by Joey W. Hill
He sobered. “I’m not making light of your feelings, Rida. But how long did it take Kane’s mother to find her soul mate? A thousand years? And your dad? Up until then, when vampires and humans get together… Vampires desire, they possess, they value, but they hold all the control. Am I ready for that? Do I want that? Can I go there with the two of you and come back from it?”
Laying his head against the cinderblock wall behind the bench, he closed his eyes. “I’m giving myself a headache.”
“Just because you’re trying to sound older and wiser than us.”
“I am,” he said loftily, slanting her an amused look. “And I always will be older. Until I’m dead and you outlive me by about ten centuries, give or take one.”
“You told me once a headache is a sign you’re working a problem too hard and you need to give it a rest.”
She adjusted, curling up in her lithe, kitten-like way next to him on the narrow bench to put her head in his lap. When he looked down, she blinked her long lashed eyes. “So fine. I get all your moral fiber and noble principles stuff. But I don’t think we can return your Christmas gift. We planned to fuck your brains out, the two of us, and I’m not sure I kept the receipt.”
Pretending she didn’t affect him was pointless, since a vampire could sense arousal across a football field. Confirming it, her lips curved. “Cat got your tongue, old guy?”
John rolled his eyes and started tickling her. She giggled, squirmed off his lap and squealed when he kept after her. She pushed him away so enthusiastically his head rapped against the cinderblock wall. “Ow.”
“Oh, oh, I’m sorry.” She put her hand on the back of his head, stroking. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He put his own hand in the offended area to make sure there was no blood. “It won’t be my first concussion. Actually, I think I may have hit the dozen mark a couple times. Puberty with Kane was a bitch.”
She sat back. “Thank goodness for the second mark, right?” She didn’t turn, but she tilted her head. “Bet you a dollar he’s checking on you.”
John glanced over her shoulder to find Kane had broken off his conversation and was looking over at them to make sure the sudden short explosion of pain in his friend’s head hadn’t required him to come right away. John pointed accusingly at Farida. Kane shot her a narrow warning look and returned to his conversation with Jackie. Farida stuck her tongue out at his back, but then she met John’s gaze.
“Whenever he makes you forget everything else, remember moments like this. Kane loves you and wants what’s best for you, John. When it really matters, he’ll come through. You know he will.”
He went back to being pensive, but she was having no more of that. Hopping up, she tugged him off the bench with her. “Let’s go get my parents’ gift and then we’ll go into the toy store. I want one of those plastic guns that fires foam pucks out of it. Bet we could freeze them and give Kane a concussion. Revenge is best served cold.”
* * *
Jackie had looked surprised when Kane didn’t sit closer to her on the bench. She pulled out a cigarette, obviously remembered she was in the mall, put it away again.
“Do you need to smoke?”
“Doesn’t matter. Nothing attracts a mall guard like a lit cigarette. I just hold it. That seems to be enough.” She raised a brow. “Do you smoke?”
“No. It’s never occurred to me. Wouldn’t hurt me any, I suppose, but I’ve never cared for the smell.”
She gave him an odd look. “So let’s cut to it. What is this? Some Richard Gere, Julia Roberts fantasy?”
“You’ve seen that?”
“Still a classic, after all these years.”
“Do I look like I need to pay for company?”
“Everybody has something they need, and most of the time it costs money,” she said bluntly. “A rich guy has an easier time getting his main squeeze to agree to whatever fetish he’s got, because there’s compensation for her trouble. Fancy trips, nice house, whatever. But some guys, even if they got money, are all private about that kind of thing. He doesn’t want the trophy wife or show pony girlfriend to know he’s got those dirty urges. A working girl isn’t going to judge.”
Kane watched the way she moved as she spoke, the practiced, precise gestures, the hard eyes, but asking her to change clothes, and her choice to remove the makeup, helped him see the difference between the mask and the woman beneath. But he could also tell her armor was important to her, vital. He shouldn’t screw with it just because he was curious about what lay beneath it. He had a feeling she’d be in the wind the second he tried it anyway.
“No, I guess not. Well, don’t judge me, but I just want to talk. Ask some questions. Is that okay?”
“As I said, your dime, and I’ve made my money far worse ways than this.” She started to pull out the cigarette, remembered again and shrugged, obviously irritable with herself for the vulnerable tell. To distract her, he gestured to her face.
“I like you without all the makeup.”
“Well, you’re in the minority. Shows my age, not wearing it. Most men like thinking they’re with Trixie Cheerleader. Makes them feel younger. Unless it’s a really young man. Then he likes the older woman thing.”
“I’ll bet.” Kane was fascinated by the play of light on her face, the wealth of expression she revealed with the barest shift or spoken word. She was a whole storybook, a painful, tragic one, and he was trying to figure out why he was reading so intently, what he was seeking.
“How long have you been doing this?” he ventured.
“Longer than most. I’ve been cut a couple times, beaten up, but always seem to come back to it. Nothing else seems to stick.”
He reached out, touching the light scar on her face. She started to draw back, but apparently reminding herself he’d paid for the privilege, she stayed still. Kane traced it with a gentle finger, then moved to her hair, stroking it back. It was reddish brown, not dark blonde, but looking at her eyebrows, the fine layer of hairs on her arms that blended with her pale skin, he realized it had likely been dyed different colors, cut different ways. Yet it seemed familiar, for all that. She seemed familiar.
“Hey.” She shifted. “What are you doing?”
Simple intimacy, gentleness, weren’t things she was comfortable with. It angered him that she’d been hurt enough, misled enough, that that would be the case. He reminded himself that he knew nothing about her, that he might be romanticizing her situation. She might have a drug habit or other character flaws, ones that had led to so many bad choices that this was the only one she had left. He wasn’t getting that impression, though. It seemed more likely that she’d been beaten down for so long she thought she had no options worth pursuing any more. This was what she knew, and the devil she knew was likely better than any other.
“Sorry.” He glanced around at the mall, decorated in cheerful lights, glittering beauty, reds and greens. “You must hate Christmas.”
“No. Not really.” Her gaze followed his. “The nicest thing I ever remember happening to me happened on Christmas. It was when I was a kid, but it stuck, so it’s the one time a year I always kind of hope something better will happen. And often it does. The johns usually tip bigger, for one thing.” She chuckled in a way that didn’t sound entirely bitter. “One of them gave me a box of Christmas candy last year. Kind of like you give your postal worker or your garbage people…someone who makes your life easier. That made me feel good, weird as it sounds.”
“Sounds like someone who treated you with respect. The way you deserve.” He couldn’t help stroking her hair again, though this time he stopped before he did it, hand poised by her temple. “Do you mind very much?”
“No. It’s just weird, the way you do it. It’s…nice.”
He smiled, pleased to hear it, and stroked his fingers through her hair more deeply, giving it a little tug. It was soft. She took care of it. She bit her lip at the tug and he caught the hint of arousal, something she immediately shuttered,
tensing.
“Is it against the rules to enjoy someone’s touch?” he asked.
“In a way. You have to stay detached to stay in control.”
“I’d think it would be easier if you could lose yourself in it.”
His father had told him it was that way for servants. Not only was that the reason why they could do things for their vampires they didn’t initially believe they were capable of doing, but they could even derive intense pleasure from it. Comparing servants to a prostitute was an uncomfortable reality, but he didn’t turn away from it, thinking it through.
“If you could enjoy it, wouldn’t it be better?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “Because it doesn’t mean anything to the client, nothing permanent, and that would leave you with a hollow feeling. It’s better if you don’t feel anything. I mean, I have some regulars that I’m fond of, but I never forget they’re clients. It’s a business relationship. I don’t know why I’m telling you this stuff. Fuck it.” Taking out the cigarette, she held it unlit, giving him that narrow eyed look again. “You’re not a reporter, right?”
He shook his head. He thought about what it would be like to lean forward, taste her lips, her skin. Her reaction to his touch had sparked a response from him, but he ignored it. Arousal was easy for a vampire, and if he took this in that direction, she’d slip back behind that mask in a flash. “What was the good moment at Christmas? If you don’t mind telling me.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Me and my brother were here, years ago before they renovated it. In front of that toy store, in fact. We’d been dragged along as the poster kids for a nonprofit collecting money and donations for a homeless shelter. We were staying there with our mom. She was sick, and I already knew she was going to die. My brother, he was younger, didn’t realize.” She put the cigarette to her lips, took it out, tapped it on her knee. Watched the skaters. “I was sitting there, hating being there, hating being on display like that, and then this couple came by with a kid in a stroller. He had the most amazing eyes…”
He was still wearing the tinted glasses, but she glanced up into his eyes, obviously using them as a reference for her remembrance. Putting the cigarette away, she reached up, drew them off and gazed at him a long moment. “Whoever did those contacts for you did a bang up job. They’re like movie special effects.”
You should see the fangs, he thought.
“So what happened?”
“Oh. The parents…the mother was so beautiful, and the man with her was so strong and handsome. It was like they came right out of a fairy tale. The little boy had this brand new stuffed bear in his arms.”
Kane stilled. Caught up in the story, she didn’t notice the flash of memory it sparked in him.
“They were giving them away with makeup purchases over at one of the department stores. I’d touched it on the counter when we came through, just one fingertip on his soft little paw. The sales lady behind the counter had given me the look. You know, the one that said she was sure I’d steal it if she turned her back.” She looked him up and down. “No, you wouldn’t know about that look. But it made me feel grubby and even more out of place.”
She took a breath. “Anyhow, the kid, he gave me the bear. Just handed it to me. He had a lisp or something, like it was hard for him to talk. Later that Christmas, one of those trains in the toy store and a bunch of other stuff came to us at the shelter, and I knew it was the beautiful lady, because of the way she looked at me. I heard the volunteers wonder if she and her husband were movie stars, but I didn’t think that. I thought she was old as time, like some beautiful sorcerer or witch. Scary in some ways, yet she understood how I felt. I wanted to be as beautiful—and as scary—as her one day. Even thought it was possible when I looked at her.”
She took the cigarette out again to twist it deftly over her fingers. “Dumb, right? But it was the way the kid gave me the bear. For one moment, I’d stepped out of my life and was part of something different and extraordinary. Look…”
Putting the cigarette in her mouth, she bent to rummage in her bag. “Fuck, this is crazy, me showing you this,” she muttered, “But what the hell.”
She pulled out the bear. It was old and threadbare, patches of it shiny. As Kane looked at it, he realized the starting point of those patches would likely line up with the placement of her fingers when she’d been younger. They’d expanded as her hand had grown but she’d still gripped the bear the same way. For comfort, maybe, after lonely nights, hard times.
She held it on those bare spots now as Kane touched it. He noticed her fingers tightened on the toy, almost as if she expected him to take it away simply because it meant something to her. His heart tightened in his chest.
Stroking it with one fingertip, he lifted his gaze to hers. “I thought I recognized you,” he murmured.
When her brow creased, he gestured to his face. “My eyes were blue then,” he said. “Sometimes they still are. They change. Sometimes green, sometimes blue. Sometimes one of each. Depends on the light, my mood. And scary and beautiful is a great way to describe my mother. It was a long time ago, wasn’t it?”
She stared at him. In a blink, her face whitened in anger and she proved what he’d suspected about messing too much with her shields. “I didn’t tell you that for you to mock me, asshole. Fuck yourself and your money.”
Yanking the bear away, she stuffed it into the bag and started to rise. He expected in the next blink she’d stomp away and be gone. He understood her well enough already to know not to use a physical gesture to stop her, so he went with words instead.
“When I gave it to you, I said ‘Yours.’ To make sure you knew I was giving it to you.”
She stopped, uncertain, her hands clenched, spots of color in her cheeks. A wry smile curled his lips. “Given how possessive I was of my toys then and now, my parents about died of shock.”
She paled a little bit. Gently clasping her wrist, he tugged her back into a seated position. “Here. Eat more of your pretzel. Drink some cider.”
She’d been about to leave it next to her, and she’d eaten less than a third of it. She wrapped it up and put it in the bag, then clasped it against her protectively, studying him. “You have to be fucking with me, but you aren’t.”
He shook his head. “I promise I’m not. I did have difficulty talking then, but I think you understood me. I remember your face.”
He stroked it as she went still. “Like a toddler does, everything dreamlike and hazy, but when you turned your head toward me, back when we were talking to Earl, I knew you were familiar to me. That’s why I asked you to spend some time with me. I wanted to figure it out.” He paused. “What happened to your brother?”
Pain suffused her features. He was asking her to deal with too much, open up far more than she could probably afford. Yet he was reeling from knowing that his one simple choice, to give a child a bear, had kept a prostitute liking Christmas. A small gesture that had had a critical impact. The imbalance he’d felt of late suddenly took a back seat, steadying him so he could focus on this one moment rather than a million other things he couldn’t change or control.
“Mom died, and he was placed with a different home. He was younger, cuter. I’ve never seen him again.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She pressed her lips together, looked away. “I kept a picture of him, but I’m not going to show you that. You’re too close already.”
“Sometimes strangers can make it easier to deal with things than people who know us better. You just told me you’re in a profession that knows that better than anyone.” He touched her knee, a gentle tease. “Right?”
“Yeah.” She brought her gaze back to him. “This is pretty unreal. You know that, right?”
“In my world, the unusual can be pretty usual. Can I see the bear again? Please?”
When she complied, he looked at it in her hands. “I remember it as way bigger than that.” He spread out his hand, saw how it dwarfed the stuffed creature. �
�I guess I grew some since then.”
“A bit.” She surveyed his six foot form, the breadth of his shoulders. “Got your daddy’s build.”
“You remember that?”
“I was ten. Old enough to notice that,” she said dryly. “And I noticed the way they were with each other.”
“Yeah. They’re still that way.”
“How long have they been married?”
“They’re not,” Kane said. “It’s not that kind of relationship. But he is bound to her for his entire life.”
He should have simply said how many years they’d been together, but he could already perceive how rare honesty was in her world. He didn’t want to lie to her about…anything.
“You’re weird,” she said, but she smiled. It was strained but real. “Thanks for the pretzel and the cider.” She lifted the cup. “I was pretty hungry. Hadn’t eaten since breakfast.”
“You didn’t finish it.”
“No. I don’t eat a lot at one sitting. I’ll eat the rest of it later tonight.” She shifted. “Okay, well, I should go get Nancy’s gift now. I mean, you can go with me, you’ve paid for the time…or…” She took a breath. “We can do whatever else you’d like.”
While he felt a vague disappointment she was cutting their conversation off so abruptly, he understood. She’d just said it. He was getting too close. Stranger or not, she couldn’t afford not to think of him as a client. He’d gained a small window of her trust, but she had to shut it to protect herself. She was likely hoping he could get a hint and be from beginning to end what she needed him to be. Given she’d probably rarely or never had that, he could only oblige, much as he wanted to keep her right here for much longer.
“No, I want you to have time to shop for your friend. But just one thing…”
He sent John the thought and heard the response. Kane lifted his hand without turning as John came up behind him, put the pen and blank card into it. He nodded a vague thanks and put the card on his knee, began to write. He felt John retreating, but realized he had never made eye contact with him as Jackie leaned out and watched John disappear back in the toy store. “Okay, that was weird, too.”