Tears blurred my vision. I’d never guessed when I’d first met the arrogant man in the ridiculous costumes that I would end up missing him so terribly.
Victor wiped a tear from my cheek. “I have something to give you.”
“No more gifts,” I pleaded. His uncashed check was somewhere at the bottom of my purse, and the Jaguar was sitting in my garage because I couldn’t bring myself to drive it.
His lips lifted in a humorless smile. “This is different.” He left me sitting on the couch and went to the desk. When he returned, he was carrying a very familiar script. “I want this to be your play.”
I couldn’t speak. I pressed my lips tightly together as I accepted the battered copy of 16 Voices.
“I’d like for it to be staged. At least once. I don’t want the play to die with me.”
“It won’t!” I paged through the script. The thing had been read and written on so much that it was nearly falling apart. “In fact, I’ll stage it right away.” I met Victor’s eyes. “Can you make a last request? To see 16 Voices staged?”
He ran his tongue over his fangs as he considered this. Finally, he shook his head. “I can’t endure the torment of waiting for the end to come. I’ve clung to life long enough, and I want to get this over with. Besides, in order to keep from going rogue, I’d have to take more shine, and I refuse to do it. When I drained Andrew, I realized how wrong it is. I violated him in a way that no human should ever be violated. Your souls are your most precious gifts. No one should take that away from you.”
I cried when we said good-bye. Victor’s eyes remained dry, but his lips trembled and he swallowed repeatedly. We shook hands, but he pulled me into an awkward embrace.
“I won’t forget you,” I said fervently.
He nodded, and a little of the sadness left his eyes. “Thank you.”
I pressed the ‘down’ button on the elevator, but was instead lifted to the sixth floor. The doors opened up on a loud argument between Hedda and Charles. Standing behind them was Isaiah. My heart jumped when our eyes met. I immediately looked away, but blood surged to my cheeks.
Charles’s eyes snapped at me. “What did Victor want?”
I had exited the elevator without realizing it. Silently, I held out the 16 Voices script.
Charles rolled his eyes. “Not that monstrosity again.”
I clutched the play to my chest, worried that he’d try to snatch it from me. “I want to stage this as soon as possible.”
His upper lip curled. “Where do you plan to do that? Neither the Bleak Street nor Mercury Hall is available.”
For a moment, I scrambled for an answer. Then I said, “How about the Cipher?”
He started to frown, but smiled nastily instead. “And where will you get the funds to pay for this production?”
Shit. It was like he’d sunk a dart into my helium balloon. Unfortunately, he was right. I could waitress full time for ten years and still not make enough to stage a play. I glanced at Hedda, hoping she might be able to help, but she sadly shook her head.
Charles smiled smugly. “That’s what I thought.”
Defeated, I headed back towards the elevator. “The limo is waiting for you downstairs,” Hedda said.
“I’ll take Cassie home.” Isaiah picked up a box at his feet. “That is, if she’ll let me.”
At least one thing in this miserable day could make me smile.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Neither Isaiah nor I spoke as we walked to the parking lot. For days, I’d been fantasizing about what I’d say when I saw him again. Now, however, I didn’t know how to breech our awkward silence.
When we reached the lot, his Jeep was nowhere in sight. Instead, he unlocked the doors of a pick-up truck so old and battered it made my Focus look like it had just rolled off the assembly line.
“Where’s your baby?” I asked.
He smiled ruefully. “I had to sell it. The insurance wouldn’t pay out, and Charles refused my request for reimbursement.”
When we were both seated, Isaiah laid his box on my lap. “This is for you.”
I immediately knew where it had come from. Bleak Street energy warmed my fingertips, and the box itself had the familiar, comforting smell of the dusty theater. Eagerly, I tore off the tape.
“Don’t expect too much,” he warned.
I laughed when I pulled out a single, worn slipper. It must have come from the costume closet. I also found a creased red gel; a thick, gold braid that had once tied back one of the stage’s curtains; and makeup so old it had cracked like dried mud. Each, lowly object pulsed with Bleak Street energy.
“I wanted to get something nicer for you,” Isaiah said, “but everything at the auction was too expensive. It’s not that you aren’t worth it,” he quickly added, “but Perry wouldn’t let me mortgage the store.”
I nodded, understanding. Because Detroit’s premier auction house, DuMouchelles, had handled the event, it had been written up in both the Free Press and the News. According to the articles, every item had gone for a small fortune. The beautiful chandelier had sold for so much money that even my generous check from Victor couldn’t have paid for it. My guess was that Bertrand’s vampire guests had all wanted a trophy to celebrate the fall of Hedda’s grieve.
“At least you got to go to the auction,” I said.
He shrugged. “As a favor to Hedda, I worked security. After the auction was over, I rescued this box from the Dumpster.”
“You mean, no one wanted one of these?” I lifted out a thin piece of brass stamped E6 that had once marked a row and seat number. It might be junk, but I didn’t care. To me, these treasures were life savers.
Digging deeper, I withdrew a small, glass knob that might have been attached to a bureau drawer at one time. It wasn’t the crystal from the chandelier, but it was a great substitute. I smiled at the way it fit into the palm of my hand.
The best treasure lay at the very bottom: a fanciful, black eye mask trimmed in sequins. The thing was a little worse for wear, but still pretty. It reminded me of the Bleak Street’s better days.
I held the mask up to my eyes and smiled. “This stuff is amazing! Thank you.”
“I know how much you loved the Bleak Street,” he said. “I felt the same way about the old Tigers’ Stadium. When I was a kid, my dad took me to games there on Sundays. He called it worshiping at the green cathedral.” His face softened at the memory. “It was like something died the day they demolished that place.”
Knowing that he understood meant as much as the gift. I reached around the box to give him an awkward hug. He held on tightly, pressing his cheek against my hair. “I’ve missed you so much. I must have picked up the phone a hundred times, but I didn’t dare call.”
So he’d been as afraid as I had been. Relief flooded my chest. “You’ll face down a dozen vampires, but you’re too frightened to talk to me?” I playfully tweaked one of his dreads.
“Sometimes, facing the truth is harder than standing up to vampires.” He let go of me. “You cut me to the quick when you said that my guilt was mostly self pity.” His mouth tightened then relaxed. “But you were right.” He brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes. “Will you still be my leading lady?”
“Do you even have to ask?” I put my hand under his chin, drew him closer, and kissed him.
My heart felt a hundred pounds lighter as Isaiah drove me home. Isaiah’s face relaxed as well, but his eyes remained grave. “How’s Andrew?”
“Death on two feet. He eats a little and sleeps a lot.”
“I remember those days.” He rubbed his neck as if he could still feel the fang marks. “Have you tried giving him comic books? They helped me.”
I’d tried comics, DVDs, and cooking magazines. I’d attempted to drag him to the mall, the gym, or the grocery store, but he refused to leave the house. I’d even played God of War with him. I had no idea how to play that video game, yet I beat him every time because all he did was stare at the TV and occasionall
y press a button on the controller. “I guess all I can do is wait it out,” I said.
“Perry and I could visit him,” Isaiah suggested. “Maybe talking to us will help.”
“Thanks. A support group is a great idea.”
As we talked, I continued to sift through my treasures. Just touching those objects made me feel stronger. As I pawed through the items, I realized one more thing lay flat against the bottom of the box. An envelope with a broken, wax seal.
“This looks so familiar,” I said, running my fingers over the red wax. “I just can’t remember where I’ve seen it before.” Inside was an itinerary that included flight schedules from New Orleans to Detroit along with hotel information. “Any ideas?”
Isaiah shrugged when I showed it to him. “No, sorry.”
When we stopped at a red light, he asked if I was hungry. When I admitted I was, he turned into a Taco Bell drive-thru. “Only the best for my lady,” he teased.
We ordered – a box of tacos for him, a pair of chalupas for me – and when we got to the window, I offered to pay. I couldn’t afford to stage a play, but at least I could feed my vampire hunter.
As I dug through my purse for my wallet, I pulled out the slim, white envelope containing Victor’s check. “Think they have change for a fifty?”
He frowned. “I’m sure they do.”
“What about this kind of fifty?” I showed him the check, and his eyes widened.
“Am I really looking at four zeroes?”
When I nodded, he said, “Fifty-thou would buy you a lot of tacos. Or comic books.” He winked.
Or groceries, or gasoline, or…it could pay rent on a theater as well as hire a cast and crew to perform a play. Realizing my own stupidity, I slapped my forehead and laughed out loud.
“Care to share that joke?”
I did. As we sat in his truck eating our food, I explained my plan to stage 16 Voices. “I want to do it as a tribute to Victor.”
“He’d like that.” Isaiah put his hand over mine. “I feel that I owe him something for protecting you when I didn’t.”
I smiled. At that moment, I would have been perfectly happy if not for one thing: the memory of Charles’s smirking face. That image marred my happily-ever-after with Isaiah like a big, black fly stuck in the frosting of a birthday cake.
As Isaiah pulled back into traffic, I explained my suspicions about Charles. “I don’t know how, but I’m going to expose that bastard for what he did,” I concluded. “Somehow, he’s going to pay.”
Isaiah had listened intently, never interrupting once. Now, he tugged thoughtfully at his lower lip. “You’re treading on dangerous ground. Vampires don’t take well to humans butting into grieve business.”
My heart sank. “You think I shouldn’t do it.”
“No. It needs to be done, but carefully. If we’re going to accuse him, we’ll need proof. Solid, irrefutable proof.”
We. I grinned.
Isaiah parked behind my Focus which still looked worse for wear. The Jaguar was stowed in my garage. I couldn’t bear to drive it, and Andrew had flat-out refused when I offered it to him.
Suddenly, I had a great idea. “I know you loved your Jeep, but how about a new car?”
“I wish I could,” he said, “but I can’t afford it right now.”
“I can help with that. Come with me.” I led him into the garage and showed him the XKR. “It’s yours if you want it.”
Isaiah’s jaw dropped. “Where did you get it?”
“It was a gift from Victor, but thinking about driving it makes me so nervous that I hyperventilate.” It was true. After my inaugural drive, I couldn’t bear to expose the beautiful machine to the looming dangers of potholes and careless drivers. “What do you say?”
“I couldn’t,” he protested even as he reached out to reverently stroke the front panel.
“It’s got heated seats,” I said, “and a kick-ass stereo system.”
“You’re killing me!” He dipped down to peer through a tinted window. “Is that a leather interior?”
“Yup.”
He groaned.
“Seriously. Take it off my hands.” When he continued to hedge, I said, “How about a trade? Your truck for the Jag? That way, Andrew can finally have his own wheels.” I slipped my hand into his. “Besides, you gave me an amazing gift today. You deserve one in return.”
Finally, he agreed. Delighted, I handed over the keys and checked the car to make sure I’d gotten all of my things out of it. I almost missed the envelope lying on the backseat floor. It was the one I’d accidentally stolen from Charles’s box of mementos. The envelope was addressed to Charles, and on the back was a very familiar red, wax seal.
My hands trembling, I pulled out a copy of Streetcar Named Desire.
“Isn’t that the play you were auditioning for at the Cipher?” Isaiah asked.
I nodded and swallowed, too overwhelmed to speak. A folded sheet of stationary had been tucked in-between the pages of the script. Written in blocky letters was: Set up the auditions. If we’re pleased, you’ll get your reward. It was signed Frances Charbonneau. Despite the wintry air in the garage, I began to sweat.
I must have looked faint because Isaiah took my elbow and steered me towards the house. His firm, but gentle, grip was like a lifeline. One I gratefully accepted.
By the time we reached the back door, I was steady enough to stand on my own. “Not a word of this to Andrew,” I warned before we went inside. “I don’t want to bother him with more vampire drama.”
To my surprise, Andrew stood at the kitchen counter, a mixing bowl in front of him. Not only that, he’d showered and dressed in clean clothes for the first time in days. However, his heavy-lidded eyes made him look drugged. “I decided to make cookies. Oatmeal raisin.” His voice, too, remained dull.
“Good for you!”
He offered a wan smile and went back to measuring flour.
I dragged Isaiah into the living room. With numb fingers, I pulled the second envelope from my box of Bleak Street treasures and re-examined the itinerary. I wasn’t surprised to see that the dates for the New Orleans/Detroit flights matched up with the dates for the Cipher auditions. Charles had been planning the coup against Hedda even longer than I’d realized.
Although I had watched Charles try to pimp out my best friend to Victor and had heard the lies he’d told to Marcella, I’d never guessed the depth of his treachery. He’d set up the Cipher deal knowing that those vampires would be devouring the actors’ shine. It was like he’d condoned rape. I clenched my hands into fists. The bastard! The rat! The coward!!
After a moment of thoughtful silence, I said, “We need to tell Hedda.”
Isaiah frowned. “Do we have enough proof?”
I waved the envelopes at him.
He shrugged and took out his cell. After tapping a few numbers, he said, “Hedda? It’s Isaiah.” As if that deep voice needed any introduction. “Are you free to talk?” He waited a beat, then sketched out the conversation he and I had been having. “I understand, but…Yes, I know. I know.” His frown grew deeper and deeper. “Yes, it’s speculation, but there are some odd coincidences here. Of course… But if you’d only…” He snapped his phone shut.
“Well?”
“She’s refusing to listen. In fact, I made her angry. It’s her opinion that the vampire’s code is as good as law, and if she can accept it, then so should we.”
Just like Victor. “But she loves her grieve so much! You’d think she’d fight harder to keep it.”
He shrugged. “She’s lost everything – her lover, her theater, her grieve – and she’s a broken woman. Fighting takes strength, and I don’t think she has any left.”
Hedda might not want to fight, but I was determined to. Charles would not be rewarded for his treason. One way or another, I’d get Hedda to listen to me.
Andrew called us into the kitchen and, with a brighter smile than I’d seen in days, offered us each a freshly-baked cookie.
I gladly accepted one, but at the first bite struggled not to gag. It tasted like graveyard dirt. Isaiah, too, grimaced.
Andrew’s smile faded. “They’re pretty bad, aren’t they?”
“Not too bad,” I said. I choked down another bite, but couldn’t force down a third. “Sorry, hon. They’re horrible.”
Isaiah set his cookie back on the plate. “Did you forget the sugar?”
Andrew shook his head. “No, I swear I followed the recipe.”
“Try it again,” I urged. This time, I stayed in the kitchen and watched, making sure he completed every step. Unfortunately, the second batch was as bad as the first. The cookies weren’t just dry. They tasted, for lack of a better word, dead. Even the smell was noisome.
Andrew scraped the mess into the trash.
“Third time’s the charm,” I said.
“Forget it,” he mumbled. He went into his room and shut the door.
“His shine always came through in his cooking,” I said. I put my face in my hands. “What if it never comes back?”
Isaiah rubbed my back. “It will. Yours did.”
“Only because of the Bleak Street.”
“Exactly. Perry and I both think you recovered so quickly because you got back into theater. Even if you couldn’t make yourself go on stage, you surrounded yourself with what you loved.”
I lifted your head. “Why didn’t you try it?”
His frown was like a thundercloud. “Losing my chance at a baseball career gutted me. I couldn’t bring myself to step foot into a stadium let alone go to another game.” He rubbed his injured leg. “If I’d tried coaching high school ball or even watched a few games on TV, I might have recovered sooner, but I didn’t have your courage to face my loss.”
“And Perry?”
“The vampire didn’t just take Perry’s shine, it took away his means to getting it back. His wife still thinks he’s crazy. She refuses to talk to him, and she’s convinced the court that he’s too unstable to see his daughter.”
Stage Fright (Bit Parts) Page 31
