“Even so. I won’t drink it.”
Max looked angry, then shrugged and gave a short laugh. “Suit yourself.”
“Damn straight, I will. I’m going to my room now, I want to be alone.”
I spent most of the next day watching some of the collection of movies displayed on the bookshelves. They were all vampire movies, and, with the exception of one comedy, none of them seemed even vaguely familiar. And there was really only one particular scene in that movie that caught my attention. When the count (why did it always have to be a count?) gave his lady love the necklace, I remembered the line before he said it. “It’s a creature of the night,” I said with him, including the little flip of my hand. “It flies.” Smiling, I saw the face of that blond woman again. We were laughing together over this very film. Tonight, I decided, I will ask Max who she is. He always said he was dedicated to the recovery of my memory, but never really seemed to want me to remember anything except what he told me.
And I would get him to take me out. I needed to see the night sky, needed to walk the streets. I’d always been slightly claustrophobic and the days and nights spent caged up in this tiny room hadn’t helped one bit.
The sound of the key in the lock interrupted my planning. Max stood there, a glass of that infernal liquid in his hand. I’d made up my mind the previous night to not ingest Max’s tonic, but stretched out my hand out to take it from him anyway. He seemed surprised but delighted when I seemed to take a sip without his encouragement. “That’s better, Deirdre, you’re not going to fight me anymore on this, are you?”
I smiled up at him over the glass. “No, Max, I’ll be good. But,” and I pulled at the skirt of my silk nightgown, “I’d like to get dressed tonight. And go out.” He began to say something, a protest no doubt, but I interrupted him. “Not just to the club, but out. On the streets. I need to see the night. And I won’t take no for an answer; you may consider it positive reinforcement for my actions.” I punctuated the words by putting the glass to my lips again.
“Of course, my dear. But please allow me to accompany you.”
Barely letting the liquid touch my tongue, I tilted the glass and took another “sip.” Nodding, I then set the glass down on the nightstand. “Fine,” I said, “but go away for a bit and let me get dressed.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t fooling me, Deirdre. Drink it, now, or you won’t get out of this room. Look around you, there’s no place in here to dump it anyway.”
I didn’t say a word. There was no need to; he was right. Max came over and sat next to me on the narrow bed. “Why do you fight me, little one? I’m only doing this for you, for your health and your full recovery. The changes you are undergoing are difficult, but you’ll come through them just fine, provided you do what I tell you to. You’ll see.”
“And then?”
“And then you can begin living the life you were meant to live—the one I took away from you over a century ago. Isn’t that what you always wanted?”
I put my head into my hands for a minute then looked up at him and sighed. Maybe everything he said was true. “Hell, Max, how would I know?” Picking up the glass again, I choked down the bitter stuff, thinking all the while that I would find a way to vomit it up before we left the club.
He stood up, gave my shoulders a quick rub, and took the empty glass from my hand. “Get dressed,” he said, “I’ll wait in my office for you.”
I slipped into the clothes I had worn last night, since they were all I had, and opened the door. “I need to go shopping, Max, I can’t continue to wear the same outfit night after night.”
He smiled. “See, you are feeling better already. Shopping it is.”
As we passed the ladies’ room, I touched his arm. “I’d like to put on a little makeup, if you don’t mind. And, while we’re at it, we need to add that to the list.”
“Deirdre, you’re beautiful to me, just the way you are.”
“Thank you, Max. What a sweet thought. But this isn’t for you, it’s for me.”
I walked into the restroom right behind a few early bird club goers. At least they would forestall Max’s following me. Entering one of the stalls, I quickly knelt on the floor. Try as I might, though, I couldn’t get rid of the offending liquid. I only had a small amount of time, I knew, before Max would come looking for me. There was only way sure way I knew to make myself vomit, I rolled up my sleeve and bit down hard on my own wrist, causing a quick splash of blood to enter my mouth. I swallowed quickly and no sooner did it hit my system than it came right back, bringing with it the drink Max had forced on me. Standing up, I felt dizzy, but that passed and I went to the sink and splashed water on my face. My wrist was still bleeding slightly, but I held it under the cold water for a minute. Then I quickly applied the makeup, just a little rouge and some mascara for my eyelashes.
Max looked impatient when I came out. “I was just about to come in after you,” he said. “What took you so long?”
I laughed, relieved that the offending liquid was out of my stomach. “That’s a question one should never ask a lady, Max. It takes as long as it takes. But I feel better now, let’s go.”
I discovered that I knew more about clothing and the construction of clothing than I’d have thought. The act of turning a piece inside out to inspect the stitching seemed to be second nature. And there was something so terribly familiar about the rows of garments and the smell of new cloth. I found myself rejecting items as having shoddy workmanship simply by a glance at the label, almost as if I’d known the designer, as if I’d known what they were capable of. Fortunately, this shop was a high-end boutique and the selection was good, so I didn’t reject many things.
Max proved more patient than I would have expected possible. And more generous. I knew he was wealthy, but I expected protests on some of the more expensive items I purchased. Instead, he smiled indulgently, complimented me continuously, and carried the bags—the very picture of a devoted husband. And somehow all of that just made me angrier; he couldn’t be my husband. It made no sense that I’d feel the way I did if he were. Finally, when it looked like he could carry no more, I stopped. “Done?” he questioned, checking his watch.
“Yes, I suppose so. But I don’t want to go back yet. Could we stop somewhere for a drink or coffee or something?”
He nodded. “Not a problem, little one.” He took out his cell phone from his coat pocket and began to dial. “Let me give Derek a call and he can come over and take the packages back for us. Then we can do whatever else you’d like, if you’re not too tired.”
The truth was I was tired and feeling weak and more than a bit queasy, but I’d have rather died than admit that to him. The only way to get him off guard and relaxed enough so that I could get away was to pretend to be better. And so I laughed. “Actually, Max, I could shop all night. It’s been so long since I’ve had pretty clothes.”
“Has it?” He shrugged. “You’re always pretty to me. And besides, you were the one who ran off, taking practically everything you owned with you. Ah, yes,” he said speaking into the phone now, “Derek, we’re over at Slivers of Life, grab a taxi and come get our packages, will you? Mrs. Hunter and I will be going out for a while.”
He folded up the phone and tucked it back into his pocket. “Shouldn’t take him too long to get here, I’d think. Is there anything else you’d like while we’re waiting?”
While he’d been talking I’d been examining a display of vinyl totes. “One of these, maybe.” They were cheap little bags, at an outrageous boutique price, but they seemed to be well constructed, with a strong seam at the base and a zipper with which to close it. More important, they were the perfect size for holding a glassful of liquid one might not want to drink. I smiled. “Yes, these are nice, I’d like one of these. The red vinyl one, I think.”
Max shrugged again. “I’m not sure why you’d want it, but if you do, it’s yours.” He took the bag from me with a smile and handed it and my other purchases to the
salesclerk, who’d been hovering over us. “Anything else?”
“No, I think that’ll do me. For now.”
He laughed and turned to the clerk. “Ring all of this up.”
“Cash or charge?”
He raised an eyebrow at the total on the register and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “Charge. Definitely. Even I’m not foolhardy enough to carry that much cash with me.”
The salesclerk gave a simpering giggle as she accepted the card he handed her. “Thank you, Mr. Hunter.”
As he signed the bill, he turned to me and smiled. “I hadn’t expected that we’d buy quite this much.”
I bit back an apology. If he was my husband, he was used to my extravagances. This shopping spree seemed too natural for it not to have occurred, with or without him, many times in my past.
The door opened, and Derek walked in, looked at the packages and whistled appreciatively. “A little shopping, eh?” he said, giving me a wink. “Nice to see you’re feeling more like yourself, Mrs. Hunter. Is this all of it then?”
“Yes, thank you, Derek. We’ll be back at some point in the evening. You have my number if there’s an emergency. Other than that”—Max put an arm around my shoulders and hugged me to him briefly, guiding me to the door—“I don’t want to be disturbed. Deirdre and I have a lot of catching up to do.”
We walked aimlessly for a while, my arm tucked into his elbow. The air had an autumnal chill and when the wind blew it was downright cold. I shivered and my teeth chattered.
“Cold?” Max asked. “We can go back, if you want.”
“No, not at all.” Cold or not, I was enjoying being out in the open air, surrounded by the bustle of the city. I’d missed this place, I realized then, even without remembering it. And, I glanced up at Max and smiled, I’d missed him. Maybe he was telling me the truth. Now that I didn’t feel like I was being held his prisoner, I could acknowledge that I almost loved this man. Something in me responded to him, I certainly felt completely comfortable in his presence. “But if you want to get a cup of something hot, I won’t argue.”
We crossed the street and arrived at a small diner, nothing upscale, I noted, but clean and presentable. “Here?”
“This is fine, Max.”
The hostess sat us in a corner booth. “Coffee?” she asked, setting two mugs in front of us.
Max looked over at me.
“Coffee would be great,” I said as she handed each of us a menu.
“Your waitress should be over in just a minute. Enjoy.”
Opening the menu, I glanced over their offerings. I couldn’t eat any of it, but there was something comforting about the thought of a slice of warm apple pie. “Are you getting anything?”
Max shook his head. “I’m not particularly hungry, my love, but you get something if you want.”
I laughed. “That would be interesting. What would I do with solid food?” Then I stopped. What if he was right? If I were becoming human again, I could eat. But at the thought, my stomach lurched. “No, I think I’ll pass this time. I could use the coffee, though.”
Max turned around and motioned to the waitress behind the counter. “Miss?” he said with a trace of impatience in his voice. “We’d like that coffee. Now, please.” He turned back before the woman moved. She glared over at us, looked away, and then quickly looked back, staring intently at me. Her eyes opened wide and, as odd as it might seem, she appeared frightened. It was as if she remembered me from somewhere and no place good, I imagined. I wondered briefly if she would feed me the same line as Max had been dealing out. Would she try to reinforce the story as Derek had? Or did she know a different truth?
Without taking her eyes from me, she jerked a pot from the burner behind her. I heard the sizzle of the coffee on the hot surface. Then she squared her shoulders and hurried in our direction.
As she approached, I took more careful note of her appearance. She wasn’t particularly imposing. Slight in build she had short, dark hair, and a pert little nose. She carried herself badly, though, as if slumping over could hide the cheap uniform she wore. Something in her attitude made me think that she’d not been working as a waitress for all that long. As she came closer, I could read the name embroidered on her breast pocket.
“Good evening,” I said with a smile, looking up to where she stood in front of our booth. Her eyes still hadn’t left my face and she extended the pot to pour but stopped short of the mugs. “I think we’ll just have coffee for now, Terri, thank you.”
With the sound of her name, Max’s head shot up from his study of the menu.
The movement caught her attention and when his eyes met hers, she gave a gasp of surprise. Terri stood totally still, eyes opened wide and staring, first at him, then at me, and then back to him.
That she knew Max was apparent. She gave him a smile that immediately turned into a sneer. “Coffee?” she said, her voice rising above the noise around us. “Coffee?” Her voice quivered and the range of emotions reflected on her face was fascinating. Rage, righteous indignation, fear, all of these flickered in and out of her eyes and her mouth twisted up into a snarl. “Coffee? I’m so very happy to oblige, you son of a bitch!”
And she poured the entire pot of steaming coffee into Max’s lap.
Chapter 11
Max’s reaction was almost serpentine in its swiftness and cruelty. Before I even had time to register what had happened, he was out of his seat, gripping her by the shoulders and shaking her violently. His voice was low and quiet, but I hadn’t a doubt that the rest of the diner heard him. “You clumsy fucking bitch,” he whispered, and I flinched at the obscenity. “You did that on purpose.”
To give the woman credit, she held her ground, despite being shaken around like a rag doll. Her teeth clattered, but her voice came out clean and clear. “Damn straight, I did, you lying bastard. And I’m glad I did. You ruined my life.”
“And I’d be thrilled to ruin it more, Ms. Hamilton, don’t think that I wouldn’t. If you say one more word, I can make you wish you were never born.”
I stood up, thinking there should be a way for me to intervene. But Max ignored me and continued his tirade. “I suppose you thought waiting tables was a comedown from broadcasting? I’ll fix it so you won’t even be able to get a job cleaning out toilets in this city.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “Now get the hell out. I never want to see your face again.”
He pushed her away and turned to me. “I’m going to go clean up, Deirdre, my love.” The instantaneous change of his voice from threatening to loving was terrifying. Who was this man, able to display bone shattering anger one second and tender concern the next? I nodded, unable to say a word. He was crazy, there was no doubt in my mind at that moment. Whoever, whatever he’d been to me in the past, he could not now be anyone I’d ever trust or love.
He kissed my cheek and I jerked involuntarily. “And then,” he smiled, not noticing my fear, “when I get back, we’ll go home.” Spinning around, he stalked down the corridor to the restrooms.
Terri stared after him for a second, then looked over at me. “I hate this stinking job anyway,” she said, scribbling something on her order pad, tearing it off, and slamming it down on the table. “He doesn’t own as much of this city as he thinks he does. Egotistical bastard. And you? Jesus Christ, Deirdre, what the hell are you doing here? With him of all people? Don’t you know who he is? Don’t you know what he’s done to you? I thought you were in Whitby. And where the hell is Mitch?”
Mitch? Who was Mitch? She must have seen the question in my eyes and she started to say more, but the manager of the diner came over, apologized profusely to me, and led her away. They had a brief, heated discussion by the front door and then she stormed out.
I picked up the paper she’d left, thinking it was the bill for the coffee and wondering at her nerve. Instead written on the paper was a phone number. And one word. Revenge. Glancing guiltily toward the men’s room, I folded the note quickly, sliding it with di
fficulty into the pocket of my skin-tight leather jeans. Then I sat back down at the booth and stared out the window at the retreating figure of Terri Hamilton. Who was she? And what did she know about me?
And who was Mitch?
A hand on my shoulder interrupted my thoughts and I jumped. “Let’s go,” Max said. “We can get coffee at the club. At least there,” he gave a choking laugh, “they’ll give me a cup out of which to drink it.”
I slid out of the booth, giving him what I hoped was a consoling smile to hide the turmoil I was feeling, a strange combination of triumph and fear. In Terri Hamilton, I’d finally found someone who knew me who quite obviously wasn’t in Max’s employ, someone who might give me the truth. I doubted that she’d been my friend in my former life; seeing her sparked no recognition at all, but it was obvious she hated Max. That, if nothing else, gave us a common bond. Running my fingers over the lump of paper in my pocket, I gathered up my purse and flashed him a cold smile.
“Friend of yours, Max?”
For a split second a wave of anger flooded his face and I feared he’d begin shaking me, too. Instead, the emotion passed as quickly as it came and he laughed. “Not hardly, little one. She’s a nobody. Don’t give her a second thought.” He held the door of the diner open for me and we both walked out onto the street. “Now, do you want to walk or should we take a cab back?”
Perhaps it was hearing those words, perhaps it was meeting Terri Hamilton, hearing her mention Whitby and someone named Mitch. Maybe it was a combination of all those things. Whatever the reason, I felt myself transported back to a different time and a different place. And the someone with me was different, too.
“Can’t really afford it. Besides, I didn’t bring any cash with me.”
I hadn’t realized that I said the words out loud until Max looked at me and gave a short barking laugh. “What a silly thing to say, Deirdre. We can certainly afford cab fare and I have plenty of cash. What would you need cash for?”
Blood Red Dawn Page 8
