Crave

by Karen E. Taylor

  “Living under a death sentence might have something to do with it. And the fact that we actually spent time away from each other. To say nothing of how you’ve been romping naked with blond French women.”

  He chuckled. “That does tend to have an interesting effect on the male libido.”

  “No doubt. And speaking of which, I guess we should be moving along. She’ll have everything ready for us and we won’t be there.”

  But when we knocked at her door, there was no answer. We knocked again and called her name and still there was no response. “Maybe she forgot,” I said.

  “Viv? Forget something?” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “You must be joking. That woman never forgets a thing.”

  “Well then, maybe she found something more interesting to do than endure a visit from an old married couple.”

  “Yeah, that could be it. She might even have taken her own advice and gone out to ride a roller coaster. But I don’t like it, her going away and not letting us know.”

  “Mitch, my love, I would back Vivienne against an entire army of Larry Martins. She’ll show up a little later on, with a saunter in her step and a smug smile on her face. Let’s go back to our room so that I can have one, too.”

  When she didn’t show up for the council meeting Mitch tried to hide his concern. The leaders were more despondent than usual due to the death of John Hardwicke that morning and were not noticing anything. Several of them argued that he shouldn’t have removed the vase and the roses without first seeking full approval. The rest simply sat, completely demoralized. Mitch outlined his plan for not having a plan. He compared Larry to a terrorist, who gets just as much delight in watching people scurry around in terror as he does from blowing up buildings.

  “We don’t want to feed off his behavior,” Mitch told them. “We need to deal with him in a rational and sane manner, rather than running around in panic.”

  “Are you saying we shouldn’t worry about him at all? That the danger is over?”

  “I’m saying no such thing. Just don’t let him preoccupy your thoughts. He’s only one man, after all. We allowed him to frighten us and I suspect he loved every minute of it.”

  It was not terribly surprising that the Cadre members found Mitch’s speech distressing. They wanted him to tell them what to do, they wanted rules and regulations to follow, even if they were outdated and useless. The Cadre had become so used to taking orders from Victor that they’d lost all of their initiative. I looked around the table before we left; these were the dinosaurs of our breed, I thought. And they were not necessarily at fault. The organization that had brought them together for mutual protection had turned most of them into cowards.

  As we walked out of the room I found myself remembering Sam’s thoughts that every so often a Larry Martin is needed just to shake things up.

  We checked Vivienne’s room one more time. There was still no answer and Mitch’s look of worry increased.

  “She’ll be okay, Mitch,” I said, “you can almost count on it.”

  “I hope so. I’ve grown pretty fond of her these past couple of days. She just seems so small and frail and innocent.”

  I started to laugh as we went back into our room. “We are talking about the same woman, aren’t we? Vivienne Courbet? She might be small, but she is far from frail. And innocent?” I put my hand over my mouth to control my laughter. “She’s got you completely fooled, Mitch, if you can even voice such a thought.”

  He gave me a sick little grin. “You’re probably right.”

  “Probably, nothing. You should have heard her today at the hospital. I thought Sam was going to hit the ceiling.” I stopped for a second. “Sam.”

  “What about Sam?”

  “Vivienne is with Sam tonight; I’d put money on it.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “I have no doubts about it whatsoever. Trust me on this one, Mitch, I know I’m right.”

  “Fine. I’ll quit worrying then. I just hope you’re not too disappointed.”

  “Disappointed? Because Vivienne is with Sam? Hardly, my love. I think they make a lovely couple.”

  “No, disappointed because you didn’t get to learn any tricks tonight.”

  “I’ve never cared about the tricks, Mitch. If you can and want to do it, that’s fine. There may come a day when the changing is important to me. I can learn then. And you can teach me.”

  “So, what shall we do now that Ms. Courbet has stood us up?”

  “I think we should just go to bed. I didn’t get any sleep today at all. Every fifteen minutes or so, Sam would come around and test our non-existent reactions. I’m tired. I just want to stretch out and sleep for about a year.”

  “Bed it is then.”

  I didn’t actually sleep much that night. Mitch and I lay together and he began to talk. About his past, about his failed first marriage, about his childhood hopes and aspirations. And he talked about Chris, especially when he was younger.

  “He used to have these horrible tantrums. We never knew what they were about. I’m not real sure he did either. We tried everything we could to stop them. We bribed, we pleaded, we yelled, we even spanked. None of it did any good. Then one day he threw a real fit. He and I were shopping somewhere and he flung himself to the floor, screaming bloody murder. I couldn’t take it anymore, I didn’t want to deal with him at all so I just turned my back on him. He quit screaming until he crawled around my feet to sit in front of me. He started back in and I turned around again. We did this about four or five times and he stopped. Completely. Never had another tantrum afterwards. Kids are strange sometimes, we expect them to think like us and they never do.”

  He talked most of the night and I said little. I just snuggled in closer to him, my head resting on his chest, listening to his rumbling voice.

  And at sunrise I had no visions. It was as if the symbolic gesture of destroying the roses had broken the spell on me. I sighed and curled deeper under the covers, sleeping at last.

  When I woke the next evening I felt fully rested. Ready for almost anything. Mitch was up and moving around in the bathroom. I could sense the activity above me in the restaurant and the occupants in the rooms surrounding us slowly coming to life. “Mitch?” I called loudly so that he could hear me.

  “Yeah, babe, what do you need?”

  “Nothing, I guess. I just feel like we should be doing something. About Larry.”

  He walked out of the bathroom, naked except for a towel wrapped around his neck. He still had a spot of shaving cream close to his right ear. I rubbed my finger in the same spot on my own face and he wiped it off with the end of his towel.

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinking that, too. It’s one thing to say we won’t allow him to panic us. And another to just let him run wild. We still have to stop him, you know.”

  “Exactly. Did you ever get a look at Max’s journals?”

  “I scanned some of the more recent ones, yeah. They would make interesting reading some day and they explained a lot about how Larry accelerated his power. But they didn’t have any practical solutions for this kind of situation.”

  “Too bad, that would have been nice.”

  “That’s what I thought, too. But I’m afraid we’re pretty much on our own with this one.”

  As if on cue, someone knocked on the door outside. “Deirdre, Mitch, are you there?” It was Vivienne.

  “I told you she’d be okay, didn’t I?”

  He took the towel from around his neck, wrapped it around his waist and opened the door.

  She flew in to the room. “Sorry I stood you up last night, but another opportunity arose and I figured you’d understand.”

  “Hello, Vivienne. And how is Sam?”

  “Sam’s wonderful.” Her voice sounded wistful. “But how did you know I was with Sam?”

  I shrugged. “I just did. Mitch was a nervous wreck about you not being here, though. Next time leave a note.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

 
Mitch laughed and Vivienne looked over at him and whistled. “Nice towel, mon chou.”

  “Thanks, Viv.” He walked over to the dresser and got some clothes.

  “No need to get dressed on my account, Mitch,” she said with a sly smile. “I’ve seen you naked before.”

  “But not in front of my wife and not quite this soon after sleep. I’ll be more comfortable dressed.”

  “Fine, but I want to go on record as saying I’m disappointed in you.”

  Mitch just smiled and shook his head, took his clothes into the bathroom and shut the door.

  “He’s no fun.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion, Vivienne. So what’s the big deal that you had to come knocking on the door so early?”

  “Tonight I decided you are going to sell me the Ballroom.”

  “Just like that?”

  She smiled. “Oui, just like that.”

  “But what about Larry Martin? We have to do something about him.”

  “Larry Martin will be around to deal with later on. His type does not go away. And a night out won’t hurt either you or Mitch. Perhaps we will even find him there, at the club.”

  I had never expected that I would feel sentimental about the Ballroom of Romance. But as our taxi pulled up in front, I was surprised to find myself crying. The Ballroom had been a staple of this city’s night life for over twelve years. And for a good part of those twelve years it was like my second home. But everything changes and the Ballroom was a part of the past.

  There was no crowd outside the door as there would have been in years past. But it was still a good location and pulled in a lot of people. Vivienne was going to get a very good bargain.

  Mark saw us enter and met us at the door. “Evening, Vivienne, Deirdre, Mitch. How’s business?”

  “That’s what I need to be asking you, Marky.”

  He tilted his head a bit. “I won’t even ask what that’s supposed to mean. I’m glad to see the three of you, though. Especially you, Mitch. Fred’s missing.”

  “Missing?” Fred never struck me as the kind of person who would just pick up and leave. “When we were in here last you said he was on vacation.”

  “And he was. From the club, that is. But he stayed in town instead of going away. He would call me every night, here, after we closed out to see how we did. But the last time I heard from him was Wednesday night.”

  “Maybe,” Mitch said, glancing around, “he changed his mind and went out of town anyway.”

  “That’s possible, I suppose. But his vacation was over on Sunday, he should have been back by now.”

  “Have you contacted the police?”

  “No,” Mark said, “that seems so drastic.”

  Mitch nodded. “And a waste of everyone’s time at this point, unless you have reason to believe that he was kidnapped or a victim of foul play. Do you have reason to believe that?”

  “No, I sure don’t. I suspect he’ll turn up soon.”

  “Could be. Keep us informed, though.”

  “Will do. Now, do you all want to sit at the bar or at a table?”

  “Actually, Marky, we didn’t come to party. We came on business. Do you have an office somewhere we can use?”

  He laughed. “Very funny. Just tell me if you want a table or do you want to sit in the bar.”

  “Seriously, Mark,” and she certainly looked serious, “we need a place relatively quiet so that we can conduct business.”

  “You, Vivienne? Sorry. You and business do not mix.”

  I smiled. “Not yet anyway. But you should watch how you speak to the new owner, Mark.”

  “Vivienne? You’re buying the place?”

  “Oui, I am. Down to every rat’s whisker and roach’s leg.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, then you can use Max’s office.”

  “Max’s office?” The words gave me a chill. I’d never expected to hear them again.

  Mark noticed my reaction. “Weird, isn’t it? Max has been dead for over two years and most of the staff here now never knew him, but that room will probably be called Max’s office forever.”

  I smiled. “A living legacy. Max would have appreciated the gesture.”

  “Consider it done, Deirdre.” Vivienne extended her arm and we shook hands. “I’ll even have a plaque made up to put on the door. Something ornate and gothic feeling. Max’s office will go down in history.”

  Chapter 30

  The deal could not actually be finalized that night, because neither Vivienne nor I had our attorneys present. And sadly enough we discovered that we shared the same attorney, Ron Wilkes, and he was dead.

  So we did very little business, but we did party. We stayed late into the night, paying the band extra so that we could dance. Vivienne discussed her plans for remodeling and redecorating eagerly. The new name of the club would be Dangerous Crossings and it would have a definite S&M theme.

  “You’re going to turn the Ballroom of Romance into an S&M club?” Mark had finished the last of his duties and had joined us around the table.

  “No, no, you don’t understand.” Vivienne sighed, she’d attempted to explain this repeatedly throughout the night. “It will not be an S&M club, but it will be decorated like one. People love this stuff whether they would ever use it or not. Black leather and chains and studs. And crucifixes.”

  “Crucifixes?” I asked her, laughing at the thoughts of a vampire opening a club with crucifixes hung on the walls. “How on earth do these fit in?”

  “You’ll see,” she said mysteriously. “It has something to do with the name of the club. It has something to do with what we all are, deep inside.”

  Right after she made that last statement, Mitch got up from the table. “Nothing personal, Viv,” he said, reaching over and patting the top of her head, “but that about does it for me. I need to get back soon. Anyone else want to go?”

  I stood up. “I’m with you, Mitch.”

  Vivienne remained at the table with Mark and one of the band members. “I’ll stick around for a while, if you don’t mind. I want to snoop into things around here that are none of my business.”

  “Be my guest, sister. My business is your business.”

  “So what do you think of Viv’s plans for the club?” Mitch asked me, as we got into the cab.

  “I think they’re strange, no question about that. I also think that she’s right and that after opening, Crossings will probably be one of the more popular night spots around here. She’ll get rich.”

  “Do you mind?”

  “That Vivienne will get rich? No.”

  “No, do you mind that she’s taking what must be an icon in your life and completely changing it.”

  “No,” I told him emphatically. “Life is change and growth. To expect anything to remain static for too long is ridiculous. The Ballroom of Romance has been dead for years. It’s time to bury it and move on.”

  “I’m starting to feel that way about this whole city. I want this all to be over. We have to find Larry Martin and finish this, once and for all.”

  “I agree, Mitch, but how do you propose we go about it? Take out an ad in the personals? ‘Would Lawrence Martin please present himself to Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell Greer so that they can kill him and get on with their lives?’ ”

  He laughed. “You’d certainly get points for being original. And it could be that the direct approach might be the best one, especially when dealing with Larry. But how do we lure him out?”

  “I have no idea,” I admitted as the cab pulled up to the Imperial. “Let’s sleep on it.”

  When I woke the next afternoon, I woke to an empty room. Mitch had been with me when I fell asleep, I knew. But he was gone now. I got out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, slipped on my boots and went in search of him. The hallways were completely deserted and had an eerie feel to them. But I could hear a low undercurrent of voices coming from somewhere on this floor. I followed the sound and ended up at the door into Victor’s offic
e. I knocked softly and when there was no answer I opened the door and walked in.

  Mitch sat at the desk with the phone to his ear. He looked up and smiled at me, beckoning me to come in closer. He looked tired, but seemed happier than when we had gone to sleep last night.

  “And they seem to help your anxiety?” he asked the person on the phone. “Uh-huh, well if that’s the case, then keep taking them. It’s no shame, son, to take help when it’s needed.”

  “Tell Chris I said hello.”

  “Deirdre says hello, Chris. Yeah, she told me she saw you and that the two of you have made peace. I’m proud of you for that. Thank you.”

  I watched the expression on his face change as he listened to Chris.

  “No, I do not think that’s a good idea. And it’s not even necessary. I’m close anyway. Some of the leads I’ve found this morning have paid off. I now have a general idea of where he’s hiding. And an idea on how to lure him out.”

  “Larry?” I mouthed the word and he nodded. “You’ve found Larry?”

  He nodded again. I felt a flash of relief combined with a rush of fear. He’d found Larry. And had a plan.

  “I promise I’ll keep you informed. If you’ll do the same. Okay then, you have a good evening and I’ll talk to you later.”

  He hung up the phone.

  “How’s Chris doing?”

  “Better. Much better. Sam’s got him on some sort of antidepressant now. Chris says they help immensely.”

  “And you’ve found Larry?”

  “Not yet, but I’m close. Very close.” He opened his top desk drawer. “Look what I found outside our door when I came out this afternoon.” He pulled it out, a black rose.

  “He hasn’t forgotten me. How sweet.”

  “More importantly, he hasn’t forgotten the game. I keep forgetting that Larry is no more than a child in some respects. I keep expecting him to make sense. Why did he back off when I threw away the roses? They were nothing more than a bit of melodramatic decoration to us. But they were important to him, because they were part of the game.”