“Well not yet... the night is still young.” Thankful for the topic switch. “I’m hosting a party at Gavin’s place while he’s gone.”
“Does he know?”
“Unfortunately, yes and that just takes the fun out of it.”
“Of course.” He laughs then settles. “So... a lot of news from the island gets carried over to the guys when they get calls. And... one of which is about you and Adrian Galzra.”
Oh.
“He and I went on out a few nights ago,” I say, honestly. Like I’d hide that, I scoff. I have no problem keeping things out in the open. That way, no confusion occurs, and folks know how fucky I’m making my life.
“I heard. And how the cops were called...” A laugh starts up on the other line.
“Hey, this time I wasn’t arrested,” I point out because that’s important here.
“I’m proud.” No doubt he’s rolling his eyes. He doesn’t seem pissed or shocked, and I wait for him to ask how Adrian and I met or what our so-called status is (just a kinky friendship) —all, once again, I don’t mind revealing. Yet he asks something else that I’d never thought he’d care to before.
“How does Gavin feel about you two?”
“I... Uh—” That’s a good question. “He... I’m sure he’s... sixty-seven percent okay with it.” At least, from my own assumption. Jonathan hums, approvingly.
“That’s a D plus. I’ll take it.” Not surprising. We share that rating during the school years. “If the vampire is okay with whatever you do, then so am I.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You think we don’t watch out for you when the other isn’t around? Or let the other know what’s up?”
“I... honestly, I didn’t.” Not sure to be relieved at their getting along better or a bit ticked that these guys are watching and sharing my every move? Do I need watching?
“It’s been that way for a while, Ko. For instance, he told me he was going to ask you to stay at his place this weekend before he went to you it about.”
“Yup, because that’s what partners in crime do.” I snort.
“Nailed it, baby. I’ll say he and I hadn’t a real chance to discuss this Adrian guy. You’re bringing him into our circle of friends, naturally I believe I have a right to know more. Especially as the hearsay I’m receiving is that he has a thing for you.”
“The hearsay is a bit flawed. Sort of.” I’m not too keen on a specific answer. “But you’re right, though I hope you trust my judgment he’s not bad at all.” A bit psycho when it comes to invisible barriers. “When you get back you can meet and interrogate him yourself like everyone else did.”
“I look forward to it,” he says with a dangerous growl. “You’re still my Kokoa.”
“That sounds like a form of slavery or prostitution. Both prohibited under Grimstone law.”
“Like that’ll stop me from not allowing my best girl to befriend a male dragon.”
“I’m starting to see I like to befriend a lot of possessive males.”
“No argument there. I’ll let you get on with your party. Don’t get too wasted,” he says.
“Boo! I’ll think of you when I’m gyrating next to a three headed dog.”
“That must be normal since it’s coming out of your mouth.”
“You know it.”
Chapter Twelve
Belinda brought a fog machine. Turned on, the ankle-deep clouds part as I and the crowd step inside the ballroom.
A.k.a: Club Vamp.
Oohs, and ahhs erupt. The lights now off, our bodies illuminate from red and purple flashing, seizure inducing, strobes pulsating in harmony with the blasting heavy bass music. Everyone beelines for the dance floor. I remain motionless, staring at the transformation. The changes shine under the glittery discos balls that hang high up. Terrell had shifted into his hawk form earlier and installed them, using his beak and skillful talons. Black balloons float among feet. A light rain of confetti consistently trickled down, brushing against raised arms. The dance floor was packed, everyone donning short dresses and unbuttoned shirts—laughing, hooting and hollering.
On each wall, long tables hold various Rabid Sombrero finger foods. Jefferies mans a makeshift nearby. Styled in a simple black shirt and trousers, the butler beams while serving drinks. Something runs past my ankles—Tim’s three pairs of ears sticking up from the thick fog, running around, hopping over balloons and popping them. Conversation volumes were pushed to the max as Claus, the DJ, rolls out the next pop song by a human name Kesha, in high volume—her energizing anthem of losing your mind and clothes shakes the floor. Writhing bodies crowd a five-foot-tall stage against the right wall. They surround a go-go cage, decked out in tiny hot pink light bulbs that wrapped around the bars. Inside, swinging and pelvic thrusting on a pole was—
“Mezzasalma?!”
“She’s good, right?” Belinda appears, wiggling her booty in place. “We’ve never seen her act like this.”
“Now, neither will I.” I blink rapidly, thinking I’m imagining the little vampire lady striking better moves than any seasoned stripper would. Thankfully, no actual stripping was going on. She had switched her long black gown for tie-dye leggings and a white halter top. Her... exposed... skin matched the top’s color while her face was shades darker in its usual smoky eye. I’ll never live up to her perfect make-up level.
I stare, open mouthed, at Gavin’s great aunt twirling in blurring speeds, stopping every so often to strike a pose.
Her choreography is even better than mine.
Terrell jogs to me and Belinda, looking mighty fine in a tight shirt showcasing dark, muscled arms. My eyes aren’t the only ones that notice the shifter. Nadine, the second in charge maid woman who’s sleeping with his brother, though carries a torch for Terrell, stood yards away, staring at him. She quickly scurried off when Belinda waved, having been caught.
“Dance with me, ladies?” Terrell asks. A wink and eyebrow waggle came with the request.
“Hell yeah.” We rocket to the floor, right in the middle, we’re swallowed, trapped on all sides. Another human singer bellows on, singing about needing rescue along with a fast beat. However, I don’t need rescuing. Packed inside the undead circle will be where I’ll stay for a while. Sandwiched between Terrell and Belinda, she looped her arms around my neck rocking her hips in tune with mine. Terrell’s grasp holds them from behind, though never traveling down in risqué areas. On and off, my eyes close, absorbing and shutting out the vibrating energy that pressed against my body that soon grew hot and carried a sheen of sweat.
I don’t how many times Belinda and I were spun into another person’s arms. Jumping, head rocking and singing at the top of our lungs.
“Woah-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, we ain’t stoppin’, keep on dancing until the world ends!”
I don’t know how long I floated on the hip shaking high.
Or when exactly Mezzie started a conga line.
I was in near the front, laughing and screaming as the train went around the whole room in fast paces without warning. At the end, was Tim, holding tight with his three jaws on someone’s pant legs, ass skidding. His tails wag furiously. These people really need to take him out more.
The party started after dark, indicated by the tall windows, no sight of dawn nearing—from the faces that bubbled around me, thriving in ecstasy enriched freedom, was telling they weren’t stopping until the sun reared its head.
Bring it.
Belinda exclaims her demand of refreshments in my ear and then we were suddenly in front of Jefferies. Parched too, I lick my lips at the concoctions the butler passed out. Wicked and toxic looking in heavy glass goblets, those at the bar greedily gulp the colorful liquid.
The popular drink choice was something a deep purple and green colored with a black squiggly straw and white cloudy smoke, lazily flowing over the rim.
“I want one of those,” I say, watching wide eyed at a guy going crossed eyed while drinking it. I’ll always segue in somew
here that I’m an enthusiast for all things liquidy and that could turn me into a limb numbing bobble head.
Don’t let Ma know I said that.
“Me too!” Belinda bounces.
“Two Phantom Hearts, coming right up.” Jefferies nods, getting right to mixing the ingredients—in one, he added blood droplets for Belinda. Though, she’s part nymph, her vampire side required a bit of it. To both glasses, he plops in mini smoke cubes. Edible magic. Dry and solid at first, and see-thru to show the wisps of the smoke circling around in it. Then once liquid is poured on top, its solid walls slowly evaporate, releasing cold smoke inside.
The icy tendrils tickled the backs of our hands as Belinda and I held the cups. At the same time, while Jefferies watches—amused as usual—we face each other and take the first sip.
Let me state first, obviously, not coming to a shock to most of you all, I’ve had my fair share of exotic drinks. The Phantom Heart? Surprisingly, not among the list. So I had no idea what to expect.
Flavor blasts me the instant it hits my tongue.
Tart raspberry... sour green apple ... a burn from Cauldron Vodka... here’s a kicker-jalapeno pepper hot... then raspberry again.
This actually should be called A What The Fuck Hurricane. Because what the fuck did I just drink, and can I have some more, please?
Belinda squealed, unlatching her lips from the straw and doubled over giggling.
Really, Phantom Heart with its odd combo of original flavors is a winner. So was Jefferies. He could definitely go forth and propose at being a bartender.
“I am glad you enjoyed it.” He smiles. “I had acquainted myself with a few recipes from the Internet.” Quickly, he whips himself one in a smaller cup.
We toasted to the blessing of modern technology.
After, when Terrell joined us again, I pulled them to the Rabid Sombrero smorgasbord . A ghoul in sagging pants had delivered all thirty plastic trays, either containing lime tortilla chips with an array of dips, different stuffed burritos, tacos, quesadillas, etc. A table had blood added versions. We load plates, and after the third cautious bite—yeah, I counted, Terrell and Belinda were addicts.
Not just because of obvious signs like moaning or plate licking. No, it was solidified when after the third bite, they plowed through the rest plus two more plates, whereas I was still munching on my first.
“I walk past The Rabid Sombrero from time to time, but I never had the thought to go in,” Belinda states. I made a noise of agreement.
“You and everyone else in Grimstone. Yet, it’s one of those hidden jewels in a deserted and questionable part of town like you’d see celebs travel to on food network channels.”
“Yeah, yeah!” Terrell boasts and dips a taquito in guacamole. “A hole in the wall joint.” I purse my lips and agreed wholeheartedly. The Rabid Sombrero definitely had several actual holes in their walls.
Crunch, crunch, crunch, slurp, smack, smack—burp.
Belinda frowns her pouty lips, at the sudden loud eating sounds. Neither Terrell or I were blatantly chewing with our jaws snapping up and down like impolite llamas. No one else mingled near the buffet table we stood next to.
Crunch, crunch,crunch, slurp, smack, smack—burp.
This went on again, except the last, ended in a very loud wet sounding burp that shook the table, ruffling the tissue paper covering.
Fear grew in Belinda’s eyes, as they shifted downward. “I think there’s a monster under the table.”
“Well, given we all are monsters—he or she should be welcomed.” I set my plate aside and crouch on the floor. I wrench up the covering and there, within the shadows, two beady eyes widened on the lump of body that was hunched in a corner. It hissed at the sudden intrusion of light. Nacho crumbs littered the area among a sea of cheese and salsa splatters. Thick burritos were piled high on a plate by its feet.
“Hell.” I grumble. “Chef Emmett?”
“The precious!” he yells, grabbing all his burritos at once. “IT’S MINE! THEY’RE ALL MINE!” He unleashes animal noises that many would describe as terrifying, nightmare inducing, deranged... worrisome. There’re other adjectives I could keep on reciting but I’d already stood up and left Emmett to his private affairs.
Not gonna lie, I’m bit jealous I can’t be him this very moment. Maybe when I’m back home and not surrounded by many possible judging faces.
“He’s not okay, is he?” Terrell asks.
“Oh, absolutely not.” I shake my head. “That ship sailed long ago and into a looney sunset. Don’t bring up whatever you just saw tomorrow. I doubt he’ll even remember he’d created a little taco nest underneath a table.” Undoubtedly, the chef would be like the fictional werewolves portrayed in movies—where the dude never recalls what he’d done during the night he shifted.
“Should we at least offer any sort of help?” Belinda canted her head. Looping my arms through theirs, I directed them back to the dance floor.
Away from the creature we’d once known to be Chef Emmett.
“No.” I sigh. “Let him be...”
Chapter Thirteen
We’ve reached the point of no return.
A frenzy of epic fuckery.
A circle enclosed the vampire butler who was break dancing against the three-foot ass-popping she-vamp.
“Go, Jefferies,”
“Go, Mezzie,”
“Go, Jefferies,”
“Go, Mezzie,”
Neither broke a sweat.
“WE GOT OURSELVES ANOTHER TRIBUTE!” shouts Marina, making eyes shift from side to side, pointing and shouting out names. Throwing their friends under the bus of who’ll be the next spotlight dancer.
Except, as Marina bellowed, one was selected.
“You got this in the bag, homegirl,” the bear shifter says, suddenly by my ear, then her large hands grip my waist and the next second I was tossed into the circle.
“Marina!” I stomp my foot. Cheers went on. Terrell hoots, pumping his fist. Needless to say, I am very unprepared to be targeted. Swiveling around, again and again, claps ring out encouraging me to dance my little heart out. It’s on those rare occasions, I’d reach my party hooch center and go balls to the wall buckwild in front of a crowd.
Don’t tell Pops, I do that.
But I guess I gotta tap into it now. I shrug, smiling. I’m not admitting defeat before trying against my opponent who was—
It was the Paula Abdul of vampires, herself: Mezzasalma.
She shakes out her feet, preparing, eyes narrowing. We circle each other like two boxers.
“Honey, I’ve been rocking this bod before your daddy’s—daddy’s—daddy’s—daddy’s—daddy’s—daddy’s daddy was even born,” she says.
“I didn’t quite understand all of that but make known, I ain’t going down without a fight!” I say, shucking off my flipflops. “Ooohs!” fill the air. Our earlier bonding over the Golden Girls a distant memory now.
“Very well then!” she shouts.
“I know it is! CLAUS!” I turn to the wizard at the DJ booth. He smiles and spreads his arms wide, waiting for my song pick. “Thriller me, baby!”
“You got it.” He points his fingers downward and green lightning zaps strike the turntables, sending electrifying spider webs over the setup. Then the current song switches to Michael Jackson’s Thriller.
Basically, every supernatural’s pledge of allegiance.
The song sparks its own magic in each being in the ballroom. The instrumental plays and instantly the choreography I’d memorized when I was five took over my body. I was Michael in the torn red jacket, leading a pack of zombies. However, the invisible dancers soon became real as the crowd, including Mezzie, falls into step alongside me. Claus above us, dancing too, all were doing the best dance known to human and paranormal—kind.
Hands on the groin, we thrust.
Claw fingers, we move them side to side.
Slow shuffle turn, we look over our shoulders.
Full spin, t
hen—
“’CAUSE THIS IS THRILLER!”
Staff members half formed their hybrid counterparts, dancing with wings out, tails swaying, fangs gleaming.
I did too. My fluffy, white wolf tail sprouts out and from underneath my skirt. My ears stretch, producing the same starkly-colored fur, and spear through my blond hair.
Despite being the only wolf, when I howl, everyone joins in.
“THRILLER NIGHT!”
And as the howls die, so does the night. Yeah, dammit—here goes the insert of: All good things must come to an end.
***
I’m pretty sure I bumped butts with everybody, Jefferies too, at least a dozen times each. I didn’t mind—I was having so much fun.
An overabundance of such that it consumed the time.
Pale pink and orange seeped once again into the sky.
Damn the orbiting planet.
People began to trickle out, yawning, waving their goodbyes to a select few who they wouldn’t see until Monday, since they were relieved of duty. Their satisfied, some drunken, faces spilled pools of pride in my chest.
Like Mary Poppins—My work here is done.
Folks hugging in departure, Mezzasalma snoring in the cage, and Tim zonked next to Emmett in a burrito coma in the middle of the floor brought memories to surface of my group of monster misfits. Piper being Mezzasalma and Lucas the one laid out or already gone because he’d been escorted out by security.
There’s others, like Heidi the witch, her boyfriend, Onyx, Piper’s lover Trevor and Arianna—Adrian’s twin sister—all of whom would have loved what I executed to make happen tonight.
Gavin too.
Belinda and Terrell, among more, hung back with me to clean up. In passing, I got hugs, and back pats.
“This night will be one they’ll never forget,” Jefferies says quietly at my side. “Neither will I.”
Chapter Fourteen
I’m not nearly as drunk as I usually am at Club Kitty. The house kitchen hadn’t stocked the really wild liquid the club serves. I forgo dressing in pajamas and instead, wipe off my make-up and dive into Gavin’s drawers, pick out one of the dozens of form fitting tees he looks so scrumptious in. Nothing else underneath. I scope his undies drawer. Black Calvin Klein’s. Nice. Then turn off the lights, sighing as I slip in between the covers.
Popcorn, Vampires and Forbidden Shenanigans (Grimstone Island) Page 7