Blood Emerald

by Amber Anthony

  “Only if Daddy jitterbugs with me first.”

  Her Mom caught her daughter’s sad young face in her hand. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  Anna brought her back to the bed and toyed with a pillow while she talked.

  “I changed jobs recently and I’ve been seeing an older man.”

  “Older? Anna, he’s not married is he?”

  Anna’s smile broke out in relief. “Mom, he’s thirty and single.”

  “Has he been married before?”

  “She died, a while ago.”

  “Oh, sweetheart…I can’t imagine what it’s like to date a man who’s lost a spouse.”

  “Mom, that’s not the point, the point is, he’s my boss and things have gotten messy.”

  “It’s never a good thing to date someone you work with, especially not the boss.”

  “Lesson learned, Mom.”

  Susan frowned deeply. “Has he forced you into anything you didn’t want to do? Because your father will want a piece of him—”

  “No! I don’t want Daddy to try anything. He’s a charmer, a real lady’s man. I need some clarity, so I came home.”

  “You know, if he’ll cheat on you now, he’ll cheat on you later. I’m glad you came home to think about things. You haven’t had a break since equestrian camp before your senior year of high school. I have a little money put away. Quit your job and figure it out at home.”

  They hugged. “Oh, Mom, I love you.”

  “You get dressed and dance your little heart out. We’ll share that tin of Buckeyes I was going to send to you.”

  “What’s on the buffet?” Anna thought with dread of past menus.

  “Your Dad requested a beef wellington this year, along with the pork loin.”

  “Who else is coming—it sounds like a lot of meat.”

  Susan laughed hard for the first since Anna’s return. “About twenty of the usual party animals.”

  “And Mason.”

  * * * *

  New Year’s Eve was one of the few times of year when Jerry broke out the Clare family tartan. Susan adjusted his sporran with a wicked twinkle in her eye. “A lad can run faster in a kilt than with his britches around his ankles.”

  “And a lassie can be caught faster as well.”

  “Does the party have to start on time?”

  “How well do you perform to the tune of ringing doorbells?”

  Jerry turned to brush his beard and winked at his wife’s reflection in the mirror. “It’s good to have Anna home. She looks a little tired.”

  Susan straightened her tartan sash. “She’s living the fast life in the big city, I expect it’s tiring.”

  “After the house quiets down we can celebrate properly.” Jerry patted Susan on the ass as he left the bedroom.

  * * * *

  Curley family gatherings had long been assembled in the expansive, finished basement of the newer addition to the old family home. Jerry and Susan provided plenty of dancing space by arranging the groaning tables of Ohio comfort food along the walls. The preparation fragrances of pork and beef mixed with cheesy potato and ham casseroles upstairs. Appetizers, cheeses and fruits were displayed in the lower level next to the wet bar. A steady stream of guests filtered in and out of the walkout basement to the backyard fire pit where children and teens roasted marshmallows and s’mores.

  * * * *

  Better-lubricated dancers bumped shoulders on the dance floor as the little ones twirled in dizzying circles. Jerry started planning his New Year’s playlist in June. He calculated the tunes for dances from the twist all the way to rumbas and foxtrots that got grandparents on the floor. Once everyone was in a lather, he’d slow it down and enjoy a few ballroom moves with Susan. Tonight he injected the music Anna and Mason had performed to when they won the Junior’s Midwestern Ballroom trophy. If he had calculated right, their repeat performance would begin around 9:50 before the buffet opened.

  * * * *

  The navigation system blandly announced, “Your destination is three hundred yards to your right.” Rick stared bleakly down a straight country driveway. A farmhouse’s hospitality blazed against the brutal winter scenery. Snow banked under tall ice frosted windows, illuminated with single candles. Over the front door, greenery was bunched under bright burgundy bows. He rolled slowly toward his Waterloo. Did he have to march into her fortress on New Year’s Eve? From the number of cars, it looked like they were entertaining. Rick took a long draw on his travel mug while he dialed Matt.

  “Rick?” It was Cat’s soft voice. Rick closed his eyes and gathered his senses.

  “Cat, yeah. I wanted to let you good folks know I got here. Any words of advice from a woman of this century?” Rick adjusted the rear view mirror and checked his teeth. Residual blood would not reflect well.

  “Get in there and…be your charming self. You know she loves you.”

  Rick pocketed the phone and said a prayer. He knew he loved her, he only hoped she could love him.

  * * * *

  Rick Hiatt was a vampire who relied on information. He clicked through his accumulated data—Jerry and Susan farmed. Wyatt, their fifteen year-old son was a freshman in high school and a dishwasher at a local Mexican restaurant. The closer to the door, the louder the music became. He raised his hand to the doorknocker as the door flew open. He saw the back of Wyatt’s head.

  “Hey, what took you so long, Ha…?” Wyatt’s greeting halted when he saw a stranger, not his friend. “Oh, crap. I mean, sorry, can I help you?”

  “Yes, yes, you may, Wyatt?” Rick extended his hand toward the teen who stepped aside and motioned him into the foyer.

  “Dad would have my head holding the door open. Man your hands are cold. I’m sorry, you are?” The teen was age-appropriately scattered as he finished tucking in his shirttail.

  “Richard Hiatt, Anna’s boss. Has she mentioned me?” Rick loosened the silk scarf at his neck and removed his flat cap.

  “No, man. May I take your coat?” Wyatt reached for his coat and hat. “Everyone is downstairs, did you want to talk to her up here?” Wyatt hung the cashmere overcoat and hat on a hook.

  “Would it be too much of an intrusion if I joined your celebration?” Rick’s hands sought the warmth of his trouser pockets as he rocked on the balls of his feet.

  “No, man…er, Mr. Hiatt, sure, come on down.” The teenager ambled through the original part of the home and pointed toward the addition’s staircase. It afforded Rick an opportunity to see family photos and Anna’s origins. “Go ahead down if you’re not afraid of being bored to death. We have a bonfire in the backyard too.”

  Rick hung back halfway down the stairs. A jumping playlist had half the room jive dancing while hungry and thirsty guests congregated over appetizers and tall drinks. Rick bent and inhaled. Anna was across the room laughing with another girl, mugging for selfies. Within her element, she was devastatingly fresh-faced.

  “Mr. Hiatt, welcome to our home.” Susan Curley quietly greeted him from the bottom step. “Anna didn’t tell us to expect you.” Susan moved up the stairs forcing Rick to straighten up. “May I have a word with you, Mr. Hiatt, before we join the party?”

  Well, at least the missus inferred they would join the party, and she wasn’t carrying a stake.

  * * * *

  Susan levied a Mother’s suspicious eye over every inch of his six feet two frame. Who does he think he is in that brilliant deep blue velvet blazer? “What brings you all the way from California in this weather, Mr. Hiatt?” She stopped for a breath and revved up for more. “Private jet, chauffeured limo? I will allow you in my home but I will not give you permission…”

  “Mrs. Curley, I deserve your suspicion, I might even deserve your anger. Yes, I did use corporate transportation, however I drove myself from Kentucky in this weather to speak face to face with Anna.” There was a beat of mutually assessing silence. “I hope you will give me permission to speak with Anna. If I upset her, I will immediately leave in that SUV.” Her
daughter’s idea of an ‘older man’ pointed toward the front door then clasped his hands.

  Susan reached up to Rick’s collar and flicked off an errant hair. “Then follow me, I hope you’re hungry. I don’t feel like putting all this food away tonight.” She spun on her heel and expected her corrected guest to keep up with her.

  * * * *

  “Mason, this is Richard Hiatt, will you welcome him and get him set up with drinks?” Susan grinned, straight-lipped as she headed toward the cheese tray and began to eat her feelings. Rick stuck out a warmed hand to the kid.

  “Whadaya drinkin’, Dick?” the taller youth asked as his gaze slid from Rick’s.

  “What do you have the most of?”

  “Mr. Curley has his Glenlivet out for the holidays.”

  “Sounds good, neat.” He couldn’t miss Anna’s scent, it was all over the kid. He ground his molars. He watched Mason snap the bottle over the old-fashioned glass, do a four count and snap it upright. “You do that like you’ve practiced.”

  Mason nodded. “I bartend while I’m working on my Master’s.” Rick felt scrutinized for the second time in three minutes.

  “You go to school, Dick?”

  Rick smiled kindly. “I finished my Doctorate at Oxford in Global Business and Languages a few years ago. I’ve never regretted my education.”

  Mason studied him slack-jawed. “I’ll bet. You hungry? There’s enough for everybody over there.” Rick was concentrating on the bar mirror behind Mason. He tallied the number of young twenties women who must be Anna’s contemporaries. They stood, planted in a group like colorful flowers in a garden. They were eyeing him back. There seemed to be a dearth of young men.

  “I’ll say there is, what’s your type, Mason?”

  “Huh?”

  Rick gave him a look of consternation over his glass. He took a sip and swallowed ash—without blood the alcohol was tasteless. “Young ladies, what’s your type?”

  Mason leaned forward on his elbows conspiratorially. “Are you close to the Curleys?”

  Rick met his lean. “Not particularly.”

  Mason ran his tongue over his bottom lip and hastily sipped a glass of clear alcohol. “The ones you never notice are the ones you have to watch.”

  Rick nodded encouragement. “Really?”

  Mason nodded and his gaze flew in Anna’s oblivious direction. “That little peach,” Mason took in a deep breath. “She’s pleasant and she’s friendly, but I’ve danced all around that one. If you’re with her, you never know what she’ll decide. I went home with her one night, she made me want to die.”

  Rick nodded wisely. “Blue balls?”

  “How did you know?”

  Rick pushed him further. “How did it turn out in the end?”

  He leaned close into Rick. “Un-fuckin-believable. Fantastic.”

  Rick downed the drink and slid the glass toward Mason. Without a word he wiped his mouth with his thumb and turned his back on the little pissant. The girls were smiling and nodding his way. They were the perfect antidote to pissants.

  He was halfway to the group when Anna stepped in front of him. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes flashed green flame.

  “I had a short conversation with your Mother. Lovely woman. I had a drink with Mason.” He grimaced his dislike. “Has he always been a pig? And I was on my way over to talk with the young ladies who were smiling at me.”

  “You stay away from my Mother and my friends. I don’t care if you talk to Mason.” She set her jaw. “What are you doing here?”

  “I don’t think this is the venue for…” He was interrupted by Anna’s Father who clapped his hands for attention.

  “Alright friends, you know how much we love to dance, and we are thrilled to have our baby back for New Year’s Eve. Anna and Mason have agreed to grace us with their award-winning Paso Doble routine. So won’t you all get a drink and enjoy the show?”

  “That pig is your matador?”

  Anna pressed the flat of her hand against Rick’s chest. Her touch was still vibrantly electric and he wondered, does she feel that too? Their eyes locked but Mason stepped between them and caught her wrist, removing her hand from Rick’s chest. I was not done yet. Rick’s low growl rumbled in his chest and Anna narrowed her eyes as she allowed Mason to lead her to the center of the dance floor.

  The pair moved into their first fixed position and the music began. Rick pressed back against the far wall, distancing himself from her perfection. For every mark she executed soulfully, Mason met them with cold, calculated steps. As they separated with Anna performing a caping walk, his right hand spanked her ass as she travelled around him. The audience gasped. Anna’s demeanor stiffened, not appreciating Mason’s improvisation. Her friends along the wall began to shake their heads in whispered disapproval.

  The matador does not spank the cape. Vampire reflexes be damned. Rick insinuated himself in Mason’s blind spot and whispered “You’re done.” It appeared as though the newcomer had cut in with two innocent fingers. Anna stood, eyes closed, waiting for Mason to initiate the frame. Rick stepped in expertly embracing her, shocking her with the precision of his stance. His clutch drew her up on the balls of her dance shoes, her chiffon rose crushed between them as Rick stole her balance.

  “What are you doing?” Anna seethed between her teeth.

  “Actually leading.” Rick’s chest and head were held high with arrogance and dignity.

  “Do you even know this routine?”

  “If you wanted routine, you could dance with the pig. If you want a Paso Doble you need to be my cape, follow my lead, Cupcake.” Rick’s eyes registered his points as his hips steered her masterfully. His steps were silently sharp and quick. The sounds of Mason’s dance shoes and the general crowd was replaced by the whisper of her silk chiffon and the gentle rustle of his wool trousers. Anna’s breathing became the music of his soul as his mind counted the steps with the tune.

  Sinuous twists wowed the crowd. Old women clutched their hearts as Rick’s neat whiskey brown hair fell over his forehead. The crowd stood in rapt attention as the interloper spun and carried Anna on his hip. With a flourish he finished on one knee with Anna extended in a graceful line across his knee and shoulder. The music ended and no one moved.

  Rick remembered, the number one mannerism for appearing human: inhale/exhale, repeat. Besides, he had to read the room. Anna’s breathing was the only sound he heard. He drew in a satisfied breath and relished that she followed his lead with unerring intuition. The room saw it, he saw it. Did she see it? Applause thundered throughout the crowd. They unlocked and stood. Anna dropped his hand and bowed. She turned curtly and walked him backward to his corner.

  “What was that stunt?”

  “I believe you did very well.”

  “I was in survival mode. I’m a trained dancer.”

  “Do you think I just picked that up tonight? Little girl, do you think this is the first house party I’ve danced at? I danced beside Henry VIII.”

  “In England?”

  “Yes. The Paso Doble was introduced at Hampton Court. It’s positively huge and I didn’t have to cut my corners. You realize that’s where I was trained.”

  “I suppose you danced with Catherine of Aragon?”

  “She appreciated a good partner, although she was a little old for me.”

  Anna stood up under his nose. “Well, you’re a little old for me.”

  Jerry, Susan and Wyatt circled around behind him.

  Susan smiled a Mother’s knowing smile. “Jerry, this is the man Anna works for…”

  Rick turned on his vamp appeal; in ‘meet the parents’ mode.

  Chapter 20

  Within ninety minutes Rick danced three rumbas, an Argentinian tango, a romantic samba, and three swing dances. On the Lindy, he nearly propelled his partner through the ceiling, but thankfully, caught her. The older ladies found their courage to step up for four jives. His swan song was the twist, with eighty-five-year-old Margaret Ow
en, from down the road. She seemed to have lost all inhibitions.

  Susan watched with a smile on her face as she cupped Jerry’s backside. Jerry slid his arm around his wife’s waist and kissed her cheek. Anna walked by shaking her head. “We have innocent eyes here.” Susan fell in step with her daughter as they moved to set up the flutes for the midnight toast. She watched the queue as eligible ladies exited the dance floor and got back in line. “Your father had stamina like that. Those were the days…”

  Anna ripped open the plastic bag of disposable flutes. “Oh, Mom, T.M.I.”

  Wyatt lifted a case of champagne to the bar and made a face. “He dances like a boss, but not like, you know, a boss.”

  Anna nearly spit at her brother, “Shut up, dork-pie.”

  Wyatt rolled his eyes.

  Susan wagged her finger. “Wyatt, I told you dancing is a great skill for a man.”

  The teen shook his head and began lining up the chilled bottles. “It’s gay.”

  Anna arched a brow and nodded in Rick’s direction. “Does he look gay to you?” Rick’s vampire hearing caught the remark and he gave her an acknowledging nod. She grabbed the cardboard box and threw it out the basement door.

  * * * *

  Anna traded her dancing shoes for duck boots. In her woolly hat and parka, she held a long fork over blue embers. Blindly, she watched the jumbo marshmallow blister and burn. She could hear the television commentary replace the dance music. Oh, good, Rick can finally catch a break, he needs one. Like a bunch of farm women can tire him out—and why am I thinking about him anyway? She shook the ruined marshmallow off her fork and started again, feeling the air change around her.