Stressed!

by Deborah Martin

  Andy moved closer into my personal space. “Now I know about your work. I want to know about you. First tell me why you smell so good, then tell me what makes Amy tick.” He reached around my waist and tried to pull me towards him. I saw his fangs drop a little – not a good sign. I’d had enough. Although he was trying to be normal, referencing the Guerlain Samsara I was wearing, to him my ‘perfume’ was blood, as he well knew. Vamps could smell blood a mile off and naturally, it was an aphrodisiac to them. Especially fully-human blood.

  I pulled his arm away from my waist and, moving backwards, said with a glare, “What makes Amy tick is nothing I want to share with you. Please do us both a favor and go find someone closer to your own age to bother.”

  He moved back closer to me. “But I like older women,” he pleaded. “I prefer them. Girls my own age are mostly airheads.” Talk about playing a part! Maybe not Oscar quality but he knew his lines.

  “Girls your own age are no longer girls. Unless they’re not human, they’re either dead or close to it. I’m going to be polite and excuse myself, now. Believe me when I say I can quite easily cause a scene that won’t harm my reputation in the least.” At that, I turned. It was definitely time to leave and head towards my bed, populated only by myself and Fudge.

  I found John, said my goodbyes and was half way to the door when I heard a roar. Andy had apparently decided I was going to be his conquest and/or snack for the night, whether I wanted it or not. He came flying through the room and probably would have bowled me over had John not stepped into his path, effectively blocking me from my pursuer’s sight. John grabbed Andy by the collar and brought him up short. “See you soon, Amy,” he called as if everything was normal. “Folks, Andy apparently had a little too much to drink. I’ll be back as soon as I put him to bed,” he said to the rest of the guests as he dragged the vampire toward the archway that led downstairs. I unclenched my fist around the dangling charm, continued my path to the door as leisurely as I could with quaking knees, and gratefully climbed through the car door Gregory already had open.

  About half way home, my phone rang. Ev again. Without preamble I said, “I’m on my way home. Everything went fine.”

  “I believe you but that’s not why I’m calling,” came the reply. “I’m in trouble and need your help.”

  An ogre in trouble. Right. “Ev, it’s nearly midnight and I’ve been smiling so much my mouth needs its sleep to recuperate. What in the hell can’t wait until I get in tomorrow?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here. Tell Gregory to bring you to Club Tread.” With that he rang off.

  I sighed again. I was going to pay myself triple overtime for this night. I told Gregory to change direction and checked my appearance. Club Tread was a very exclusive membership-only nightclub catering to non-human species. I had to look good and confident or the patrons would view me as either an unwanted human intrusion or food.

  Gregory pulled up to one of those steel-and-glass multipurpose buildings just on the edge of downtown. You know, the kind that has shops and restaurants on the ground floor; offices on the second, third and maybe fourth, and fancy condos above that. Club Tread took up the entire second and third floors, and was accessed by a grand staircase that took up about a third of the lobby. No elevator … if you couldn’t walk up the staircase in style (all the better to see and be seen), you didn’t need to be here. Although I’d been here before (with Ev and a client, naturally), I was always impressed at the soundproofing. Not a decibel penetrated to the lobby. Maybe it had something to do with the ultra plush carpeting that my heels caught in, nearly making me stumble. I climbed the stairs, wondering how in the hell I was going to get in.

  Ev met me at the door but instead of escorting me inside, turned me down the balcony overlooking the lobby.

  “I’m ready for bed, Ev. What’s this all about?”

  “You know that call I got from Happy this afternoon? I had some dealings with him in the long-ago past and thought I’d never see him again. I need you to act like my wife, just for an hour or so, OK?”

  “Act like your wife? Are you out of your fucking mind?” I hissed back. You just don’t yell in a posh atmosphere like that, although it took everything I had to keep my voice down. Humans and ogres weren’t the first thing that came to mind when one thought of “two people made for each other”. Size was the first issue, hygiene another and I don’t even want to think about sharing a bed!

  “Please, Amy, I really need to be married right now. It was an, um, wager that I never thought Happy would check up on. Please?”

  “Why me? You’ve got plenty of female friends to chose from. Some of them are even your own species. There must be someone who owes you a favor!”

  “Believe me, I tried. I’ve been calling everyone I know since this afternoon. I can’t get anyone to pretend, not tonight anyways. Please?”

  As I said earlier, Ev is basically a good guy. And despite all my complaints, I actually liked him. Also, pale puce isn’t a very attractive color and Ev was so pale with nerves he was close to being an albino for his species. I guess it couldn’t hurt to pretend to be his wife just for an hour or so to get this Happy guy off his back.

  “OK, I’ll do it. But I get the rest of the week off and I don’t want to hear a peep out of you until Monday morning. Otherwise, I’m out of here and you’re on your own.”

  “I knew you’d help me out. Deal. I promise I won’t call, even if the building blows up.” With that, he produced a wedding ring that even J-Lo would drool at. I was surprised I could hold my hand up once I got it on my finger. It was heavy. About fifteen carats of diamonds twinkled from a platinum setting probably designed by Tiffany. I was better off not knowing where he’d gotten it on such short notice. He turned me back towards the club’s doors. “Just so you know, you do work with me at the agency; he knows you’ve been to a party on business tonight; and we’ve been married two years. No kids.” I thought I could remember at least that much, put my arm through his, plastered my fake smile back on and we walked into the club.

  As soon as we walked through the huge double doors, my eyes and ears came under assault. Lights flickered and flashed, and whatever music was blaring seemed to be nothing more than its bass beat. If the dance floor was any indication, I was the only one who wasn’t pleased with the sound. Variously sized, shaped and colored bodies gyrated together, looking like a sardine can that had popped open to reveal seriously deformed fish. Ev led me around to a booth on the upper level overlooking the floor. Soundproofing was somehow at work here, because although we could look down on the dancers, the music was muted enough to carry on a conversation. (I found out later that Club Tread has a wizard on staff to do nothing more than keep the soundproofing in place. Cushy job!)

  “Amy, I’d like you to meet Happy. Happy, this is my wife,” Ev said. It was a good thing I’d had a lot of practice smiling when I didn’t want to. Did you ever see the cartoon, “God, the Devil and Bob”? There, the Devil looked more-or-less human with purplish skin, blond hair and a couple of little horns. I was looking at the cartoon’s prototype. As Happy stood to greet me, I saw a moderately tall, well-formed man. Blond hair and purple skin were set off by a perfectly-tailored red suit that looked very much like Gucci styling. Two horns, just little nubs, were indeed peeking out of the Greek curls covering his head.

  Happy’s voice was just as gravelly in person as it was on the phone. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Amy. Please, have a seat. May I order you a cocktail?” I definitely needed one and something a little stronger than wine. “Yes, thank you. I’ll have a gin and tonic, preferably Tanqueray, extra limes,” I said to the waiter who had mysteriously appeared at my elbow. With that, I slid into the booth and Ev sat on the edge of the bench. (He didn’t fit all the way into standard-sized booths and had obviously chosen this one so Happy wasn’t dwarfed by the ogre-sized booths scattered throughout the club.)

  “So, Happy, how do you know Ev?” I asked, trying to make small talk w
hen all I wanted was for that drink to arrive so I could down it in one gulp.

  “Ev and I go back a long time,” he chuckled. “I’m surprised he never mentioned me. We spent a lot of time together when we were both in LA.” I looked at Ev, who swallowed a little hard and attempted a smile.

  “Oh yes, those were my wild days. I’ve never mentioned you because all that is behind me and has no bearing on my current life. I don’t think I’ve ever said much of anything to you about my days in LA, have I darling?”

  “No, Ev, you haven’t. It seemed like something you didn’t want to talk about so I didn’t press,” I smiled at him. That was really the truth. I knew Ev was born in Los Angeles and had lived there for quite some time prior to moving to Minneapolis, but he didn’t talk about it and I had no interest in his past.

  My drink arrived. “A toast to the happy couple,” said Happy. We clinked glasses and I made a conscious effort to just sip instead of chug it. “Tell me, how do you like being married to Ev?” Happy continued with his interrogation.

  “It was an adjustment, I’ll admit. My first husband was human so there were species differences I had to get used to. But he’s a great guy.” I didn’t lie again, except for implying the marriage part. Working with an ogre did take some getting used to and my first (and only) husband was human.

  The banter continued. I was guessing Happy was trying to figure out if it was all real. Thankfully when you worked closely with someone over a long period, you got to know most all their foibles so I was able to easily answer all the questions. But it finally came my turn. There was only one question I really wanted answered.

  “So tell me, is Happy your given name or a nickname?” I asked.

  “It’s a nickname I got a long time ago. I tend to be an acquisitive sort and in my younger days when I got something I wanted, I did a little happy dance. There was a time when I was getting everything I wanted and I danced a lot. My friends picked up on that, started calling me ‘Happy Dance’ and then just shortened it to Happy. It has stuck with me all these years.” If he was who I thought he was, ‘Acquisition’ was probably his middle name and ‘Of Souls’ his last.

  With this, I smothered a yawn. Sneaking a peak at my watch, I could see that it was something past 1:00 a.m. “My apologies,” I said. “I am not used to being up quite this late. Although I’d love to continue this conversation, sweetheart, I really do need to get to bed.” This last was directed at Ev, who looked at Happy.

  Happy nodded and said, “On the contrary, it’s I who owe you an apology. Ev, I’d really like to continue catching up if you’re up to it.”

  “Sure,” Ev replied – through slightly clenched teeth. “Just let me walk Amy out. I’ll be right back.” We rose; Happy kissed the back of my hand, effectively dismissing me from his presence. Ugh. I was glad to leave.

  Once we were back in the lobby, Ev hugged me. If you’ve never been hugged by an ogre, I suggest you avoid the event. “Ev, I can’t breathe,” I said into his none-too-nice-smelling waist. “Sorry,” he said, releasing me. “I keep forgetting about the size difference. Thank you for this. I don’t think he suspected a thing. I owe you big time.”

  I started walking down the staircase, Ev right behind me. “Yes you do.” I said over my shoulder. “I’ll start collecting this morning when I don’t go into the office. Since it looks like you won’t make it in early, either, I’ll change the voicemail to say we’re opening at noon. You’d better be there to handle everything because I certainly won’t. Good night, Ev. I’ll see you Monday morning.”

  Once again I climbed through the door Gregory was holding open for me. Five minutes later I was at the door of my apartment with Gregory watching me go inside. (Although Ev knew about the wards on the building, Gregory had instructions to ensure I was inside them before leaving. He did double-duty as driver and extra-pair-of-eyes for Ev: Gregory was a wizard, too.)

  I hit the locks, freed my feet from the heels, fed a pissed-off Fudge (three-plus hours late), called in to change the voicemail, put the coffee together but turned off the timer and headed for the sack. What a night! If Ev ever put me into a situation like this again, I would emasculate him. Wife indeed. I was seriously considering what it would be like to work for a normal person again. Maybe I’d check the employment sites on the ‘Net when I got up. There had to be a better – or at least easier – way to make a living.

  However, I had four days to do nothing but sleep in, play with my cat and write. (Laundry had to be done somewhere in there, too.) I think I’d even managed some fodder for a new book this evening: an out-of-control bisexual vampire in a love triangle with Satan waiting in the wings. Could be interesting!

  Chapter 3

  Six o’clock comes early anytime but especially if you’re wanting to sleep in after a long and stressful night. Just like clockwork, the sun shone through my bedroom window. I groaned and pulled the pillow over my head to blot out the bright light, dislodging Fudge in the process. He readjusted himself against my back and we both went back to sleep. I opened my eyes the next time to see the clock ticking its way to seven. Still too early but damn it, I was awake. Would I ever get back to being a night person? I missed being able to sleep until noon without any difficulty!

  Since I hadn’t set the timer, the coffee wasn’t waiting for me. Ten minutes is a long time to kill before your first caffeine fix of the morning. I distracted myself by scooping Fudge’s litter box. It’s not the most pleasant chore in the world and best done while still half-asleep. That way you don’t remember much of the odor.

  Odor. That brought Ev and the previous evening back to mind. I pondered everything while sipping on my elixir. How in the hell did I get myself into these situations? Ah yes. I remember now. Stupid girl.

  I was in my first year of college when I met the man who would become my husband. I thought it was love at first sight. He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, athletic but not a jock and an art major. The man could definitely draw and had dreams of becoming an anime artist for a major company. He had a nice combination of brawn and sensitivity that I found very attractive. We dated for about six months, broke up for almost a year and then picked up where we’d left off. When he proposed, I immediately accepted with the typical dreams of a house with a white picket fence, 2.5 children and a dog. I would quit school and become the bestest housewife in the world – call me June Cleaver, Jr. At twenty, you don’t think much about practicalities and my folks weren’t around to remind me of them – they’d both died in a car accident when I was seventeen. I was on my own.

  What I failed to realize is that there are a lot of people with dreams of being an anime artist. Try as he might, Ted could never make it to the top of the heap of applicants for the few job openings. He made a living as a carpenter with his dad’s remodeling firm. Since I’d learned to type in high school, I got a job as a secretary. Neither of us was happy.

  Our marriage broke up after two years and I was back on my own. I had a not-much apartment and a not-much job in a not-much city. I decided it was time for a major change. I updated my resume and started perusing the help-wanted ads online in cities other than the one I lived in. Nothing seemed any different from what I had until about three months into my search. One morning an ad in the Minneapolis Star-Tribune caught my eye:

  Administrative Assistant needed. Must be well-organized and people oriented. Experience with non-human species a plus. Bookkeeping skills a must. Starting salary commensurate with ability. Health insurance and 401(k) provided. Send resume to …

  I couldn’t look up the company because the email address was at Yahoo. Nice and anonymous, that. Experience with non-human species? In what way? Face it, Iowa wasn’t a paranormal Mecca. There weren’t a lot of non-humans to interact with. I knew several weres from my college days and there was one dwarf in my high school class. We weren’t friends but I got along with them. I didn’t know if that counted. However, I fulfilled all the other requirements and I’d heard the Twin Cities
were a nice place to live, so I fired off my resume hoping to hear something.

  A couple of days later there was a message in my inbox asking for a telephone interview. If that went well, it would lead to a personal interview at their office – travel expenses paid by them. A bonus: the writer, Evander, asked if I minded if the phone conversation happened in the evening, which was when he did the bulk of his work. No skin off my nose. I’d rather I didn’t have to excuse myself from work since they didn’t know I was looking elsewhere. I replied with some convenient times for me (like, every night after 6:00 p.m.) and within minutes, we had set up an appointment for the following evening.

  I don’t remember the entire conversation but Ev told me he was an ogre and he had non-human employees and clients. Did I have a problem with that? As long as no weres or vamps bit me, no, not really. He asked whether I followed celebrity gossip. It’s really unavoidable these days but honestly, I paid little attention to who was marrying or divorcing whom, who got picked up on a DUI and the like. I found it boring. I was asked about moving. I thought my sob story would come off as a little self-pitying, so I just told him I was looking for a change and had heard the Twin Cities were nice. I didn’t say but I implied I wasn’t willing to move without a guaranteed job. I had a little money left from my parents’ estate but certainly not enough to live off of indefinitely. I preferred to keep that invested for emergencies or better yet, retirement.

  Apparently I said all the right things because Ev asked if I could come to Minneapolis for an interview. He was used to working weekends so if I wanted to come that Saturday, he’d be able to see me then. There was a hotel a short distance away from his office. He’d make a reservation in my name for Saturday night, arranging for a late checkout Sunday morning so I didn’t have to rush; and he would be sure to have gas and food money for me when I got there. It was about a four hour drive so we set up a 2:00 p.m. appointment.