The Vampire's City

by Mary E. Twomey

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  Though entirely right.

  “I’m sure I am. Tell me about your night, little cannoli. Tell me how I can make it better.”

  A litany of angry yelling erupts in the background on Rome’s end.

  “What are you doing right now?”

  “Nothing important. Just… Hold on.” He holds the phone away from his face, but I can still make out his authoritative bark. “Hector, leave the body there and deal with the ones in the back. I’m not coming here again. Take their stash and get rid of it. Flush it now. I don’t want to see an ounce of halluci-blend anywhere in my territory.”

  I grimace, my neck shrinking as I get into my car. He’s on a raid, and I interrupted him. “Rome, don’t pick up the phone if you’re working! I’m sorry I called.”

  Before he can talk me out of hanging up, I end the call, floored that I would do something so reckless.

  Of course Rome is on a raid. My father told me Rome has been trying to clean up his side of the city. I just didn’t picture him being there tonight. In fact, after our encounter, I don’t like to think of Rome doing anything even remotely dangerous.

  Is he at a halluci-den? Is he surrounded by people who would happily murder for another hit of the bastardized drug that the West End can’t seem to get rid of? I assumed Rome sent his people to do the grunt work for him.

  The urge to tell Rome to go straight home and let Orlando handle the rough stuff itches my fingers, but I don’t text the overbearing message.

  Rome is not mine to protect. He’s not my boyfriend.

  He’s not my anything.

  13

  Cutting a Deal

  Rome

  I can’t remember the last time Orlando handed a task back to me. It’s a true testament to how overworked we’ve been that he came to me this morning with the news that he couldn’t talk Colette’s property owner down on the price of rent for her salon. “I can do the legwork of trying to buy the property outright from the landlady, but it’s a pretty steep price tag, and to be honest, the strip isn’t worth what she’s asking. Angelica said she’ll negotiate only with you.”

  “I’ll handle it,” I replied over breakfast last week. Though now that I am headed to meet with Angelica Gilane, I have no plan other than to write her a fat check.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to go in with you?” Orlando asks from the passenger’s seat. “I feel like I failed you. She said she would only negotiate with you.”

  “It’s fine. You wait in the car. Your shiner doesn’t exactly scream ‘fine dining.’”

  Orlando thumps the back of his head against the headrest. He is far larger than I am, so his head makes an audible thunk. “I still can’t believe one of those bottomed out halluci-heads got the jump on me.”

  “You took him down. It was only sporting of you to let him get in a punch before he died. Then he passed on with a happy memory.”

  Orlando snorts at my attempt to cheer him up. He looks like me, only thicker around the chest and arms, and an inch or two taller.

  He is the muscle, after all.

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  I’ve met with Angelica three times already, but she keeps putting off any sort of agreement. I can tell she is amenable to me owing her a favor if she cuts Colette a deal, but I haven’t landed on her sweet spot yet. I throw on my black suit jacket and stalk into the high-end West End restaurant Angelica suggested. Why we can’t meet at her office, I don’t know. She likes to be seen, it seems.

  Angelica Gilane is one of the few vampire women business owners who own property in Midtown. Every other stretch is owned by humans. It’s a source of contention that she rents to humans who display Humans Only signs on their doors, but she is first and foremost a businesswoman, which is why she does so well.

  When she catches my eye, she stands up and waves me over, kissing me on both cheeks before we sit at the table in the center of the restaurant.

  Ah. She wants to be seen dining with a Valentino. Some people abhor the idea, knowing it puts violent implications in the air. Others rush at the chance for the same reasons. Our money brings clout and stability that cannot be bought with fleeting finances. She’s probably working on a deal of her own, and wants her notoriety established.

  I’ve seen it before.

  “Thanks for meeting with me, Rome,” she says with a welcoming smile. “I ordered you some champagne. I hope that’s alright.”

  Well, I hate champagne just about as much as I loathe someone ordering my food for me. But as I’m still mid-negotiation, I let it slide. “I assume that champagne means we’re celebrating coming to an agreement, yes?”

  She tosses me a coy curve of her red painted lips. “A date with you is always cause for celebration.”

  I freeze, barely able to piece together her words.

  When I feel her leg run between mine under the table, I know I heard her correctly.

  Dammit. I’m usually better at spotting problems like this before I’m buried this deep in them. I’ve been so focused on Colette that I didn’t realize each delay in this deal has meant another date for Angelica.

  “I’m here for business, not pleasure.” It’s abrupt, sure, but I am off the market. I was never on the market, even before Colette came into the picture. I am married to my job, but Colette has managed to open up my schedule for our phone calls. I’ve made spending time on her a priority—however small that window turns out to be every night when I call her before she goes to bed.

  I am such an idiot. I could be on the phone with Colette, but here I am, accidentally dating the property owner of her business. I played this all wrong.

  Angelica’s smile freezes, but she recovers quickly. “I’m sure we can change that.”

  “I’m positive we can’t.” How did I miss her cleavage wrapped in red silk, aimed right at me? She’s leaning forward, undressing me with her eyes while her foot travels further up my leg. I scoot my chair back, making it clear that I am not up for grabs. Had this been a month ago, I would have treated myself to a quickie in the bathroom with her. I would have closed the deal and left without a second thought.

  Now the very idea sounds disgusting.

  Angelica is desirable enough, objectively speaking. She’s certainly more age appropriate. She doesn’t have blood that could kill me. Her family wouldn’t plot my death if they found out we were dating. My father helped her secure her property in Midtown many years ago, setting her up for success, which is rare for our people. Shortly after her name was on the deed, a law was passed that vampires cannot own property outside of the West End, so Angelica knows what an anomaly she is. She is one of the few vampires who holds a position of power over humans.

  And here I am asking her to lower her price for one of them.

  Yes, my life would be far less complicated if I fancied Angelica.

  But that’s not what I want. It’s Colette whose face keeps surfacing in my mind. It’s Colette who makes me believe that all those complications which should keep us apart are mere suggestions.

  But in fact, they are impossibilities that will never change.

  I have fallen hard for my tré-sur. I am only here because I want to negotiate a better deal for her salon’s rent. But turning down a woman whose suggestive advances have made it plain that she will let me do whatever I’d like to her makes it clear to me that this is more than an infantile infatuation I’ve got going with Colette.

  My heart is sealing itself off against all outside influence and focusing itself on Colette’s wellbeing.

  I need to close this deal. New businesses are hard to get off the ground, especially in the first few years. Colette’s rent is ridiculous. I’m all for our people taking their advantage whenever they can, but Angelica is charging Coletta nearly twice what she is charging the other businesses on that same strip.

  A patron at a nearby table is reading a newspaper with my little cannoli’s face printed on it. My focus is divided now, ca
tching the headline that tightens my stomach. The Last Deadblood Dotes on Doctor.

  Fantastic.

  I don’t mind that the papers cover everything Colette does. That’s how it’s always been for her. What bothers me is that the entire world speculates on her dating life because they desperately want her to settle down and give birth to a girl, so the Deadblood line can continue. It was the same for Mama Kennedy. Eventually she became a diplomat who advocated for vampiric rights, but when she died, her ideals were pushed to the side so everyone could focus on controlling the non-issue of a potential vampire uprising.

  Give me a break.

  I clear my throat, refocusing my attention on the matter at-hand. “I’m interested in how we can lower the rent for the Kennedy Salon. Let’s talk about that and forget the rest.”

  Angelica picks up her champagne and takes a sip, locking her eyes on me while she swallows. I don’t know how she manages to make that look predatorial, but it is clear she doesn’t understand the simplicity of “no means no.”

  She reaches for my legs under the table with her foot, but I angle my knees away. “I already told Orlando, I’m not sure I can lower it much more than a hundred dollars a month.”

  “That’s not good enough. We both know you’re overcharging her business more than anyone else on your strip.”

  “Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it. It’s my strip. I can charge what I like. It’s a hot spot for businesses. Plenty of foot traffic. Midtown real estate is difficult to come by.”

  “How can we meet in the middle? It’s important to the families that the salon thrives. I’m sure you understand what a big statement of peace it makes to the city that the Last Deadblood has opened up a business in Midtown.”

  She sets down her glass. “I know exactly how big a deal it is. That’s why I can charge her as much as I am. No one else would lease to her, you know. I did a good thing—a show of peace, if you will—by renting to her in the first place. Her own kind wouldn’t sign a contract with her because they don’t want the responsibility of cleaning up after things go south.”

  My stomach tightens. “There’s been peace between the humans and vampires for almost a year now. The Last Deadblood is perfectly safe in Mayfield.”

  I loathe referring to Colette so clinically, but that is the media’s term for her.

  Angelica’s tone turns flippant. “There are always rebel factions who will come after the girl.”

  Girl? Obviously, Colette is a fine woman.

  Angelica talks with her hand. “I’m sympathetic. She didn’t ask to be born that way. She’s got a right to open up a business, just like anyone else. But everyone knows that trouble always follows her. And I’ll be able to cover more than my expenses when it does.”

  Does no one understand that Colette is more than a prop? More important than a mere toy to fight over? She smiles and the sun rises. She laughs at my jokes, on the rare occasion I make one. She debates ancient philosophies with me when I read my dad’s worn books to her over the phone at night.

  I lean back, making it clear I am not hanging around, even for a drink. “Bottom line, I want to know what it will take to get the salon’s rent cut in half. That’s the number I’m aiming for. Not a tiny discount. Her being here is doing more to increase the peace than anything else. Have you noticed how many more people are doing business in Midtown since she’s set up shop?”

  “Sure. But that’s way too much to shave off her rent, Mister Valentino. You have to know that.”

  I run my tongue over my top row of teeth, focusing on my fang. “Tell me what you want, Angelica. Tell me how we can make this happen. I’m not coming out here again just to have you jerk my chain.”

  Angelica sets down her drink. “I want to be taken out. Once a week somewhere nice. You and me. That’ll get the rent shaved down by a quarter, but not by half. I can’t go that low. I don’t care how gorgeous and important you are.”

  Well if that isn’t the…

  I run my hand over my face. “If you think I have time to take a woman out every week, then you haven’t been paying attention. The West End is falling apart, Angelica. My men are the only people holding it all together. So unless you want the nice place I take you every week to be the nearest halluci-den while we bust it up, you’re dreaming of a life I simply don’t live.”

  Angelica’s mouth firms. I can tell she is not used to being told no.

  I pull out a wad of cash. That’s right, I came prepared. Not to be hit on, but I came prepared to do this the old-fashioned way. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to tell Colette that you’re cutting her rent in half because you support what she’s trying to do. Every month you charge her half, the other half will magically appear from me. Our little secret. Easy enough?”

  Angelica juts out her lower lip. “I was hoping we could have more fun than that. But I guess it’s fair.” She takes the cash and tucks it in her purse. “I’ll talk to the Youngblood tomorrow. You’re sure you won’t reconsider? I’ll make it worth your while.” She sucks on her pointer finger, fixing me with a look that tells me she won’t say no to anything I suggest if I take her into the bathroom right now.

  My response is to stand. “Good doing business with you, Angelica.”

  She rises and moves to shake my hand, but she leans in and kisses my cheek, pressing her breasts to me. “If you change your mind…”

  Angelica is striking, to be sure, but she’s not Colette, so nothing in me stirs at the blatant offer of sex with no strings. Though I haven’t even kissed my tré-sur, every part of me belongs to her alone.

  When I get into the car, I feel like I need a shower.

  “I can see you closed the deal,” Orlando comments, pointing to my cheek.

  “Huh?” I pull down the visor and peer into the mirror, grimacing at the sight. “Ugh. I hate when women mark me like that.” I smudge off her lipstick stain from my cheek. “It’s like getting peed on.”

  “Making out with a woman is a far sight better than getting peed on. Good for you, Rome. It’s been a while since you and Denise split up. I was starting to think you’d given up on women altogether.”

  I don’t correct Orlando’s assumption that I’m hooking up with Angelica. If he is taking note of my dating life, that should throw him off the trail of my actual affections easily enough. I don’t like hiding things from my cousin, but this is a crime I know it would be foolish to admit to aloud.

  I drive away with far less cash in my pocket, but part of my soul feels settled, knowing Colette will have an extra reason to smile the next time she talks to her landlady.

  14

  Haircut

  Colette

  I was expecting dreariness today because of the weather, but even though it’s drizzling outside, the morning has proved to lift my spirits.

  The fact that my landlady stopped by to tell me she was cutting my salon’s rent in half has been the pep in my step, so much that I can’t stop humming happy little tunes to myself while I cut hair.

  I got through to her. Angelica Gilane struck me as the type who only rented to me because where I go, the cameras follow, and my checks will always clear. But after a gesture like that? I am well aware she was gouging me in rent, but she heard my heart when I told her my dream was to bring peace to Midtown.

  She believes in my mission.

  My sunny disposition seems to be contagious, too, because three of my four clients have hugged me after their styling; they loved their new looks so much. It’s lifegiving to make people look at themselves in a whole new light. Today I feel like a fairy, flitting around the salon, bringing beauty to the surface while my navy skirt swishes around my thighs.

  I love this place. I love it even more now that I’m not stressed about making rent. My two branches overseas are their own machines now. The branch owners are never late with their payments and doing steady business has never been an issue. I was worried about the high rent and the complications of opening up a branch in
such a polarizing area, but today all I feel is confidence.

  Not only that, but Declan needs a haircut. My favorite family member has been busier than either of us would like, but thankfully he had time this morning for an appointment.

  There aren’t mere smiles but hearty hugs when he walks in. Though I saw him two nights ago, after this many years apart, we are still making up for lost time.

  “I can’t believe this place,” Declan comments, looking around at my décor. “It’s perfect. And the branding is spot on.”

  “If you think I’m going to let you distract me from the fact that you’ve got bags under your eyes, you’re going to have to do a lot better than complimenting my business.”

  I hate that he works so much. A paramedic’s schedule is rigorous and unforgiving.

  Declan shrugs. “I’m going home to sleep after my haircut.”

  I usher him to Victor, who gets started with a shampoo before the cut. I love that my brother is in my store. He never stopped encouraging me to start my own business and then turn it into a franchise.

  I’m in such a bubbly mood that when my father comes in twenty minutes early for his meeting with Rome, the dark cloud that always follows him around has no chance at dampening my spirits.

  “Welcome to the store, Mister Kennedy. Can I interest you in some highlights?”

  Every now and then, my father tries to bully my good mood out of me, but today he has no chance. My sunshine is far more powerful than the sheriff’s constant storm.

  My father snorts and offers up a wry smile. “I don’t think so.” He runs his hand over his bald spot on the crown of his head. “There’s not much to highlight, anyway.” He glances around, noting the full waiting area. “Maybe I should have made an appointment.”

  I pause, trying to figure him out, which has never been my strong suit. My father and I couldn’t be more opposite. “You want an appointment here?” I point to the floor, perplexed. “You want me to cut your hair?”