Blood Emerald

by Amber Anthony

  Luis Rocca had a great body, which was all he’d developed. Luis had already showered in Vivi’s Star Wagon, in expectation of her return. Now he struck his best manspread pose on the sofa, cold beer in hand, waiting to make his next conquest.

  Vivi opened the trailer door bringing the commotion of the striking set and breaking camp of Star Wagons along with her. She looked him up and down. “You look good enough to eat, Rocky, but we need to adjourn to my apartment.” He rose to his feet, letting the towel fall to the floor.

  “For sure, Mama, cuz I’m no minute man.”

  Vivi folded her arms over her hardening nipples and grinned. “I know, once you get that beer can of a dick going, it wants to play all night!” She smacked him on his hard ass as he headed for his clothes. I might just have to turn him.

  * * * *

  Mortal work was hard. Even in Hollywood, even if you were a minor star. She’d held this position, lips pursed against a bottle of sunscreen, for half a day. She wanted to scream in frustration as the grips fussed with the lighting and prop placement. Thankfully, they were about to call a lunch break and she had to confer with the gentlemen from Flask Brothers Investigations. She should be more grateful. The endless shoot was funding her surveillance of Rick and Matt’s love lives.

  She let the Flask brothers ogle her before she got their names. Robert’s eyes barely moved above her décolletage while he pumped her dainty hand. The visibly older brother, Joe, was married and settled from the looks of his shoes. You can tell a lot about a man by his shoes.

  “How can we help you, Ms. Morrison?”

  Vivi spread a series of photos she collected from Consort Group’s promotional pages. There were staged images of Rick shaking hands, Matt presenting ceremonial keys and lots of random candid shots. “These two gentlemen, Richard Hiatt and Matt Brenner, are your targets. You can find their bios on Google. What I want to know is, how they spend their private time? Who do they see? What’s their status?”

  Joe nodded to his brother and began. “Well, ma’am that would be our standard rate plus expenses. You’re probably looking at thirty hours of work.” He slid a notated contract across the table to her.

  Vivi swallowed at the hourly rate and possible expenses. “Couldn’t this be done in less than thirty hours? I mean, I gave you where they work…”

  Joe negated that idea with a firm shake of his head. “No ma’am, that’s what it takes.”

  “Well,” Vivi began coyly. “Maybe we could work something out in advertising? Maybe I could do some free ads for you?”

  Robert frowned at his brother. “It’s more work than it looks. Otherwise, you could do this yourself. If we return with photos and sufficient dossiers and we haven’t used thirty hours, we’ll only bill what we worked.”

  Joe sniffed. “What exactly are you looking for? Do you have home addresses, jobs, backgrounds, out of town relatives?”

  Vivi did the math. “I want to know who the gentleman are bedding.” Vivi’s long nail tapped Rick’s photo. “You might have a lot of work for this one.”

  The brother’s exchanged a curious look. Robert pushed the paperwork closer along with an agency pen. “When did you want this?”

  Vivi hesitated to say she was on the last flight out to Hawaii. They’ll charge me more. “I’ll be out of town shooting for about ten days. Can you have it ready when I return?”

  Robert slid the pen closer to touch her hand. “That’ll be a one-thousand-dollar retainer.”

  Vivi signed on the dotted line and slid an envelope to Joe. “Do I get a receipt?”

  Joe nodded as he gave her one of the three carbonless forms.

  Vivi held up the blue ink pen. “May I keep this?”

  Joe smiled. “That’s why we have them. Tell your friends.”

  * * * *

  Rick opened the express package in the privacy of his office at the Gaoler. Leaning on his elbow, he spread out the photos in an arc, with the oldest black and white images up close. “Helen!”

  “Rick!” Age hasn’t sanded off your edges has it, honey? He heard her chair screech and then the rhythm of her clogs from her office to his door. She knocked and waited for his answer. It’s been this way for thirty-five or was it forty years?

  “I called you, didn’t I?” This is our back and forth, I love it. The door opened and Helen peered over the top of her readers. “Have a seat, I have an idea I want to run by your mortal mind.”

  Helen’s potential for sarcasm was strong. She slid gracefully into the chair in front of his desk and tapped her thumb and index nails, waiting…

  “I was expecting a crack about the mortal mind…”

  She arched her brow and pursed her lips.

  “Okay.” Rick gathered the photos and handed them to Helen. “I’m bringing my family’s castle into C.G.I. It’s in Ireland—Erne Castle. We’re turning it into a resort.”

  Her tongue moved over her lip as she squinted at the oldest images, and then flipped through to the newest and brightest photos. “And how can my mortal mind contribute?”

  “If I offer Anna a position curating the art, I don’t have to share her with the folks across the street. If it were you, would you travel back and forth to Ireland for me?

  Her soft face brightened. “If you asked me forty years ago, I’d say yes. Old Helen might be the wrong mortal to ask.” She placed the photos back in his hands. “What about that exit strategy you put in place? You’ve given her enough money to set her up for life, if she chooses to leave.”

  Go ahead, Helen, ask…Am I planning a different exit strategy, am I planning to turn her? He followed Helen’s gaze as she scoured the photos of other clubs on the wall, many including donors through the decades. There she was, between Matt and Rick at the Palm Springs opening. She knows vamp/mortal romance has a sell by date. She said a lot when she said nothing at all.

  “Okay, point taken. Point considered.” Rick ran his thumb over his bottom lip as he stared blindly at the photo of the master’s quarters without raising his eyes, he sniffed dismissively. “You have my package for the Cincinnati trip?” Of course you do, Mistress of Efficiency. “That’s all. Thanks, Helen.”

  * * * *

  The Old Kitchen was a moderately priced restaurant with Colombian cuisine conveniently located by the museum. Although Anna insisted her co-workers go to no trouble on her behalf, they planned a gathering at the restaurant. Once they heard of her romantic trip with Rick, they wanted to celebrate. She’d tried for the past seven weeks to blend her work hours with Rick’s upside-down routine. It simply didn’t flow and Anna was getting further and further behind on her sleep. It was set, her friends were throwing her a ‘retirement’ party!

  * * * *

  Lawrence led Anna through the ornate gates of the restaurant’s patio. Gay lanterns and decorations hung over the long table laid heavy with Colombian delicacies. To the right, a table heaped with gift bags and cards awaited her attention.

  She was seated as the guest of honor and a Colombian beer was shoved in her hand while the other party members joined her. “Rick sends his regrets,” Lawrence began, “he’s opening a club in Cincinnati, so we have Anna all to ourselves.” There was a round of applause as Anna lifted her mug in a toast.

  “You guys didn’t have to go to all this trouble!”

  Her best work friend, Barbara, gestured to the food. “What are you talking about, we get to sample new foreign cuisine and drink.”

  “Here, here.” Mugs of beer were raised all around as she opened her gifts. The very first box held sterling silver Claddagh earrings.

  “Lawrence, can you begin a thank-you list? Will you get a look at this, Sterling silver!”

  Lawrence held out a wicker basket. “You leave it to me to record each thing, we can’t let you leave town without getting your thank-yous written.”

  The family style meal was served by colorfully dressed staff. Sudado de Pollo, deep fried plantains stuffed with cheese and milanese. Anna was thoroughly enj
oying herself until the tureen of chicken was set before her. One whiff of what should have been the fragrant aroma of onions, peppers, tomatoes and cumin brought on a wave of anxiety.

  Barbara passed her a basket of bread. “I’m glad you liked those Sterling earrings.”

  Anna stiffened. “Sterling? Earrings?”

  Barbara pointed to Anna’s beer mug. “Are you used to drinking?”

  Anna blinked. “I generally don’t drink. I’m overwhelmed, Barbara, and this chicken stew is making me a little nauseated. I’m sorry.”

  To Anna’s right, Sammie looked at her closely. “Oh, sweetie, are you and your pretty boy…”

  Anna picked up her water with a shaking hand and gulped it sloppily. Lawrence flew to her side. “Are you okay, you’re really pale? Are you sick?”

  A happy voice shouted from the other end of the table. “She’s pregnant.”

  “Noo!” Anna held up her hands. “I’m definitely not pregnant. But, I might be a little sick. I’m sorry guys.”

  Another voice rejoined. “Yup, she’s pregnant.” Then the table was abuzz.

  Lawrence leaned down to her. “Do you need me to take you home?”

  “I think I’ll be okay if I’m not near this chicken. I must be sensitive to one of the ingredients. Would you please move it to the other end of the table?”

  * * * *

  The elevator opened to the penthouse and Player ran to greet them. Lawrence followed her to the kitchen with her basket of parting gifts. “You still don’t look right. Is there anything I can get you?”

  “Thank you, Larry, I know Rick charged you with my care while he and Matt are out of town, but I think I can manage a sick day on my own. Player and I are going to climb into bed and watch T.V.”

  Player herded her into the bedroom where he stood at Rick’s side of the bed. “Do you want the bed warmer on your side, too?” Player barked and jumped onto the bed. She put her fingers to her lips. “Don’t tell Daddy!” As if Rick can’t smell a Rottie. “Let’s go to bed, you can watch Puppy Planet.” She clicked on the T.V. and the dog cuddled next to her.

  * * * *

  The Colombian air nearly suffocated her. The limo’s air conditioner hadn’t cut the humidity. Player whined incessantly, pawing at her backpack. When the vehicle jerked to a stop, the hotel was disappointing. Paint peeled from gaudy carved surfaces. As she stepped from the limo, the pavement heaved under her feet. In slow motion she fought to balance her bags and the dog. Why was Player so needy? Lights flickered under the portico and then flashed out. She squinted to see. A voice extenuated behind her. She turned as though she was slogging through mud. The man stood dressed in a black sweat suit. The hoodie was tied down around his face, obscuring him from her vision. “Killl herrrr!”

  Anna jumped to avoid the attacker, almost dropping her backpack. She fell against the limo and the dirk dropped into her hand. The man advanced glacially, both arms reaching with cadaverous fingers clutching the air. She raised the dirk in self-defense when his face came into focus. Sterling’s death mask laughed at her. “Killl herrr.” She broke out of her mire and slashed at the specter. He dissolved into thin air.

  * * * *

  Anna bolted upright in the bed, shrieking. Player climbed into her lap, licking her face with a sad whimper. “Oh, baby, I’m so glad you’re with me.” She kissed his broad flat head as he offered doggie comfort. “We need a diversion, let’s go for a swim.”

  * * * *

  When Rick challenged his architect to create an oasis of luxury, the trendsetter played with clear materials. Standing tall above The Miracle Mile, the thirty by fifty by ten feet deep cantilevered pool juxtaposed his serious Elizabethan penthouse. If vampires existed on the fringe of life, Rick wanted his guests to swim along that fringe.

  Bands of clouds obscured the sliver of the moon. Anna caught sight of it as she padded out to a lounge chair beside the pool stairs. A mist hovered over the shimmering water. Player shadowed her devotedly as she dropped her towel on the chair and shook out her hair. Together, they stepped into the cerulean radiance of the warm pool water. It was heavenly. She dropped down the steps as it caressed her and held her as she pushed off from the bottom step. Player paddled in circles around her, shaking his head enjoying the buoyancy of the water. She swam over to the outside wall and marveled at the clarity of the eight-inch-thick transparent glass shell. Through the undulating water, she could see the city below, and she shivered at the thrill of being so many stories high and floating.

  She remembered summers as a child when she would swim the length of the pool on the bottom like a mermaid. Of course, Player hung back at the center of the pool and howled at the thought of swimming off the edge of the world. Let’s see how far I can go. Anna dove to the bottom and took graceful strokes. What a feeling! She reached the wall, did a kick turn and headed past Player. I can do another lap. She kept rapt attention at the night sky to her left through the glass wall. She heard the pool filter, Player’s splashing and her steady heartbeat as her strokes continued. Ah, peace! I wish Rick were here with me.

  She considered what vampire pool parties would look like with the softly colored lights outlining their toned bodies. She would enjoy watching Rick at play tossing a beach ball to Matt. Maybe Adam and Lawrence would join them. Cat would be there and…A page sounded through the water. “Mr. Pretty Boy, paging Mr. Pretty Boy.” She broke out of her stroke and bounded up out of the water’s depths searching in a circle for the source. The night was mockingly silent. Anna made for the stairs, the words echoing in her mind, Mr. Pretty Boy, paging Mr. Pretty Boy it looped irritatingly again and again. A chill ran down her spine to her toes as she stumbled up the steps toward the chair and her towel. Player shook the pool water off as Anna scrutinized the dimly lit living room from the patio. Eerie shadows played games inviting her back into the room. This is silly, if there was an intruder Player would be having a fit.

  She stood dripping at the threshold summoning her wits. Firelight danced behind the Elizabethan fire screen, casting a reflection on the imposing ceramic dog on the hearth. As Anna approached the sumptuous wing chairs flanking the mantle, shadows played cruel games with the static dog’s expression. She tiptoed across the deep carpet, past Arthur, Rick’s standing set of armor. She stopped and pivoted toward the dining room and peered down the hall to the foyer. The freezer dropped a load of ice and she shivered under the beach towel. “Mr. Pretty Boy, paging Mr. Pretty Boy”. Anna spun on her heel and shrieked at the standing armor. With two steps back she was lifting the faceplate, “Who’s in there?” Player joined her side and barked. This is ridiculous, Rick has security cameras everywhere. I couldn’t be safer in a bank vault. The phone on the sofa table shrilled. She jumped.

  The trill repeated and she extended a shaking hand to pick up the old-fashioned receiver. “Hello?” She was taken back at her own weak voice.

  “Anna, what’s wrong?” Rick’s warm solid voice comforted her.

  “Oh, ah, nothing. You woke me. You know us silly mortals. Sometimes I doze once the sun sets.”

  “Larry said you got sick at your party, are you okay?”

  “Did he tell you what those hens said?” Anna shifted with pool water dripping down her legs.

  “No, I heard you got plenty of Sterling Silver.”

  “They think I’m pregnant.”

  “Well…”

  “Well, what?”

  “Well if you are, we have to talk.”

  “Nothing to talk about, Fitz. It was that damn chicken stew. Ugh… After Colombia I never want to see chicken again.”

  “Really?”

  “I don’t know, babe. It was warm today, I had beer. I miss you. It’s complicated.”

  “If you’re lonely you can go downstairs and knock on Cat’s door. I’m sure she can make up an entertaining story about me.”

  “I like that idea! When are you coming home? I have to change the sheets…”

  “What?”

  “Player
claimed your side of the bed when I napped.”

  “Right… We’ll be back around two in the morning. And by the way, Player is guarding my side of the bed. I love you, Cupcake.”

  “I love you, Fitz.” Player barked. “And Player loves you too.”

  * * * *

  Anna arrived at Cat’s door wearing lounging pajamas and her fluffiest robe, carrying a liter of tequila, a saltshaker and a bag of limes.

  Cat opened the door holding a bottle of nail polish and an orange stick. Her toe separators were bright blue, they matched her romper set as she balanced on her heels. “Hi! What’s up?”

  “Tequila.”

  Cat’s eyes danced. “I can see. That’s a lot of tequila.”

  “Want to play a game? We can play while your toenails are drying.”

  Cat shuffled backwards to let her into the dramatically modern apartment. “What kind of game?”

  Anna went directly to the wet bar in the living room and spread out the saltshaker and limes. She instinctively knew where the cutting board and paring knife were. The TV remote was on the coffee table, and she walked over to pick it up. “It’s called Show Me Your Hands.” Cat cocked her head in confusion.

  Anna flipped through the channels and found a procedural cop show. The star of the show stood stalwart, gun in hand, shouting, “Show me your hands!”

  She gave Cat a significant look. “See there, the game is afoot!” She poured two shots and Cat nodded. “Ah, I get it. Set ’em up.”