by Martha Woods
Damon smiles his charming smile and takes my comment in stride. “That’s a nice thought, isn’t it? But no, sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve just moved in here.” I have to say, I’m impressed. Anyone who can hold their own with my special brand of conversation is someone who has my attention. And Damon would have it anyway, with that face.
Wait. Did he just say –? “Why would you move into a shitty place like …” I trail off. Great, now I’m insulting his taste, and probably his income too. Not to mention my own. I don’t mind living in a cruddy building that’s seen much better days. But for some people, their home is a point of pride. I can understand that.
Damon smiles. “Are we friends now?” he jokingly asks. “Here I was thinking you just a cop and I was just a potential witness.”
I feel my face redden from the roots of my hair all the way down to my chin. It doesn’t stop there. It covers my neck and chest. I think it might never end. Another perk of my awkwardness, it’s painfully obvious even when I keep my mouth shut. I clear my throat.
“Joking,” I manage to squeeze out.
“Sure,” Damon says. “Me too. I was stalking you, actually.”
I don’t have a response for that. I’ve exhausted my banter abilities for the time being, which, I know, isn’t saying much. They were minimal to begin with. But it’s more than that. There’s something about the way he says that about stalking me that makes me almost believe it. What’s even more unsettling, though, is that the prospect of him stalking me doesn’t make me afraid at all. I know that sounds pretty twisted, but I have this instinct about him that tells me I should trust him. That I need to trust him. And although he doesn’t scare me, these intense thoughts do. I feel my stomach drop and suddenly wish I were literally anywhere but here. A Siberian prison, for example, seems nice right about now.
So, I do what any sane, reasonable girl would do. I blurt, “Well, have a good day,” in a voice so high pitched perhaps only dogs can hear it, and literally bolt away from him.
His low laughter follows me. His laugh is consistently good natured. I don’t feel like he’s laughing at me as such, but I do feel like he plays on my obvious discomfort. I want to take offense at that, and at the joke about stalking, which doesn’t quite sit right given the week I’m having, but I can’t seem to make the indignation stick. Not when he’s so playful and so damn attractive.
I walk around the block a few times to slow my racing heart and get my flushed skin to return to its normal pallor. I’m early for my date with Cara anyway. That’s one of my more redeeming qualities, I guess. I’m never late. I’d like to say it’s a facet of my cop diligence, but I know plenty of officers who are physically incapable of being on time, which drives me up the wall. So it’s probably less a diligence thing and more an anal retentive thing. Whatever. It suits me well, and makes Rick happy. At least, it would if I didn’t have to go and ruin things by talking about mysterious blood sucking men.
I’m so lost in my thoughts about Damon, and Mr. Muscles, and balcony doors, and my stupid list of vampire traits, that I don’t notice I’ve passed the coffee shop and walked a good twenty minutes further towards downtown. Okay, now I’m late. I turn on my heel and power walk back to where Cara is probably already waiting for me.
At the coffee shop, I throw myself into the seat across from Cara, reaching for the coffee cup that is already sitting before me, steaming pleasantly. Good, it’s still hot. She hasn’t been waiting too long.
“Thanks.” I smile as I take a sip. She knows exactly how I like my coffee. She knows pretty much everything about me, really. “Sorry I’m late. But you’ll never guess what just happened to me.”
“What?” Cara asks. She’s leaning forward, excited for gossip. I can’t help but smile. It feels good to just sit with my best friend, drinking a normal cup of coffee, and telling her about a cute, normal guy. Never mind the fact that I met him at the scene of a murder. That’s an occupational hazard, after all.
“Well the other night, I was out on a case and I interviewed this potential witness.” I refrain from telling her all that happened. I don’t want to ruin the moment by having her think I’ve gone nuts, or by telling her I’ve been forced to take a leave of absence. I decide I’ll tell her that I’ve put some holiday allowance in. “He was hot. Like boiling. And I did my usual trick and got all tongue tied. Anyway, I just ran into him in the street and accused him of stalking me.”
Cara throws her head back and laughs out loud. Her laugh is joyous, an infectious giggle, and I find myself joining in.
“Only you, Amy,” she says through her laughter. “What did he say?”
“He denied it, of course. But then he seemed to notice me blushing, you know, because it’s so subtle and all, and then he said actually he was stalking me. So I told him to have a good day, and I ran away. Literally ran away.”
Cara’s laughter grows. She shakes her head in mock frustration. “You are impossible. Considering your job involves talking to the public, you are amazingly bad at talking to people.”
“My job doesn’t involve the public. Not really. I leave that to Rick. That’s what I love about corpses. They’re so easy to talk to.”
“Ew. But see, why couldn’t you be like that when you talked to this guy? Just imagine he’s a corpse or something!”
“Exactly. Maybe I should,” I sigh.
“Is something wrong, Amy?” Cara asks, the laughter gone from her voice.
I should have known she’d see through me. I start to lie; to tell her everything’s fine. Instead, I feel the whole story pour out of me. How I thought I saw a man vanish into thin air, how Rick put me on leave when I wouldn’t even begin to consider that I had been mistaken, and of course, the dream. I feel a little sick to my stomach as I tell her all of it. I’m so afraid she’ll think I’m crazy too. It’s not that I don’t trust her. But given the situation, it would be hard for her not to think I’m crazy. I don’t think I could take hearing that from her, though. Not after everything else. It’s bad enough that Rick doesn’t believe me, even though I can totally understand why he doesn’t. I can’t bear to think that there’s no one on my side.
“Jeez,” Cara says when I finish. “I’m sorry, Amy. I can’t believe they did that to you.”
“Can you blame them?”
Cara shrugs. She doesn’t want to say it, which I’m grateful for, but it’s obvious now that Rick did the right thing. I make a mental note to text him later and apologize for resisting his orders. Maybe even thank him for seeing that perhaps I do need a break.
“Tell me more about this creepy man,” Cara says.
“There’s not much to tell. Without the vanishing and the blood, he was normal. Ok, maybe not run of the mill average. He was tall, well-built, lean. Very pale. His eyes were so dark they looked almost black.”
“Oh my God,” Cara bursts in. I look at her with a questioning frown. “You were into him, weren’t you?”
“No!”
Cara looks at me, an eyebrow raised.
“Ok. Yes. I admit it. He had a certain charm about him. An aura almost.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t get more of a chance to talk to him,” Cara says, a wicked twinkle in her eye.
I nod. “I know, right?”
We both laugh. It’s too absurd not to. A hot, murderous disappearing man. It’s either laugh or admit that I’m probably insane. We are still laughing when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I glance up and force my smile to stay in place when I see Tommy looking back at me.
Tommy. My most recent ex.
“Amy. Sorry to barge in. I just noticed you sitting over here. How are you?” he asks.
“I’m good, thanks. How are you doing? How’s the new job?” I make small talk without even thinking about it.
“Oh, you know. A job’s a job, right? This is Julia, by the way.”
A woman I didn’t notice before steps forward. “Hi,” she says, giving a small wave.
“Hi,” I answe
r.
“Julia, this is Amy and Cara.”
I feel a twinge of jealousy as I take Julia in. She’s younger than me, so by extension, she’s a lot younger than Tommy. Her face is clear and she is young enough to not need much make-up to get that natural glow. She is taller than me and thinner than me. I hate her. No, that’s not fair. I don’t hate her. I don’t care one way or the other about her, the same as I don’t care one way or the other about any of the girls Tommy dates.
I just wish, for once, he’d find someone older and fatter than me. Everyone said Tommy and I were meant for each other. At first, I thought so too. I even began to think that maybe the fairy tale was possible after all. Of course, I was wrong.
It was the same old story. After a couple of months, the novelty just wore off. Tommy’s bad habits, which I had seen as cute quirks in the beginning soon became pet peeves. I hated the way he studied the wine list in restaurants, even though he always ordered the house wine. I hated the way he tucked his t-shirt into his jeans. I hated the way he paired socks up when he took them off. And I hated the way he always did the exact same thing in bed.
I began to feel like I was expending all my energy on keeping that “spark” alive. In reality, I was just struggling to not rip his head off every time he cut a sandwich up into bite-sized pieces in a restaurant. I just felt trapped. At first, my heart had felt full any time I looked at him. Of course it seemed like magic; that’s what brain chemicals do when you’re attracted to someone. Looking back on it, I can’t believe I fell for that prospect of love just because a cute guy was holding my hand. Although honestly, maybe if the sex had been better I would have stuck it out longer. I’m probably a terrible person.
After six months, I could bear it no longer, and I called it off. We were never going to work long term, but although I knew I could never love him, I did like him. I liked him enough to end the relationship before we reached the stage of yelling and screaming at each other. Before I nagged him incessantly and he became downtrodden. Before we ended up hating each other.
I ended it at just the right time for us to remain friends. And we did. He often came out for drinks with us. And I didn’t get jealous at all when he brought a new trophy girlfriend out to join us. Not one little bit, I told myself.
“I’m sorry to dash,” Julia said, “but I have a meeting to get to.”
I hadn’t noticed the takeaway cup in her hand.
“Nice meeting you.” I smile at her.
“You too,” she says. She turns to Tommy. “You stay if you want. See you tonight.”
She doesn’t wait for a reply. She kisses him and dashes out the door.
“Mind if I join you?” Tommy asks. I glance at Cara. She shrugs, so I indicate the seat between us.
“Sure. Sit down.”
Tommy tells us a bit more about his new job. He tells us how he met Julia and I don’t have to fake my smile as he tells us how great, successful, attractive and how damn perfect she is. It’s a little disgusting, sure. But it’s cute, too, and now that I’ve gotten over the initial shock and envy, I’m happy to see him happy.
Cara tells Tommy about Josh, a guy she has just started dating. And then it’s my turn to share. I should tell him I’m being stalked by a crazy guy and witnessing vampires murdering women. Let everyone know how much of a basket case I’m becoming.
Instead, I tell him I’ve decided to take some vacation time from work and concentrate on just having fun for a while.
Cara glances at me knowingly, but she doesn’t refute the lie, for which I’m eternally grateful. My life may be pretty screwed up at the moment, but at least I have her.
Tommy grins at that. “Fun, huh? Now that’s the Amy I remember. You always were up for a good time.”
“Well, I had to grow up.” I laughed. “But I do still enjoy a good time once in a while. You know, when I’m not hanging out with dead people.” Okay, a bit morbid. But police humor tends to be pretty dark.
“You know what,” Cara interrupts. “You do enjoy a good time. Why don’t we go for drinks tomorrow night? We can start with cocktails and then head to a club. You up for it Tommy? You can even bring Julia.”
I want to kick her under the table, to get her to just stop talking. I do not want to go out with Tommy and his pretty new girlfriend right now. Not when my boss thinks I’m insane and my mind is filled with thoughts of blood sucking monsters. But I can’t convey that. Not now. It would be too obvious. Instead, I smile and nod encouragingly at Tommy.
“Sure, why not,” he says. “I don’t know if Julia will be able to make it, but I’ll ask her.”
“Great,” Cara says. “I’ll text around and get some more people involved. It’s going to be great to catch up with everyone.”
We make some more small talk until Tommy finally drains his coffee and stands up. “Great to catch up with you girls,” he says. “I should be heading back to work. See you both tomorrow night.”
“See you tomorrow.” Cara smiles.
“Bye,” I say.
I watch him walk away and whirl on Cara. “What the hell was that?” I demand.
“What was what?” Cara says. She seems genuinely puzzled.
“I would just appreciate you asking me if I wanted a night out with my ex-boyfriend before you invite him along.”
“Oh relax,” Cara says. “You two are still friends, aren’t you? There’ll be a bunch of us. You’ll barely have to talk to him if you don’t want to. Anyway, it is so obvious you’re over him.”
“Well, of course I’m over him. I was over him before the relationship even ended.”
“I know,” Cara agrees, “but you just confirmed it by having an actual conversation with him without saying anything stupid or embarrassing.”
I laugh. She’s right. Why should I care if Tommy and perfect Julia tag along?
“I thought a few drinks with the old crowd might cheer you up and take your mind off what happened, that’s all. I’m sorry. I can text Tommy and call it off if you want.”
“No, don’t,” I smile. “You’re right. I could do with a good night out. Let’s get drunk and dance. No mention of work.”
“It’s a date.” Cara grins.
* * *
I spend the rest of the day trying to come up with an excuse not to go out with Cara tomorrow. It’s not that I don’t want to spend time with her. I do. And I have a feeling that once I’m actually there, I’ll be glad of the company and the distraction. But it’s hard to imagine myself sipping cocktails and dancing with my friends given all that’s been going on with me.
Still, I can’t think of a good excuse not to go, and every time I try to brainstorm one, I end up sending myself on a guilt trip. You haven’t gone out with Cara in ages, I tell myself. She probably misses spending time with you, I reason. Do you want to lose your best friend over your stupid vampire obsession? That last question gives me the most pause. If I’m being honest, I’m scaring myself. Because I do believe in what I saw. And my instincts tell me this whole mess isn’t over yet. That my involvement in all of it will not end with being kicked off a case.
So, I’ll go. I’ll dress nice, slap on a little makeup, and dance with my best friend. Because who knows when Mister Muscles is going to waltz back into my life and suck my blood?
I take myself shopping in the afternoon, after Cara’s gone back to work and I’ve forced myself to stop agonizing over tomorrow’s friend date. Cara would be jealous if she knew I was shopping without her. She loves to shop. She is far from irresponsible with her money, but she has expensive tastes, and likes to treat herself once in a while. And she always says it’s more fun if she does so with a friend. In fact, those shopping dates usually result in the only going out clothes I own. Cara has great taste. I’ll admit that she’s talked me into more than a few pairs of heels. On my own, though, I’m not much of a shopper, but it’s something to do. Maybe I’ll find something cute to wear to the bar tomorrow.
I kill time window shopping, and it
is not until I notice the sun beginning to set that I realize how long I’ve been wandering around. I blink at my watch, startled. Then my body snaps out of its trance and my stomach starts to growl, my feet begin to complain from hours of trawling the mall aimlessly. I haven’t eaten lunch, or sat down to rest my feet this whole time. I look down at my empty hands. I haven’t even bought anything.
Snap out of it, Amy.
* * *
That night, I dream of bloodied women in dark alleyways, of men with viscous, snarling faces and rotting, pointed teeth. I dream that someone is clutching me in his arms, gripping me with impossible strength, his teeth sinking into my neck. Rick is there watching, shaking his head.
“Vampires, Amy?” he says, as the life begins to leave me. “Don’t you realize how that sounds?”
I wake up screaming.
Chapter 4
I jump out of the cab after paying the driver and groan inwardly when I see the huge line to get into the bar. I’m already twenty minutes late. Cara has texted me twice to check that I’m still coming. If she texts again I’ll end up turning around and going home.
I head towards the entrance to The Cosmopolitan. Named after its signature cocktail, the place also does amazing Italian food.
My feet are already starting to ache from the five-inch heels, but I like how they make me taller, and the way my legs look in them. I shiver slightly, rubbing my arms. The short black dress looks good enough that I don’t care if I freeze.
I make my way inside past the bar to find Cara’s table. It’s already pretty crowded, but I love the food here so much I don’t mind a wait.
