by B. N. Toler
“No worries.” He takes it from me and smells it. “Smells nice.” He walks across the hall and opens the door to what I now know is his bedroom and tosses it on his bed. Disappointment pangs at my heart.
“I have a surprise for you.” He smiles mischievously at me as I stand in the doorway to my bedroom.
“I hate surprises.” My tone is cold, not to be mean, but because it’s true.
“I’ll try to remember that, but for now play along.”
I follow him downstairs and towards the kitchen, but he enters a room I have only seen in passing.
“This is the living room.” Spread out on the coffee table in front of the large leather sofa is a pizza and a can of Coca Cola. I nearly dive on the pizza like a wild animal. I flip open the box and grab a slice, not even thinking to ask if it’s okay.
“So, it’s good?” When my eyes roll back in my head from the almost orgasmic taste, he adds, “I’ll take that as a yes.” He motions to the sofa. “Have a seat.”
When I finally swallow, I manage to thank him before grabbing the can of coke, popping it open, and starting to chug. It is the most delicious beverage I have ever had. I stop suddenly, almost choking on the coke. My meals have been ridiculously healthy, so why do I get to have pizza and soda? Is this like a last supper or something?
Rhett has been fumbling with the television, but turns sensing something. “What?” he questions.
“Is this, like, my last meal or something?”
He explodes with laughter. “Aldo, I told you I will not change you unless you ask me to.”
I roll my eyes as he continues to laugh at my expense. “So, why do I get to eat bad then?”
“I just thought it would be a nice surprise.” He shrugs while still messing with the television.
“Are we watching a movie or something?”
“Observant,” he says dryly, but I’m not offended. It was a stupid question.
I still stick my tongue out at him while he’s not looking. Maturity is a strength of mine, obviously.
“Well, I can’t let another day of your life go by without seeing the movie from which I was named.”
“Blown by the wind?”
“Gone with the Wind.” He pretends to be offended.
I press my lips together, fighting a smile. “Oh, yeah, that’s right.” I stuff more pizza in my mouth, surely looking like a character from Lord of the Flies.
“Are you going to eat that entire pie tonight?”
I know deep down he’s judging me, but I don’t care. “You see this here?” I motion my hand around the remainder of the pizza. He quirks a brow and watches me. “I’m going to put this pie all up in my face.” I pretend to put the entire pizza in my mouth. “Nom, nom, nom, nom.”
“I bet a million dollars you can’t do it.”
“You’re on…with one condition.” I can barely speak around the food in my mouth.
“What’s that?”
“You loan me a million dollars to front.” I beam a cheese and sauce filled smile at him—something my brothers and I used to do to each other to gross one another out.
“That’s real attractive,” he laughs, as he plops down beside me.
I keep my lips peeled back exposing my pizza caked grill. “Do I have something in my teeth?” A deep laugh erupts from him and consumes me. He has a beautiful laugh. It’s rich and authentic, and vibrates through me making flutters in my belly. We’re both laughing so hard I almost choke on the food in my mouth.
“I can tell you grew up with boys.” He wipes under his eyes where tears have formed from laughing so hard.
“What gave it away? My lack of couth?” I bite into the slice of pizza in my hand.
“Something like that.” He winks.
My inner self swoons. Did he just wink at me?
“Okay, here we go.” With the click of the remote in his hand, he starts the movie, and I immediately fall in love with it. Rhett Butler is dangerous and dreamy, much like the Rhett I know, but by the time Scarlett and Rhett get married, I’m struggling to stay awake. My buzz has worn off, and I’m in a food coma as I almost ate an entire pizza by myself. I doze off at some point, despite my best efforts, and wake at what, according to Rhett is the best line of the movie.
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” Rhett Butler says in his deep voice. Scarlett babbles something else and then the movie is over.
The closing credits appear, and I realize I’m lying on Rhett’s shoulder. I sit up abruptly, embarrassed, that I not only cuddled him, but I also drooled on him. “I’m sorry.” I run my arm across my face, trying to wipe the saliva off.
My inner self shakes her head while she obnoxiously sings an Isley Brothers song,
Who's that lady (who's that lady)
Sexy lady (who's that lady)
Beautiful lady (who's that lady)
Real fine lady (who's that lady)
I slap her down.
“It’s okay,” he chuckles. “You ready for bed?”
“Yeah, I’m beat,” I say stretching. He flips the television off and we head upstairs and stand in awkward silence once we reach the top.
I start scratching my arm where I got two mosquito bites earlier when Rhett grabs my arm.
“Allow me.” He places his other hand on top of my bites.
I am riveted once again by his energy as it rushes through me. I close my eyes, enjoying the surge and cool tingles.
When I open my eyes again, he’s staring at me. “All better?”
“Yes.” His deep stare stuns me and my voice comes out like a soft, lusty whisper. “Thank you.” I swallow hard and pull my arm away. My bites are completely gone. “It’s amazing how fast you can heal.” I rub my arm. When I heal, it can take days to see a full recovery, yet Rhett can heal someone completely within a minute. Of course, I would never heal another person’s bug bites.
“Just a perk of what I am now.” He smiles awkwardly and looks down at his feet. “Good night.” He starts down the stairs.
“You’re not going to bed?”
“No. I haven’t eaten today. I have to fuel up.”
“Can I watch?” I instantly wish I hadn’t asked. Do I really want to see this?
Rhett’s brows rise as if surprised. “Uh, are you sure you want to? Thought it repulsed you.”
“Well, it can’t be any worse than you watching me almost eat an entire pizza.”
“True.” He makes a thoughtful expression and smiles, taking my breath away as he does. We stand in silence for a moment, and I realize maybe he doesn’t want me to watch him, or maybe he was just making an excuse as to why he wasn’t going to bed.
“Never mind, I’m sorry.”
“You can watch if you want to. Not much to see. I guess you will need to see it to really know all aspects of this life.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I just don’t want you to…” He looks down at the handrail where his hand rests.
“What?”
“No matter.” He shakes his head, as if dismissing whatever he was about to say.
I follow him down the stairs and towards the back of the house. He opens a door that looks like a closet on the inside. He presses his foot to the floor and there is a click as part of the floor opens, revealing stairs. We walk down the stairs into a completely dark room.
“Stay here,” he orders as I wait on the last step. After a few seconds the room lights up with florescent lights. The cinderblock walls are painted white and match the white tiled floors. The room is very clean and smells of bleach. Two large, black, leather chairs that look similar to what you would sit in when you’re getting blood drawn sit in the corner to the left. Rhett watches me gaze upon the room with his hands stuffed in his pockets before walking over to a giant stainless steel refrigerator at the back corner or the room. Inside, bags of blood fill the shelves.
My expression must be odd, because he calls me on it. “Not what you were expecting?” He grabs one of the
bags and closes the door.
I realize I’ve been holding my breath and let out a long exhale. “No, I guess it isn’t,” I answer honestly.
“Were you expecting a dungeon with humans chained to the walls?” he jokes but resentment tinges his voice.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. I suppose I wondered if they chased people down and fed on them or even wondered if they had someone locked up for feeding purposes.
He shakes his head, laughing. “Of course, you did.” He sounds bitter.
“Are you mad?” I take a step up as he approaches me.
“You really think I’m a monster, don’t you?” He stares directly at me.
How should I answer? I’ve been taught that blood healers are soulless creatures, but there is no denying that Rhett doesn’t fit that description. Of course, he did kidnap me, and that isn’t exactly the epitome of good.
Before I can answer, he pokes a hole through the top of the bag with his finger, slowly inserts his finger in his mouth, and sucks the blood off of it.
My stomach lurches as he proceeds to suck on the bag, tossing his head back as he does. He depletes the bag in under a minute. A drop of blood trickles out the corner of his mouth, and I watch with envy as he catches it with his tongue. My mouth waters, and I lick my lips, when suddenly it hits me. I want to taste blood? What the hell is that about? I gag, nauseated with myself. I turn away, hoping he doesn’t notice my disgust.
“This is it,” he shrugs. When I don’t respond, he says, “You can go now.” He wipes his mouth with his arm and tosses the bag into a trash bin by the refrigerator.
I want to say something, but can’t find any words. I have known all along he drinks blood, that he’s a vampire. Well, technically he is. Have I forgotten how relevant that fact is as I’ve become more and more attracted to him? But right now, I’m more concerned with what the hell just happened to me? Why did I crave blood? Is being around Rhett making me desire things I normally wouldn’t? I’m too freaked out to try and console Rhett, so I say, “Goodnight.”
As I start up the stairs, he calls after me. “Humans can be monsters, too.”
“What do you mean?” I stop and turn back towards him.
His eyes fill with some form of sadness. “I mean, everything and everyone are not always what they seem.” He walks towards the back of the room, and I make my way to my bedroom. My better judgment is fighting my feelings for Rhett. I want to see him as an evil lifeless creature, but that just isn’t what he is. Yes, he’s a blood healer, and he drinks blood, but does that outweigh the good I see in him? Lying in bed, I roll on my side and hug my pillow. If only Thomas would have left with me that night. None of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have to fight these feelings my mind keeps telling me I shouldn’t be having.
I lay restless for hours, trying to fall asleep, but my mind is ridden with what ifs. If I were with my brothers, they would tell me what to do. My mind keeps replaying Rhett’s words. “Humans can be monsters, too.” What was he telling me? I know humans can be bad, but it was like he was trying to tell me something without actually saying it. I reflect on people I’ve known. There’s Lucy. She may be a prime example. Maybe he was speaking about her. “I mean, not everyone and everything is what they seem.” That is true. Lucy seemed to be a loving, protective aunt, but she wasn’t. It seems impossible to imagine she was planning to sell us, but Thomas has no reason to lie to me.
I stop at that thought.
I stare into the darkness of my room and keep repeating that to myself over and over. Then I hear Rhett’s words. “Humans can be monsters too.” Was he trying to tell me that Thomas is a monster? He did say he suspects Thomas is a reaper. My mind locks on the idea that maybe Rhett wants me to think Thomas is a monster. He obviously didn’t want me to see Thomas again. Hours later, I finally drift off to sleep, still mulling Rhett’s words over in my head.
The dreary sky and muggy air tells me my dream senses my uncertainty. I sit on a beach, staring out into an ocean with no end. My skin glistens with sweat from the humidity, and the air smells of salt and sand, while seagulls peck the ground a short distance away. I dig my feet into the sand and push some on top of them with my hands. The humidity is so thick, it’s almost choking me, but I try to relax. The grit of the sand feels good against my skin, and I try to avoid thinking about anything other than that, but of course, I can’t.
Rhett appears beside me, which I conclude is my subconscious bringing him here. He stands at first, staring out onto the water, his hands shoved into the pockets of a pair of khaki linen pants, rolled up at the ankles. His white shirt is opened in the front. “I’m not a monster.”
“I know.”
“I’m not soulless either.”
I nod.
“I know you have feelings for me.” He states it rather than question it.
I stand and brush the sand off of my shorts. “I do,” I agree, without argument. I would only be arguing with myself.
“But you’re also scared of me.” He turns his head slightly, eyeing me with his peripheral vision.
“I barely know you, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. It’s weird. I’m feeling all of these things for you and it’s only been a couple of days. Are my feelings genuine or is it that you’ve trapped me here and I’m lonely, and you’re the only one here?”
He quirks an eyebrow and shakes his head. “I trapped you here.” He says it with a snort. “When you look at it that way…” He kicks at the water.
“What other way is there to look at it?” I snap.
He ignores my question. “But there’s something else?”
A giant knot forms in my stomach.
“Thomas.” His tone sounds as if he’s disgusted.
“I…” No words will form, so I remain silent.
“You still love him?” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Yes…I mean no. I don’t know!” I cross my arms.
“It’s okay,” You’re working things out, and I don’t want to make that harder. There are more important things at hand.” His posture straightens as he turns to me.
“Such as?”
“I have to go away for a while.”
“What?”
“Just a few days.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just have some things to take care of.”
“Rhett?” How could I have been fooled once again? He’s really here. I thought I was talking to myself, but he’s really here.
“It’s okay.” He smiles and my knees grow weak.
He leans in and kisses my cheek softly, like a friend would.
Tingles ripple through my body. I close my eyes taken by the sensation. “Rhett I…” I open my eyes, but he’s gone. “Rhett!” I run down the beach as if he had run away—not completely vanished. “Rhett!” I stop, realizing it’s pointless. I plop back on the beach, feeling defeated. “Don’t go,” I say quietly, knowing he won’t hear me.
.
sixteen
When I wake the next day, Sarah is waiting for me in the kitchen. She sits mute, staring out the window at the back of the property.
“Good morning.” The words feel awkward. Did Rhett share anything about the previous day’s events with her?
Her eyebrows rise slightly, but she doesn’t speak. Good old Sarah, about as social as a monk. Mickey brings me a plate of fresh fruit and yogurt, and I’m grateful for the friendly smile he shares. I eat slowly, trying not to make any sound as I chew, because the kitchen is dead silent. When I finish, I sit quietly, waiting for Sarah to tell me what I’m supposed to do next.
“Let’s go.” She stands and exits the room. I follow, although not as eager as she may have expected. I follow her into the first room to the right of the stairs at the front of the house. The room is a deep hunter green with a mahogany desk and leather chairs. She sits down at the desk and flips open a lap top. She types fast, and I stand in front of the desk silent, lost in my own thoughts. I want to ask h
er where Rhett is, but can’t find the courage. I know she would love to torture me over it.
Finally, she stands and steps to the side of the desk chair she’s been sitting in. “Have a seat.” She motions for me to sit in the chair.
I apprehensively slide my way around the side of the desk and sit. The Internet Explorer tab is open. I glance up at her confused. “Thought you might like to check on your brothers. Rhett said you have some code system to alert each other if there’s trouble.” I stare at her still confused. Did I tell Rhett that? Why would she let me do this?
“You seem…” she stares into the ceiling, “tense.” She nods satisfied with her choice word. “Maybe checking on your brothers will make you feel better.”
I gawk at her. Who is this person and what has she done with the cold Sarah I’ve come to avoid like the plague. “But Rhett said—”
“Rhett’s not here. I’m in charge now. I’ll be back in ten.” She leaves me by myself.
I stare at the screen for a moment. Is this is a trick? Why would she let me check on them? I log on to the banks website that holds our account. I established a very basic code system. 911 would obviously mean they needed help or had an emergency. Anything with the number 7 would indicate they moved and the numbers following would indicate where. So if the bank account held $7, 234.00 I would know they had moved to Pierre, South Dakota. I log into the accounts and stare at the screen for a moment, trying to decipher the numbers in the savings account.
Member Checking: 2311.15
Member Savings: 21.16
The balance in the savings account has never been so low. In fact, we were to keep at least one thousand dollars in the account because the bank required it. I run numbers in my head, trying to remember what 21.16 would mean, but nothing stands out. Why are they keeping so much money in the checking account? I open the desk drawer, grab a pad of Post-Its, and jot the numbers down from both accounts. I’m not worried, because they know what codes to signal me with if there is trouble. I log off of the bank account and clear the cookies to hide any trail of where I’ve been. I sit lost in thought until Sarah enters the room, snapping me back to reality.
