by Heidi Lowe
"I speak it badly," she laughed. "I learned in Switzerland when I was younger."
"What was she saying to you?"
"She was talking about some of the galleries in her city."
"Just that?"
Jean regarded me curiously for a beat. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," I said quickly, and started to leave. "Let's just go back out there."
"Uh-uh, wait." She seized me by my wrists and forced me to look at her. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing. I'm having a great time, people are spending money. The night's been a success so far."
"But...?"
"No buts."
She smiled knowingly and threw her arms around my neck, and pressed her head to mine. "I'm probably completely off base, but if for whatever reason you thought I was doing more than just talking to that woman, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for one person. One crazy, adorable, loveable, exceedingly sexy person called Lissa Rowan. You might have heard of her."
I laughed and kissed her, then kissed her again just because she was mine.
"But she is hot, you can't deny that," I said, confirming what she'd suspected.
"Honestly, I hadn't noticed."
"Good answer."
I only saw the woman once more, when I was doing a speech thanking everyone for coming, and thanking Jean for giving me the gallery. The woman watched on from the crowd, watched us hug and kiss, then disappeared. I hoped that was the last I saw of her.
SEVENTEEN
Sharing a casket meant that their waking patterns were in tune. So the second Lissa woke up screaming, Jean awoke also.
"Honey, it's all right. It was just a dream," she said, rubbing Lissa's back.
It took a little while for her to catch her breath, for her body to stop quivering, and when she did, as she always did, Jean fully expected her to bury her head in Jean's chest for comfort.
So when Jean's hand was aggressively batted away, and a gruff, "Don't touch me," escaped Lissa's lips, followed by a look full of loathing, all she could do was stare at her, mouth parted in shock.
It was as if the past few weeks had never happened; that they hadn't kissed and made up, that they hadn't experienced the happiest moments of their lives together. It was as if they were back to square one.
"Lissa, what's wrong?" she asked, climbing out of the box after her. She prayed that she wouldn't have to relive that period. It had been such a dark time, and it had tested her like nothing else, tested her love. Her heart would break and never mend if she had to experience that all over again.
A distressed Lissa ignored her and hurried into the bathroom. Moments later, Jean heard the shower running.
Her next move would be crucial, which made it all the more difficult to decide. Did she wait until she'd finished showering, or did she ambush her in the shower and work out whatever grievances they had there? That first shower of the evening had always been theirs to enjoy together before facing the night. She had every right to be in there with her.
When she slid the door open, butt-naked, she half-expected to be shouted at and told to leave. But Lissa opened her eyes, the water running down her face, and pulled her in. First into the shower, then into a kiss.
"I'm sorry," she said. Had her tears not been red, they would have gone unnoticed by Jean, disguised by the water.
"Tell me what's wrong."
"I don't know. I don't know why I did that. Please forgive me."
"Always," Jean whispered. They kissed for a long time, forgetting their purpose for being in the shower. Then they made love, just like they always did.
And although the moment had passed, Lissa had apologized, and they'd made up, a disquieting feeling settled in Jean's stomach.
Nadine greeted her at the door when she stepped into Island Delight, the Caribbean restaurant.
"I thought Robyn would be here already," Jean said, setting herself at the bar beside her business partner.
"No, she's not." Nadine's answer came out stiff and succinct. Jean could sense the tension. Although her initial intention in going there hadn't been to play relationship counselor, and although she made a point of staying out of other people's love lives, she'd felt compelled to get involved. Robyn had gone back to being her mean, old self – grumpier than ever, in fact. Though it didn't bother her all that much, she hated to see Robyn suffer, because it was clear that she was. And what was also evident was that Nadine had something to do with it.
"Did she send you?" Nadine asked, suspicion in her eyes.
"No. But I won't lie and pretend I didn't come partly because of the discord."
Nadine sighed. She asked one of the bar staff to pour her a brandy, then said to Jean, "Don't judge me. I never usually drink on the job. Or anywhere, for that matter."
Jean smiled. "No judgments. Brandy used to solve a lot of my problems back in the day."
She had long forgotten the taste of brandy, and watched with a bittersweet smile as Nadine swallowed it down.
"What happened between you two? I thought things were going great."
"They were...until they weren't. I said something, something she didn't like, then next thing I knew, I wasn't serious about her anymore, and I was going to leave her for a man." She rolled her eyes. "It all got a little too much."
"What did you say to her?" Now her curiosity had reached an all time high. It must have been serious for Robyn to turn on Nadine like that.
"I said I'm not gay...or bi..."
"Ahh," was all Jean could say. Now she understood perfectly. That must have been a blow to her lovestruck assistant. The last thing any gay person wanted to hear was that the person they loved was straight. It didn't matter how many times said straight person had been in their bed, the act of defining oneself as heterosexual spoke volumes. It was like a betrayal, reducing their relationship to a mere fling that would be forgotten immediately after it ended.
"I didn't say I don't love her. She focused on what I choose to define myself as." Glass now empty, Nadine gestured for a top up, but then decided against it.
"Was she the first woman you...?"
"Yep. Before her, I'd never looked at women that way. I still don't. It's different with Robyn." She shook her head in frustration. "I tried to explain that to her, but she'd already made up her mind that I was just trying to have some meaningless fun before I married a guy and lived happily ever after. And telling her that my ex-boyfriend from college was in town didn't help matters. That was stupid."
Jean studied Nadine's face when she said that, and something occurred to her. She could read people quite well when it came to matters of the heart. "Is there a chance of you and the ex rekindling things?"
Nadine opened her mouth to answer with a firm no, an outraged no, but when she looked into Jean's eyes, she didn't feel like lying. "He was my first real love. The only reason we broke up was because I moved back here to take over the restaurant. Seeing him again has brought all the old feelings back."
It was Jean's turn to sigh. This wasn't going to end well for Robyn, and she wished she could shield her from it. She'd been so unlucky in love for so long. There was no telling how long it would take her to recover from this. And they'd all be subjected to her vitriol as she tried to make everyone else miserable.
"Does Robyn know all of this?"
"Not everything. I can't tell her. She'll think everything she said about me was true. It won't matter to her that I still love her, and that our relationship isn't just a bit of fun to me."
Jean liked Nadine a lot, she'd liked her from the moment they'd met. Her first and continued impression of her was that of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and knew just how to get it. She'd never struck her as someone with such flighty emotions. People really did come undone when love was involved.
"You need to decide what you want, Nadine," she said, patting her on the thigh in support. "And soon. It's not fair on Robyn."
Nadine nodded in agreement.
<
br /> Once the personal stuff was out of the way, they got down to business in the office.
"So all that's left is the liquor license renewal. We shouldn't have a problem with that, should we?" Jean got to her feet at the same time as Nadine. The meeting had come to an end. Business was booming; if that hadn't been obvious the second she walked into the place and saw how full it was, the books reaffirmed it. If everything went according to plan, before long they would be one of those exclusive, Michelin-starred restaurants that had long waiting lists and were selective about the type of people they admitted.
"Nope. We've never had a problem before. Should go through smoothly."
"Great. I'll see myself out." She started towards the door, then turned to Nadine and said, "Robyn is as hard as rocks, and she's sometimes impossible to reason with, but she's special, reliable, and she loves you very much. I really hope the two of you work it out." It wasn't her place to hope for a reconciliation, and she was certain Robyn's pride would make her resent her intervention, but it was the least she could do for her. There were so many things Robyn had done for her, things she could never have managed alone. She owed her everything.
She said farewell to Nadine and left the office. On her way past the bar, she said goodbye to the staff, and was about to head out when she spotted someone familiar sitting alone at the bar.
"Hello again," the woman said in her thick French accent. It was the woman from the gallery. Something about the way she sat, nursing her drink, suggested she was waiting for someone.
"Hi," Jean said, uncertainty heavy in her voice. "You were from the gallery the other night?"
"That's right." She set her drink down and extended a manicured hand. "Clara."
Jean shook it, though she didn't understand why the handshake or introduction were necessary. They didn't have anything else to discuss, and she had to get home to Lissa.
"Jean," she said anyway, out of politeness. "Will you be dining here tonight?"
"I haven't decided." Clara picked up a menu. "If I did, what would you recommend?"
Jean let out a little laugh. "Perhaps I'm not the right person to ask..."
"Oh, of course, sorry." Her face turned bright red.
"It's fine. Well, the jerk chicken is one of our most popular dishes. You could try that. Just keep a jug of water close by."
"Our?" Clara's eyebrows shot up. "You mean you own this place too?"
Jean wasn't as quick to answer this question. She didn't know why, but something about this woman made her nervous. Was it the dark eyes, or the cherry red lipped smile – both of which seemed to be laughing at her, as though hinting at a secret she would never tell? Or maybe it was the fact that Lissa had been jealous of this woman, and she didn't want to give her any more reason to be.
"Partner," she said finally, watching her closely as she sipped her drink. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but beautiful women were often the most trouble. She'd known that her whole life.
She knew she should have left then, gone home and forgotten about this woman, but something kept her there, kept her intrigued.
"You must get a lot of stares when people find out you own a restaurant."
"I don't come here often. And besides, it's the twenty-first century. Nowadays, there isn't an industry that we're not involved with."
"I once dreamed of running my own restaurant," Clara said, a little smile on her face, a distant look in her eye. "But I saw firsthand how stressful it is, and how many restaurants fail each year. I just became a chef instead."
"You're a chef?" Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but be enchanted by this news. Not only had she herself wanted to be a chef, one of her earliest childhood memories was of wanting to run her own restaurant. She could remember being six and playing restaurant owner with her friends, always taking the game more seriously than the others. The memory brought a smile to her face, and she didn't realize that Clara was still watching her.
"I was, once. Now I cook for my friends and family only."
The question – what do you do now? – sat on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't open her mouth to ask it. It didn't matter what she did now. This was dangerous territory, taking any type of interest in this woman, even if it was completely innocent. Because sometimes, affairs started out innocently.
"Well, Clara, it was nice to see you again. If you do stay for dinner, I hope you enjoy your meal. Have a good evening." She left in a hurry and never looked back, and didn't see Clara's eyes on her the whole time, watching her with intrigue.
EIGHTEEN
"There's a little extra in there this week," I said, handing Rosie the envelope containing her weekly paycheck. We'd reached the end of what had been a busy, and profitable, week at the gallery. It was approaching ten p.m. and the last buyer had just left.
"You didn't have to do that," she said.
"You earned it. Go buy something unnecessary and lavish."
I still hadn't fully gotten used to being the payer of wages and not the payee, and this week marked five weeks since I'd become the gallery's new proprietor. Although I considered myself a laid-back, easygoing boss, I still had authority, and that was sometimes scary. Authority went hand in hand with increased responsibility.
"I have actually had my eye on a pair of Christian Louboutin heels that I absolutely don't need and that won't go with anything in my closet." She collected her purse and jacket from the back room. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay a little longer while you close up?"
"No, go! Go!" I laughed, shooing her out.
"See you in a couple of days." The bell on the door dinged upon her exit.
I still had a couple of orders to enter into the system before I could leave. That was another thing about being the chief, you stayed later than everyone else. Had it been possible for me to work during the day, I would probably have been there earlier than everyone else, also.
I smiled to myself as I tapped the buyer's address into the computer. I would have happily worked all day long and through the night for this place, never making a cent. Because it was my baby – a dream come true. Made possible by my other baby, my lady. And that thought, that she would be waiting for me when I got home, turned my little smile into a huge, silly grin. Life was wonderful.
The bell on the entrance dinged, and without looking up I announced, "Sorry, we're closed."
"You're never going to make any money that way."
I looked up immediately, certain that the voice I'd heard couldn't possibly have belonged to the person I thought it belonged to.
Petr stood at the door removing his scarf. For a second I couldn't even move, didn't blink out of pure shock. Then I ran to him and threw my arms about his neck.
He chuckled and hugged me back. "Steady on."
"What are you doing here? Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"
"I thought I'd surprise you. You know I can't do anything normal, I have to make a huge deal out of everything." He flicked his wrist in that way he always did, making him look as camp as Christmas at a Cher concert! I breathed in his familiar scent, the cologne I knew so well, that I myself had first introduced him to.
We hadn't spoken since the video chat, apart from sending very impersonal texts to each other. But all of that nonsense was forgotten as we hugged it out again.
"You have no idea how good it is to see you," I said, a sentiment that came from the bottom of my heart.
"Sure I do. I'm amazing, and you've missed me like crazy. I get it," he joked, receiving a playful slap on the arm. A rock hard arm, that seemed to be all muscle.
"Have you been working out?" I asked, squeezing his upper arm.
"When am I not?"
"I take it you've already been up to the house, and Jean told you where to find me?"
He stepped past me and did a lap of the gallery, surveying it with awe in his eyes.
"Look at this place. You lucky minx. How much does a place like this cost?" He stopped in front of a pa
inting of a wheelbarrow tipped over, overflowing with all the different countries' currencies – a piece I'd loved the moment I saw it.
"No idea. I think it was doing badly, which prompted the owner to sell, so maybe she got a good deal on it."
"You didn't ask?" The pitch of his voice rose. "Lissa, Lissa, Lissa, have I taught you nothing?"
"Be quiet," I said, hitting him again. "If someone gives you a gallery, you don't ask them how much they paid for it."
"I don't care what anyone says, a gift like this doesn't come free. You must be working really hard in the bedroom."
I went to hit him again, harder this time, but he moved before I could, chuckling as I kept trying. We were such children when we got together, it was hard to believe I was anyone's boss.
"So how is everything between you?" he said, once we'd settled down again.
"Better than ever. We're closer than we've ever been. For the first time, I feel like I'm in a healthy relationship. Can you believe that? It took me becoming a vampire to grow up."
It had actually taken a lot more than that, like almost losing Jean through my hostility, to get me to change my ways. In time I would tell him all about it.
He jumped up and sat on the counter. I sat beside him. He studied me long and hard. "I still can't get over it. You, like this, I mean. Do you feel any different?"
I shrugged. "Mostly, no. But I'm always conscious of it whenever I leave the house. I can't afford not to be."
"I still think it's cool. Have you bitten anyone yet?"
There was so much I hadn't told him. About No Man's Land, about Oliver, about all the women I'd sunk my teeth into. The person I had briefly become in those dark times wasn't anyone he would recognize. But it embarrassed me to think that side of me even existed, and could resurface again at any moment.
"Yes," I said stiffly. "It's not all it's cracked up to be." At that point I wasn't merely downplaying, but downright lying! Taking directly from the source was so dangerously delicious, I wondered how any vampire could stand to not spend every waking moment engaging in it.