by J S Hazzard
“Not a thing,” I said.
“Something for my mother?”
I had to think about that. “It doesn’t involve your mom, but anything that helps you helps her by default, right?”
“Something involving your mother then?”
“Not even close,” I promised. “You’ll never guess. Can we agree you’ll keep my secret whether you’re interested or not? I swear I’m not harming anyone.”
She barely paused to draw breath. “Of course. I swear I’ll keep your secret, whether or not I accept your, uh, proposition.” Then she laughed. “I feel dirty saying that.”
“Okay.” I filled our glasses and carried them to the sofa, taking a long sip before admitting, “I’ve been engaged in semi-illegal blood sales to vampires for over a decade.
“Wait,” I demanded as her mouth popped open. “Let me finish and then you can ask anything you like.” I handed Amy her glass. “You can start, but take it easy.”
She took a sip of wine, her face flushed with excitement. “Alright, I’m listening.”
I told her everything I could share without naming names, explaining how certain vampires chose to purchase blood like any other commodity instead of using the blood banks. When I told her how much virgin blood was worth, her eyes glazed over.
She took it all in, taking a sip of her wine every so often, and I saw her struggle to organize her words before she spoke. I was expecting a question about whether it hurt, or how often her blood would be needed.
Instead she came out with, “You’re a virgin? For real?”
It was such an Amy question that I laughed, but I gave a serious answer.
“I am. When Dominic began drawing my blood on a regular basis, everyone made assumptions but I’ve never lied about Nicky.” Not about dating him, I amended internally.
She considered that for a moment. “I thought you were being kind.”
“Kind?” She’d lost me.
Amy nodded. “Yeah. It’s always been obvious you and Nicky would end up together. I thought you didn’t want to gloat.” Her tone was matter-of-fact. “After all, I can’t leave mom and no man would want to take her on.”
My instinct was to protest, to say the right guy would come along, but her steady gaze stopped me. While it wasn’t impossible, most women our age had married or had children years ago. Though it hurt me to admit it, Amy’s odds were low and falling.
She grasped my hand. “Please don’t let this make things weird. It’s something I’ve made peace with.” Her mouth quirked with a bitterness I’d never seen. “That said, it’s nothing I like to dwell on, so tell me. You and Nicky… What’s happening there?”
Oh boy. So much for not lying.
I took my time with my answer, wanting to be as honest as possible. “Until recently, Nicky and I were nothing but friends and business associates.” And now for the hard part.
“Right after my banishment petition we did take things a bit further, but I don’t see us becoming a couple.” There. It wasn’t the complete truth, but none of it was a lie.
Amy rubbed my arm in sympathy. “What happened? Things didn’t go well?”
It was the understatement of the century and I felt my eyes well as I answered. “You might say that.”
At the sight of my tears, Amy switched topics. “Returning to our earlier discussion, I have to say I’m surprised about one thing. If you needed your blood taken in secret, why ask Nicky for help instead of me?”
She nearly spilt her wine as she answered her own question. “Holy crap, he does it too!”
I attempted a half-hearted denial, but Amy snorted. “Don’t bother. You’re a terrible liar. The only way you can get away with a fib is if you’re saying something that’s technically true. Otherwise? It’s all over your face.”
I would’ve laughed but Amy beat me to it, the loudest laughter I’d ever heard from her. She had to force the words out between giggles. “Wait, wait, wait. Nicky… with all his talk… and all his manly bullshit… He’s a virgin too? I’ve felt so freakish all this time and instead I’m a member of an unknown elite. Who knew?”
She polished off her wine, choking back her laughter. “Back to you and Nicky. Are you okay being friends?”
I wanted to say I didn’t have a choice at the present time but settled for, “Some days are harder than others.” Another (honest) understatement.
Then I realized I wanted to talk about Nicky, but it was hard to find the words. “Many people have romantic expectations for Nicky and me, but I’ve never been one of them.”
Amy was clearly surprised. “You never considered it? I know you aren’t in a hurry to settle down—you’re a tad strident about that—but I assumed you’d eventually…”
I frowned and Amy pressed on. “Well, look at you two!” she exclaimed, like that was sufficient explanation.
It wasn’t.
“And…?” I wasn’t letting Amy off the hook that easily.
“You two are a match, that’s all.”
Her words hit me harder than I would have liked and I busied my hands with the wineglasses in an attempt to pull it together. Unfortunately, Amy interpreted my silence as an invitation to keep talking.
“You have to know what I mean. Nicky is more sophisticated than the other guys around here, he’s gorgeous and one day he’ll take over the family business. And you!” She pointed at me like I might not realize who I was. “Like it or not, you are your mother’s daughter.”
I winced at that. I still hadn’t told Amy what I’d learned about my mom, but she was on a roll. Amy’s alcohol tolerance is lower than mine, if that’s even possible.
“I mean, look at you,” she barreled on. “You’re more educated than anyone else here. You teach adults three times your age. You’re beautiful and you’re funny, but more than that, you’re unique.” She paused only long enough to take a gulp of air and a slightly larger gulp of wine before continuing.
“You’ll never need to work in the fields or birth ten children to keep yourself fed. There’s no one here who could keep up with you like Nicky and everyone has to know they’d be wasting their time to try. Whatever went wrong with you two, sooner or later you’ll fix it. That’s all there is to it.”
A punch in the face would have hurt less, though she hadn’t meant to be cruel. Amy might have been pushing drunk, but that didn’t negate her conviction in what she’d said. In her mind, Nicky was my one chance at love.
I shook my head to ward off a panic attack and took a desperately needed sip of wine, congratulating myself for having liberated it from Luigi. At this point it was practically medicinal. As I swallowed, I fought to put my feelings into words.
“You’re right that Nicky and I are similar to a point. Both our parents are relatively successful compared to others here and we both have a greater understanding of the world around us, Nicky through scavenging and I through my books. But everything we’ve learned amounts to radically different viewpoints.”
“Different viewpoints about what?”
“About our life here, Amy, and the world the way it is now.” Amy looked slightly baffled and I felt much the same. I’d never voiced these ideas aloud and they didn’t come easily. I set my wine down, as it clearly wasn’t helping.
“Okay, wait, I think I’ve got it. As far as I know, Nicky is thrilled with everything in his life. He has a job that not only gives him financial stability and respect, it fulfills his need for adventure and causes him to be even more popular than he otherwise would be.” I was willing to acknowledge that Nicky would be popular regardless of his job, but working as a scavenger sure didn’t hurt.
“This is about Nicky being more popular than you?” Amy sounded skeptical and I groaned in frustration.
“Ugh, no, that’s not where I’m going at all. It’s not about popularity, it’s about being satisfied with what one has. Nicky lives a life where all of his basic needs are met and it makes him wildly happy. He has a great job and all the food he can ea
t and lots of pretty young women who admire him, and he doesn’t look past that.” Now that I’d found the words, I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to. Which I didn’t.
“Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying Nicky is shallow, because I don’t think he is. I’m simply saying he’s content with his life and I’m not.”
“You’re not?” Amy looked slightly hurt and I hastened to reassure her.
“I’m enormously happy with several things about my life, and you’re at the top of the list, Amy. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend, or a better mother, or hell, even things like a better home or a better wardrobe. My life has some great things, but unlike Nicky, I feel at constant odds with the world around me.”
I shrugged. “Bottom line? Nicky has never been anything but happy, so he never questions the way we live. And I doubt he wants to.” It pleased me to see the words sinking into Amy’s wine-fogged consciousness and I saw the moment it all clicked.
She bit her lip absently as she put it together. “I think I understand. Though I know she never meant it to happen, your mother sort of wrecked your chance at normal happiness. Like mine,” she added thoughtfully. “But while I had to focus on building a new home and supporting us, you didn’t have to worry about that, so you targeted other things, like politics and economics and health care. You devote your energy to the things everyone else is either too busy or too content to notice.”
Her eyes popped open. “Shit. I never thought this was possible, but your shot at a decent love life might be more screwed than even mine.”
“Well, like you, that’s not something I enjoy pondering. It’s not like either of us can change the circumstances we were given, or what they’ve made us. Putting the romance thing aside and returning to my offer, the blood sales have been happening for years. If you’re willing, we’ll give it a shot.”
She frowned thoughtfully and I was relieved to see her focus on the matter at hand instead of our mutual destiny to die alone. “Is there, you know, a contract or anything for this?”
“No,” I promised. “If you hate it, that’s the end of it. Should the two of you make a long term arrangement, you’ll commit to a draw maybe every two weeks.”
I was used to having my blood drawn approximately every three weeks, but I didn’t know how much blood Keanu required. Also, if Nicky returned—when Nicky returned—I didn’t know whether Amy’s blood would still be required, though it was hard to imagine it going to waste.
“The two of us?” Amy asked.
I nodded. “The buyer has a say, of course. Vampires who choose this lifestyle are picky. It’s like they can taste your personality and—I’m serious.”
I laughed at Amy’s expression, remembering my own skepticism when Gigi and I had first had this conversation. “Vampires can tell a lot about a person by their taste. Ideally, a patron will like what they taste in you.”
Amy laughed. “That says it all, doesn’t it?” She rubbed her hands together briskly. “Okay, count me in. Worst case scenario, I have to live with vampiric rejection. Does it hurt?”
For one stupid second I thought she was asking whether vampiric rejection hurt. Then I realized she was asking about the blood draws.
“It doesn’t feel great,” I admitted. “I mean, it’s being stabbed with a needle, but it doesn’t take long. We can stop at any time if you’re uncomfortable.”
She looked at me in disbelief and waved a hand dismissively. “I stab myself with needles on a daily basis and if you want awkward, try living with my mom. Bring it on.”
I laughed because it was true. If anyone’s life could serve as preparation for being a benefactor it was Amy’s. “If you’re up for it, we’ll try right now.”
I stood to retrieve the kit I’d found in Nicky’s bag. It always contained a few extra disposable needles and bags, but if this worked out I’d have to ask Ian for more.
Amy had drained her second glass and was pouring number three as I returned. I was grateful I’d eaten a large dinner because my wine had yet to have a noticeable effect, and I was even more grateful Amy wouldn’t be taking my blood tonight.
By the time I assembled everything and washed my hands, Amy’s glass was empty. She was half trashed and I cut her off, hoping Keanu wouldn’t taste the alcohol in her blood.
Not having lost blood beforehand, my medical skills were considerably improved and Amy took it like a champ. She took the towels and tourniquet in stride and didn’t hesitate when I asked her to lift her skirt. She didn’t even flinch at the needle sliding into her leg, which she watched with an almost professional interest.
Okay, she was better at this than I was.
I placed a piece of cotton over the puncture mark as I removed the needle, telling her to keep pressure on it while I cleaned up.
The blood itself went into the refrigerator, where it looked very peculiar sitting beside the juice and cheese. I planned on delivering it tomorrow, even if it was rude to drop in unexpectedly. I didn’t know the shelf life of refrigerated blood and besides, it was for a good cause.
Amy’s slightly slurred, “What’re we gonna do now?” greeted me as I returned to the living room. Having bandaged her leg—using four plastic bandages where one would have sufficed—she cheerfully lurched to the sofa and flopped down with a bounce.
I’d planned on letting Amy sober up to the Simpsons DVDs I’d borrowed earlier. Amy loved the Simpsons, but burst into tears upon seeing them—not the reaction I’d hoped for.
“You brought those for me? You’re such a good friend.” She clutched a disc to her chest and sobbed.
“Uhhh… thank you?” Amy was normally the world’s most cheerful drunk, so this was unexpected. “Is something wrong?”
It was an obvious question, but I had to start somewhere. Unfortunately, all I accomplished was to make her cry harder.
“You’re such a good friend,” she wailed, looking down at the DVD. “I don’t deserve you. I’m a terrible person!”
All I could imagine was that she’d changed her mind about being a benefactor, which was disappointing but hardly worth all this. “Amy, if this is about the blood thing, it’s no big deal. I only wanted you to have the chance at the money.”
Okay, that wasn’t true. I’d hoped to help both Amy and Keanu but the spirit of the statement remained the same.
“It’s not that,” she sobbed. “You don’t understand. You trusted me with this huge secret and I’ve been lying to you for days!”
Maybe this was egotistical, but it was hard to imagine anything that could trump the secrets I’d kept—and the ones I was still keeping, for that matter. Whatever it was, I’d forgive her. It was that simple.
Then again, I didn’t expect her to say, “Rory, I gave Robert the idea for the banishment petition.” Which goes to show that people can always surprise you.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“WAIT, what?” Maybe I’d misheard.
“I gave Robert the idea for the banishment petition. I’m the reason it happened.”
I stared in bewilderment. “But Amy, why?”
She stared at her hands in her lap. “I never meant for anything to happen, honestly. It was months ago and I thought nothing of it at the time, I swear.”
Lacking a handkerchief, I passed her a napkin. “Thought nothing of what?”
Dabbing at her eyes, Amy sighed. “I never told you because I didn’t want to make anything harder for you, but before the petition Robert sometimes tried to talk to me.”
“Talk to you?” It made no sense. “What on earth for?”
“He wanted me to stop speaking to you,” she said miserably. “He’d hint about how much easier my life would be without you, and how much more helpful our neighbors would be if you went away.”
“So you told him that petitioning for my banishment could make all his dreams come true?”
I’d only been teasing, but Amy’s tears spilled over. “I did, but not on purpose.” She sniffled and reached for the nap
kin again. “After he’d approached me maybe five times, he suggested it might be better if he spoke with my mother. I didn’t want him upsetting her!”
“Of course not,” I said, unconsciously mimicking Ian’s ‘soothing’ voice. “What’d you say?”
Despite my best effort, Amy’s voice verged on hysterical. “I said you were my best friend and they’d have to banish us all to get rid of us! He never would’ve thought of a banishment petition if not for me!” She took my hand in hers and looked at me. “Will you forgive me?”
“Amy, there’s nothing to forgive. I’m only sorry you’ve had to deal with all this.”
She dropped my hand to hug me. “You don’t know what a relief it is to tell you. I’ve been crazy since I figured it out.” After a final squeeze, she pulled back, beaming. “Now we’ve both shared our secrets and I promise to never keep anything from you again.”
Given the circumstances I couldn’t say the same. However, I did have a story to share and now was as good a time as any. “You know, since we have some time alone, I never told you about my mother.” As Amy’s mouth quirked, I snuggled beside my friend and prepared to lighten my own load of secrecy a bit more.
* * * * *
There’s nothing like the combination of good news and unburdening one’s conscience to induce a great night’s sleep. I woke feeling downright buoyant. Though I hadn’t told Amy everything, it was great to have my blood patronage out in the open.
I all but vaulted down the stairs to wake Amy, only to find the sofa vacant. (I’d tried to give her mom’s room, but she’d crashed before I could change the sheets.) Then I looked at the clock and realized it was already eleven in the morning. No wonder Amy had left. And no wonder I felt better.
I was still flying high on the news that Nicky hadn’t died on the last night I’d seen him. On top of that I’d had a great evening, I was as prepared for my hearing as it was possible to be, I had a class tonight that I’d looked forward to for months, and I was about to broker a temporary deal to benefit two of my friends.