by Cd Hussey
In order to get air into her lungs, she was forced stop several times. Falling back away from the hordes of tourists crowding the street, she huddled under whatever shelter presented itself, and strained to regain control. Minutes would pass before she could move again. People stared but she didn't care. There was no room in her for embarrassment. All she could feel was the pain.
There was no logic to her misery, and somewhere deep inside her shredded insides she knew it. She'd confronted him. She'd come to him accusing and angry. She shouldn't be so hurt and devastated by his rejection. She didn't even know what she expected or wanted from him. But when he kicked her out of Luxure and out of his future, he might as well have stabbed her it hurt so much.
Somehow, she managed to make it back to the Conti Royal. She'd cried so much on the hurried walk from Luxure that she'd exhausted her tear supply, leaving her empty and emotionally spent, with red, stinging, puffy eyes, a massive headache, and a hollow ache in her gut. She entered the lobby a numb shell, proceeded straight to the stairwell, and plodded heavily up the stairs.
Her room was coldly comforting, a welcome reprieve from any memories associated with Armand. She was thankful he'd never actually made it up here or she'd have nowhere to escape. Her flight didn't leave until 10:30 tomorrow morning.
After carefully picking up her computer from where it sat overturned on the bed, Julia quickly closed the cover. The last thing she wanted to see was the scandalous image of Armand. She scooped to retrieve the discarded case and accidentally grabbed something soft and silky instead.
She stared at the luxurious fabric resting in her hands, realizing in dismay that it was the 18th century frock coat she'd borrowed from Armand on Halloween. The numb shell she'd encased herself in was abruptly washed away by the tsunami of emotion that crashed through her. She fell back on the bed in a heap, her empty tear ducts springing to life.
She felt so stupid. Vampires. What kind of idiot believed in vampires? How could she have let herself be so easily duped? Was she so desperate to find a man who excited her that she was willing to believe anything? Even vampires?
Julia buried her face in the soft fabric, Armand's spicy scent filling her nostrils. It sucked that he smelled so damn good, sucked that the only man that had managed to make her feel anything in the 29 years she'd been alive was some perverted, vampire wannabe.
Disgusted, she tossed the coat aside. None of it was real. Not the way she thought she felt, or the way she had imagined Armand felt. It couldn't possibly be real. The Armand she'd fallen for was nothing more than a fantasy.
She finished packing in a hurry, shoving the few remaining things she hadn't packed earlier into her suitcase. She had to get out of New Orleans and she had to get out now.
After giving the room a quick once over to make sure she hadn't left anything, Julia grabbed her suitcase, and as an afterthought, Armand's coat. She might be hurt, infuriated and humiliated, but she could at least try to get his coat back to him.
Julia knew she looked like a wreck. The look the concierge gave her merely confirmed it. "May I help you?" the woman asked.
Julia flopped the coat on the counter. "I need to check out, and see about mailing this." She gave the coat a sidelong glance.
"Are you leaving?"
"I hope so," Julia said, her voice wavering. "I also need a cab to the airport."
"The airport? Do you have a flight?" The concierge's face was a mixture of concern and confusion.
Julia dropped her eyes to the counter. "I'm, um, I need to catch one." She was trying hard to keep any stray tears at bay. Excessive swallowing seemed to help.
"Well, let's see what we can find. I wouldn't get your hopes up too much." The knot in Julia's stomach tightened. She had to leave tonight. There was no way she could stay in this city any longer. Not with him so close. "Where are you heading?"
"St. Louis."
"Let me check." The clerk clicked feverishly on the keyboard, her long, bright pink fingernails clacking at a record pace. "So, where do we need to send the coat?" she asked, still typing away.
"I don't know the exact address. The place is a bar called - " Julia swallowed. This was harder than she thought. Just saying the name made her throat tighten up. "La Luxure de Sang on St. Philip."
"Here in the Quarter?" Julia nodded. "Do you have the recipient's name?"
"Armand," she replied, her voice quivering. Quickly, she wiped at the tears that tried to escape. "Um, Laroque."
"I know the name, and I think I've heard of the bar. Between Royal and Chartres?" Julia nodded again. Suddenly, even without her map, she could picture the streets perfectly. "I'll send one of the valets there. Andrew!"
"It's about a ten minute walk."
"He'll be okay." With warm, gentle fingers, the concierge touched Julia's arm. "It might make your evening a little less stressful."
The gesture made her tear up. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, Julia quickly wiped her eyes. "Thanks."
"Of course darlin'." The concierge handed Armand's coat to the valet. "Run this over to St. Philip, 'tween Royal and Chartres, to a place called La Luxure. It's small, so you'll have to look hard."
"I think I've seen it."
Julia handed him a 20. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
The valet pocketed the bill. "No problem."
Julia watched the young man hustle out the door and then turned back to the concierge. "Were you able to find a flight?"
"It looks like there is a flight at 9:15 with a couple of seats left. If you hurry, we might be able to get you there in time." She picked up the phone. "Do you want me to call a cab?"
"God, yes. Please."
* * *
The evening was not progressing well for Armand. Slinging beer boxes into the cooler only offered a momentary distraction that didn't last long enough. Fueled by Armand's agitated state, the shipment was unloaded in record time.
The tension in the bar was so thick it was unbearable. No one spoke. There wasn't a smile to be seen, and everyone, Slade included, avoided making eye contact with Armand.
Armand needed to work, needed something to keep his mind off the afternoon, but he knew his mood wasn't good for business. If he didn't stay at the bar though, if he went out like this, he'd probably get arrested and someone would end up in the hospital.
Oh, but how good would it feel to run into that prick Dave and kick his ass. Armand had a pretty good idea where to find him. There were a few bars on Bourbon that Dave's type liked to frequent. It would only be a matter of time and systematic elimination before Armand tracked him down.
He wasn't sure why hurting that asshole sounded like such a good time. It wasn't like Dave had anything to do with Julia's personality shift. Armand knew he was merely projecting his anger, shifting it from Julia to Dave. But that prick represented all the fucked up thoughts that had spewed from Julia. Hell, maybe she'd even run into him after she'd left this afternoon. Maybe he'd planted those bullshit ideas into her easily brainwashed skull.
Who was he kidding? Julia was a big girl and fully capable of coming up with her own asshole ideas. It'd be nice to blame someone else, but as much as he hated it, he had to accept that Julia simply wasn't who he thought she was, and definitely not for him in spite of the false connection he thought he'd felt, or the amazing sex.
Still, imagining the blood trickling out of Dave's nose after Armand clocked him gave him a small amount of pleasure.
It was fleeting.
A tall, thin man dressed in a valet uniform came in carrying a bundle of fabric and looking a little shell shocked as his eyes darted around the bar and across Luxure's employees. Armand recognized the bundle as the frock coat he'd loaned Julia Halloween night. His chest immediately tightened, blood rushed to his head, and his pulse quickened.
"I'm supposed to deliver this." The valet held up the coat tentatively.
With clenched fists, Armand crossed the room to take it from him. "Yes, thank you," he said tersel
y, slipping some money into the young man's hand.
"Thanks, sir. The lady tipped me pretty good but man, she was so upset, I woulda done it for free."
Armand felt his face turn into a rock. "Your service is appreciated. But you can get out now." The muscles in his jaw were so tight, his mouth barely moved. With a steel grip he clutched the coat, grateful that his fists had a distraction. This poor kid didn't deserve Armand's anger just because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.
Armand couldn't figure out why hearing about Julia's misery should bother or anger him. She'd brought this on herself. They could have been enjoying another amazing evening together if she hadn't suddenly turned into someone else.
"Well, I can see why she's trying so hard to get out of the city," the kid said, giving Armand a once over.
The fucker had balls, that was for sure. But he wasn't a complete idiot. Before Armand had a chance to react, the valet split, leaving Armand even more flustered and ready to kill something.
So, Julia was so desperate to get as far away from him that she was scrambling to put a couple hundred miles between them. He repulsed her so much that she couldn't even stand to be in the same city with him for one fucking night?
He shoved past employees trying to look busy doing other things. Only Slade caught his eye as he stormed by. "Dude."
Armand held his hand up, silencing the big man before he could utter another word. "I said don't, and I fucking mean it."
He couldn't take another minute. If he didn't hit the weights or run off his fury, he was going to explode, or do something stupid like sprint down to the Conti Royal and confront her. Or worse, drive to the airport and make an ass of himself confronting her there.
No thanks. She'd already made a fool out of him once.
Chapter Twenty-One
The next several hours passed in numb blur. Julia somehow managed to make her flight, feeling nothing as she hustled from the ticket counter through security. Her heart didn't even beat faster when she sprinted to the gate and handed the flight attendant her ridiculously overpriced ticket.
The high pitched whine of the engines buzzing right next to her ear didn't faze her, nor did the offensive smell oozing from the bathroom behind her. When turbulence rocked the tiny jet and sent the flight attendant scrambling for her feet, the only emotion that gripped Julia was a secret longing for the plane to crash so she could put all of this miserable business behind her.
The temperature was unseasonably cold in St. Louis, a frigid homecoming to match the temperature of her heart. Her car reluctantly started, and Julia made the long trip home on autopilot. She kept the radio turned up and her mind turned down.
It was after midnight by the time she pulled onto the quiet, frozen streets of Alton. They were not normally so empty on a Friday night, but even the most dedicated Riverboat partiers could be deterred by frigid temps. She was thankful not to have to fight hordes of motorcycles for her parking space, and climbed wearily up the back stairwell to her loft.
After dropping her bag unceremoniously on the floor by the door, Julia trudged towards the couch. Bubbers was overjoyed to see her. Purring loudly, he rubbed voraciously against her legs until she bent and stroked his back. He immediately flopped on his side, stretching and kneading sensuously at the air.
Kicking her shoes off, Julia crawled onto the couch, pulled the throw off the back and over her body, and clicked on the TV. Perfect, a Simpsons marathon. That ought to help keep her numb a little while longer.
Bubbers curled up next to her chest, his unending purr like the constant hum of an overworked air conditioner. Bumping his face continuously against her hand until she finally conceded, he closed his eyes in pure pleasure as she ran her fingers over his silky gray fur and scratched him on the corner of his jaw where he loved it so much.
Oh, to be a cat and find contentment in simple pleasures instead of fucking them up.
Only two more days and everything would be back to normal, and she could put this whole New Orleans mess behind her.
Back to normal. Julia sighed. Whatever that was.
Planting herself on the couch for the night, Julia left her plush cocoon only once, and that was to use the restroom. Her butt quickly became a permanent indention in the red Microsuede fabric. Bubbers was content to lie beside her for a long time, his furry gray body an unbelievably efficient furnace, but even he eventually got bored and wandered off.
She was able to fall asleep sometime after two am, but her sleep was restless, and filled with images and memories she was ready to forget. She woke up again barely an hour later. A South Park episode and a few bad judge shows were successfully able to push the memories from her brain, and she eventually dozed off again just as the sun was peaking through the blinds.
It wasn't until mid-morning on Saturday, when Clare came crashing through the front door, that Julia roused from the couch. Well, by roused, she actually sat up.
Standing in the doorway, her short, multicolored hair clipped back with a couple sparkly barrettes, Clare stared at her. "Are you okay?"
"Sure?"
Clare stepped into the living room. "Wow, you look like shit." She sat on the armchair, the bold pattern printed on it contrasting with her bright hair.
The chair and couch had come as a set. In fact, all of Julia's living room furniture had been part of a neatly laid out display in some generic department store. None of it was original, and all of it lacked any true personality. Like every other piece of bland, store bought decoration in her apartment, she was beginning to see it as a metaphor for her life.
"Thanks," Julia replied dryly. She was pretty sure Clare was being kind. Julia knew she looked way worse than shit.
"Why didn't you tell me you were home? And why is your phone off?"
"Probably because I didn't want to talk to anyone," Julia snapped.
"Tough shit. You can't blow me off for days, disappear during some tropical storm, call me to tell me you hooked up with the hottest guy in New Orleans only to freak out and then not tell me what the fuck is going on. No. Your mouth better start moving."
Tossing her throw blanket aside, Julia rose roughly. Her legs hadn't moved in so long, the muscles felt like jelly.
"I don't want to talk about it," she said. "End of story."
She went to the kitchen and pulled a glass out of the cabinet, filled it with water and drank it in one endless gulp.
Clare followed her. "Too bad. I'm not leaving 'til your lips start moving."
Julia flicked a dirty look at Clare from the corner of her eye, and then refilled the glass. She hadn't appreciated how thirsty she was until the water touched her tongue and realized she hadn't had any liquid since the airplane.
Julia returned to the living room, Clare at her heels. "Okay, if you don't want to talk," Clare was saying, "I'll start guessing."
"Whatever you have to do."
Clare sat cross-legged on the chair, and rested her pierced chin on folded hands. She was unfazed by Julia's scowl.
"So you hook up with Armand Laroque, which is fucking awesome by the way, and then you freaked out over the Internet shit. Why?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
Clare ignored her. "Did he blow you off yesterday or something? When I met him last year, I seriously threw myself at him, as did a bunch of other chicks, and he very politely declined. In fact, he was always a perfect gentleman when he dismissed my advances. For a little while I thought he might be gay, but he seemed pretty cozy with this hot blonde. She's a model too, but she does more pin-up stuff."
Julia's throat closed up at the thought of Armand with Angel. Jealousy was such a preposterous emotion at this point, but she couldn't seem to help it.
"At any rate," Clare continued, "I'm sure he pulls tons of tail, but he's a confirmed bachelor as far as I know. Did you hook up with him and then he blew you off later or something?"
"What part of me not wanting to talk about this don't you get?"
"Oh, I get it. I
just don't care. I never see you this upset, especially over some guy you just met. What the hell did he do to give you such horrendous bags under your eyes?"
Julia sighed loudly. It was only a matter of time before Clare's incessant questions broke her down. It wasn't necessarily that she didn't want to discuss the messed up events that brought her to this point, she was merely trying to avoid the inevitable rush of blabbering that would follow. All she wanted to do was forget everything and put it behind her.
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Just tell me what the fuck happened and I'll get off your case."
"Fine." Julia swallowed hard. She could already feel the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, waiting for their cue. "No, he did not blow me off. He did kick me out of his bar, but he didn't blow me off."
"Why'd he kick you out?"
"It's so stupid." Julia chewed on her lip. She took a deep breath. Here goes. "I accused him of acting like a vampire in order to seduce me."
"He does own a blood bar for Human Vampires..."
"I know that now," Julia snapped, and then sighed. "I had no idea what Luxure was when I went inside, I really didn't. I thought it was simply a Goth bar. So when all this crazy stuff started happening..." She caught Clare's gaze. "Really crazy stuff, like this girl I saw at Luxure ended up dead, and there was this fortune teller that told me I would turn evil, and then I saw this picture of Armand in the museum from like, 100 years ago - "
"Really?"
Julia rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's apparently his grandfather." She shook her head at the memory. The resemblance was uncanny, but it had been the eyes that captured her. She would never forget the intensity of the Laroque gaze, not if she lived a thousand years.
She pulled her hair back into a tight pony tail and held it at the back of her head, clamping her forearms against the sides of her face as if she could squeeze the memories from her brain. It didn't work and she released the hair, and yet another sigh, at the same time.
"It had taken me all week to convince myself that Armand was a vampire and by then, I'd fallen so in love with the fantasy that when I saw those pictures on the Internet and realized the truth, I freaked out and confronted him about it."