An Appetite for Love

by Elaine Young

  Violet sighed. “Of course, I don’t want to leave you, but the atmosphere isn’t the way it used to be. It’s always been frenetic, but to the extent possible it was sort of laid back, and happy – not anymore. It no longer feels like the same place.”

  After taking a sip of the strong brew, I said pointedly. “Terrible as the disappearances of Cora and Helen, I believe something else is bothering you much more, and inasmuch as you called this meeting, I would like to hear what the real object of your frustration is.” I sat back, crossed my arms and waited for her to speak.

  For a moment she avoided my eyes, then looked squarely at me. “Which of Blake or John is your lover?”

  “Neither,” said a deep voice.

  Startled, Violet and I looked up and into the face of Blake, whose features radiated sarcasm to the nth degree. Though much enchanted by the handsome islander, I wished he had not shown up at this moment. I wanted to resolve my issues with Violet, regain her trust, and patch up our flailing friendship – to the extent possible.

  “May I join you?”

  “Yes, you may join Angelle,” said Violet. Grabbing her bag and scooting across the leather seat, she stood up. “I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.”

  “Vi-,” I began.

  But she ignored me, turned away and flounced off. My eyes followed her to the front door, where she exited.

  “Why did you do that, Blake?”

  He casually picked up the menu, and began scanning it. “Because, I could see that Miss Violet had you on the defensive, and I don’t like that.”

  “She’s my best friend, and we’re at odds for the first time ever. I wanted to have all of the dissension behind us by the time we left this restaurant.”

  “Well, too bad . . . I don’t like her.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s nosy, and far too discerning.”

  “Discerning? That’s a trait you can’t bear in a woman, I gather.”

  “That’s not entirely true . . . I like the trait in you, but not in her. She comes off peevish and self-righteous – characteristics I absolutely detest.”

  “Well, it’s not for you to like my friend. I like her, which is all that matters. From the very beginning, she has always been honest with me, and I with her. There’s not a lot of trust between us these days.”

  Blake put down the menu, just as Carlos returned with my meal.

  “Thank you, Carlos.”

  Carlos nodded. “Anything for you, sir?”

  “No,” said Blake, scanning the contents of my plate. “Why did you come here, when you could have had some of my cooking at the office?”

  “We thought we were getting away from the office, but, apparently not.”

  He leaned in toward me. “You can never get away from me, don’t you know that?”

  I avoided his pointed gaze. “We wanted and needed privacy.”

  “Well, she left, and I’m glad. It is a rare moment when I am allowed to simply sit and admire your fabulous attributes.”

  Suddenly, the desire was overwhelming to get away from him, as I knew something was happening that would distract me even more than I was now, and because there were other matters to handle, and the very lives of my employees were at stake, I barely ate anything. Signaling to Carlos, I took out my credit card to pay for the bill, and left my sexy friend sitting there.

  I returned to the office to find Violet angrily jamming papers, photographs, and knickknacks from her drawers and file cabinets into three boxes next to her desk.

  It was clear what she was doing, but I feigned ignorance. “What are you doing, Violet?”

  “What does it look like, Angelle? My resignation letter is on your desk.”

  “Violet no – please don’t do this.”

  “I tried to talk to you, didn’t I, at the restaurant, but that blood-sucking parasite came, and instead of telling him we were having a private conversation, you allowed him to interrupt. Well, now you can have him all to yourself, because I am leaving.”

  I rushed to the door and closed it, lest anyone hear what was going on. “You can’t resign,” I said.

  “Oh no? Watch me!”

  “Violet, please, I am having a very difficult time. I’m sure you’re right that I have changed, but I don’t know how or why. Please help me figure this thing out. I can’t imagine you leaving me in such a situation.”

  She stopped packing and looked at me, tears streaming down her face. “Perhaps I have changed, too. All our lives it’s been about you, well now, it’s not so much about me, as it is that I want a different life, and as long as I am around you that can’t happen. It was wonderful here at one point, but not anymore, so please leave me alone, because resigning is probably the best thing that can happen for us both. You need to stand on your own two feet, and I need to refocus.”

  I sank onto her plush floral couch. “You’re in love with John, aren’t you Violet?”

  She stopped temporarily, her eyes downcast. I got up and threw my arms around her. “Violet, I understand if you are. He’s a very attractive man – smart, gentile – perfect . . .”

  “For you.”

  “Perhaps for us both.”

  Surprise registered on her still tear-streaked face. “You should be ashamed,” she sneered. “Are you sleeping with both of them, Angelle?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re so greedy . . . you always were.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that, until now,” I conceded.

  “And I suppose they’re both in love with you?”

  “I don’t know . . . I have no idea. I could simply be sex – for all of us. Who knows?”

  “So what are you going to do about the situation, Angelle?”

  “I wish I knew, Violet . . . I don’t. Please help me.”

  “How can I help you, when I need help, too?”

  “We can help each other.”

  Violet thought for a moment, and then said, “I don’t see how that’s possible this time. It’s gone too far. In fact, I know I need to get away from this place.”

  “Yes, you need time off, but please don’t resign, Violet. I need you -- in so many ways. There are so many things to resolve here, and nobody can resolve an issue the way you can. I love you, just as you love me. No two people love with the same intensity; I wish I were like you – I’ve always envied your even temperament, your kindness and thoughtfulness, your altruism, your ability to see through things, your quiet intelligence.”

  She approached me, and soon we were hugging and crying uncontrollably on each other’s shoulder. When there were no more tears, we disengaged.

  “I have to go, Angelle.”

  “But you will be back?”

  She nodded. “But, I don’t feel up to unpacking.”

  “You don’t have to; I’ll lock your office until you come back. Nobody will know what almost happened here today.”

  Violet walked out the door, without looking back.

  Chapter IV

  After kissing Angelle ravenously, John muttered against her lips, “You’re like a drug. I can never get enough.”

  Angelle pulled out of his embrace; her thoughts were with Violet’s profound love for the man who had just kissed her best friend. Her own feelings for John were real, but so was her deep regard for a life-long friend named Violet. She could not go on hurting Violet, but how could she let go of John? His was a tender, uncomplicated love, while Blake’s was tumultuous and tempestuous! Their differences offered her the best alternatives; they could be likened to darkness and light, and she loved these distinctions. Both men were a challenge, in their own way. But, how selfish could she be? Violet had waited long for and was deserving of a good man – a man just like John. Of course, John would have to develop feelings for Violet in order for them to be together. Was it possible that they could somehow find their way into each other’s arms? Perhaps. But, someone would have to leave the scene, and Angelle knew she could never be happy with that, and yet--.

 
; Angelle walked through the glass French doors, onto her patio, and approached a marble fountain where water sprouted from a vase help by a winged angel; soon John stood behind her, rubbing her arms.

  “You’re in deep thought, Angelle. What’s on your mind?”

  She sighed. “I was thinking of Violet, my best friend.”

  His brow furrowed. “Come to think of it, where is Violet? I haven’t seen her for a few days.”

  “She was tired, and took some time off.”

  “Wow . . . I’m surprised she didn’t say anything to me before she left.”

  Angelle shrugged. “I suppose she really was exhausted. Besides, a few things have been going on that she finds difficult to handle, so instead of resigning – and she almost did, we agreed that she should take a hiatus to sort things out.”

  “It was probably the right thing to do,” John said. “When is she expected back?”

  “Given her state, I left it open-ended. She’ll come back when she’s ready, I suppose. She’s too diligent and honorable not to.”

  John swirled Angelle around. “Let’s make love.”

  “No, John.”

  “No! What’s going on here?”

  “We’ve been reckless, John, and dismissive of the feelings of other people.”

  “Other people – who do you mean?”

  She would not divulge Violet’s love for him. “Look, suffice it say that I have not been true to my principles. Come to think of it, I have not been the same since leaving Antigua!”

  He gave me a dark stare. “So, you’ve allowed Blake to corrupt you, haven’t you? Of all women I would never have expected that of you. You were so different.”

  “Well, it might have seemed that way, but if I were truly the person I thought I was, he would not have been able to change me. Perhaps it took Blake to show me exactly what’s at the core of me, and now I know. I’m not happy about it, but it’s the truth.”

  “One second . . . you don’t have to accept anything – even about yourself – that you don’t like. And if he brings out the worst in you, stay away from him.”

  “I feel weak, John. For the first time ever, I feel vulnerable.”

  He hugged her. “There comes a time in life when the strongest of us are humbled. It’s life, that’s all.”

  “I’m losing myself. Violet and I never kept secrets from each other.”

  “We all have secrets.”

  She looked up at him. “I can’t imagine you having secrets . . . you’re such an honest and gentle man.”

  “Thanks, Angelle, but I am a man with things going on that I could never discuss with a normal person – my secrets would scare the living daylights out of you. So, don’t think so badly of yourself – you’re going through a rough patch, that’s all, but you’ll come back. And if you need me, I’m here for you.”

  John drove away from Angelle’s home, feeling lost, and ineffectual. Never before had she dropped her guard before him. He wished she would not shoulder any of the blame where Blake was concerned. A well-known predator of beautiful women, it was no surprise that Blake was able to draw the most gorgeous of them all, Angelle Winters, into his infamous lair. But, as awful as John felt about Angelle, he felt a similar amount of sympathy for Violet. It was an impression that Violet emitted which sometimes caused one to overlook her; it probably derived from the fact that Angelle drew men like a moth to a candle. Violet, was pretty – in a softly feminine quiet way, and actually more interesting, because one never knew what she thought.

  John smiled slightly, sorry that he could not help Violet, when the truth was, if Angelle should decide to choose Blake, and it surely seemed that she was trapped, John would have no problem at all courting Violet. And yet, his attraction to Angelle was as strong as it could be, and he could not imagine a day when he could not take her into his embrace and make passionate love to her.

  On the other hand, he did not want Violet to think that he did not care for her – he did, very deeply. He wanted her to know that, so he made a U-turn and headed in the direction of her cute little house, nestled among the trees of Niskey Lake Road. The driveway was long, and curved around to the back. Once there, he got out and walked around to the front, where he mounted the stairs and rang the doorbell.

  Soon, the door opened. There was Violet, hair back in a thick ponytail, and wearing a violet-colored dress, and a dark purple apron. Her face lit up at the sight of him.

  “John! How pleasant to see you! Do come in.” She opened the iron and glass screen door, and he walked inside. Just as he suspected, her home was cozy, with plush cloth-covered chairs and a settee. The curtains were frilly in pink and lavender. Two bookcases were situated on either side of a screen-encased fireplace.

  “What a lovely place you have here,” he said.

  She stood there smiling. “Thanks. Come into the kitchen.”

  He followed behind her bouncy form. “Mmmmm – something smells divine.”

  “I’m making crab cakes.”

  “Whoa – my favorite seafood.”

  She giggled. “Mine too.” She opened the oven, and with a purple potholder, drew out a pan of sizzling golden brown crab cakes, and with it a pan of croissants.

  “Have dinner with me,” she said.

  “I’d love to.”

  Later, they sat at the kitchen table. A large bowl of spinach salad sat at the middle of the table, together with a dish of hot yellow rice.

  After eating in silence for a spell, John said. “This is so tasty, Violet. When did you learn to cook like this?”

  “A long time ago. My mom taught me. I’ve always liked cooking, and I’m delighted that you came so that we can do justice to the food. I may have prepared a bit too much.”

  “You needed worry – it’s already gone.”

  They both laughed, and continued eating.

  John leaned against the back of the white wooden chair. “I can’t remember when I’ve enjoyed dinner so much.”

  “Thanks.”

  It was then that he noticed a dimple at the right corner of her mouth; it was very becoming. “So, are you enjoying your time off?”

  “Oh, very much . . . it’s exactly what I needed. I feel like a new person.”

  “I hope it means that you’ll be back soon.”

  “Oh, I will,” Violet responded. “I’ve been so busy that I had completely forgotten how much I love my little house, the peace and quiet, and the tranquility of the lake. The work load made it impossible for me to spend much time here. I really appreciate it now.

  “That’s great, Violet. I’m glad you have this refuge.”

  “Me too.”

  “I noticed you have a piano . . . do you play?”

  “Yes, I do. Should I play something for you?”

  “Please do.”

  After wiping their hands, Violet led the way back into the living room. John sat down on the settee, while Violet took her place on the piano stool. Her hands poised over the keys, she began to play a haunting rendition of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata.” When she stroked the last bass note, John erupted in applause, arose from his place on the couch, approached Violet, pulled her from the stool, and hugged her.

  “Violet, that was wonderful . . . it’s always been one of my favorite pieces. Thank you, for a most unexpectedly lovely evening.”

  “Thanks for coming,” she said.

  Blake’s Thoughts

  In a black leather recliner -- in the expansive living room of a darkened apartment, with a sliver of moonlight slanted through a slit in the black drapes, sat Blake -- thinking:

  I want Angelle all to myself. I will not share her with John again. He is not her equal -- I am, and I will prove it, once I persuade her that there is no other man in the entire universe who can excite her as I do, or who can expose her to things she never knew were possible.

  Sadly, there are negatives. My nature cannot be denied; it has created an incredibly tempting situation – which becomes more dangerous with ever
y day I spend as Executive Chef at Galaxy Entertainment. What hell it is trying to quell the longing I feel for Angelle. My cravings have led me to unspeakable acts – against others. More than anything I want to bring her completely under my control, and she will become my sole victim. She is very special to me, and I am convinced that we will be together. I want her and -- despite my flaws – she wants me.

  Blake stood up, walked over to the window and drew back the drapes. The colorful Atlanta skyline winked back at him, making his black eyes glitter.

  In due time, I must reveal who and what I am; but, by then my power over her will be complete, and any act of protest or resistance on her part is doomed to failure, because she loves me.

  While I fear Violet’s insights and suspicions regarding John and me, most worrying is the near certainty that our activities will destroy Angelle’s company. It would not surprise me if Violet believes that I have some connection to the disappearance of two female employees at Galaxy Entertainment. She would be correct. Just as Cora and Helen fell prey to my hunger for blood, others will, as well. It pains me to make the office my killing field. The only way to put an end to these incidents: I must persuade Angelle that a more fantastic world awaits us, away from here. She will become my queen, barring all others. She will reign supreme by my side, exquisitely beautiful -- forever and ever.

  Yes, during my next encounter with Angelle . . . I will permit her to remember. Then and only then will I know if she can forsake this world and all she owns in order to accompany me to a plane where untold power, and unparalleled pleasure will be ours.

  That very night, as Angelle lay in bed, thinking about her conversations with Violet, and then John, she felt incredibly alone. Tears welled up and spilled over onto her pink satin pillowcase. She needed something – or someone -- to soothe and comfort her; she had cheated everyone; Violet, John, and Blake, all were her victims. Betrayal plunged a dagger into her heart, wounding her so that she was wracked by painful sobs until a cool hand rested on her hot brow.

  Angelle’s eyes few open, and peered into the semi-darkness, until they made out a tall shape standing over her bed. She bolted up, but two hands grasped her shoulders and gently forced her back onto the pillow. It was Blake; how had he gotten into her room?