I wished I had my vampire mojo and could thrall away her fear.

  The man kept cursing and threatening us. He kicked Carrie in the face, and I winced. Now he was done for.

  Carrie wiped her mouth with the back of her free hand. “You like hitting girls, huh? Helps you feel like a man? Does it make up for your tiny dick?”

  He was weirdly quiet. I looked at his face, which was turning blue. She was crushing his windpipe and hadn’t popped a fang. I was proud.

  “Please,” he squeaked and raked his fingers at her hand around his neck. “Please.”

  She punched him in the balls, and while he was crying with pain, lowered him so she could look him in the eye. “The moment I let you go, you’re going to pack your stuff, take your car, and move to a different state. You will never contact Cecilia again. And every time you think of hurting another woman, you’ll hurt yourself instead.”

  He nodded. He was cupping his balls but his face was slack, his gaze locked on hers.

  “Go. Before I change my mind and end you right now.” She dropped him, and he punched himself in the nose. Horrified shock etched on his features, he hobbled to the other room. When he reappeared, he was carrying a tattered suitcase. He didn’t glance our way.

  Carrie waited until he was out the door for good, and then she approached Cecilia and me slowly, like she didn’t want to scare the cowering girl more. “Do I need to heal her?” she asked me.

  I saw no wounds, and Cecilia’s lip was no longer bleeding, but there could be internal damage. “Honey, are you sure he didn’t hit you anywhere else?”

  “No. Just a slap. I fell on the couch, and he pushed up my skirt, and then you knocked.” She spoke dispassionately, like she was talking about someone else.

  I remembered the feeling. “Cecilia, if you want, Carrie can make you forget all that happened,” I said. “You can forget he ever existed.”

  Cecilia pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. “I wish I could.”

  “You can.” Carrie knelt in front of her.

  When Cecilia lowered her hands, she no longer looked afraid, but determined. “I should remember. I should know there is such ugliness out there. And you... I don’t know what you are, but thank you. You saved me today. And you saved the next girl too.” She took Carrie’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”

  Carrie grinned. “My pleasure. Totally. Just... if possible—”

  “I’m not telling anyone,” Cecilia said. “What would I say? That you’re Superwoman?”

  I offered to take Cecilia in for the night, but she said even with a busted door she felt safe at home now. Carrie made a call—she said it was to Sheena, but I had my doubts—and promised someone would be over to fix that door in an hour.

  By the time I was tucked under my Egyptian cotton sheets in my heavenly double bed, in my super-amazing apartment, I knew what I wanted to do with my life.

  I bet Sheena would be relieved when I told her.

  I was too antsy to stay in bed after sunup. I got up and Googled what it took to become a licensed private investigator in California. Hmmm... lots of qualifications I didn’t have. I knew who could help me acquire documentation, though. I waited until I wasn’t risking Sheena’s wrath, and made a breakfast run to the nearest bakery.

  I called Sheena as I was pulling onto her street. “Hey. Can I come over? I’ll bring coffee and pastries.”

  “Sure.” She sounded groggy. “What time is it?”

  I ignored her question. “I’ll be at the door in five.”

  Sally got the door, and she and Sheena seemed not to mind the early visit. Carrie was asleep, and Liza was busy. Outside. On a Saturday morning. I suspected none of the girls had much of a life outside Sheena and the agency, and that was another reason they were always around. I wondered what Liza might be doing. Maybe she was visiting Constantine? Now that no women lived with him, she could make a move more easily.

  Sheena bit into a Nutella-filled croissant and moaned. “After a week of healthy crap, this and a cup of java are a godsend.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  She arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “So you got your ass out of bed at this ungodly hour to bring us breakfast?”

  I sipped my coffee and tried to look innocent. “Carrie told you about last night?”

  “She did. Good catch. She said the guy was dangerous.”

  No mention of having Cecilia’s door replaced. So Carrie hadn’t called her. My PI-brain was on already. Yes.

  “I think maybe this is something worth pursuing,” I said.

  Sally was playing with her phone. “Dangerous guys?” she asked without looking up from her screen.

  “That too. Sheena, I’m sorry, but I have to quit. I’ll still buy half of the agency, if you—”

  “Praise the Lord.” She laughed. “I adore you, you’re my best friend, and I loved spending time with you, but you’re a horrible assistant. Carrie had to go over all your entries remotely and fix your mistakes every night.”

  “She did? Why didn’t you tell me?” I was too relieved, to sound indignant.

  “You had enough on your plate. But what will you do for work? Or will you become a socialite instead?”

  I closed my eyes, composed myself, and then opened them again and smiled. “I want to be a private investigator.”

  Sheena choked on her coffee and spat her mouthful back into her cup. “You wanna be what?”

  “I wanna take weird cases that other PIs wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. I know the paranormal exists, so I’ll have more options. And I’ll need your realtor friend again. I wanna start looking for a place first thing Monday morning.”

  For the first time, Sally looked away from her phone. “Don’t you have an appointment with Dr. K. Monday?”

  “About that...” I chewed on my lower lip. “Not doing it.”

  “No lipo and no boobs?” Sally sounded shocked.

  “No. I’ll join a gym. Maybe.”

  “But you broke up with Alex because you wanted to have work done?”

  “I broke up with him because I wanted the option. I wanted to be able to do anything I want.”

  She’d lost interest. She was typing things on her phone again.

  “Thing is I need six thousand hours of paid investigative work the past three years, and I don’t have them,” I said.

  “We can thrall someone for you,” was her distracted reply. “Sorry, I need to put this post on my blog, and then I’ll help you.”

  I gawked. “You have a blog?”

  “Lifestyle,” Sheena said. “She’s promoting the agency through it.”

  “There. Done.” Sally put the phone aside and smiled at me. “Who do we go see?”

  “Alex or Constantine.” I scrunched my nose. “I stupidly didn’t get Ruby’s number when she was here, and my mom has no way of contacting her, because Ruby doesn’t want to leave a trail. But she’s the only hacker I know.”

  “Tell me exactly what you need, and I’ll get Constantine to ask her,” Sally said.

  And with that out of the way, I was out of excuses not to tell my parents of my current situation.

  No, that didn’t come out right.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want them to know I was human; I was afraid I wouldn’t share their excitement at my news, when all I had to show was two lost lovers and a job that didn’t fulfill me. Now I knew what I wanted to do with my life, it was easier to sound upbeat.

  I still didn’t do it face to face, though. After all, I was busy. There were classes to take and licenses to apply for and spaces to rent—and I wasn’t sure I could look them in the eye when they asked how I was turned back.

  I called that afternoon, and Mom answered. We exchanged the usual pleasantr
ies, said we missed each other and I should visit soon, and then she asked, “How is Constantine?”

  Umm...

  Mom’s radar was always on point. “Cherry, hon, is everything okay?”

  I loved that she called me that. “Everything is fine. Mostly. Mom, I’m human again.”

  “Oh my God. That’s amazing.” She yelled, “Greg, she’s human again,” then in a quieter voice said, “How? And are you... Is everything as it was? Organically? Hell, I mean, there are no lingering issues from being undead?” She barely caught her breath between questions.

  I smiled, though she couldn’t see me. “Everything seems to be in working order.”

  “But how did it—?”

  “Constantine found a ritual.” No more details.

  She laughed. “That man is our official benefactor—turning Ruby so she wouldn’t die, helping you out with that man, and now turning you back and letting you stay with him...”

  “I moved out. He won’t talk to me, Mom. He said he doesn’t want to watch me grow old and die. And Alex and I... We said we’d try to work things out, but we weren’t compatible.” I felt like crying. Apologizing for not wanting to give her grandkids. But this wasn’t about her or anyone other than me. “He sees a big family in his future, and I don’t.”

  The pause that followed raised my hackles, but when she spoke again, she didn’t try to change my mind. “So where are you staying now? Do you want to come home?”

  Her words warmed me up inside. “I’m renting an amazing apartment. You and Dad should come over. You can stay the weekend.” I told her all about my color scheme and my view and my new career.

  “Please be careful,” she said. “There are all sorts of dangers out there.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me that when I was a vampire they at least didn’t need to worry when I went out alone at night. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I was about to end the call, when she asked, “Are you happy, baby?”