Sinning Again

by Heidi Lowe

  Yes, ma'am! I wasn't about to argue.

  "Well?" she coaxed her loyal employee. "Let's hear it then."

  "I was just with Nadine. She's found a buyer interested in her share of the restaurant. Ever since the damning article about that whole catastrophe last week, hardly anyone has stepped foot in the place. Who can blame them?" Here she aimed her glare at me, the cause of everything terrible in the world. I'm sure she would've found a way to blame me for cancer if she could have!

  I knew it was childish of me, but I smiled and said, "Robyn, would you like a truffle? Over there on the nightstand. They're incredible." I thought I would have been met with a more severe glare, but instead she reached for one of my chocolates and threw it into her mouth. Damn it! I didn't think she would actually take it. It became clear to me that she was, as I'd first suspected, tipsy.

  "She wants to sell up? But this is just a minor setback," Jean said.

  "She's concerned you're not interested in the restaurant, that you're preoccupied with other things..." Yep, as you probably guessed, that was directed at me.

  "That's absurd. If I wasn't interested in the business I wouldn't have invested two hundred and fifty thousand dollars of my money."

  The sum came as a surprise to me. Jean didn't ever talk business or money with me, but I didn't think she'd sunk so much into Island Spice. I honestly didn't think it was worth five hundred thousand bucks.

  "What would I do with a Caribbean restaurant if she walks? She's the face of the business," Jean added, rising frustration in her voice.

  "I just spent the last couple of hours convincing her to reconsider. But honestly, Jean, she has every right to sell up and walk away."

  "I admit, I haven't exactly given it my attention this past week, but there's no need for such a dramatic move. And besides, I pay you to take care of things when I can't."

  To my surprise, and horror, Robyn reached for another truffle. I was now down to four. If we didn't get rid of her soon there would be none left.

  "I set up a meeting for all of us on Monday. We'll talk strategy and take it from there. I'm meeting with her again tomorrow...to go over some things."

  "To go over some things? Right," Jean said. She turned to me, grinning, and I didn't understand why. "Okay, Monday evening then. Was there anything else?"

  "Yes, actually."

  Jean waited for her to elaborate; we both did.

  "Robyn, how much have you had to drink tonight? And I hope you didn't drive over here." I heard the amusement in Jean's voice.

  "A friend in the police department informed me earlier today that they found another platting mold in the woods. They haven't been able to identify the vampire yet."

  I saw Jean swallow. And even though I couldn't see the joy disappear from her face, and her expression darken, I knew it was happening.

  "That's three since we moved here," she said.

  "Now they're certain it's a group effort. Really calculated, not just some drunk thugs with an ax to grind. It's not personal, it's a terror attack."

  "Jean, are you in danger?" I asked, swallowing back my own fear.

  She turned to look at me, forcing a smile to reassure me. "I'll be fine, honey. The house has safeguards in place in case anyone tries to break into the lair while I'm asleep. That's the only time these cowards can do anything." She stroked the side of my face lovingly, but her eyes were telling a different story. She was afraid. I'd never seen it in her before.

  "It's that stupid register they make you all go on. You're like sitting ducks. Everyone knows where to find you," Robyn said. "I hope the White House votes on proposition 11V soon. It's not right."

  "We'll have much more chance getting the right to marry than we would them overturning that bill. They need to know where we are at all times, so humans can feel safe. Never mind the fact that human on vampire crime is a rarity in almost every part of the world."

  "Maybe it's time you reconsidered joining the alliance."

  Jean sighed. "I've told you before, I'm not interested in being a part of anything like that. The last thing I want is to be associated with some vampire gang. That would really look good for the race."

  "It's nothing as sinister as that. You'd all be looking out for one another, that's it."

  Jean laughed without humor. "Yeah, right. I wouldn't trust those things with my life."

  "They're your people, Jean," Robyn said in a low voice.

  "And I said no! I don't want to have this discussion again."

  "Fine. Well, watch your back is all I'm saying." The severity of the situation seemed to have sobered Robyn up. And everyone else in the room, for that matter. When she stuck her hand into my rapidly depleting box of chocolates and took out all but one, I didn't even care. She left shortly after.

  "Hey," Jean said when she turned to me. My fear must have been patent, because her eyes were filled with concern. "It's all right, Lissa. Nothing's going to happen to me."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because I won't let it. The police will probably find these people. It's only a matter of time."

  "You have a lot more confidence in law enforcement than I do."

  "This isn't Lox Ridge. There are no sheriffs with grudges. For the most part, everyone lives in harmony here. Vampires donate to a lot of charities. We're more respected."

  She was saying all of this to make me feel better, and much of it was likely hyperbole, but I found myself being soothed by her words. I was just so terrified of losing her that I chose to believe everything she said.

  She took my face in her hands, pressed light kisses to my nose, my eyes, then finally my lips.

  "Besides, I have everything to live for," she added.

  "Sometimes I hate humans. They're like the scourge of the earth. More violent and evil than anything else on the planet."

  "Most are good. You're good." She kissed my neck.

  "Was Robyn really drunk?" I said, feeling more relaxed now.

  She sniffed a laugh. "It certainly looked that way. I also think she has a little crush on someone."

  "We already know that. She'd do anything for you."

  "I wasn't talking about me. Robyn doesn't usually have anything good to say about anyone, and she definitely wouldn't spend hours drinking with them."

  My eyes almost popped from their sockets. "You mean...Nadine? Whoa!" The idea was too hilarious not to laugh at. They would have made one of those really attractive couples you saw and wanted to be a part of, but they were like polar opposites personality-wise. "Nadine should run for the hills."

  "Don't be so mean," Jean said with a laugh of her own. "I'm happy for her. Not that I think Nadine is gay, though."

  "So it wouldn't bother you if they got together?"

  She looked at me, eyebrows furrowed. "Why would it?"

  I shrugged and pulled her into a kiss, laying my foolish insecurities to rest. My envy of Jean and Robyn's relationship was wholly unreasonable, and there was no point in even mentioning it. Robyn had never stood a chance with her, even before me.

  SIXTEEN

  The buzzing on the intercom made me step away from my grueling task of cleaning. A short reprieve from something that had me cursing and grumbling ever since I'd collected the keys to my new apartment earlier that day. If someone had indeed been sent to clean this place before I moved in, which I seriously doubted, they'd done a terrible job of it. Everything was dirty: the skirting boards, the floor, the shower, the refrigerator – which I was currently seeing to. Most of the cleaning was finished now, thankfully.

  I pulled off my gloves, let out a tired sigh, and answered the phone.

  "Delivery for Miss Rowan," came the gruff male voice through the intercom.

  "Yep. Can you guys bring it up?"

  "No can do. It's just me on my own, and I don't do stairs."

  "But there's an elevator."

  "You'll have to come and get it. Company policy for apartments."

  Great! As if I wasn't exhausted enou
gh. Company policy my ass! He was making it up as he went along. But what did I expect, buying my mattress from the cheapest place I could find that offered same day delivery?

  "I'll be right down."

  This was my second piece of bad luck of the day, after finding that my new apartment was filthy. My third came as I reached the elevator, clicked on the button only to find that it was out of service.

  "You've got to be kidding me!" I threw my arms up, swore aloud, then proceeded to make my way down three flights of stairs.

  A few minutes later, double mattress in hand, lazy delivery driver long gone, I tried the button several more times, hoping and praying that the gods would look favorably on me and get the stupid thing to work. I cursed and cursed when I came to the realization that I would have to lug the thing up all by myself.

  "Of course I had to spring for one of the heaviest mattresses in the world," I groaned, as I tugged it up the first flight, holding the plastic, praying it wouldn't tear.

  "Hey, need any help?"

  The voice came from behind the mattress. The next thing I knew, the woman had grabbed it from the bottom end.

  "Thank you so much."

  "Which floor?"

  "Fourth."

  I didn't really get a good look at her until we made it to my door and set the mattress on the newly washed floor. "Let me guess, you used Dreamsalot the bed store, right?" She laughed when I nodded. "Yeah, I'm surprised they even want to lift the stuff off the van."

  "Trust the elevator to stop working today. It was fine when I got here this morning."

  "It does that a lot. Like, all the time. You'd better get used to it."

  She introduced herself, and we shook hands. Her grip, just as I imagined it would be, was strong, firm, like her build. She was an older woman, and on the larger side – built like a discus thrower, with a friendly face and warm smile.

  "No frame?" she asked, looking at the solitary mattress that lay in the middle of the room. It alone took up half the living space. "Just as well you didn't buy it from those guys."

  "I'm a little strapped for cash at the moment," I confessed. "I figured I'd sleep on the floor for a couple of weeks until my next paycheck comes in."

  She looked on sympathetically. I didn't want her pitying me. Okay, so sleeping on a mattress on the floor wasn't an ideal situation. But, my God, I'd succeeded! I'd gotten my own place. This day was monumental. I should have been taking pictures to commemorate the event.

  "There are some websites that people post their unwanted furniture on. You could probably pick up a bed frame for nothing."

  "Honestly, it's fine. I kinda like saving up and buying things when I can afford them." I could see that she didn't understand. This was precisely the reaction I expected from Jean, which was why I'd refused to let her help me. Our conversation the night before my move hadn't been an easy one.

  "What time do we get the keys?"

  I'd given her a quizzical look. "We? I get the keys in the morning. That's when I'm moving in."

  "You don't want me to help you?"

  "I have, like, three bags of stuff, Jean. I'm gonna take a cab."

  "Okay. What things do you need for the place? A table? A sofa? Cutlery?"

  "Nothing. I'm fine. And if I do, I'll get it myself."

  She'd sulked like a preschooler, which only made me laugh at her. And then we'd made love again.

  A tiny, dirty smile played on my lips as I reminisced. A whole week of screwing. I'd had almost as much sex in that week as I'd had the two years I'd been with Hilarie.

  I forgot that there was someone else in the room with me.

  "I have a spare kettle if you need it?"

  "Wow, thanks. That's so kind of you." I couldn't help wondering why anyone would have a spare kettle, but I wasn't about to turn her offer down. She went away and came back with it, along with a plate and cup, which I hadn't asked for but needed. Then she left me to get settled in.

  Funny how I was more than willing to accept these donations from a stranger, yet I wouldn't let my girlfriend help me. But I needed to do it this way. We both needed to see that I was capable of looking after myself. She'd always known me as a helpless kid, who she'd been taking care of for seventeen years. That had to change if we were ever going to have a future. A healthy one.

  Besides, I didn't want her to see this place. Not as it stood now. Once I'd had time to beautify it, give it the Lissa Rowan makeover, then I would invite her over.

  That was the plan, anyway.

  As I forced myself to eat the soggy, barely-cooked pizza that I'd picked up on my way home from work, I tried to imagine it was a nice, home-cooked meal. The cheese was severely lacking, and the mushrooms I could count on one hand. One of the worst pizzas, if not the worst, I'd ever tasted. But my stomach was as empty as the refrigerator.

  I washed every mouthful down with a sip of soda, which was my saving grace that night. I really needed to go grocery shopping. This was my fifth night in my new place, and I'd yet to cook anything.

  My mouth watered for the contents of the well-stocked refrigerator at Jean's house. Sandra was always more than happy to whip me up something delicious and fattening. If she and I didn't eat it, it would only go to waste. It almost seemed ironic that Jean, someone for whom food was obsolete, had so much, and I had none.

  The Wi-Fi wasn't working, either, so I couldn't even browse the internet. My entertainment came in the form of one of those addictive cellphone games I'd downloaded out of boredom several months prior.

  So, disgusting, fatty fast food, and a mindless game – what a great Friday night!

  When the intercom sounded, I froze mid-chew. I hadn't given anyone my new address, so who could it have been? Wrong door, perhaps? I didn't get up from my mattress, simply ignored it, thinking the person would go away. But then a second, much longer and more insistent ring followed. Nope, not a mistake.

  I didn't know who I expected to be on the line when I picked up the phone.

  "Hello?"

  "Lissa, is that you? It's me."

  Fuck! What the hell was she doing here? And how did she know where I lived?

  A million questions raced through my mind at the same time. I didn't want her here, not while I was sleeping on a mattress and eating horrible food. I thought I could keep her away long enough to make the place look presentable. But she was here! Now!

  "Lissa? Are you going to invite me in?"

  No! Come back, erm, never! was what I wanted to say. Denying her entry would not have been wise. We were doing well; I didn't want to ruin that.

  "Come in." I buzzed her in, then tried to tidy up as best I could while she made her way up. But there was nothing anyone could do to this place as it stood. And I couldn't just magic a bed frame out of thin air.

  Moments later I opened the door to her light tapping, and invited her into my home.

  The smile she'd worn upon first seeing me faded once she stepped inside. She regarded the small room with a nonplussed expression, and finally stared at the bed I'd made for myself on the floor. Inside, I was dying of shame. Was this what independence looked like?

  "Oh, Lissa," she said in the most pitying voice I'd ever heard her use on me. When she looked at me, her eyes were equally as pitying. "Honey, why didn't you tell me you were living like this?"

  "It's fine," I mumbled, looking away.

  "You're sleeping on the floor and eating food out of a box. Bad food at that."

  Her concern angered me. And when she tried to hold me, I pushed her away.

  "I'm not sleeping on the floor, I'm sleeping on a mattress on the floor. And I fancied fast food tonight. You can save your sympathy."

  "Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

  "How did you find me?"

  It was her turn to look away. "Well, when you wouldn't give me your address, I had Robyn track you down."

  "So you had me followed? Why am I not surprised?" I wasn't even mad at her for it. In fact, I would have been m
ad if she hadn't done something like this.

  "I was worried about you. Why wouldn't you tell me where you lived?"

  "Really? You don't know why? You managed to insult my new home within seconds of seeing it."

  "Honey, I'm sorry. I really am. I just thought..." She shook her head. "No, you're right, it was extremely disrespectful of me. It's...it's cozy."

  Cozy. I couldn't help thinking about what Camille had given as the true definition of the word. She'd been right on the money. And Jean was doing exactly what the ad had done: sugarcoating.

  "The most important thing is that I'm doing this on my own," I said. "Would you like some water?"

  "No, thank you." Her answer came out before I'd finished my sentence. I doubt she would have taken anything from me in that place. To her it must have looked like an insalubrious, rat-infested hovel with terrible heating and bad lighting. "Will my car be okay parked outside?"

  "No." I rolled my eyes. "It's probably already gone. You should go check if you're so worried."

  "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll stop now."

  I sat down on my mattress, picked up my pizza and pretended to enjoy the bites I took. She already thought I was a failure – I didn't want her thinking I couldn't even buy half-decent fast food.

  She sat down with me eventually. This regal English maiden in these surroundings was such an incongruous image. I didn't look out of place, but she sure did.

  "So, what are your neighbors like?"

  I shrugged. "I've only met one. She seems nice enough."

  "And is there a lot of noise?"

  "Not especially..."

  "How much are you paying for this place?" She couldn't help herself. She peered around the room, her face saying everything, that any price would have been too much for it.

  "It's affordable," I snapped. "And if you just came here to insult my new home, you can leave now."

  "I came to see you. To be with you. I miss you already."

  "You saw me a couple of nights ago."

  "Well, I'd gotten used to seeing you every day. I miss you in my bed, in my arms."

  I finally gave up trying to get the food down, and pushed the half-eaten pizza aside. I crawled over to her at the other end of the bed, and pressed my lips to hers. I knew she hadn't deliberately meant to insult the apartment.