Closer Than She Thinks

by Meryl Sawyer

  “Come on, Clay,” Maree called. “The bra is edible, too.”

  “Join the party, mon.”

  What could it hurt? he asked himself. He’d have a better feel for things closer. He put one knee on the king-size bed.

  “No clothes!” Dante ordered, then went back to using his tongue on Maree.

  Clay’s whole body burned, and his penis pressed against his pants, begging to be released. He was a little embarrassed to be compared to Dante, but decided it didn’t matter. They were too involved to pay attention to him.

  He stripped and climbed on the bed beside them. Dante had his head between her legs, and Maree’s eyes were squeezed shut while the tip of her tongue ran across her lower lip. Clay fondled one breast, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  Dante stopped, raised his head, and grinned at Clay. A shiver of something he had never experienced chilled his body for an instant. Dante reared back on his knees, his erection jutting high and proud from between his dark thighs.

  “Your turn,” he told Clay in a hoarse whisper.

  Clay levered himself upright and straddled Maree. He needed release so badly he couldn’t wait around to see them fuck. Her eyes were still closed; she seemed oblivious to what was happening. She was used to threesomes, he decided.

  Suddenly, Dante’s hand covered Clay’s pulsating cock from behind. It wrapped around him like an iron glove, then his thumb brushed the bulbous tip. Clay held his breath to keep from losing it.

  “That’s not what I meant, mon.” Dante nipped the back of Clay’s neck and another burst of fire shot through his body.

  Clay looked over his shoulder into his liquid brown eyes and knew exactly what Dante wanted. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t say no.

  “Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. If God won’t have you, de devil must.”

  CHAPTER 24

  It was after lunch the following day when Alyssa finished with the microbead salesman from Istanbul. She was excited about the tiny beads being milled by machine and strung on invisible filament. The finished pieces looked like clusters of star dust. She disliked using machines but there was no other way to produce such tiny beads and string them.

  Olivia handed her another cup of coffee, saying, “The people from the advertising agency have been waiting.”

  “The brochure,” she muttered to her secretary. She needed to get out of here in the next two hours to bring Aunt Thee home and pick up her costume for the Vampire Ball. “Send them in.”

  A man and a woman hardly out of their teens entered. Both of their ears had multiple piercings, and they both had dark maroon hair gelled into chunky spikes. She couldn’t believe this was the advertising agency the company used.

  “What projects have you done for TriTech?”

  They named several, and she told herself to calm down. This was America, not Italy, where being fashionable was a way of life. These weirdos were probably from L.A.

  “Let me explain what I want,” Alyssa began, “so there’s no mistake. I need a small insert that’s classy to go inside each box of Rossi Designs jewelry.”

  They nodded in unison, bobbing their glossy maroon heads like puppets.

  “I want it to say something like this.” They both scrambled to take notes. “Since ancient times man has polished and strung pebbles into rows of beads to adorn himself. The earliest beads were worn by Neanderthals, but it was the Egyptians who are credited with perfecting the art.”

  “Art—that’s a good word,” the girl said to her companion, and he nodded.

  “Beads worn as amulets or talismans have been found from ancient China to England. The word bede is an Anglo-Saxon term meaning prayer. Among the earliest beads were prayer beads. Other beads like rosary beads—”

  Her intraoffice line buzzed, interrupting Alyssa. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Williams is here,” Olivia said. “He’d like you to step into the reception office for a minute.”

  “Of course,” she said and excused herself, knowing what she’d given them so far sounded too much like a textbook. Could they improvise the way her ad agency in Florence had?

  “Jake,” she said with a smile as she emerged from her office. “What brings you all the way down here?”

  “I heard from Sanchez.”

  She could tell from his expression it wasn’t good news. “What did he say?”

  “Harper is out on a boat in the Sea of Cortez photographing the whales. It’s calving time. Sanchez has contacted the ship by radio, but he doesn’t want to ask sensitive questions over the air.”

  Alyssa tried not to be disappointed. It was merely another delay among many delays; she could wait. “Thanks for telling me.”

  “Was your telephone in your car?”

  “No. I notified the phone company. I’m going to get a new one.”

  “Good.” He studied her, his eyes level under drawn brows. “I thought the day might have gotten away from you, the way it does when I’ve been out of the office for a while.”

  “Has it ever.”

  “Let me bring Thee and the nurse home. I’ll have my secretary pick up your costume and deliver it to the house. Will that help?”

  A wave of utter relief rushed over her. “Yes! I could kiss you.”

  “You’ll have to do better than that—later.”

  She noticed a flush had crept up Olivia’s cheeks as her secretary pretended to sort files. Alyssa took his arm, unable to resist pulling him closer and looking flirtatiously into his eyes. “I need to ask you something. I’ve got the team from Nolan and Bland in my office. You’ve used them, right?”

  His expression stilled and grew serious. “Yes. Trust me. They’re from L.A. That’s why they seem strange, but they deliver.”

  “L.A. I knew it,” she said as he left, saying he’d see her tonight.

  She went back inside her office. “Where was I?”

  “Rosary beads.”

  “Prayer beads.”

  “Right. Besides having religious significance, beads were currency in the ancient world. Traders used strings of beads to pay for things. They carried them around their necks because it left their hands free, and the beads couldn’t be stolen. That’s how beads became a symbols of wealth and status. When coins were invented, beads became jewelry.” She tried a smile on the duo, but they looked at her with blank expressions. “Do you think you can rephrase this information into a short, yet interesting insert?”

  “No problem.”

  “We’re outta here.”

  They left and she sank into her chair, not knowing if she should laugh or cry. She decided to trust Jake, and let them come up with an insert. She immersed herself in the paperwork she hadn’t done, thankful for Jake’s help.

  She resisted the urge to confront Max Williams by calling him on the telephone or going over to his home to see him, but the vicious threat lingered, and she reminded herself to be careful. She was positive she would see him tonight. Telling him off in person would be much more satisfying.

  Jake walked into the Vampire Ball with Alyssa at his side. Despite the mess at TriTech, he couldn’t help smiling inwardly. He might be able to endure all this society BS if he had Alyssa with him.

  “I wonder whose idea it was to throw a vampire ball?” she asked with a laugh.

  “It’s given at this time every year. Late spring, after Mardi Gras. During the carnival there are countless masked balls and costumes in the parades. I suppose everything had been done but a vampire theme.”

  He scanned the ballroom filled with masked people, wearing black vampire outfits with swirling capes. Many of the women had plunging necklines that made them look like Elvira. He’d never seen so many fangs since last year’s Vampire Ball, when the costume shops in the city sold out of fangs and fake blood.

  “Hold it,” he told Alyssa as a waiter passed by. “Grab one of those skewers of pasta. I’ll bet they’re loaded with garlic.”

  The waiter stopped and they helped themselves to the skewers of penne past
a drenched in sauce.

  “M-m-m,” Jake said. “There’s enough garlic here to ward off all the vampires on the planet.”

  Alyssa laughed and held up the antique beaded cross she was wearing on a long chain around her neck. It was one of a number of antique crosses with beads she collected. “The clergy will do the rest.”

  They chuckled together. He was dressed as a priest, and she was a nun—a damn sexy nun. Both wore crosses to keep them safe from the vampires.

  They wandered through the enormous ballroom of the private home in the Garden District where the costume party was being held. Like many homes from the period, the ballroom was on the third floor. The perimeter of the room was draped in black and festooned with skulls and crossbones and satanic symbols.

  Groups of potted palms and upright coffins divided the room into several sections. The bar was stationed in one corner, ringed by gargoyles on pillars. Nearby, a chef was serving freshly prepared sushi beneath a mammoth cross with RIP burned into the wood. There were several game booths off to the side, including a Voodoo Parlor.

  Tables with black satin tablecloths and blood-red napkins were clustered at the far end of the room. Rows of gleaming silver and crystal glasses promised a five-course dinner. In the center of each table, rising from a miniature coffin of red roses was what appeared to be a human skull with a table number written in blood across the forehead. If you asked him, the whole damn thing was a morbid waste of money.

  “Hello, Jake.”

  He wouldn’t have recognized Troy in his vampire getup, but he knew the voice. This was the man he’d trusted to help him run TriTech, the man who had betrayed him. His happy mood evaporated.

  “Our table is over there,” Troy told them.

  Jake had forgotten that he’d invited Troy to be at one of TriTech’s tables. He’d tried to greet Troy as if nothing were wrong. “Troy, this is Alyssa Rossi. She’s—”

  “The head of Rossi Designs. I know all about your company.”

  What a surprise. Jake bit back a snide remark. Troy adored Paris and its sophisticated nightlife. He probably thought this was beneath him.

  “Really?” Alyssa said.

  “Beads. An international reputation.”

  They kept talking, but Jake didn’t pay attention to their conversation. It struck him—not for the first time—that Troy knew all sorts of insider information. There wasn’t a major deal or minor transaction the man hadn’t worked on. He could turn TriTech inside out. Again, Jake kicked himself for allowing this to happen.

  “I’m going to experiment with microbeads—” She was cut off as Jake pulled her away, saying they’d see Troy later. “What’s wrong? That was very rude.”

  “Sorry.” He’d spotted the LeCroix family coming their way. They were wearing masks but Phoebe’s blond hair was unmistakable. She was one of the few women not wearing a long, black wig. The vampire with the gray hair had to be her father. “Over there. Gordon LeCroix with Hattie and Phoebe. Wonder where Clay is.”

  Alyssa froze, standing where the potted palms concealed her.

  “Do you want to talk to your father?” Jake asked.

  “Not with Phoebe and Hattie around. Remember, the last time I was with Phoebe, Ravelle accused me of wanting her dead.”

  “And you didn’t kill her? A missed opportunity.” He watched them over Alyssa’s shoulder. “Phoebe and her mother have stopped to talk to a couple of fat vampires. Not a pretty sight.” He grinned at her, but she didn’t return his smile. “Looks like Gordon’s heading toward the bar alone.” He tugged her arm. “We can catch him.”

  He stepped out from behind the palms, extending his hand, “Gordon, hey. How are you?”

  “Fine-ah—”

  “Jake Williams.” He nudged Alyssa forward. “You know Alyssa Rossi.”

  “Of course, I know Alyssa,” snapped Gordon.

  “Hello, Father.”

  Through the slits in his black mask, Gordon’s eyes narrowed just slightly. “Clever costume, Alyssa.”

  They stood looking at each other, neither saying anything. Jake noticed Phoebe staring at them, and he figured she’d guessed the masked nun was Alyssa.

  Finally, Alyssa said, “Nice seeing you … again.”

  They walked away, and over his shoulder Jake noticed Phoebe making a beeline for her father. He didn’t mention it to Alyssa.

  “Do you think he got the message?” she asked.

  “If all you wanted to say to him is: I know. He understood.”

  Her chin jutted upward. “That’s all. I’m on my own. I always have been. I don’t need him. I have Aunt Thee.”

  Jake spotted his father on the far side of the room with the Duvalls. At least, Jake thought the other couple was Clay’s parents. Nelson Duvall was a glimpse into Clay’s future. Someday his blond hair would be riddled with gray, and he’d have a paunch. While most of the other men wore black wigs or slicked back their hair a la Elvis in order to transform themselves into vampires, Nelson was wearing a black headpiece that made him look like Bat Man.

  “There’s my father over there dressed as the devil. Now, is that fitting or what?”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “We’d better say hello.” He knew his father wasn’t going to be thrilled to see him with Alyssa, but he didn’t give a damn.

  “Hey, Max,” Jake greeted the masked man. “You remember Alyssa.”

  His father grunted his hello through the devil’s mask he wore. His long tail was slung over his shoulder, and Jake almost laughed. Max looked so … right as the devil.

  The band was beginning to play “Proud Mary.” Alyssa grabbed his father’s hand, saying, “Let’s dance.”

  Max scowled at Jake. He shrugged his shoulders and wondered what possessed Alyssa. With women, you never knew. They seemed to be doing more talking than dancing, he thought, watching them. When the song was over, Alyssa left the old devil standing by himself in the middle of the dance area.

  She came over and took his arm. “Come on.”

  “Hey, what was going on with my father?”

  “I just wanted to tell him what a great son he had.”

  “Why am I not buying this?”

  She laughed but it had an odd strangled sound. Women. Go figure.

  Clay walked into the party by himself. The vampire’s tuxedo his tailor had so painstakingly fitted on him two years ago had gotten a little tight in the waist. Since he’d stopped running at Tulane every morning, it was beginning to show.

  He looked at the table number they’d given him in the reception area. His parents would be at the table with Phoebe. He kept telling himself she was bluffing. Why else would she insist he didn’t tell her parents?

  “Wyatt would know,” he mumbled to himself, feeling foolish for trying to say anything with fake fangs in his mouth. He looked around for his brother-in-law, but with so many men in vampire garb, it was impossible to immediately spot Wyatt.

  Scanning the crowd for tall men like Wyatt, he noticed the tall priest on the dance floor. A nun who was almost as tall was waltzing with him. Alyssa.

  He stood watching and seethed with mounting rage. They were laughing and having fun, oblivious to everyone around them. A bitter jealousy morphed into something much more intense.

  Alyssa was his. Hadn’t he moved heaven and earth to get her back here? He elbowed his way through the milling vampires to the bar, where he ordered a double Johnny Walker Gold Label straight up.

  What was he going to do about Alyssa? Right now he had so much going on, it was impossible to decide how to handle the situation. As if this wasn’t enough, he had Dante and Maree to consider.

  His pulse quickened when he thought about last night. He popped out his fangs and shoved them in his pocket. A long swig of the whiskey helped, but not enough. Threesomes were more fun than he would have thought. That’s what it had been, he assured himself, a threesome.

  “Clay, man, is that you?”

  “Wyatt. Just the guy I wanted to se
e.”

  Wyatt reached around him and handed the bartender his glass for a refill. “What’s up?”

  “Does Phoebe really want a divorce or is this another game of hers?”

  Wyatt waited until he had his drink before responding. “How many times do you have to be told? She’s serious.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he responded as if he couldn’t care less.

  “Is that Jake with Alyssa over there at Marie Laveau’s Voodoo Parlor?”

  “Yes. It is.” His words came out from between clenched teeth.

  Each year the krewe raised money by invoking the name and the powers of the Voodoo Queen who’d lived in the early 1800s. It was always one of the most popular events at the Vampire Ball.

  “This year you have to say ‘black bats bleed black blood’ five times in fifteen seconds to win the pot of prize money,” Wyatt told him. “You try it.”

  “Forget it. I’ve never been good at tongue twisters. I’m not wasting ten dollars to have a crowd of people laugh at me when I stumble over the words.”

  “It’s all in good fun.” Wyatt nudged him. “Check that woman.”

  Shit! It was Maree. When she’d described the feathered gown she was going to wear, she failed to mention it looked as if the feathers had been glued on to every sexy curve of her body. As she passed, people turned and gawked.

  “It’s Neville Berringer and his new girlfriend,” Clay said, more than a little disgusted at the display Maree was making of herself. “Her name is Maree Winston.”

  “Bet she’s pretty hot in bed.”

  For a moment, Clay’s breath burned in his throat. What would Wyatt say if he’d seen them last night?

  CHAPTER 25

  “You totally muffed ‘black bats bleed black blood.’ Do you want to try ‘the city sheriff shoots sharp six-shooters’?” Alyssa asked Jake.

  “Are you kidding? I’m no good at this. I kept saying, black blats. You know how the city sheriff would come out—the shitty sheriff.”

  “Alyssa,” someone behind her said her name, and she turned and found Gordon LeCroix. “May I have a word with you?”

  She opened her mouth to say no when Jake spoke up. “You two go on. I’ll meet you at my table—number twenty three.”