by Pearl Cleage
“Of course you are,” Abbie said. “You’re living under ideal conditions with a perfect man.”
“Blue’s not perfect,” Regina said.
Abbie raised her eyebrows. “When is the last time he lied to you?”
“Never.”
“Raised his hand to you?”
“Never!”
“Ignored Sweetie?”
“Never.”
“Didn’t take his responsibilities seriously as a man, as a husband, as a father, as a friend?”
“Never, never, never, and never.”
Abbie looked at Regina with a small smile. “Sounds like perfection to me.”
“But what does that mean for our future?” Regina said. “If no woman will vouch for a man when a woman’s words are all that stand between him and annihilation, how can we go on together?”
They sat in silence, a small island of stillness in the midst of all the last-minute preparations.
“Maybe that’s what this is all about,” Abbie said finally, and her voice was very quiet.
“What?” Regina had been lost in her own thoughts.
“Maybe these vampires are giving us a chance to ask ourselves that question.”
She sounded so miserable, Regina squeezed her hand gently.
“Blue keeps reminding me they’re vampires, not women.”
“But they used to be women,” Abbie said. “Once upon a time, before all the bad choices and the bad men and the unavoidable consequences, they were women in love, just like us.”
That was exactly what Regina had been turning over in her mind all night. If they got this way only in self-defense, couldn’t they consider changing their ways once the danger disappeared?
“But they’re not like us anymore.”
Abbie smoothed the striped tablecloth, a Club Zebra trademark. “We don’t know that to be one hundred percent true.”
Regina looked at Abbie, who was still smoothing the tablecloth like it was the most important thing on her mind. “What do you mean?”
Abbie clasped her hands in her lap and looked at Regina. “I mean we have to find that one tiny little speck of a real woman that I believe is hiding in there right in the middle of all that vampire stuff.”
Regina thought of Aretha’s comment about Abbie’s deep-seated belief in the goodness of all beings, even the undead. “What makes you so sure it’s still in there?”
“I’m not sure,” Abbie said, “but I found a new golf bag full of sharpened sticks in my back room closet and I can’t just sit here and let them do what I know they’re going to do. I am sure of that.”
“It’s almost like it isn’t fair,” Regina said slowly. “It was men who made their mother go looking for a spell in the first place and now it’s going to be men who …” She searched for a word. “Eliminate them.”
“Our men,” Abbie said. “The men we love.”
And that, she realized, was the real challenge of the vampires. If there was no real possibility of creating anything with any man that could be identified even loosely as a good relationship, what was the point of letting them hang around indefinitely? The vamps’ curse wasn’t that they used to drink blood, Regina thought suddenly. Their curse was that they didn’t believe in love anymore. There was only one thing to do.
She stood up quickly and reached for her purse.
“What’s wrong?” Abbie stood up, too.
“Nothing,” Regina said. “Come ride with me. We need to talk to Blue.”
Chapter Thirty-six
Two Free People
When they arrived at the West End News, Abbie stayed out front with a cappuccino and a copy of The Sentinel, while Regina went in the back to talk to Blue. Abbie had endorsed Regina’s plan immediately, but they agreed that she should discuss it with Blue alone first. If he didn’t agree to it, there was no plan B.
Blue greeted her with a kiss after Henry closed the door and they were alone. “I heard you went by the club,” he said, pulling out a chair for her at the table where he had been sitting. “Everything looking good?”
“It looks wonderful,” she said. “Iona wanted me to tell you that if you decide to sing, they’ve got everything hooked up and ready to go.”
Blue’s face didn’t change, but his eyes darkened. “I won’t be singing this time.”
“Why not?”
“If my mind isn’t on it, then my heart won’t be in it,” he said gently.
“Not even if you’re singing to me?”
“I’m always singing to you.”
“Listen, Blue,” she said, leaning across the table and touching his arm lightly. “I have an idea about another way to do what needs to be done.”
“Tell me,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. She loved him for taking her seriously and not giving her any variation of, Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.
“Do you remember when I first met you?”
“You mean this time around?”
“Yes.” She smiled at his need for clarity, since he had a clear memory of her through at least two prior lifetimes. “When I had just gotten out of rehab.”
He nodded. “I remember.”
“Well, the thing I didn’t realize at first was that somewhere between the bad drugs and the bad boyfriends, I had stopped believing in love. I did not believe that there could be anything in this world between a man and a woman like what I wanted love to feel like.” She looked at Blue, trying to find the right words. “And then I heard you sing and it was like a whole different set of possibilities opened up for me. I know this sounds corny, but when you sang to me, it broke something open in my heart, in a good way—not like a sharp stick would do, but like the sweetest sound you ever heard would do. And I realized love was still real and we could still walk this road together, a man and a woman, two free people, and nobody had to bite anybody’s head off as part of the deal.”
Blue was watching her closely. “Go on, baby.”
“That was it,” she said softly, suddenly embarrassed to be saying all this out loud. “Your song made me remember the possibility of real love.”
“Are you asking me to sing to them?”
“No, darlin’,” she said quickly. “I want you to sing to me, just like always. But on Saturday night, we’ll let them listen, too.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Just Like a Man
Friday
Serena needed something to wear. The benefit was tomorrow and the Too Fine Five had found a little shop in Buckhead that had exactly what they wanted—tiny little skintight dresses and vertigo-inducing high heels. Scylla had been trying to get Serena to go pick out something appropriately fabulous, but as team leader, she had been busy making their departure arrangements and hadn’t gotten around to it. Now they were down to the wire.
At any other time, Scylla would have been annoyed, but today she couldn’t work up any real indignation. Tomorrow they were headed home, and she was so happy that their endless mission was finally almost over that she was practically fluttering with excitement. She knew all eyes would be on them at the benefit and she wanted their exit to be memorable and mysterious. That way, they would be twice as valuable a commodity whenever they had to return. New clothes were a must.
She had gotten the two of them a stretch limo for the trip uptown and she and Serena sat languidly slouched in the backseat, stretching their long legs out luxuriously.
“I can’t believe he hasn’t called me,” Serena said, hating how much she sounded like a woman waiting for a date. “I know he’s talked to all five of the witnesses, so what is he waiting for?”
Scylla crossed her legs in their tight black leather jeans. She was channeling Angelina Jolie today, Serena thought. Always a good look for her.
“He’s trying to come up with a suitable plan B,” Scylla said. “None of those women gave him the time of day, or he would have been on the phone immediately, I can tell you that. All he’s trying to do now is save face. He doesn’t w
ant to hear you say I told you so.” And she hissed a little at the thought.
“I wish I could believe that’s all it is,” Serena said, as the car moved slowly through Atlanta’s regular midday traffic snarl.
“What else could it be?” Scylla examined her bright red fingernails calmly. “You don’t think he’s planning to drive stakes through our hearts or anything, do you?”
The thought had occurred to Serena, but she had dismissed it. None of the men they had known in New Orleans had ever tried it, and these kids from Morehouse were just that—kids. They were no match for the vamps and they knew it. As for Blue? It just didn’t seem to be his style, Serena decided.
“No, I don’t think he’s planning anything like that.”
“I can practically guarantee it,” Scylla said. “His wife is not about to have that image play out in her mind for the rest of their life together. It sort of messes with that romanticized image she has of him as her knight in shining armor.”
Serena looked at her friend. “The knight is always allowed to kill the dragons.”
Scylla sat up, tossed her hair back, and struck one of the famous Too Fine Five’s patented poses. “Do I look like a dragon to you?”
They shared a hiss and Serena felt herself getting into the spirit of the outing when her phone rang. The number was a private line that Blue had given her the day they met.
“Mr. Hamilton,” she said, locking eyes with Scylla, “what can I do for you?”
“I’ve met with the women whose names are listed on your contract,” Blue said, “and not one is prepared to bear public witness to the value of these men.”
“I’m not surprised,” Serena said, “but I sense that you are.”
“I’m disappointed,” Blue said, “but that is not why I’m calling.”
Scylla leaned over so that she could get closer to the phone. Up front on the other side of the glass, the driver eased through the crowded streets as if he was the only car on the road.
“Why are you calling?” Serena said.
“Because I can’t let you take those boys against their will,” Blue said. “I don’t care what they signed.”
Serena frowned slightly. “You agreed to our terms, Mr. Hamilton. I hardly expected you to be the kind of man who doesn’t honor a contract.”
“Your contract is with them, not with me,” Blue said. “I’m calling to accept your earlier offer.”
Scylla raised her eyebrows and opened her mouth, but Serena held up a slender hand for silence.
“And what offer was that?”
“The one where you take me back with you and leave the young men alone.”
Scylla mimed hooray, and pumped a bony fist in the air.
“Are you sure about this, Mr. Hamilton?” Serena said, trying to keep her voice calm. “You know you will not be allowed to return here ever.”
“I’m sure.”
“What about your wife?” Serena said, as Scylla leaned in even closer.
“My wife doesn’t get a vote,” Blue said, his voice containing a warning rumble.
“I see,” Serena said. “We are scheduled to leave by helicopter from your benefit in order to make our connection.”
“I’ll be ready,” Blue said.
“Do I have your word?”
“Yes.”
Serena could hardly believe her ears. She was acutely aware of Scylla watching her and hoped her face did not betray how excited she was by this news. “We’ll plan to arrive around nine.”
“Tell your driver to come to the stage door. I’ll meet you there.”
“Fine,” she said. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Serena dropped her phone back in her bag and looked at Scylla. “You heard that, right?”
Scylla nodded.
Serena still didn’t quite believe it. “He’s coming back with us, right?”
“Isn’t that just like a man?” Scylla said, without answering the question. “He can’t just let us take what we want. He’s got to make it a contest where he still gets to be the great man of honor, sacrificing everything for his people.”
Serena looked at her. “Well, that is what he’s doing, isn’t it?”
Scylla fluttered her hands in a graceful, agitated motion. “A lot of men would love to spend their lives on an island fucking fine women for a living. And he’s not even going to have an expiration date, according to the deal you’ve made. He can keep living like a king for another forty or fifty years.”
Serena was looking out the window as the driver turned into the valet parking at Phipps Plaza, Atlanta’s snootiest mall, for no real reason other than the Saks Fifth Avenue that anchors one end and the Lord & Taylor that’s down at the other—relics of a time when white ladies wore gloves for lunch at Rich’s Magnolia Room, and black ladies were allowed only in the kitchen.
“I can’t believe she’s going to let him go,” she said. “I guess all that talk about love doesn’t come down to much after all.”
“How’s she going to stop him?” Scylla said, running a comb through her already toss-worthy mane, as the driver got out to open her door. People were slowing down, attempting to peer inside while trying to look as if they weren’t interested.
“I don’t know,” Serena said, slipping on her sunglasses. “But no woman gives up a man that good without a fight.”
“Well, we gave up five boys in their sexual prime to get him. I hope he’s as good a breeder as you think he’s going to be. We’re putting all our eggs in one basket, no pun intended.”
Scylla’s words were like a splash of cold water on Serena’s daydreams, which she had barely acknowledged to herself, about what it might be like to be intimate with Blue Hamilton once they got him back to the island. The problem was, in those innocent fantasies she was the only vamp that he was servicing. Now she suddenly started thinking about how many times a month she’d be able to have sex with Blue Hamilton without drawing attention to herself. He was going to be their prize breeder and he belonged to every woman who wanted a daughter with turquoise eyes and an ancient soul. She suddenly started wondering if she was jealous of her sisters. But how could she be? Vampires don’t feel jealousy.
She took a deep breath, knowing she needed to calm down so she could complete this mission with no mistakes. This would be her finest hour. She could figure out the rest later.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Serena said. Too fine. That was the problem. She was already mentally mooning over him like a starstruck schoolgirl.
“Ready?” Scylla swung her leather-clad legs out of the car, and looked back over her shoulder at Serena.
“Ready!”
They stepped out into the spring sunshine like any other thin, seven-foot shoppers out with their driver on a Good Friday afternoon, and so they were, except for the head-biting thing. But nobody’s perfect, Serena thought, linking her arm with Scylla as the cellphone cameras went berserk.
“Now let’s go find me a killer dress.”
Scylla hissed softly. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”
Chapter Thirty-eight
Send Me
That night, Blue and Peachy had a rehearsal to which Regina and Abbie were not invited. Regina put Sweetie to bed and made a fire in the fireplace, more for comfort than for warmth, and curled up on the sofa to sort through her thoughts and get ready for tomorrow. She closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath.
If she was asking Blue to melt a vamp’s cold heart with the beauty of his love song, Regina knew that as the designated listener, she had to be open and calm and ready to receive it. She had to affirm the wonder and the weight of it, to embrace the sweet surrender of it. She had to be strong enough to meet the force of his love with the promise of her own.
She was asking Blue to testify in public to the revealing, revolutionary, redemptive power of real love, and in return she would agree to be his amen corner, his living water, his sweet honey in the rock. She opened her eyes, stretched, and smiled. Tha
t was Abbie in her head, talking about living water and sweet honey in the rock, but that’s how it felt. All she had to do now was let her husband sing her a love song in public, and try not to lose control and toss her panties at his feet like his fans used to in the old days.
Shouldn’t be a problem, she thought, going to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Unless he sings “At Last,” in which case, all bets are off.
Over on Peeples Street, in the ocean room of her apartment, Abbie lit a dozen candles and sank down gratefully on her meditation cushion, releasing a long, cleansing breath and listening for the faraway chords of Peachy’s guitar as he and Blue worked out their cues for tomorrow in the apartment upstairs. Abbie closed her eyes and took another deep breath.
She understood better than Regina what was really at stake. Blue had gone along with the plan and told those vamps that he’d stand in for the Morehouse guys, but Abbie knew that once he said it, Blue would be honor-bound to follow through. That’s why he had to sing like he had never sung before. Because he was singing for his life and the life of his family.
It wasn’t that Abbie doubted the power of Blue’s love for Regina. Abbie lived her life with an appreciation of the power of love that bordered on awe, but the power of the vampires was nothing to sneeze at either, which was why she planned to sit right there until Peachy came downstairs to walk her home and crawl into bed beside her. Because sometimes love just needed a witness, Abbie thought. Somebody to testify. Sometimes love just needed somebody to step forward and say, Here I am, Spirit. Send me.
Chapter Thirty-nine
The Best Sight Lines
Saturday
The doors opened for the benefit at seven o’clock. By six thirty, cars were already arriving fast enough to keep the white-jacketed valet parkers busy. Iona and Abbie were moving among the candles, lighting each one themselves as if they didn’t trust anyone else with this final, finishing touch. The girls from the Spelman College jazz ensemble, in their elegant black gowns, were warming up on the bandstand that identified them as The Club Zebra House Band for tonight only, while the sound engineer checked the mics one more time and gave the technician in the booth a thumbs-up.
