“I, I, I’m sorry. No, I didn’t know what you were talking about.”
“I was talking about what happened here! A girl, that stupid starlet. Samantha Bucher came here and did what you did. These rooms are all taped – for legal reasons. There had been a theft and an allegation of rape so the club had security cams installed to prevent it from happening. Christ, didn’t you even read the notice on the door?”
There was a notice? Miranda hadn’t even looked at what the sign said. She’d been in too much of a hurry to have her brains fucked out, but did that mean Peter knew? He couldn’t. He’d said he didn’t live in New York – he’d said it earlier. Besides, why would he …
“I can see you didn’t. Evidently, Samantha didn’t either. The next thing she knew, her sexcapade was being shown on the closed-circuit TV’s, but the worst was to come because somebody stole the tape and it ended up on the web, Miranda! The web as in everyone seeing it! Everyone except you apparently!”
The story was enough to snap Miranda into rationality. She couldn’t let a tape like that be shown! Her family would go crazy. Just as importantly, it would ruin her reputation in the business world. She could well imagine dealing in antiques with people that had seen her get boffed by a complete stranger.
“Protection,” she mumbled realizing she hadn’t even insisted he use a rubber. Yes, she was on birth control, but she didn’t know his sexual appetites and …
“What?”
“Nothing,” Miranda exhaled in a barely audible tone. How could she have been so stupid? How? She never participated in that kind of risky sex. Never.
Tiffany handed Miranda her purse.
“Well, come on!” she urged, grabbing her wrist with her hand.
“The tape?”
“You bet your sweet, exposed ass! We need to get that thing before anyone else does. And that anyone else left about five minutes ago!”
“But Peter … Tiffany, he couldn’t possibly have known this. It was spontaneous and …”
“Oh, my freakin’ God, chickie! How stupid can you be?”
The sight of tears forming in Miranda’s beautiful brown eyes was enough to back Tiffany off from saying anything more. She gave her friend a huge hug.
“Come on, chickie. Let’s hurry!”
Miranda followed her down the hallway. Tiffany pushed through the crowd trying to find the office. She stopped along the way and asked some customers who pointed in a general direction. Tiffany took off running, Miranda kept pace. They found the door. It was open. Inside two burly security guards were standing with the manager.
Tiffany approached the manager.
“Tony! Thank god, you’re here! We came to get that …”
Tony turned and looked at Tiffany and then to Miranda and back again. He put his hands in his pockets.
“Yeah, the tape of your friend. I saw. I’d be more than happy to give it to you, but you’re too late. We were just discussing it.”
“Fuck, Tony.”
“Fuck indeed, Tiff.”
“But don’t you lock things up or have security?” Tiffany asked rather aggressively. She never did back down from a fight. She was a pit bull once she got her teeth into something.
Tony pointed to the two muscular security guards.
“You see them? They’re my security. Plus the fucking door was locked. Dead bolt, but that doesn’t help when someone just pushes their way in.”
Tiffany turned and saw the door was broken. The lock hadn’t given way, the door had been split.
“But … how the hell? Must have used a sledge hammer.”
“At least. Course we could find out simply by looking at the tape of the security cam in the hall, but …”
“But that was taken also?”
“Yeah, the entire camera. Whoever it was had this thing planned.”
Tiffany turned to Miranda and gave her another hug.
“I’m sorry, chickie. I tried.”
Tony’s voice came from behind them. He walked towards them apologetically.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, too, Ms. Perry. I recognized you from … well … never mind that. I never expected something like this to happen again. I thought after the last time, everyone would have known. And it’s just downright bad luck that the guy that stole the camera was a grasshopper … or hummingbird.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s what the witnesses said.”
‘Witnesses? People saw him take down the camera?”
“Well, just one people,” Tony said chuckling at his own joke.
“And?” Tiffany assumed her tough New Yorker posture – hands on hips with jaw jutted out ready for someone to try and take a poke.
“And what?” Tony answered oblivious to her intent.
“Oh, Lordie Tony! Come on! The guy! What’d he look like?”
“Of course,” Tony responded playfully hitting himself in the forehead. Tiffany seemed tempted to perform that maneuver with a hammer, but held herself back.
“He was tall, thin, dressed in black with long blonde hair down to his shoulders. Don’t see that too much anymore. Guess it was the guy I saw on screen.”
Miranda grabbed her stomach. She felt sick.
“Like I couldn’t have guessed that,” Tiffany said sarcastically.
“In addition to his obvious sexual talent, apparently he could play basketball. Guy said he jumped and just hung in the air better than Jordan at his peak. Course the guy that said that was wasted and not exactly the brightest candle on the cake if you get my drift.”
“You startin’ to believe now, chickie? Come on, let’s hurry.”
“Hey,” Tony shouted after the two girls running down the hallway, “you need any help getting that tape back or prosecuting that guy, you let me know!”
“Thanks!” Tiffany yelled back at the stalwart club owner.
“Well, at least there are some decent people left in the world,” was Tiffany’s brief summation.
Miranda shuffled blankly along behind Tiffany. She still couldn’t get a handle on why he would have done such a thing. Why humiliate her? He had been so into her and …
Miranda spotted the blond hair above the crowd of people at the bar at the same time Tiffany did. She felt Tiffany’s hand pat her arm.
“There’s the loser now. Look at him talking to that skank ho like nothing happened.”
A couple moved and Miranda could see he was talking to the raven-haired girl she’d seen him with earlier. He leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. It still didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t.
Tiffany’s fingers dug into Miranda’s bicep as she was once again shunted along by force. She needed the aid as her feet didn’t seem to want to move on their own. She allowed herself to be towed. Peter looked up and saw them.
“Hey, loser! We want to talk with you!” Tiffany shouted across the room.
Peter merely gave one of his shadowy smiles and began to walk away. Tiffany broke away from Miranda and ran after him trying to break through the partying crowd. Tiffany had no choice but to circle behind him. It was the only path that was clear. She looked at him and then behind him, at the mirror behind the bar. She stopped in her tracks. He wasn’t there. The girl to his right, the man to his left, the crowd in-between them and even Tiffany’s own reflection were clearly visible in the long, glassed wall, but not Peter. His reflection was not there. She stared at the mirror right at the spot that was empty and absent of the image that should be there. She rubbed her eyes and looked again. He was gone – both from the mirror’s surface and from the room. Tiffany turned and saw him quickly exiting through the archway – heading to the front door.
Miranda caught up to her.
“What’s the matter, Tiff?”
Miranda’s voice brought her racing thoughts to a halt. What she saw – or didn’t see was impossible unless …
She turned towards Miranda.
“Never mind that right now. Let’s get you home.”
> Miranda again was pulled behind a tug boat. Tiffany’s stern lead towed her through the dense stream and out the door. Miranda felt the sweet, fresh night air hit her face. She looked around her, feeling lost. She swallowed hard fighting back tears. She felt used and betrayed. If it were true that Peter had set her up to be filmed, she’d been an idiot. Certain things made sense now – the lighting being turned up and left on, the positioning of her body to the camera. He’d directed her to face in the camera’s direction. Was it all coincidence? Or did he want her humiliated? Embarrassed? He did have that side to him. He’d done as much with the remark in Fairfield. As much as she cared about the tape, what was really bothering her was the idea that Peter had set her up.
She thought back to college and realized her choice in men had never really changed. She still only chose losers.
CHAPTER 33
Tiffany thought it best if she stayed the night and she wasn’t going to argue. She didn’t want to be alone. She’d called Reginald from the back of Tiffany’s limo. She wished she had another option other than involving the stuffy barrister, but she didn’t. She faced the problem and made the very difficult call. It had been a very bumpy ride both because of the potholes, and because the conversation with Reginald had not gone smoothly.
As soon as she entered Tiffany’s condo, she’d taken a shower. She couldn’t bear being in those clothes – that dress. It smelled of sex and that person she didn’t want to remember. She towel dried herself realizing she was cleansed, but not purged. In fresh, trendy sleepwear courtesy of her best friend, she walked sheepishly into the living room where her friend paced.
“I swear if I get my hands on that piece of shit, I’ll kill him!”
“But we don’t know …” Miranda found herself saying almost against her will. She had written him off, but offered the weak defense just in case she was wrong. Just in case she hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of her entire life in trusting him. Tiffany was not having any of lame excuses.
“Stop it, Miranda! Just stop it right now! There’s such a thing as being naïve and then there’s being just plain stupid. Right now you sound like one of those abused women who just refuse to open their eyes and see what’s happening!”
“I made the phone call, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but this whimpering, mealy-mouthed attitude you’re using to shield this complete bastard has got to go! It’s like you did the right thing, backtracked, and are now attempting to protect the guilty party in this mess!”
Miranda’s bottom lip began to quiver. She wouldn’t give into self-pity. She just wouldn’t. She’d done enough damage this evening without turning on herself, but she couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t stop the outward signs of the betrayal.
“Oh, Christ! I’m so sorry, chickie!”
Miranda had been hoping to hide the telltale sign, but nothing went unnoticed. Why did she bother even attempting to cover anything from her friend? Tiffany ran and embraced her.
“Here, sit down.”
Miranda sat down on the couch next to Tiffany. She tugged at her short top to make sure it met the hipster Capri cotton bottoms. She didn’t want to show too much skin. It reminded her that she was a whore. Nothing, but a goddamned whore.
“It’s my fault anyway,” Tiffany murmured.
“Your fault? Why would you say such a thing?”
“Because I told you I didn’t like him and that I thought he was creepy. I know my little Miranda. That was the best way to drive you into his arms,” Miranda couldn’t argue. In fact, she didn’t want to ever again. She rested her head on Tiffany’s shoulder.
“What did Reggie say?”
“You mean, what names did he call me?”
“He called you names?”
“No, it was an attempt at humor, but I’m sure he was thinking them.”
“Whew! I’m glad you said that because if I had to cross that ocean just to give him a good bitch slap …”
They began to giggle. Even under the most dire of circumstances, Tiffany could make things better. It was her ability to laugh at what life offered. It brought out that side in Miranda and before long, the good humor caught hold. While it didn’t fully erase the memory or projections of what ramifications would result, it did alleviate the driving sense within Miranda to throw herself into the river with a boulder. Tiffany was a fighter. Miranda had no choice, but to follow suit.
“How soon before you think it’ll break?” Miranda asked timidly. She really did not want to know.
“The video? Would expect it to surface immediately. The story will hit the tabloids shortly thereafter. That is if I’m right about that fucking piece of shit, and I am right about him,” Tiffany snapped severely making sure that the final point was not lost. She didn’t want Miranda to drift off into lala land again. Humor did not mean living in a dream bubble where it was alright to lie to one’s self.
“I hear you, Tiffany. Really I do. I swear,” she said, “I cross my heart and hope to die that you will not hear a word coming out of this skanky, now-probably-diseased English mouth defending that blackhearted gigolo’s actions.”
The laughter ceased. Tiffany had become unnaturally quiet. It was rare for her to cease all movement unless asleep, but she was doing it now. It meant she was thinking. And not just thinking. Miranda knew her well enough to know it meant thinking about something she was reluctant to talk about. Miranda let her have her few moments of silence to sort things out. She wasn’t going to push, but she was curious about what it was. Tiffany’s body sprang forward. A decision had been reached. She was ready to talk.
“You know, chickie. I’m a realistic girl. You know that, but tonight … tonight I saw something that wasn’t natural. I don’t know if it’s all this stupid talk about vampires and curses, but I didn’t see Peter’s reflection in the mirror.”
Miranda was surprised by her comment. She hadn’t been expecting this subject to touched on, especially not by Tiffany. She was the queen of skeptics when it came to the supernatural.
“What?” she asked more astonished than anything else. There were a thousand thoughts in her head competing for her attention. Which one should she ask first?
“What do you mean reflection? What mirror? When did you not see Peter in a mirror?”
“The bar mirror.”
“Oh …”
She was talking about the huge mirror that acted as the bar’s backsplash.
“When I went to beat the shit out of him and get that tape back, I saw everybody else but him in that mirror.”
“You’re serious?”
“Of course, I’m serious, chickie! You think I’d make this up?”
“Look, I appreciate you mentioning it to me, but it must have been the angle or someone blocking him ….”
“No! No one was blocking him!” Tiffany’s voice rose in tenor. It was tinged with hysteria and a bit of paranoia. It was now Miranda’s turn to play parent.
“… because,” Miranda continued, “I saw him in the mirror at the bar - when I was talking to him. And in the private room. There was a mirror there for … oh, for watching yourself and your partner! I don’t know why I’m being shy about telling you that when the world is about to see me boffed about from behind! Anyway, he’s not a vampire. I saw his reflection quite clearly. Oh, and on the dance floor. I danced with him before I … you know … ruined my life,” she added quietly.
Tiffany was looking directly at her – searching her face. Miranda nodded very slightly to make sure she understood she wasn’t just saying she saw him to make her feel better. Tiffany put her head down into the palms of her open hands. She tossed her head to the side.
“Then I don’t understand. I swear, chickie. I’m not making this up.”
Miranda placed a hand on her back and rubbed her back in attempt to soothe her confusion. A lot had taken place in the last couple of days and with all the talk, it was understandable for her to think she saw something she didn’t – or in this case, the reverse.
“Look, you were right in mentioning it. I’m the one that brought up this ridiculous subject in the first place so …”
“Yes, but it wasn’t because you brought it up. I know what I saw.”
“And I know what I saw. I was in that room with him for … let’s just say far too long. He cast a reflection, Tiff. I mean, can you imagine if he didn’t? I would have run like a banshee into your protective arms like the little girl that I am!”
The corners of Tiffany’s mouth turned up in a smile.
Adduné (The Vampire's Game) Page 49