Apparently she’d sought me out — consciously or unconsciously — because of my job. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. I had to acknowledge that her seeking unofficial counseling was marginally better than just trying to use me to get a story. Everybody has an agenda.
One fat tear slid down her cheek and she glanced around, then plucked a tissue out of the box on the table in front of her and blew her nose, making an unusually loud, multi-octave honking noise.
The unexpected sound caused us both to stare at each other for a moment before we burst out laughing.
“Whoa! Where’d that come from?” Maxie said, smiling. “Do I know how to lighten a mood, or what? Barnum and Bailey, sign me up!”
I’d put my hand over my mouth in a futile effort to muffle my own laughter. It was terrible of me to have such an inappropriate reaction after someone had shared something so emotionally intense, but it was why people sometimes laughed at funerals: stress can cause really unexpected reactions.
I caught my lower lip between my teeth to force myself to stop chuckling, but all that did was cause me to snort too, and we both lost it again.
After an endless amount of time, the frivolity calmed and we each reached for a tissue. I fanned myself with my hand, shaking my head, grinning. “I think we both needed that, don’t you?”
“Hell, yeah! I’m already better just being around you. I think you’ve got the healing touch, Doc.” She sipped her wine, not making eye contact any more.
Well, apparently she needs to talk. I gave a mental sigh. “Do you want to tell me about your situation? And your boyfriend?”
Her anxious gaze quickly shifted to mine and away again before she set her glass on the table. “I didn’t come over to spill my guts, Doc. Denver’s full of shrinks if I need one.”
Uh-huh. I relaxed back into the couch cushions and waited.
She glanced at me a couple of times before twisting her body to face me. “I’m just a fuck-up, Doc. Everything I touch turns to shit.”
“Hmm. Give me an example.” I retrieved my wine glass and sipped.
“You want actual specifics?” At my go ahead gesture she started, “Well, my job for one. I screwed up a while back and slept with the boss, then I asked him to front me some cash to pay off a debt. After he gave me the money I managed to lose that, too.”
“Are you saying you have a gambling problem?”
“Bingo, Doc.” She picked up her glass and took a healthy sip. “I love casinos — I’ll bet on anything. And sometimes I even win, but I can’t walk away, so I end up broke and swearing I’ll never do it again.”
“So you lost the money the boss gave you?”
“Yep, but it was worse, because that wasn’t the first time. He gave me an ultimatum: get my shit together or get out.”
“Are you still in a relationship with him? Is he your boyfriend?”
“Nope. I only had sex with him a few times to keep him in a good mood. If my boyfriend found out, he’d go berserk. In fact, he’d probably beat the shit outta my boss, which wouldn’t help my employment situation.” She finished her wine. “Can I have a refill?”
“Sure.” I pointed. “The bottle’s on the kitchen counter. Bring it back with you.”
At least if I listen to her, maybe she’ll forget about the vampire staking plan.
She came back to her place on the couch, filled both our glasses and lifted the bottle to read the label. She burst out laughing. “Perfect, Doc! Vampire merlot. You do have a sense of humor!”
“I can’t take credit for it.” I chuckled. “It was a gift from a friend.”
She set the bottle on the table. “You must have some strange friends.”
You have no idea. “A few. So, back to your boyfriend. Tell me about him.”
She frowned. “We’ve been together, on and off, for years — he’s gorgeous, smart and funny.”
“That sounds pretty good. So why are you frowning? What’s the problem?”
“Can’t put anything past you, Doc.” She paused while she drank more wine, then she admitted, “There’s a problem — a few of them, actually. He just can’t keep his cock in his pants, and he’s got a hair-trigger temper.”
Uh-oh. “He’s violent? With you?”
“Sometimes.”
Shit! “Maxie, what the hell are you thinking?”
“I don’t know — like I said, I’m a fuck-up. Trust me to find the biggest asshole in town, and to keep believing his stupid apologies.”
“But what—”
“Ya know,” she bolted off the couch, “I really don’t wanna talk about this anymore. There’s nothing you can do. I just have to stop being a coward and make a new decision.” Her face was pale and her eyes dull. She drained her glass before replacing it on the table. “I’ve taken up enough of your time. I’m gonna head over to the meaningless event and let you get on with your evening. I’m sorry I vomited my dramas over you like that. It wasn’t fair, since that’s the kind of crap you have to listen to all the time. I hope you’ll forgive me for being such a loser.”
Damn. I can’t leave her like this...
I emptied my glass and set it on the table alongside hers. It wouldn’t kill me to spend a little time with her, give her some resources, encourage her to get help.
“I don’t think you’re a loser, in fact, just the opposite. I think you’re a survivor.”
“Yeah.” She gave a cynical laugh. “Survivor — over and over again. I think I’ve got a theme going.”
And maybe it would do me good to get a firsthand taste of Denver’s occult underworld. Maxie had been right this morning when she suggested I could use the material in my private practice and for my book. And if I was really serious about expanding my social horizons, here was a perfect opportunity for me to step outside my rigid routine, to follow my own therapeutic advice and take a chance. After all, I was client-free for the weekend, and I had no other plans.
“Why not change the theme?”
“As if it’s that easy, Doc.”
“It isn’t easy at all, but it can be done.” I stood, because staring up at her was putting a crick in my neck. “You seriously want me to go with you?” I frowned. “My being there will make things easier?”
Her face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning as a huge smile curved her lips. “No shit? You’ll actually go with me? Well, hot damn! Maybe I should whine more often.” She laughed. “Thanks so much, really. How cool! I have a pal — someone to share the bullshit with!” She plopped down on the couch again with a wide grin, back to her effervescent personality, all angst sufficiently repressed.
I watched her for a few seconds, waiting for another mood shift. Borderlines are such amazing manipulators...
“Are you going to change clothes?” she said. “I don’t think a dress would be the best choice for the lunatic festivities, but if you’re going as you are, I have to say I really miss the fat noodle you had on your tit when you opened the door. Maybe we could fish it out of the garbage and stick it back on? I thought it made a powerful statement. Sort of a metaphor about being willing to bend, or knowing when to cling to what you have...”
She hooted out a laugh as I picked up a cushion from a chair and sailed it at her head. She deflected the fluffy assault and continued laughing.
I folded my arms over my chest, grinning. “If you’re going to make fun of my fashion accessories, I’ll have to rethink my offer.”
She stood and bowed from the waist, her silky hair cascading to the floor. “Many humble apologies, my new buddy, for my thoughtless remark about your... noodle. I promise never to have another opinion about whatever you plaster to your tit. Unless it’s some hot guy’s hand, then I might have to speak up.” She gave a mini wolf-howl and flopped onto the couch again.
I paused for a moment, reconsidering my decision to spend the evening with a crazy woman, but her words gave me a quick memory-flash of Devereux’s hand on that very tit and I smiled. M
axie was clever — wounded and probably nuts, but clever. She reminded me of Alan Stevens, a certain cocky FBI agent I’d befriended a while back. He was out of the country with his mother the vampire now. I missed talking to him. Maybe it would be fun for me to spend some time with someone else who enjoyed laughing. It was no secret that I tended to take things way too seriously — definitely another downside to my profession, and a downside I wouldn’t mind uplifting. And there was no time like the present.
“Yeah, you’re a laugh riot. I’ll go upstairs and change. I’ll be right back.”
***
We walked out of my front door onto the street still arguing about whose car to take. Maxie was insisting on her Jeep, saying it would come in handy.
“What do you mean? Are we going off-roading?”
She tugged on my coat sleeve as I veered off in the direction of the garage to fetch my BMW, pulling me over to the beat-up vehicle at the curb.
“Not exactly.” She grinned. “But I gather from my informant that our destination isn’t car-friendly. Apparently, the ‘staking’ is happening in some abandoned area, so we might have to camouflage the Jeep and walk to the main event. I like to make a surprise entrance — that way I get to see more than they intend for me to see.”
“So?” I shook my arm loose. “How does that put my car out of the running? My comfortable little ride can hide in the shadows as easily as yours. You’re just prejudiced against slick cars.”
She opened the passenger side and shoved at me until I was all the way in.
“Hey! No pushing! You’ll wrinkle my favorite suede coat.”
She circled around the front of the car and slid behind the wheel.
“Sorry,” she said, not sounding sorry at all. “Are you saying my baby’s not slick? I’ll have you know this vehicle has gotten me out of more tough spots than I can count. Take a look behind you.” She clicked on the inside light and twisted in her seat so she could reach into the back, and lifted a tarp.
I goggled. The back of the car was filled with an assortment of shovels, tools, junk food, beer, cold weather supplies, a tent, outdoor cooking equipment, flashlights, candles, what appeared to be sharpened stakes, and weapons — guns and knives.
Guns. Knives.
I slowly turned my eyes to hers, my stomach tightening. “What the hell, Maxie? Are you some kind of survivalist? Why do you have guns? And what’s with the stakes? I thought you’d never encountered a real vampire?”
“Chill, Doc! You’ve obviously led a very sheltered life. In my line of work, I deal with all manner of slime-bags. Before I figured out the degree to which I needed to take care of myself, I barely escaped from some dangerous situations. It’s impossible to be a reporter if you aren’t going to follow the vermin into their holes. As far as the stakes, they’re amazingly effective at scaring off vampire wannabes. I’ll use whatever works.” She replaced the tarp and reached into a storage box between our two seats, then she pulled out a strip of leather and tied it around her hair, making the longest ponytail — or, rather, horsetail — I’d ever seen. She saw me watching her and smiled.
“Still fascinated with the white hair?”
“No. Well, yes, but I was wondering how you deal with hair that long. Doesn’t it get in the way? Isn’t it heavy?” I thought about the relentless weight of my own hair, and mine was only half as long as hers.
“Nope. I’m used to it. It’s just another one of my many charming idiosyncrasies. Besides, my foul-tempered significant other likes it this way.”
“I hope you’ll talk about him some more — expose the truth. Perpetrators like when you keep their secrets.”
She slanted a glance at me and gave a wicked smile. “We’ll see. I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours.” She started the Jeep, shut off the inside light and pulled onto the road.
“What makes you think I have anything to tell?”
“Let’s just say that it isn’t easy for an incredibly gorgeous, wealthy man to avoid being stalked by reporters and the paparazzi, even in Denver. Showing up on his arm once might have been explained by a casual friendship, but there were repeated sightings — and then you moved your practice into his building. The only business on the premises, I might add, that isn’t owned by his international conglomerate. Demented little inquiring minds want to know, Doc, and my rag of a magazine intends to supply the answers. Devereux is incredible. Odd, though, that there’s no mention anywhere of a last name. He’s quite the mystery man. You wouldn’t happen to know what his last name is, would you?”
I glared. “Are we back to interviewing me, Maxie?”
“Mea culpa,” she grinned. “Old habits die hard.”
I had to hand it to her. That was a smooth move — masterful avoidance.
“Okay, so you know about Devereux. It’s not a secret. Back to your boyfriend.”
“Jesus, Doc, you’re relentless. As I said, I manage to screw up everything. My patterns with men are hopeless. I’ve always had a weakness for narcissistic cocksmen, and right now I’m mad about a dude who’s too busy to pay any attention to me. He travels a lot for work, but when he’s on good behavior, he’s irresistible.”
“Will I get to meet this irresistible... dude?” Maybe I can sic a vampire on his battering ass.
“Well, it’s not out of the realms of possibility, but I do doubt it. He doesn’t live in Denver, and I never know when he’s going to show up. We make up for it with great phone sex.” She flashed another of her trademark grins at me.
“Phone sex?” Too bad Devereux and I never talk on the phone. He has no use for them.
She smiled. “Yeah, but sex is certainly more fun when he’s actually in the room with me.”
Appreciating the truth of that statement, I grinned myself and stared out the window at the full moon, wondering where my sex object was. It was probably better that I didn’t know, though, since I was pretty sure he’d be furious that I’d fled protective custody. I glanced behind me, just to make sure he hadn’t materialized. He could be anywhere in a multitude of universes, and yet he could still show up in a heartbeat to surprise me. And the ease with which I contemplated that bizarre thought made me shake my head. How weird was it that my vocabulary now included words like parallel dimensions, simultaneous existence, auras, etheric bodies and Druids, of all things.
Leave it to me to fall for a guy whose mother was an apparition and whose extended family included ancient witches and wizards!
I’d recently realized that I’d stopped labeling Devereux’s vampirism as the strangest thing about him. I hadn’t exactly gotten used to it, but in the midst of all his other disturbing facets, blood-drinking didn’t rate very high on the fright-o-meter any more. Amazing what one can acclimate to — especially if it was linked with great sex.
I roused myself from my daydream and noticed we’d traveled away from the lights of the downtown area. We probably hadn’t been driving that long, but I’d lost track of time. “Where the hell is this place? Kansas?”
“Nope.” She chuckled. “We’re still in Denver. I took a back route so nobody would see us arrive. Here we are.”
She angled the car off the road, edged it between two rows of trees and killed the engine.
I leaned forward and peered through the windshield. Thanks to the moon, it was pretty easy to see. “What is this place?” I pointed. “That rickety thing looks like some old rollercoaster or something.” I shifted my head toward Maxie. “This is where we’re going? An abandoned amusement park?”
“You got it, Doc. I don’t know how long you’ve been in Denver, but the fire that destroyed half of this place was the talk of the town. We wouldn’t have our fancy new state-of-the-art tourist trap downtown if a little pyromaniac bugger hadn’t torched this one. And are you ready for this? The jerk set the fire because he was a pyromancer.”
I frowned. “A what? I’m not familiar with that term.”
Maxie nodded. “A pyromancer — somebody who reads the future by
interpreting flames. This is right up your alley, actually. At his trial, the creep testified that the voices in his head told him to barbecue the whole park so he could write his own book of future predictions, like Nostradamus. There’s an asshole born every minute. Come on. Let’s collect supplies.”
She opened her door and stepped out before quietly pushing it closed. I followed her example and tiptoed around to the back of the Jeep.
“Are you sure this is where the thing is happening?” I glanced around. “I don’t see anybody. It’s so quiet.”
She popped open the plastic flap covering the rear window and peeled it back, flopping it up on the roof. “Shhhh. We’re on the other side of the park, but you never know who’s lurking.” She pointed to a broken chain-link fence. “We’ll be crawling in under that fence and skulking around to find a good place to observe.” She studied my clothes, her lips pursed. “The jeans, sweater and hiking boots are great, but you might want to lose the coat if it really is your favorite. Leave it in the car or it’ll get filthy. I have a couple of parkas — you can use one.”
I started to complain that I didn’t want to crawl anywhere, but she’d already focused her attention on grabbing supplies from her rolling disaster-preparedness stash.
Well, I said I was willing to try something different...
I shrugged out of my coat, took my cell phone, wallet, and keys out of the pockets and exchanged it for one of the black parkas. The pillowy jacket was too warm for the mild weather, and it turned me into the Pillsbury Doughboy. I crammed all my things into one large pocket and filled the other with the flashlight, tape recorder, pocket knife, writing pad, candy bar and pen Maxie thrust into my hands.
“Okay. You have to take one of these. Which one do you think you could handle?” She held out a Taser and a pistol. She shifted her weight from side to side impatiently as I stared at the two foreign objects in her hands. “Well? What’s the problem?”
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