by Flynn, Mac
I hopped out of the car and around to the sidewalk, but noticed Vince was slow to follow. Actually, he sat like a stone statue in his seat. I frowned at him. "Get out or I'm dragging you out. You know I can do that now," I reminded him.
His scowl deepened, but he did as I ordered. I grabbed his arm, smiled at him, and led him inside. He blinked against the bright lights and cheery atmosphere. A waiter in a waist apron and black jacket with white shirt came over to us. "Duo?" he asked us.
"Si, and a dark table, grazie," I replied. He swept his hand toward the large dining room and guided us to a booth seat at the back.
I dragged Vince along and leaned toward him. "Bet you didn't know I knew some Italian," I teased him.
"I still do not," he retorted.
I was in such a good mood his bad temper couldn't vex me, and I instead laughed at his grumpiness. "You can't ruin this meal for me. I'm going to enjoy really eating my meal instead of chewing and swallowing, or slurping it down a la human neck."
We seated ourselves opposite one another in the square booth and the waiter handed us the menus. I poured over the fettuccine and lasagna while Vince sat there like a lump on a log staring straight at me. Even with blue eyes it was unnerving. My eyes glanced over the top of the tall menu and I narrowed them. "You could try to act normal," I suggested.
"I have no familiarity with Italian food," he stiffly replied.
I snorted. "You're how old and you don't know about Italian food?"
"A vampire has no taste buds that can detect the flavor of human food," he rephrased.
I dropped my menu onto the table and lifted an eyebrow. "You're joking."
"No."
I leaned over the table and looked him in the eye. "So when you were a vampire-"
"I still am. Only my body has changed," he insisted.
"When you weren't in denial about your species you really couldn't taste any human food? That doesn't sound right. It should have tasted like something," I insisted.
He stared at me for a moment in thought. "I would describe it as chalk," he finally replied.
I grimaced. "Yum." I straightened and slid his menu closer to him. "Well, this stuff definitely doesn't taste like chalk, so pick anything-hell, pick everything on the menu and we'll try it. You know what? I'll just do that." I signaled to the waiter who came over to our table. "I'd like a plate of everything on the menu, and that includes the wine list."
The waiter blinked at me. "Everything?"
I took out the wad of cash and set it on the table. "Everything."
The waiter's face brightened at the money and he enthusiastically nodded his head. "Yes, Signorina! It shall be done immediately!" He scurried off to obey my command and I looked to Vince. "Now you'll see what you've been missing these past couple of centuries."
Little did I know I was about to create a monster.
Chapter 6
The food was brought in a very timely fashion with all the pomp a small place like that could offer. There came a half dozen waiters, half with their arms loaded with trays and the other half with folding legs on which to set the trays. There wasn't enough room on the table for all the food and our plates. They set out the beautiful dishes stacked with food and plopped a dozen glasses to fill with the variety of wines.
With many thanks and open admiration the waiters bowed and left us to our meal. The parade of food created a big scene in the tiny restaurant and many of the patrons stared at our table. I smiled and waved at them, and most turned away in embarrassment at being caught staring. Others waved back and returned to their food.
I looked to my partner. His eyes were wide and he blinked once. With how rarely he blinked a single blink told me he was absolutely bewildered. I pushed a plate of spaghetti toward him. "Try this. Everyone likes spaghetti."
"I may not," he argued.
I rolled my eyes. "Stop being a baby and try it. You'll like it." I watched like a stern mother as he lifted his fork and dug it into the pile of noodles and tomato sauce. He lifted half the plate with his fork, and most of it promptly fell off. Vince scowled at the noodles as though they had committed some blasphemy. I stifled my snort, and reached over and stabbed my own fork into the mess. "Like this," I instructed him. I cut off some noodles, then twirled my fork like a ballerina. Then I lifted the utensil and showed off my fine mess of noodles. "See?"
Vince frowned, but mimicked my moves. In a moment we had twin forks. He lifted it to his mouth, but paused and glared at me over his full fork. "Turn away."
I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come-"
"Turn away."
I sighed. "Fine." I turned to the window and watched his reflection as he scarfed the whole forkful down, and nearly ate the fork with it. He munched a few times and his eyes widened. I looked back to the original and grinned when he chewed and swallowed his mouthful. He stiffened and his hand tightly clasped his fork. "Well?" Vince's reply was to stab his fork for another round and eagerly twirl his utensil for an even greater glop of noodles. "I'll take that as a 'yes.'"
Vince scarfed down the plate of spaghetti and gobbled his way through another plate before his overeagerness caught up to him. He paused and his face turned blue. I blinked at him. "You okay?"
Vince shook his head and pointed at his throat. He opened his mouth, but I didn't hear any sound, or air, come out. My eyes widened and my mouth dropped agape when I realized the food was lodged in his throat. I swept from my seat to his padded bench, grabbed him about the middle and turned him toward the window. I pressed my fists against his sternum and with a great heave I shoved my hands into his chest.
A glob of spaghetti wrapped around a bread roll flew from his mouth and hit the window. I had no idea when he stuffed the roll into his mouth, but the bread glob slid down the window and onto the sill. Vince let out a violent cough that alerted the waiters, and two of them rushed over.
"What is it, Signorina? What is the matter?" one of them asked us.
I turned to them and blocked their view of my recovering companion. "What's the matter is that your food is so delicious my friend here ate it too fast. He's fine now, but I'll have to complain to the cook and give him an extra fifty bucks for trying to choke my friend."
The waiters smiled and laughed, and I joined in with a smile. "Then are you needing anything else, Signorina?" they asked me.
I shook my head. "No, but thanks." They bowed their heads and left to attend to the other guests. I turned my attention back to Vince. He sat stiffly on his cushioned seat with his back partially turned to me. I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a little shake. "You okay?" I whispered.
"I am fine, merely-merely feeling very foolish," he admitted.
I sighed and pushed my hip into his side. "Scoot over." Vince, too surprised to argue, scooted down and I joined him on his side of the booth. "You just need to take it slow. You know, enjoy every bite and chew it slowly and try all the plates so you can find out which foods you really like," I advised. I gave him a teasing smile. "I'd really hate to have survived all the trouble we've been through just to end up dying because you choked to death on some food."
"I will be more careful," he promised.
"Good, then let's eat."
Over the next two hours we did justice to the feast set before us. Other patrons came and went, and so did some of our plates as we worked our way through the piles. The only other problem we encountered was with the wine. I realized too late that the light-weight former vampire couldn't handle alcohol, even in low quantities. It was nearing ten when Vince leaned against me with his fork in one hand and a half-empty wine glass in the other. He had a lopsided grin on his face and his cheeks were flushed.
"Such a pretty place. We must come here more-hiccup-often," he suggested.
I wrinkled my nose at his breath. It still reeked of stale blood, and now had a mix of pasta sauce and wine added to the unhealthy combination. "Vince, are you drunk?" I asked him.
"I think I-hiccup-may be," he replied.
> I took his wine glass from his hand and set it on a tray to my left. "Uh-huh, let's just assume you are and-"
"Liz? Liz Stokes?" a voice asked on my left.
I turned and my eyes widened when I recognized one of my old coworkers from the office. He was a guy about my age on the same floor who talked to me every once-in-a-while. "Bob?" I returned.
He grinned. "It is you. I thought I was dreaming. Nobody's heard from you in weeks and the police came searching for you. What the hell happened?"
"I-uh, I had a mid-life crisis and had to change occupations," I told him.
Bob glanced past me and at Vince. I followed his gaze and noticed Vince's blue eyes were narrowed and his lips were set in a fine line. One of his hands reached up and grasped my arm. Even I had to admit the scene looked suspect, and that's how Bob took it, too. "You know, if you're in some sort of trouble you should call the police," Bob suggested.
I understood his double meaning. He thought Vince had me captured. That was partly true, especially with his hand around my arm. I tried to shrug it off, but he gripped tighter. "It's not really that big of a deal. I just needed some breathing room and decided to go into business with my partner here." I nodded at Vince and cringed when his hold tightened to a near-painful level. "Not so hard," I hissed.
Bob overheard me and frowned. "Liz, if you're having some sort of trouble I'd be glad to-" Vince released my arm and stood. The five-eight Bob had nothing on the six-foot tall vampire.
My partner glared down at the short interloper. Gone was the funny drunk and here was the nasty drunk. "She does not need your assistance," he argued.
"It sure as hell looks like she does," Bob countered.
I stood between them and pushed the men apart. "Just both of you calm down. Bob, I'm fine. Vince, I'm fine, so you both just sit back down and-"
"I'll sit down," Bob agreed. I was relieved until he sat down opposite us. He nodded at Vince. "And I'll leave just as soon as he does."
Our waiter hurried over. "Is there a problem?" he asked us.
"No, I think we were just leaving. Could you bring our bill?" I pleaded. He nodded and hurried away to bring a receipt that no doubt equaled the length of Santa's list.
"Liz, I really think you need to go to the police. They sounded like you were in serious trouble," Bob insisted.
"She is in no need of your advice," Vince shot back.
Bob stood again, placed his palms on the table, and leaned over to glare at Vince. "I think you need to leave, mister."
Vince's reply was to lean over and sock Bob in the jaw. Though my partner was mortal, he hadn't quite lost his skill in knowing where to hit someone. Bob's head whipped to the side and he slumped backward onto the cushions.
I grabbed Vince and tugged him from the booth. "Time to go!" I yelped.
We sprinted through the tables and past the front desk where our bill was still being rung up. "Signorina, your bill!" our waiter cried out.
I tossed the roll of bills onto the counter. "Keep the change!" I told them.
We burst onto the street and to our waiting car. Through the window I could see the discovery of the assault and our waiter called one of his coworkers to his side. He happened to glance out the window and point at us. Whatever he wanted I wanted no part of it and shoved Vince into the passenger seat. I took my seat behind the wheel and started the engine just as one of the waiters rushed through the front doors.
"Stop!" he cried out. "Stop!"
I could later use the defense that he said 'stomp' as I stomped my foot on the gas pedal. We swerved into traffic and down the road as the distant sounds of police sirens came to my ears. If they found us there'd be no vampire Vince to speed us out of trouble. Hell, there was barely a human Vince. The man by my side sat hunched over and cradled the fist he'd used on poor Bob.
"This is a fine mess you've gotten us into now," I scolded him.
"Are all human jaws so hard?" he asked me. The throbbing pain from his hand had knocked him out of his insobriety.
"Yes, so don't do it again." I glanced in the rear view mirror and noticed flashing lights. Close at hand was a darkened alleyway, and I turned our very recognizable car into the narrow space and shut off the lights and engine. A few police cars drove past in a hurry, and when their sirens faded in the distance I allowed myself to slump down in my seat. "That was too close." I didn't receive a response from my partner, so I tilted my head toward him. He still cradled his hand and I noticed there was blood on the knuckles. I sat up and scooted over to him for a closer look. Yep, the skin of his knuckles was broken open and thin red lines flowed over his bones. "Wow, Bob really does have a hard head," I commented. I noticed Vince's hands shook, and when I looked at his face it was pale and his lips were tightly pursed. "You okay, Vince?"
"How do I get it to stop?" he whispered.
"Get what to stop?"
"The bleeding." He lifted his eyes and I saw he was frightened. "Are all human bodies this frail?"
I sighed and patted him on the shoulder. "Not all of them, but yours is a little out of practice with being a human. I think we've had enough fun for tonight, so we'll just get you home and get that bandaged." I scooted back into my seat, but paused and glanced at my partner. "What made you so mad at Bob, anyway?"
Vince scowled and turned away. "Nothing," he mumbled.
I sighed, started the car, and away we went.
Chapter 7
We puttered our way back to our apartment building and I helped the visibly shaken Vince up the stairs to our home. It was a cold, drafty home when we entered, and I settled him on the couch in front of his coffin bed while I filled a glass with water. I returned to him, plopped myself down beside him and offered him the water. Vince shook his head.
"It'll help with the hangover to have some water in you," I insisted. Vince pursed his lips, but took the glass and downed the small contents in one gulp. I turned my attention to the coffin. "So you think you can sleep in that?" I asked him.
He set the glass on the top of the coffin and shook his head. "This body will suffocate in such confines for so long."
"So do you want the-" I bounced a little on the couch and winced when a spring jabbed me in the rear. "Or maybe we could try the bed. I could always sleep on the floor if there's enough blankets."
Vince sighed and turned away from me. "Very well."
That was the firmest response he'd given me all night, so I left Vince on the couch and readied the bed for its new occupant. There wasn't much to prepare, really. Just a few fluffs of the dingy pillows and an airing of the holy sheets for the formerly unholy creature. There was just enough spare sheets around the room for me to cobble together a bed on the floor for me. I wouldn't be comfortable, but I'd be warm. I hadn't realized how chilly and drafty the apartment was until my vampire-ness was removed. Now I found it was so cold that I could hardly keep from shivering.
In a few minutes I stuck my head out and glanced across the room at Vince. He hadn't moved an inch. "All right, bedtime!" I cheerfully called out. Vince slowly rose to his feet and shuffled past me and into the bedroom. He lay himself down atop the sheets. "You might want to get under the covers," I suggested. He ignored me and remained as he was.
I shrugged and slipped into my own bundle of blankets. After a long, harrowing night if mishaps and mayhem I was exhausted and fell into a dreamy sleep. I hadn't had any of those since getting stuck to Vince. This one had me riding a ferris wheel where all the joints were squeaking and the operator was that incompetent witch. She tilted her head back and cackled as she pulled the lever to make the machine go faster and louder. There was no way to get off. The noise grew louder. I clapped my hands over my ears.
My eyes opened and I shot up. The room was dark. Through the darkness I could still hear that damn squeaking noise. I cleaned out my ears, but found the source of the problem lay with the bed beside me. Or rather, it lay on the bed. Vince. I crawled on my knees to the side of the bed and looked over the covers.
"I-I am fine," he chattered.
"It's been a long time since you were cold, isn't it?" I mused.
"The c-cold does n-not bother me," he insisted.
"Uh-huh. You need to get under the covers," I ordered him. I slipped my arms under his own and pulled him against the wall at the head of the bed. A hint of faint light lit up the room. I glanced at the covered window and my eyes widened as I was hit by a wonderful idea. "On second thought, let's do one last fun thing before we go to bed," I suggested.
"I-I am in n-no mood," Vince replied.
"Oh, come on. It'll be fun." I slipped a blanket over his shoulders and hefted him off the bed. Vince didn't fight, but he didn't help much.
We shuffled our way out the room, out of the apartment, and up the rickety steps until they stopped at a door. This was the door to the roof, and I shoved it open and guided Vince onto the flat, rectangular space. Our apartment building wasn't any taller than its neighboring structures, but it wasn't any shorter so we could see across the roof jungle to the far-off lights of the bustling parts of the metropolis. I led Vince to the eastern ledge of the roof and plopped us down atop some broken pigeon crates.
Vince glanced around the roof and scowled at me. "W-why are w-we here?" he questioned me.
I nodded at a sky in front of us. "To watch this." Vince followed my gaze. We faced the eastern sky, and in a moment it brightened with the coming of the dawn. Vince's eyes widened and he jumped to his feet. I snorted and pulled him back down. "You're not a vampire anymore, remember? It won't hurt you."
"I would rather not try," he insisted.
Too late. The light of the rising sun crested the city and swept over us. The sun covered everything in its warm, glowing brilliance, and a faint dew sparkled against the light. Vince cringed and covered himself with his blanket. My eyes sparkled with the beautiful, warm light. I turned to my partner and snorted at the ghost beside me. Not a hint of smoke arose from beneath the sheet. I grabbed the blanket and yanked it from him. His eyes were shut tight and he was formed into a ball on the crate. "You're not burning up, so quit being so dramatic," I ordered him.