Invierea

by Bruce T. Jones

  “You told me a lot of things when we first met. You really didn’t expect I would believe any of your pick-up artist BS, did you?” Sam was suppressing a smile, egging me on.

  “Just as a reminder, I was not trying to pick you up.”

  “Oh, don’t I feel special now.” Sam turned away, no longer able to conceal her amusement.

  Through all of the drama of the previous week, remarkably, Sam’s playfulness had returned. “You know, I have not told a woman I love her for over forty years, so yes, that does make you special.”

  It was Sam’s turn to blush. “Can I see the bedroom, upstairs … now?” Sam tugged forcefully on my arm, announcing her intent.

  “I was saving that for last. I thought we would spend the rest of the night there, after you finish the grand tour. Maybe we can try to make up for lost time.” It was my turn to smile. Although we had spent last night together, I was fearful of myself and of my love for her.

  As we made our way up the second flight of stairs to the rooftop terrace, Sam took hold of my hand. “Nick, this is absolutely beautiful.” Gazing out over the landscaping, cabana, fountains, and city skyline she breathed deeply the warm night air. “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Anything.”

  “Were you born rich? Most government employees don’t make enough for this lavish lifestyle, not to mention owning your own building.”

  “Buildings,” I replied with a smirk. We walked over to the balcony and looked down to the garden below. I put my arm around Sam and pulled her close. The sheer warmth of her body brought immense pleasure.

  “I met Chuck in Afghanistan on a job,” I began to explain. “We were getting paid to eliminate a certain tribal leader. Chuck knew several other tribes, and warlords, that were willing to pay to see the cause through. So he sold the job out, several times over, unbeknownst to the other parties we were there to assassinate their enemies in the first place. Any job that got us close enough to the target, if there were any spoils to plunder, we took that as well. We never figured we would live long enough to enjoy the money, but we did. After I retired and met Phillip, he introduced me to a man who taught me how to trade and invest my money.”

  “Are you rich?”

  “I do not have a definition for rich. All I can tell you is that there is nothing in this city I will not get for you, if you ask for it.”

  Sam turned to me, her eyes ablaze. “You, I want you. I want to spend our lives together. And when you are ready, I want to be …”

  I shut her up the best way I knew how. I knew where she was heading. Besides, it had been four and a half days since our last kiss. Our lips met and the passion unfurled on the terrace. I picked her up and carried her to the cabana. Killing the terrace lights by remote, our clothes came off in random succession. All of the memories of our passion, which had faded into bitter regret, were born anew, as we made love on the rooftop, under the watchful eye of the heavens above.

  As the night grew long, we finally arrived in the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, cuddled in each other’s arms, barely clothed. Mentally and emotionally spent, it only took Sam about two minutes to collapse into deep sleep. I held her in my arms until dawn, then withdrew to the confines of my closet casket.

  The day passed silently and I awoke to a new night of splendor. Even though I had slept on a mattress in a closet, it sure as hell was more dignified than the bathtub at the Maison Dupuy or any casket for that matter. Through the late hours of the night, I had taken the time to do some business as Sam slept peacefully in my bed. She became restless around four, so I rejoined her in bed and stayed there until dawn. Some time around five in the afternoon, she had joined me in the closet. Working as carefully as she could not to disturb me, she slid under the blankets and held me close. As she worked so diligently to not awaken me, I did not let her know she had.

  Around eight thirty it was time to arise. Sam was fast asleep. I would have left her there, only tonight was dinner with Aunt Rena. Kissing her softly, I stirred my sleeping love. “Sam, it is time to wake up.” Even though the closet was pitch dark, I could make out her every intricate detail as she woke.

  “You know, if we’re going to make this work, you have to get a bigger closet. At least big enough for a king bed,” Sam mumbled.

  Sam cracked the door to ensure the sunlight had faded. What little light remained filtered in the room with the effect of a dull glow. Pulling back the blanket, revealing a long black silk lace gown, Sam rose and passed in front of the window, the remaining radiance highlighting her silhouette.

  “I hope you brought something else to wear tonight.”

  “If you want, I can take it off.” Sam dipped her shoulder, allowing a strap to fall.

  “No,” I objected. “You look great, but my aunt is a little more conservative.”

  “If you think your auntie would object, I did bring something a little less revealing. But I need a shower first, before we leave. Do you think you can show me how to work those fancy faucets?” Her tone and facial expressions oozed sexual innuendoes.

  Vampire bad-boy girlfriend: Sam was obviously settling into her new role with gusto.

  “I would love to, but I don’t want to keep Aunt Rena waiting. And just for future reference, this is a perfect example where two alone can shower quicker than two together.”

  Sam sashayed close and poked me in the chest. “Chicken.”

  God, how her beauty was mesmerizing. I stepped even closer, getting my face directly in front of hers. I stroked her hair with my hand, allowing my lips to brush hers. Sam sighed heavily and her lips quivered.

  “That is Count Chicken to you.” I abruptly turned away; to the sound of an exasperated exhale.

  “You will pay for that later mister. It will be a mighty cold night on your side of the closet.”

  “Before you shower, will you do something for me?” Heading out into the living room, I gazed over in the direction of the front door. As expected, Charles had placed a package on the ebony marble mail-stand by the door.

  Sam came out of the bedroom as I reached the package. Retrieving the box out of the gift bag, I studied Sam’s form, her gown flowing, as she approached. This vision, it had to be a dream. At no time in my life had I ever experienced such grace and beauty.

  “Stop right there,” I commanded. Studying every detail, I closed my eyes and retraced every detail just created. I breathed the air deeply, drawing in her scent. Opening my eyes, beholding her once more, I shook my head at the unexpected twist of fate which led to this moment.

  Taking her hand, I led her to the couch. Having hatched this harmless deception only several hours ago, I was suddenly ensnared in a moment of weakness. Sam was here, I was here, and a ring was in my hand. Caught in the void between logic and emotion, I knew my well-plotted course was true.

  “Sam, my aunt Rena is over eighty years old. For the last forty years, she had waited, not always patiently, for someone like you to come along. You might say I have let her down, more than once. It would make her night, maybe even her life, if I could introduce you as my fiancée … just for her sake.” I knew the ice I was treading was thin. If not for my unfinished business and this certain … un-deadness, hell I might have been actually ready for the grand leap.

  “Yes,” Sam replied, her expression casting a sense of mockery, as if she knew an inside joke I had yet to realize. “For Aunt Rena’s sake.”

  “Great.” Happy Sam was willing to participate in the charade, I produced the blue Tiffany box. “I got this for you to wear tonight.”

  Sam’s eyes grew wide. “When did you get this?” her eyes locked on the box. “Please don’t tell me you keep these laying around like your phones.”

  “No. I woke up a friend last night who arranged to have it delivered today.” I handed Sam the box.

  “Woke up a friend in the middle of the night? Must have been a really good friend.” Unwrapping the box, she gazed at the sparkling three-carat diamond nestled in the soft sat
in and velvet.

  “Let’s put it this way, Susan’s commission made the late night intrusion worthwhile.”

  Sam stroked the sparkling diamond, and turned her attention to me. “Ask me.”

  The inside joke just slapped me in the face. “Samantha, sweetheart. I would love to. But marriage … I cannot step a foot in a church ever again. And children? You deserve it all.”

  “Ask me,” her words were soft, almost pleading, her eyes glistened with hope.

  “Samantha, how could we? Imagine introducing me; ‘Mom and Dad, I would like you to meet my husband Nicholas, the vampire.’ I love you, but there is no changing what I am. Eventually, you will want more than I can provide. I do not want to ruin your life and future.”

  “The hell with a church wedding. You are my future, my life, my existence.”

  I sighed.

  “Ask me,” she implored. “Both of us could die tomorrow. I would not want something so right, to be the biggest regret of my life. Ask me now, Nick.”

  An answer for every question, the composure I lacked, decisive when I was lost, Sam delivered unquestioned love when I was blind. “Samantha, will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” she said softly. In one simple word, my eternal life was made whole.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I HAD JUST created an epic nightmare. Sitting in the back seat, Sam remained transfixed with the ring on her finger. “A little over the top, don’t you think?”

  I smiled politely. “You have been uncharacteristically quiet. Having second thoughts yet?”

  “Needless to say, with our current circumstances, we are quite an odd couple. And if nothing about that should change, I will become old, gray, and wrinkled while you remain young and handsome. I might have a teeny-weeny issue with that. Picture us in forty years, people will think you’re taking your mom out to dinner for God’s sake.”

  Not quite the conversation I was expecting. “Well if that time should come, and I emphasize if, we will cross that bridge with a carefully planned solution, which will not involve sexual temptations or trickery of any manner.”

  “And if we never cross that bridge? You would be happy going for walks in the park with me and my walker?”

  “Here is a news flash, Samantha. You are not the first sultry vixen to tempt me. The difference between you and the others? Your beauty flows outwardly, wrinkles will not change that.”

  “Nice answer, Romeo.” Sam took my hand and placed it on her leg, guiding it inside her skirt and up her thigh. “And if my legs wind up looking more like elephant legs, you would still be okay with that, Mister ‘your beauty flows from within’?”

  Like so many times in our short history, with my hand on her leg she had me on the ropes, and knew it. “You are not playing fair.”

  “I think we have had that conversation before, and yes, I will continue to not play fair,” Sam stated boldly.

  “Even after the years have passed, and regardless of your temptress ways, I will still love you and still my answer will be no.”

  Sam pulled my hand higher. It was time to change the subject. Vampire or not, she understood exactly how to exploit my weaknesses. “That is very nice dress. Conservative, yet it has a stealthy sex appeal to it. Where did you find it?”

  “Bergdorf’s, and I’ll bet Aunt Rena will never suspect I have no panties on underneath either, would you?”

  “Oh.” Attempting to appear disinterested, the floor of the cab was an ideal hiding place for my wanting eyes. “And are the shoes new?”

  “Yes, even though I bought them to go with some new lingerie, which you may or may not see later.”

  She was downright cruel, arrogant, and vicious, you name it. I was butter in her hands. Impervious to the hack glancing in the rearview mirror, with my hand remaining on her leg, she guided higher until it would go no further. “See?”

  “That is enough!” I snatched my hand away. “You need to behave yourself.”

  “But I am behaving, like a woman who is madly in love, and cannot keep her hands off her guy.”

  I thought about her logic. She was behaving exactly that way. “Was there ever a chance for me?”

  “Yes, but then you went and jumped off the balcony. You could have just let me walk away.”

  I smiled at the memory, reflecting on the circumstances. What were the odds, in just two short weeks, I would be engaged to a woman who I happened to meet on a plane bound for New Orleans. Engaged? I was not even supposed to go out with her, much less dance, sleep, and, especially, fall in love with her? How in the hell was I ever going to make this work?

  “Nick?” Sam squeezed my hand, distracting me from my folly.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you all right with me telling Dee, and maybe my parents about us?”

  One step at a time, a little voice reminded me. The cab pulled up in front of Aunt Rena’s building. But by all means, say the right thing, the voice added.

  “Absolutely, my love. Would you prefer to have Dee over for dinner tomorrow night, or go out?”

  “Is it all right for Dee and Phillip to see your real home?” Sam asked, concerned with my apparent need for privacy.

  “It will be fine,” I reassured with a kiss.

  I got out of the cab and extended my hand. Sliding out of the back seat, Sam’s dress hiked up her thighs. Wrinkly elephant legs? Knowing I held the key for the fountain of youth, I grinned. Even though it was but a passing thought, the smile was snatched away by the unpleasant image of what must transpire for that to occur.

  Opting to bypass the elevator, we trekked up the four flights. “Don’t be nervous,” I said, as I prepared to knock on the door.

  “I’m not,” she insisted in a winded huff. “Is there a reason why we avoided a perfectly good elevator?”

  “Got to keep those legs of yours in shape.” I smiled broadly. “And you are lying, I can sense your nervousness.”

  “I don’t recall giving you permission to sense me?”

  “Can’t help it. It is a new instinct, just like wild animals sensing fear.”

  “Well you had better learn how to control yourself pretty quick, mister. I am a very private person.”

  “Save the speech for somebody that does not know you, sister.”

  I knocked on the door.

  The heavy footsteps approached rapidly. Aunt Rena was two hundred fifty pounds of good-spirited, but stern, Romanian love. Although growing up in Romania, she was quick to point out she was actually Hungarian. That was one reason she hated her birth name, Roma. When we moved to America she changed her name to Rena.

  The door flew open as she began to bellow in a deep Romanian accent. “Nicholas Gabriel, you are fifteen minutes late and …” She stopped dead in her tracks, as if she had seen a ghost.

  “Aunt Rena, how many times do I have to remind you to use the deadbolts?” I lectured, despite her sudden change in demeanor.

  “Nicholas, who is your friend?” Her voice became timid, almost haunting as her eyes popped wide.

  “This is Samantha, she is my fiancée.”

  “Your fiancée? Oh my lord! Where are my manners? Come in, come in.” Grabbing my arm and yanking me in, she kept her eyes focused on Sam.

  “Please, come in, dear. Dinner is ready, although Nicholas did not tell me we were having company. I just need a second to set an extra place.” Leading me to the table, with a firm hand to the shoulder, Rena forced me into the chair.

  “You sit here, darling,” she instructed, as she pulled a chair away from the table. “I will set an extra place.” Rena lumbered quickly into the kitchen.

  “Can I help you?” Sam offered.

  “No dear, you sit, I will be just be a minute.”

  China and silverware rattled as she hurriedly collected the necessary utensils. “Nicholas, you failed to mention when you called the other day, you were engaged.”

  There was an unfamiliar tone in her voice which I could not discern. “That is because I wasn’t. It kind o
f happened today.” I cut a playful look at Sam who continued to beam as she ogled her ring.

  Rena reappeared with an extra setting and a bottle of wine. She set the dishes, poured the wine and disappeared back into the kitchen. It was amazing to watch her move at eighty-two years old. She brought out a large bowl of mari e monti pasta, truly one of my favorite dishes. “I’m not too sure how this will taste without garlic. I hope you plan on seeing a doctor about your stomach, soon.” The antique mahogany chair protested as Rena dropped into her seat. “Nicholas, would you say the blessing?”

  Me pray? Well now, this was awkward. We plowed into dinner with the enthusiasm of a pack of cannibals. Throughout my youth, dinner was not the time to make excessive conversation. It was the time to enjoy Rena’s extraordinary culinary skills. It was the reason she felt locked doors unnecessary. As she had cooked for practically every neighbor over the decades, she was confident nobody would allow her to be harmed. On many occasions I had prompted her to move to a better location, but she always insisted this was her home and these were her friends.

  Tonight, the greatest disappointment, as with all meals since the cursed event—all food had taken on a rather insipid flavor. Truly, I was a cursed man.

  After dinner, we retired to her sitting room. Lacking the customary interrogation of my travels and work since my last visit, she focused most of the attention and conversation on Sam. Uncharacteristically fascinated by her, Aunt Rena intensely studied every aspect of Samantha. I had never observed this behavior before, and like the earlier tone of her voice, red flags were being hoisted. Not to mention, Rena was generally disinterested with almost everything I had to say outside of topics involving Sam.

  Although her tone was overwhelmingly friendly, I felt her laser-beam focus was making Sam a bit uncomfortable. At brief intervals, Rena would cut her eyes to me with a most perplexing expression. The evening was getting late, almost eleven thirty, and I had not begun to broach the subject that led me here.

  Rena, being a typical New Yorker, even at eighty-two, was usually good until about one in the morning. Patiently plotting my entry, awaiting the opportunity to break in, I waited, listened, deliberated and … fretted. My questions would lead to hard answers. We might be here till sunrise.