by Cd Hussey
"I know. I just hate having cops poking around where they don't belong."
Armand clasped his shoulder. "I know, man. And I'm sorry it had to go down this way. But if anyone poses a danger to the Community, it's Victims like Eve and members like Darus who are happy to make them victims."
"If he's guilty."
"Of course." Armand pushed off the bar. "Slade, I'd love to help you tend bar, but - " He paused. "Well, actually, I'd rather not. I'm heading upstairs." Taking the brandy sifter with him, Armand headed towards the curtains dividing the back room from the bar. He paused just before stepping through them. "Before I forget, I will only be in for a short time tomorrow. Onyx will be here - " He scanned the bar. "Wait, isn't she here tonight? And Bliss too?"
"They stepped out when your cop friend scared everyone off. They'll be back at midnight."
"Ah." If Armand regretted anything, it was that Brian stopping by the bar made everyone so uncomfortable. His customers, his staff...they required a certain amount of privacy. Luxure was a safe haven for them, and Armand didn't want to spoil that.
"You remember Kindle right?" He said, changing the subject abruptly.
"From The Cell?"
"Exactly. How do you feel about him working here?"
Slade shrugged. "He's a good guy. Are you planning on taking more time off?"
"I certainly hope so," Armand said with a grin as he escaped into the back room and up the stairwell that led to his apartment upstairs. If things progressed with Julia as well as they had this evening, he might be spending less time in Louisiana.
Chapter Fourteen
Like the distant call of a far off woodpecker, Julia could faintly hear someone rapping on her door. Pulling the pillow over her head, she buried deep under the covers, desperately hoping whoever it was would give up and go away. A muffled voice managed to seep through the door and penetrate her comforter force field. Though she couldn't quite make out the words, the voice was female and Julia could only assume it was housekeeping.
"No thanks!" she groaned from the safety of her blanket cocoon. Her voice sounded like she'd gargled gravel, and from the chalk in her mouth, it tasted like she'd eaten a few pieces too.
The knocking became louder, and before Julia could utter another groggy protest, she heard the door click open.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but there's a tropical storm heading this way and I need to close the shutters."
Julia's head felt like it was swimming in a green, murky fog, but she faintly heard something about a storm and shutters. The window slid open, there was a clunk as the two shutter halves met, a latch clicked into place, and then the window slid back into its closed position. Footsteps padded past her bed and the woman continued, "The power'll probably go out and we might lose water service, but we have bottled water and some food downstairs in the bar if you get hungry." The door to her room opened, then closed, and Julia was left in peace again.
Well, what little peace her pounding head allowed.
Trying to ignore the bricks between her ears and painfully full bladder, she burrowed deeper under the covers. She lay there for a while, listening to the steady whoosh of her breath. She tried to call up memories from the previous evening, but the fog soup that was her brains and her screaming bladder had other plans.
Grudgingly, Julia tossed off the covers and slid clumsily out of bed. She staggered more than once on the way to the bathroom and realized with dismay that she was still drunk. So after relieving her bladder, downing a glass of water and two aspirins, Julia fell back into bed. She should probably check her phone or eat something, but that would have to wait. Just a few more hours of sleep and she could re-evaluate the situation.
* * *
A persistent, intermittent banging finally roused her from a heavy, dreamless sleep. It sounded like someone was taking a baseball bat to her hotel wall. Her head was less foggy, and the aspirin must have done its job because the bricks that had been so painfully pressed between her ears were reduced to pebbles. Her bladder was only quietly protesting and now, it was her stomach that was angry. Still, she wasn't quite ready to leave the comfort of her cocoon.
Occasionally the wind howled through the courtyard and rain splattered against her window, but other than the insistent banging, the room was quiet. With some effort, Julia retrieved her thoughts from the green, milky soup she'd been trapped in earlier. She remembered someone coming in her room and talking about a storm and shutters...
Shutters. That must be what was banging against the wall. They must have come loose.
It took more will than it should have, but Julia managed to push the comforter aside and climb out of bed. The Marie Antoinette wig looked like a mangy dog lying on the pillow next to her, and scattered on the floor like fallen soldiers were her white heels and one stocking. The other stocking was still on her leg and, she was fully dressed.
Julia shook her head. She hadn't intended to get so drunk. In the course of the evening, she didn't think she'd consumed all that much alcohol. Four glasses of Absinthe and a beer spaced over 5 or 6 hours was a lot, but didn't seem excessive enough to make her this hung over. The Absinthe must be stronger than she realized.
A shutter slammed against the window, startling her out of her thoughts. She rose unsteadily and went to the window. Even with the protection of the buildings, the wind was still able to whip across the brick courtyard, evident by the toppled chairs and swaying vegetation. It wasn't raining steadily, but every so often, a group of raindrops would slam against the window like a round of buckshot.
The moment she opened the window, the wind rushed in, billowing out the heavy curtains and scattering every piece of loose paper on the desk around the room. Reaching for the errant wood panels, she caught one as it crashed against the window, but the other was just out of her grasp, pinned to the building wall by the wind. Keeping the captured shutter pressed against the frame, Julia leaned cautiously through the window opening.
Her hair instantly became a tangled mass of snakes whipping around her head, and her lacey sleeve fluttered violently against her arm. The wood was wet and slick, and it took nearly all of her strength to rein it in. The wind whistled violently through the cracks of the now closed shutters, and she secured the bolt as quickly as possible before sliding the window shut.
Her bladder might be annoyed that her first task after waking up hadn't been a trip to the bathroom, but her stomach was absolutely furious it was still empty. She vaguely remembered the woman who came in to close the shutters the first time mentioning something about food downstairs. After making her bladder happy, she'd clean up a little, and then go down to the bar, eat, and see what was going on with the storm.
She stared at her image in the bathroom mirror. God, she looked like a wreck. Makeup was smeared across her face and her hair was a giant brown mat. Maybe it was best that Armand had declined to spend the night, she thought as she pulled a makeup wipe from her bag and carefully removed all traces of the black and red smudges.
She didn't linger in the shower any longer than it took for the conditioner to work its magic on her matted hair. With a quick shave of the necessary parts, and a once over with a sudsy loofah, she reluctantly shut off the water. The steaming water felt amazing on her exhausted, dehydrated muscles, but her stomach was insisting she put something in it. After haphazardly combing through the last of the snarls in her hair and brushing the funk from her mouth, Julia threw on some jeans and a sweater, and headed towards the lobby.
Skipping the elevator, she took the stairs two at a time, her sneakers squeaking quietly on the concrete stairs. There were a half-dozen people in the lobby, and the bar was packed. News reports scrolled across the TVs, flashing between the swirling, storm radar, and scenes showing palm trees being blown sideways and huge waves crashing against a rain-swept beach.
Julia tried to ignore them and focused instead on putting food on a plate. The selection wasn't spectacular, consisting of picked over items from the
continental breakfast. A few muffins, a couple pieces of fruit, and a lonely single-serving box of corn flakes were all that remained, but at this point, she was grateful for anything edible. The coffee was hot and thankfully, fully caffeinated.
Sliding onto the one empty barstool, Julia ate her breakfast and listened to the weather forecasters talk about wind-speeds, heavy rains, widespread flooding, and reminding viewers to stay inside until the storm passed.
She forced herself to remain calm, remembering Armand's soothing words from the night before. She was a Midwestern girl used to severe storms. This wasn't that different. Just because New Orleans sat below sea level, and this storm had a history of dumping 5-10 inches of rain didn't mean she needed to panic.
She really wished Armand was here now. Or she was there. He'd said to come by Luxure early. It was already noon, she only had five hours or so to wait. The city was expected to catch only the northern edge of the storm, with the heaviest rains and strongest winds subsiding by early evening. She could be patient, or at very least, she could fake it.
The power flickered, the lights surging then dimming before going out with a sputter. Dismayed groans and a few gasps erupted throughout the bar. A few minutes of restless silence passed before the power made a feeble return, and the group of gathered hotel guests let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. Just as Julia rose, deciding it would be better to wait out the storm in the safety of her locked room, the manager came in and encouraged everyone to do the same, and to stay out of the elevator.
Luckily, Julia was a step ahead of the group and able to get to the stairwell before the others, avoiding being trapped behind a mass of panicky people.
Once inside her room, she was able to distract herself with an episode of South Park and some Bugs Bunny cartoons. She avoided the weather and news, and kept the volume on the TV loud enough to drown out the howling winds. When the power failed in the middle of one of Bugs' cross-dressing scenes and didn't come back on, Julia was left alone with her thoughts.
She tried to pick up her book, but after reading three pages and having no idea what they said, tossed it aside. It didn't matter anyway. She had no interest in reading about some fantasy vampire romance when she had her very own live vampire waiting for her.
The notion that Armand truly was a vampire was becoming easier to accept. In fact, it was beginning to feel natural. It was apparent he meant her no harm, and after his explanation of blood drinking and the relative safety of it, not only was she no longer afraid of the prospect of him drinking from her, she found the proposition erotic.
Sleeping would have been a great way to pass the time, but all attempts to close her eyes were interrupted by vivid memories of the previous evening. She could still taste Armand's mouth against hers, smell his spicy scent, feel his firm cock pressed into her hips as his body pinned her against the hotel wall...
With a weary sigh, Julia buried her face in her hands. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her elbows resting on her knees. There was no way she was going to survive the afternoon without going crazy. Her stomach was already knotted up like last years Christmas lights, and she couldn't think of anything except being with Armand again. She was eight-years-old, tomorrow was Christmas morning, and Armand was the Barbie dream house she'd been begging for all year.
Hours painfully crawled by as she wore a path in the carpet with restless pacing. The relentless wind that howled past the shuttered window only slowed time further. The storm wasn't letting up, and it didn't seem like it was just skimming the city either.
Julia glanced at her phone. She might not have a cell signal, but it still kept time.
3:45.
She still had at least an hour and a half of endless waiting. Propping a pillow against the headboard, Julia sat on the bed with a thud, kicking her feet up and leaning back against the plush cotton. Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind of everything and just let darkness fill her skull.
It wasn't easy. Armand's image was permanently burned into her retinas.
Pulling up everything she'd learned when Clare drug her to a meditation class last year, Julia focused on the steady in and out of her breath, and pushed away every thought that strayed from that focus.
It took a few minutes, and she had to kick Armand out more than once, but soon her mind quieted and the tension oozed from her body. The steady pattering of rain and whoosh of wind became a lullaby, lulling her into a trace-like state. She was able to turn her focus further inward, until her breath roared through her lungs and her heartbeat pounded against her ears. In the hours she'd spent with Clare in that Buddhist temple learning the art of meditating, she'd never been able to truly let go and relax. It was oddly freeing to be so in touch with and disconnected with her body at the same time.
* * *
When Julia woke up, the room was pitch-black. Blinking wildly in the darkness, she jumped up, scrambling to find her phone. She tried the lamp, but the power was still out. After shoving everything on the end table that wasn't attached to the floor aside, she finally palmed her phone. The backlit was dim and she was almost out of battery, but the digital clock read 6:07.
Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit!
She fumbled around the room, bumping into the desk and stubbing her toe. Knocking her purse over when she reached for it, Julia felt around until she found her wallet, and then bolted out of the dark room. If she hurried, she could probably get to Luxure in less than 10 minutes.
Chapter Fifteen
"You can't go out there; it's still storming," the concierge said when Julia headed for the front door.
"Is the storm still bad?"
"It hasn't let up all afternoon and isn't expected to until early morning. You need to get back to your room. It isn't safe to be out and about."
Julia's stomach sank through the floor. She had to see him. She couldn't wait twelve or even one more hour. Her plane left early on Saturday and there simply wasn't enough time. Even if she were with him now, it still wouldn't be enough.
She glanced at the door. Through the lead glass windows she could see the deluge of rain falling in buckets onto the soaked streets. The burgundy awning from the building across the street had torn free and was whipping wildly in the wind.
If the storm was still this violent, she couldn't possibly go out in it. Could she?
One look at the concierge's stern expression gave her the answer. The woman looked like she'd tackle Julia before letting her walk out the door.
"Your door key won't work with the power out," the concierge told her.
Julia's heart sank into the marble floor. She couldn't go back to that room. Not now. Not when Armand was less than a mile away.
"Let me get the master and I'll walk you back up."
As soon as the other woman disappeared into the back room, Julia saw a chance to escape.
To hell with the storm. Luxure wasn't that far.
The front door was locked, but with a quick turn of the deadbolt, she pulled the door open and slipped outside.
The wind hit her like a freight train, and by the time she rounded the corner onto Royal she was completely soaked. The rain was a cold slap across her bare skin, the droplets moving with such velocity that they stung when they hit her.
She pressed against the building, but the wind still tore at her clothes, and a couple of strong gusts almost took out her feet. Hunkering down, she put her shoulder into the wind, turned her face away from it, and trudged laboriously down the street.
* * *
About the fifth time the wind nearly knocked her down, Julia briefly considered turning back, but the memory of Armand's lips against her skin kept the fire burning under her feet. There weren't enough days left as it was, she wasn't going to miss one because of a little rain. Besides, at this point, she was almost halfway there.
Or so she thought. La Luxure was near the Square, but she didn't remember which street it was on, and with the torrential downpour and driving winds, Julia couldn't make o
ut any of the familiar landmarks. The world was a gray blur, and every time she paused to get her bearings, the rain slammed against her face and she had to tuck her chin to her chest to avoid the assault.
Fighting through the storm, Julia continued down the street, desperately trying to recognize something, anything. It was pointless. She could barely see the buildings next to her, let alone something in the distance like the St. Louis Cathedral spires.
Without a map, she had no idea how to get to Luxure.
An alarm squealed helplessly from an abandoned vehicle, and loose shutters banged from several locations in unison like some kind of hurricane drum band. Water splashed at her ankles, rising from a river that started in the gutters and spilled over the sidewalk.
Unable to see anything that looked remotely familiar, Julia turned at the next street, keeping her fingers crossed. She reached Bourbon St. without spotting Luxure's tiny entrance. Of course with the chaos around her, she might have walked right past it.
Which way should she turn? It felt like she'd been walking forever, but she was also moving at a turtle's pace. On the off chance she'd gone too far, Julia turned left. She spotted The Cell, and was pretty sure it was between Luxure and her hotel, so she turned left again on Royal, and continued to push through the blanket of rain.
It couldn't be far. It couldn't be.
* * *
Armand set down his laptop with an exasperated sigh. He was usually able to exercise patience and considered it to be one of his strengths, but tonight, he was finding the task grueling. He was so distracted, he'd nearly pulled a muscle during his earlier workout, and now, the numbers in his spreadsheet had this annoying habit of blurring together.
The storm was still raging furiously outside and didn't sound like it would be letting up any time soon. It was barely after six, and judging from the sound of the wind and rain pounding against the shutters, it might be midnight at the earliest before there was a break. He didn't know if he could wait that long to see Julia again. It had been hard enough walking away from her last night, and his dreams had been crowded with her image.