by Tiana Laveen
She tossed on a big smile when she spotted her girlfriends walking into Russ and Daughter’s Café on Orchard Street to join her. She’d already secured their table, and the bustling place was filling up fast. It was one of Camille’s favorite spots to get authentic Kosher comfort food. She had to admit, the fare wasn’t half bad. The hell with the fact that Venus would be vomiting it up soon thereafter, she was now used to that being part of her eating process—a minor hiccup. They sat down beside her at the table, both with sparkles in their eyes, no doubt ready to get the dirt on her new life. After engaging in a bit of small talk, discussing the weather, the new professor who always wore galoshes, things of that nature, they all ordered their food.
She took small sips of her water. “All right, I know I was out sick last week and we’ve barely talked.”
“What’s going on, Venus? You haven’t called us back. I’ve personally left numerous voicemails,” Deborah chastised, her expression a mixture of irritation and true concern. “Did you move out? I stopped by. Your neighbor said you were gone.”
Venus took another sip of her drink and put her cellphone face down.
“I am in a relationship.” She didn’t miss how Camille’s eyes landed on her ring. “My boyfriend’s name is Alexandre Marseille…” Her lips curled in a grin. “I moved in with him, and we’re together…living together, that is.”
Camille gasped, slapped the table, then burst out laughing.
“Ms. Impulsive suddenly?! Oh my God!” The woman tossed her head back and cackled. “I could time a clock to your actions. This is soooo not you, lady! You’ve got to tell us, Venus. What brought this on?”
“I met the one.” She shrugged. “What can I say?” She tried to curtail her smile to no avail. It was true… of course there were details they’d never understand, ones she wouldn’t dare mention, but that was the damn gist of it.
“So, when do we get to meet him? I mean, yeah, we saw him at the party but—”
“Who didn’t see him?” Deborah chuckled, the woman’s cheeks reddened as her eyes sparkled with mirth. “He was quite attractive. Lucky you, Venus.”
“Yeah, I imagine many noticed him. I, uh, I think we can all meet up soon.” She swallowed down the lie.
“Well, I can’t wait to talk to him. I wonder whose friend he was? Who invited him to the party? I asked Yashek and he said he thought I had invited him.” She shrugged. “I asked Norman, too. He was clueless.”
“Well, there were so many people there, he could’ve been anyone’s friend,” Deborah added. “So, whose friend was he?” Both of her friends looked at her, waiting…
“Uh, he said a friend of his, Tom, invited him.”
“Tom who?” Camille picked up her coffee and took a sip.
“Brady.” SHIT! It was the first thing that popped into her mind… How silly!
“He’s friends with Tom Brady?!” The two women burst out laughing. “Doesn’t he play for the New England Patriots? What was he doing in town, for a little party at that?”
“Not that Tom Brady. This guy is an attorney… just like Alexandre.”
The conversation went on and on, and Whiskey’s words continued to haunt her. The lies, the made up tales, all to cover a story that should’ve been easy to relay, one she wasn’t ashamed of at all. But these women were not from her life; they were not even from her world. She sat back for a spell as the two talked and laughed amongst themselves…
They have no idea what I’ve been through, my struggles, my true joys… This is all superficial. This stuff isn’t real. Yeah, my concern for them is, but Whiskey was right… I have to be like them for them to TRULY like me, accept me. Who is standing around wanting to be more like ME, so I can accept THEM?! No one…
She’d seen the devastation of a nation. She’d survived several wars, the Great Depression, and more. So many things her mistress had prophesized had come to pass… Crack addiction in the 1980s, one of hundreds of examples… She recalled not being able to drink from the same water fountain as White people in the 1940s, ’50s, and part of the ’60s. She remembered dancing in Europe and meeting Josephine Baker… She’d been practically around the world and seen things most would never dream imaginable. This was her life, a special life, a hard life, a miserable life, a rich life, a poor life, an incredible life.
“Well, if you can clone him, do so,” Deborah teased.
“I know, right? Did you see how damn tall he was?!” Venus sat back and watched her friends continue to talk amongst each other, the two falling into their own private world that she was a mere spectator to.
“Are you kidding me? The first thing I noticed was his height… and those eyes. Wow. What is he, a Viking?” Deborah joked.
“His last name is Marseille. That’s French,” Camille interjected, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs. The two locked eyes. Camille’s smile slowly faded… as if she knew something was up, that everything wasn’t as it seemed. Venus grew warm with self-consciousness, and the looming death of her love for these women hung over her head like a black cloud…
Despite it all, some things were just undeniable. They’d been there for her, welcomed her into their fold. She could not dance in two worlds the way she had been any longer though. Things were more complicated now, far more problematic.
Their entrées arrived. She’d ordered some lox and bagels, cream cheese on the side. It looked absolutely delicious but her stomach churned, and a need to vomit came in hard, violent waves. It wasn’t the food that disgusted her, but the friendship funeral she was now in the midst of, front and center…
At that moment, she realized something. Venus wasn’t choosing Alexandre over her friends; she was choosing her freedom over them… and what a price to pay.
The three drank and ate, and the place was abuzz. Venus laughed so hard, her face was hot. She shared stories, opening up as much as she could, for she knew, this was it… the final countdown.
Next week, I am going to turn in my resignation letter to the college…
One day soon, neither of these women will see me again. My phone number will be different, my last known address will be changed… I will be untraceable. I have done an amazing job of divorcing myself from my emotions, just as my mistress and mate have tried to instill in me. But if that’s the case, if I have turned off those human responses to pain, then why does this hurt like hell?!
Redman’s, ‘I’ll Be Dat’ blasted in the Darkness Club as Alexandre sat back in the VIP section of the bar and dance lounge. Sitting comfortably with his legs open, his arms resting across the back of the black leather booth, he took in the sights. Naked Vamps twirled and twisted their beautiful bodies all around him, their mouths gleaming with blood, their pussies glistening with girl juice. Smooth flesh was all around him, women with long purple ponytails, redheads with humongous, natural breasts—a wonderful buffet of female energy.
He brought his cigar to his lips, tilted his head, and laughed. In the distance, he could see Bruce and Whiskey, and the rest of the crew, too. The dizzying red lights spun around them as his boys drew closer, Whiskey leading the pack. Alexandre waved his arm, a signal for the wet pussy all around him to scatter and get lost.
The four guys flopped down around him, all of them smelling like weed, cigarettes, and alcohol. It had been a rough two weeks… but all one could do was smile to keep from screaming.
Whiskey twirled the toothpick in his mouth, his eyes hooded as he smirked.
“You’ve been gone several days. Usually I’d say no news is good news, but when it comes to my brother, not so much. How’d it go?” Alexandre blew out smoke from the corner of his mouth as he stared at the man.
“I know I’m not in any position to ask you shit, Count Marseille, but I gotta… just this fuckin’ once.”
“Excuse us.” He waved the other guys away, picked up a glass of wine, and took a taste. “What is it?”
“Why in the tabernacle tambourine Holy Ghost Hell did ya let Fawn get this fuck
in’ close to ya, huh?! Do you have any idea the shit she’s been up to? The trouble she’s caused? Maaaaan!” The big beast balled up his fist. “I warned you about that fuckin’ bitch!” Whiskey’s voice rose, something Alexandre rarely witnessed from the guy.
He shook his head, then burst out laughing. “Whiiiskey, Whiskey, Whiskey… I can answer you in so many different ways. I will do it like this… Here’s my question to you: Do you know what a fucking house cat does?” The man’s expression turned curious. “I’ll tell you. It slinks around barely able to be heard. It meows, fucks in alleyways, drinks milk from a bowl on the fucking floor, devours fish, and licks its own fur and ass. It’s domesticated, comfortable with itself, and believes itself superior to others, unlike its wild ancestors in the jungles and deserts.
“You know what to expect from a fucking cat… we’ve known, since our vampire ancestors in Egypt worshipped them, that they were magnificent, self-important creatures. But there’s a dark side… there’s always a dark side, Whiskey. You must anticipate some fuckin’ claws, some begging, some hissing and absolutely no loyalty. So, you ask me, why did I allow Fawn to make moves? I was playing chess. She was playing checkers.”
Whiskey’s lips curled in an understanding grin.
“When you know your opponent, it’s much easier to manipulate them, make them do your bidding when they have no idea that their treachery has aided you, not harmed you. I like knowing exactly what to expect. I set her up to fail. If someone is going to use a weapon against me, I prefer to be the one that designed that missile… so that I know how to dismantle it, then destroy it when it’s aimed right at my face. That chosen weapon was Fawn. She is my strongest chess piece, but also my weakest link. I gave her just enough information about my private life to do what she needed to do. I am controlling my own destiny. I’m about to embark on the fight of my life, Whiskey. My brother is not small potatoes. He’s my biggest opponent. Victor is emotionally and mentally unbalanced, a fucking nutcase, but quite intelligent. He’s brilliant, actually. But because of his true nature, an insatiable need for power, he didn’t dig deeper. He was in too much of a hurry. This time he made a fatal mistake… trusting a cat, who was hired by a dog. WOOF.”
Whiskey burst out laughing, slapping the table hard before he pulled out a joint and lit it. His eyes changed from dark brown to olive green in a flash.
“BAT FUCKIN’ EARS! You heard her talkin’ to me! Hilarious! I had no idea. You didn’t even tell me you already knew when I turned around and came in your office, tellin’ ya all the bullshit she said… all of what she was tryna get me to do.”
“It was fun.” Alexandre shrugged. “I didn’t hear everything, but I smelled it on her. I’m not even upset with her, and she’s none the wiser that I know what’s going on. She even already had a Plan B in case you did what you did, ratted her out, and I confronted her about it. This is her true nature, and she follows those urges, no matter what. Would you rather fuck with someone who’s unpredictable, or someone who falls right in line and brings forth the inevitable?” He could practically see Whiskey’s mind working…
Whiskey shook his head. “Venus got cha drinkin’ wine, now? No fake drinkin’ like at the parties with the food, I mean, the humans. Jesus…”
Alexandre grinned and nodded. He studied his glass.
“It was my own choice. She loves this shit, though. You know what? It’s not half bad. You know us French are known for good wine, Whiskey. I never dared try to find out until now, but I’m starting to get used to it. I’ll have to piss out razorblades in about fifteen minutes, but it’s worth it.”
Whiskey burst out laughing and lounged back in the booth. They both drew quiet for a few minutes.
“I was right, wasn’t I? I told you to watch Fawn after my brother popped up into town. I told you that he was going to go back to Paris to report me to the Council. I told you that he was going to use those who were close to me to get back at me. He’s still pissed about the ‘love tap’ I gave his favorite slave… the fucker still can’t talk.” Alexandre shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Not my fucking problem. He should be grateful that I didn’t cut all three of their heads off right there on the sidewalk.”
“Yeah, true, but you didn’t tell me that the bitch would be so bold as to approach me and say some shit like that to me. Why didn’t you tell me that, too? A warnin’ would have been nice. At first I thought the bitch was shittin’ me, testin’ me. Then I realized she was fucking serious. I take it you knew before it happened.”
“I wasn’t sure how she’d do it, but see, Victor can be very persuasive, Whiskey. Fawn wants to be Queen.”
“No shit.”
“If she can’t have me, which obviously she can’t, she’ll take second best, my brother. Let Victor get everyone on his side. That would knock me out of the picture; then she’d have a second chance at bat.”
“But why in the hell did she agree to find Venus in the first fucking place then?! She’s the one that found her. Well, you found her, but she did all the research and everything.”
“Because once she realized Venus’ background, she thought I’d definitely reject the woman. Then, when she saw her, she thought surely I’d scrap the whole plan and it would be over.”
XXXTENTACION’s, ‘Guardian Angel’ played loudly through the speakers. The room began to spin in reverse, upside down all around them. The walls turned blood red, pulsing, dripping, smelling like the sweetest sliced vein…
“Looks like we’ve had some donors enter the premises… We don’t have much time. Let me show you something before it gets wild in here…”
Alexandre took several deep breaths, his cigar in hand, and began to bob his head to the music.
“Close your eyes, Whiskey…” The man did as he asked, and he pushed him into an instant dream state. “Picture a little Black baby born in the middle of a field… Blood is everywhere, pooled in between her mother’s trembling legs. Her mother screams out and cries under the full moon lit sky, then laughs as she picks up that baby, covered in the milky bloody wash of birth, and pulls her close, cradling the infant to her swollen, bare breasts. It was a hot night in South Carolina when that very thing happened. She was a slave woman, now the mother of a slave baby.
“That baby, like her mother, would be beaten, lied to, manipulated, raped, tortured, all day and all night. She’d be worked nearly to death, forced to live like an animal. As that baby grew into a little girl and young woman, anything she dared show that she enjoyed would be used as leverage or snatched from her, never to be seen again. Imagine your life is not your life… you were just born into it.
“Laughter is all around you, but it’s not coming from your mouth… It’s coming from other people, laughing at your expense, enjoying themselves because of your sacrifices… Is that not evil?” In the distance he could hear the gnashing of teeth and screams. “Is that vampiric? Is that not… bloodlust? But you’re special; only nobody knows that you’re special, except your mother.
“She looked at that baby and said, ‘You’re going to be different, Venus. You’re going to break the chains, get out of these shackles. I pledge your life. I give my life, for yours. In exchange, you shall have power, riches, but most of all, freedom. I promise you to the Gods. I give you to the sun and the moon, so you can escape this life. I turn you over; your soul is sold. Never forget your ancestors…”
The sound of heavy, hard beating drums vibrated through the spinning club over the Rap music, blending in like rain drops on a watercolor painting.
“That little baby’s mother knew the old ways of her tribe. They didn’t worship Jesus Christ. They gave homage to the dark and the light of the world. That woman knew of witch doctors, spells, blood sacrifices. That mother pledged her baby to someone else, and someone must’ve heard her and taken her up on her offer…For here the fuck I am.”
He blew out thick clouds of haze. “So, Whiskey, to an untrained eye, those bastards with the whips and lies that they used to infl
uence those stolen people from Africa and used as an excuse to continue their misdeed, missed the fine work of art in their midst. How fitting that she teaches Art History… Fawn did much of the same. She is no better. All Fawn saw was a tired-looking professor doing her laundry when she came upon her… Open your eyes.”
The man before him slowly opened his eyes and they looked at one another, like father and adopted son.
“This woman, my sweet, delicious, dark-eyed Venus, didn’t have much money. She was Black. She was out using her pussy as bait to feed… to survive, then destroying man after man after man, sometimes having nightmares about it… because she still has a fucking heart. She still cares. But even with all of that, she was happy. Even with all of that shit in her life, she was complete, whole… She was Venus, Goddess of Love, and I was Mars, God of War, before I met her.
“She was standing there in an old gray oversized sweater and jeans that flared at the bottom. Her hair was wild and all over her head that day… just beautiful. Her skin was this rich, bronze color as if she’d been sculptured from the finest minerals. Her cheekbones, lips, and almond shaped dark brown eyes were magnificent. Her ass, lovely and soft. Her legs long and her voice incredible. She hummed as she dumped the laundry powder into the machine. She drank from her can of soda while watching videos on her phone, then she called her friends and later, she fell asleep for a few minutes in that laundromat. She’s always trying to get clean… always trying to wash the blood away, but it never fully goes away. It’s there to stay, because she’s one of us…”
“Yeah, she’s definitely one of us now…”
“She does what she does not just to blend in, but because these were things her people were never supposed to be able to do. To live, to be free… And she fucking wants it. She wants to enjoy it. Now my queen can mingle amongst other races. No more slavery, no more segregation… but she’s segregated herself from her vampire side for as long as she could, and now, that’s over. She needs this sovereignty, too.”
