“I’m so sorry for delaying this. I can see how nervous you’re getting and I don’t want to keep you. I know you’re a busy man. I was so hoping you could help me, too, but you can’t if you haven’t been having any dreams. But will you start? I don’t know. I’m not that clever. I only know William told me to give you the letter. I read it and I’ll always regret doing that, but maybe it was for the best because I know you loved Mr. Perry so much. Everyone did. It’s why my William held back on what he said.”
Reginald grimaced at the mention of Arthur’s name. What did he have to do with this? Yes, he started this with that foolish trip, but what did he have to do with Willie?
“Arthur Perry? I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re saying, Beatrice. What does Arthur Perry have to do with what your husband wrote down?”
“The amount of words I need to say are so few and yet ... ” she stopped speaking yet again – shaking her head in confusion.
Reginald was getting impatient again. He just wanted her to spit it out. And the damned room had decreased in temperature. Reginald blew into his hands and rubbed them together. The cold was making him more tired. He felt like yawning, but didn’t. It would seem so rude and he didn’t want to insult the woman who was going through a tough time.
She tugged at the thin pink sweater draped on the back of the rocker. She fiddled with it as she wrapped it around her. She kept her eyes downward as she spoke.
“It was Arthur Perry.”
Even when she spoke, she didn’t seem to say anything. Or perhaps Reginald hadn’t heard her. What had she said about Arthur?
“What? I’m afraid I don’t understand what you said, Beatrice.”
She signed heavily and started again. As if the act of speaking was draining too much strength from the energy it took to die.
“I said that that’s what William couldn’t say to you. It’s all there, in that note. He clearly says that your good friend, his employer, Mr. Arthur Perry was the vampire. That’s what William wanted you to know. You can see how he’d been reluctant to say it. And me … I’m sorry about saying it also. I know it must hurt.”
Reginald stayed with his eyes locked on Beatrice trying to distinguish what was fact from what was fantasy. This had to be part of his horrible dreams. It couldn’t be true. He wanted to deny it and throw things and say that her husband was insane, but there were no words left in him. He was hollowed out and spent because he didn’t know what was true.
Those eyes he’d seen in his dream – the one’s that watched him. Were they Arthur’s? Was it true? Such soulless, demonic eyes. Black as hell.
He needed to leave. He needed to get home to Bonnie. He needed to crawl into bed and pull the covers over his head and pretend this never happened. He made his apologies and left. He hoped the check would help, but there was nothing he could do to alleviate her situation. He had his own problems that were exponentially increasing like the cold in Beatrice’s living room. The cold that he couldn’t escape. The cold that was in those vacant eyes that watched him flee.
CHAPTER 29
It was 11 AM, and Miranda was still dancing. The rhythm and music from last night still ran through her head. She’d only just gotten up and showered, feeling the aftereffects of what a glorious evening could do to one’s spirits. She freestyled her way into Tiffany’s kitchen to make breakfast. As soon as her feet hit the cool kitchen travertine tile, she launched into a reprise of the moves that Matt had taught her. The towel she wrapped turban-style over her freshly washed hair kept slipping, but she wouldn’t give up practicing them. She opened Tiffany’s refrigerator to the beat of the tune that played in her head and shut it with a sharp thrust of her hips.
“Oh, chickie! You’re finally starting to loosen up and get some pepper in that salt shaker!” Tiffany teased. She was standing in the doorway – looking gorgeous, young and sexy in a camisole and boy shorts. It was her usual sleeping attire. It was comfortable and looked great on her, but then anything would. The best part was that there was no need to change her wardrobe based on whether she had female or male company. She yawned and stretched as she spooned the freshly ground coffee into her coffee maker.
“It seems inevitable that I’d pick-up a move or two hanging around you! You’re the queen of this one,” joked Miranda as she swiveled her hips in an questionably suggestive manner. She was deliberately making fun of Tiff’s provocative booty shaking. It was not lost upon her half-awake best buddy.
“My family would disown me if I danced like that. Hell, I’d disown me!”
Miranda took out a carton of organic eggs, setting it on the counter next to the stove.
“How do you want these, Tiffy?”
“How are you having them?”
“I’m doing that overeasy thing.”
“You mean like with Matt?” Tiffany teased, a wry smile playing on her sumptuous lips.
Miranda chuckled, “Never on first dates. Besides you didn’t leave me alone with him long enough.”
“I heard you the second time. Whatever you’re having will be fine.”
Tiffany plugged in the coffeemaker and flipped the switch. Before long, the soft sounds of percolating coffee filled the stillness of the mid-morning air. Soon the kitchen was overrun with the aroma of the delicious Colombian designer blend that Tiffany bought at her favorite overpriced gourmet market. Tiffany believed in splurging on little things – as well as big things.
Miranda checked the heat upon hearing the noisy spatter of eggs frying.
“Let’s see what you remember.”
Tiffy assumed the position of a ballroom partner. Miranda stepped into her arms taking the complementary position. She wondered what dance she was to be tested on. She heard Tiff humming the opening strains of a song that they used to dance the Latin hustle to in college.
Miranda followed Tiff’s strong lead. Soon the girls were moving across the kitchen floor until giggling slowed them down.
“Pretty good, huh?” Miranda asked of her dance teacher.
“Okay, okay, let’s see this one. Merengue!”
Tiffany stiffened into an erect posture with a serious face. Miranda mimicked her friend as best she could. Tiff began a rapid fire rhythm as the girls did a fast one-step side-to-side. Miranda crashed into the wall and then stumbled out into the hallway while Tiffany kept the tempo – laughing all the while. Miranda threw her towel to the side and tried one more time much to the delight of a near hysterical Tiffany. They rocked back-and-forth in an exaggerated motion. Miranda doubled over with laughter. She began walking backward – pulling Tiffany with her into the living room. The back of Miranda’s legs hit into a coffee table. She stumbled grabbing at Tiffany to recover her balance. They both crashed heavily to the ground. They lay sprawled in the middle of Tiffany’s spacious living room in tears. Miranda turned over on her back and laughed like she hadn’t in years.
Miranda raised herself up on her elbows and crawled over to the towel. She sat cross-legged across from Tiffany rewinding it around her head. When in place, she walked on all fours to her best bud. The two girls hugged each other tightly for a few seconds.
“Oh, chickie! It’s so good to have you here!”
“And it’s good to be here,” Tiffany said wiping away happy tears. “You’re the only person in the world I can be my absolute, real, decidedly silly self with. Love you, Tiffy.”
“Love you back, Mirandy.”
Dirty cups littered the tops of the end tables. Plates of snacks hastily put out to satiate last night’s hunger were festering and becoming rancidly stale.
“Look at this place! It’s a mess!”
“I know. Alex and Matt were not the neatest people in the world, but I’m not sorry I asked them back here. They were so cute!”
“I know. When did they leave? I lost all track of time.”
“Five minutes ago.”
“They did not!: Miranda stopped and held her nose in the air, “Oh, good god, the eggs!”
; Miranda held onto her towel and dashed into the kitchen.
“Not too bad,” she said turning off the heat.
Tiffany pushed her out of the way.
“I got it from here. How about we eat on the terrace?”
“Sounds good to me. You sure you don’t need some help?”
“I told you I got it.”
“Okay, okay! I should check my calls,” Miranda said running from the room. She found her purse on the floor outside the front door. She picked it up and walked into the living room – retrieving her phone and throwing her bag on the sectional. She was alarmed with the number of calls Reginald placed. He was the worst kind of fuss budget and most likely was following up to see if she’d received the appraisal – both the email and the snail mail. Miranda didn’t allow herself to think anymore about it. She decided to give her brother a quick call and then talk to Jake. She hoped he was feeling better.
“Hey Chase, what’s up, my man.”
Miranda stretched her legs out and winked at Tiffany who was making her first pass from the kitchen to the terrace. Her arms were filled with eating utensils and glasses.
“Randi?”
“You were expecting someone else?”
Miranda waited for the usual amiable chatter, but there was still only the silent pause of Chase confirming his own sister’s voice.
“Hello! Yes, it is indeed your beloved sister whose voice you have forgotten. I am right now in the residence of Tiffany Rodriguez who is serving me breakfast out on her terrace. Do I need to spell that out? Tiffany is waiting on me! I am truly not worthy. Now your turn,” Miranda prompted somewhat sarcastically. She waited for a smart response that wasn’t forthcoming.
Her brother not firing back a smart aleck reply bothered her. He was more verbose than this – never at a loss for words. Something was wrong. She admonished herself for her concern. She was starting to sound like Reginald although she hadn’t as yet attributed his strange behavior to the vengeful family of vampires.
“Chasie? Are you there, Chase? Speak to me.”
“Yes, I’m here, Randi girl. Just barely, but here.”
Miranda sat up like a shot. She gave Tiffany a look of consternation. Tiffany hesitated to see if she could help. Miranda shook her head no. Tiffany continued on her way to the patio.
A whole host of thoughts ran through Miranda’s head – none of them were any good.
“What’s the matter, Chasie? Are you sick?”
“No, not sick. Just tired.”
Miranda paused. He did sound tired – her deepest feelings were being evoked.
“Well, you know you don’t take care of yourself. You never did. What with burning the candle at both ends and going out every night. You’re not in college anymore! You need to slow down!”
There was the sound of a long expulsion of air. He must be yawning.
“Chase, do stop! It’s terribly rude to be yawning in my ear like that.”
“Oh, sorry. I just didn’t think … I was …” Chase’s voice drifted off to being unintelligible.
“Chase?” she shouted. She was beginning to be annoyed more than concerned. If he was sick, why was he playing games?
“I haven’t been sleeping. I keep having these … these dreams.”
Miranda stiffened. She grabbed at the towel that had slipped onto her forehead. She whipped it off her head.
“Dreams? About what?”
“That’s just it. I can never remember what they’re about.”
“No?”
“No.”
Miranda crossed her leg. Her foot was shaking. She grasped it with her hand to still it. This could not be happening. What was going on? The minute she asked herself that question, she had her answer. She knew what was going on and it didn’t have anything to do with vampires. It’d happened many times before.
“Chase, are you drunk? Is that what’s going on here?”
Her brother had gone on a binge. He was drinking again. Yes, he was the life of the party when drunk, but then he went into a depression – a funk. He said and did crazy things when in this state. Christ, why did he have to drink? He had everything and yet it wasn’t enough. And here she was wasting sympathy on him when it was the one thing that would set her off.
“No, not drunk, Randi. I wish I were.
Miranda pushed her damp hair off her face and stomped her foot on Tiffany’s floor. She’d had it with him. He’d better grow-up – and fast.
“Look, stop lying to me! I want you to stop drinking. You’ve probably been doing it all night. Get some rest if you need it, but I positively refuse to talk to you in this condition. Straighten yourself out, Chase! You’re not twelve years old and there are no monsters under your bed. The only monsters you have are in your head and in that bottle you’re holding. I’ll speak to you soon.”
Miranda let her body fall back against the couch. She shook her hand in the air.
“God, brothers! Ay dios mia! Or is it mio?”
“Mio. It’s a penis thing.”
Miranda found herself chuckling. Only Tiffany could turn her mood around on a dime.
“Speaking of penises,” Miranda said as she reached for her cell phone. She punched in Jake’s number.
“I invited him here.”
“Who?”
“Chasie.”
“Cool. When’s he coming?”
“He’s probably not. Hitting the sauce again. He knows better than to be around me when he’s doing that.”
There was no answer. She tried his office number.
“Oh, Lordie! I thought he was over that phase!”
“Me, too, but he’s obviously loaded. Wonder if it’s his new girlfriend?”
“She has him drinking already? Women should at least wait until after they get the ring on their hands to start that kind of trouble.”
His office phone rang and rang. Miranda remembered the time. It was still early, but it should have rolled over into voicemail by now.
“You’d think. I guess I’ll just have to fly out there and see what’s going on.”
She wondered if anyone was even there. She hung up and called again. It was answered quickly by Jake’s assistant.
“Good morning, Theresa. Miranda Perry here. I don’t suppose Mr. Monroe is in?”
There was sharp intake of air. The question seemed to upset her. Miranda was left to imagine why.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Perry. You probably haven’t heard,” Theresa answered in a strangled voice of a person choking back tears. There was way too much emotion in the voice of an administrative assistant answering a simple question.
“About Jake? Why? What happened?
“He collapsed yesterday afternoon – about an hour after you left. He was taken straight to the hospital and placed in intensive care. He’s still there – at St. Luke’s.”
“What? But … how,” Miranda stuttered. “I mean, do they know what’s wrong?”
“No,” Theresa said choking back more tears. “They thought it was pernicious anemia, but ... there seems to be … complications.”
Theresa had to stop talking. She was sobbing heavily. Miranda didn’t have any idea of the true nature of the relationship Theresa shared with Jake, but knowing Jake’s track record, it wasn’t hard to guess – not that it mattered. It was horrible news – just horrible.
“Theresa, hang in there. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.”
She ended the call, letting the phone drop onto the couch. She didn’t think she wanted to take any more calls today – not with the way things were going. There was something about Theresa’s vulnerability that was getting to her. Life in the big city hardened you, but Theresa seemed so soft – delicate. When Miranda encountered that kind of pure emotion it got to her. It was so unlike the callous bastards that she usually dealt with.
She wiped at the tears collecting in the corner of her eyes and joined Tiffany on her balcony.
“You’re never going to believe t
his,” she said tearing a piece of her crispy toast and chewing it in abject frustration. “Jake’s collapsed. Yesterday, right after I left. He’s in some freakin’ hospital!”
“Jake? What the hell happened?”
Adduné (The Vampire's Game) Page 41