Second String Savior

by Rick Gualtieri

  “I get it, and I’m glad she’s on our side, but getting a vampire-Bigfoot war dropped in my lap is a lot, especially after last night. I mean, it sounds like the plot of a pulp comic or a terrible movie.”

  “No war yet. Yush want peace. Yush have u’solk of great war chief.”

  “U’solk?” I asked. “You mean his ear?”

  “Not ear, what word? Yush hold great chief’s. . .” She reached down and grabbed her crotch. Oh! “Yush hold it often. But chief have many mates, some younger, some with bigger—”

  “I get the idea,” I interrupted. “So, you and Phil?”

  “Phil-friend show much kindness to Yush. Yush repay.”

  “Okay, I need a break to process this. I’m going to go check on my family. And maybe apologize for missing my cousin’s big match.”

  “Did that already,” Julius chimed in. “Might look odd if you repeat yourself.”

  “Fine. But I should probably check in with my dad.”

  Julius shook his head slowly.

  “Why not?”

  “Your father and Sienna went to get coffee, at which point he politely implied that I, meaning you, should perhaps not interrupt, outside of emergencies.”

  “Dad and Sensei are getting coffee?”

  “At least initially. It’s quite possible that coffee may lead to—”

  Nope, I was not waiting around to hear the end of that sentence. I waved to everyone, including the Sasquatch, grabbed my jacket, and made a beeline for the door. Unfortunately, my midsection gave me all the speed of a flouncing tortoise and Phil easily caught up to me even with her smoker’s lungs.

  To her credit, she merely gave me a nicotine-infused one-armed hug. “Take a little time. I understand. The forest folk can be a little . . . overwhelming, but please know that Yush is a gentle soul who just wants to make the world a better place.”

  I promised her I would, at which point she handed me a new wig as well as a fresh supply of magic hairpins. Oh, crap, I’d almost forgotten.

  Still, I don’t think anyone could blame me for being a little absent minded. Between getting the crap kicked out of me by vampires, listening to Gary . . . ugh, meeting my very first Bigfoot, and now learning that my father was potentially dating my sensei who also happened to be a witch, I felt justified in being a bit distracted.

  But at least I had a relatively peaceful Saturday to look forward to.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I passed most of the afternoon and early evening wandering through the grey streets of downtown Worcester, enjoying the normalcy. Finally, I figured it was time to get back to my life before anyone noticed me missing. Luckily, by then I was only two blocks away from the gym. It was an easy walk to. . .

  Of course, I had to tempt fate by thinking that. All at once, a shiver ran down my spine and the hairs on my arms stood on end.

  What now?

  I turned and looked around, spotting only one other pedestrian close by. Normally, a guy in a Red Sox hoodie wouldn’t be all that unusual, but this guy added sunglasses, gloves, and a scarf across his face even though it was only in the forties. No self-respecting Massachusetts native could be that cold on a day like this.

  As I sized him up, a black sedan with tinted windows pulled up to the curb only a few feet from where I stood. Heat began to rise from beneath my wig. No doubt about it, this was bad news.

  The passenger side window rolled down just enough for me to see a smug face staring back at me from the dim interior. I recognized the yuppie from last night. “Wyatt would like to see you, now,” Todd said, his voice dripping with some combination of menace and superiority.

  “And what if I don’t want to see Wyatt, Todd?” Hey, might as well ask.

  He smiled and held up a phone. A picture of Dylan and Emo-Hair shone on the screen. “Really nice gym you have there. I might have to inquire about membership.” He didn’t have to say anything else. All I could do was hope that my hair recharged by the time I made it to the vampire lair. I breathed a sigh of relief as I felt the rubber bracelet still on my arm. Hopefully that would alert Sensei like it apparently did last night.

  “Your phone please,” Todd asked as I slid into the backseat. “Wyatt hates when people Facebook in front of him.”

  I handed my phone to Todd as the guy in the Red Sox gear climbed into the back next to me.

  Be cool, Jessie. Phil and her crew keep an eye out for this sort of thing. Heck, my rescue would probably come any minute now, maybe with extra-bonus Sasquatch action.

  “So, how did you find me?” I asked, trying to keep track of the turns we took. We appeared to be heading downtown.

  Todd pointed to my bright pink sweatshirt, the one with the Seven Hills Gym logo in bold font on it. I facepalmed. A superspy I was not. He had a satisfied smirk plastered on his face the whole ride while the others remained completely stone-faced and mute. Guess vampires could only afford so many lackeys with a personality.

  Finally, we rolled to a stop on Main Street, double parking and eliciting a few honks. “Why are we at the Palladium?”

  Rather than answer, the guy in the Sox gear reached for the door. He stepped out and I followed. “What about my phone?” I asked.

  “You’ll get it back when Wyatt is done with you. Don’t worry. We won’t use up all your data.” Todd followed it up with a snorting laugh, raising him to Colin levels on my mental punch-a-vampire list. Come on, magic hair, recharge! Why didn’t the X-men ever have problems like this?

  Red Sox Superfan led me around back. Soon I found myself in an industrial-looking corridor surrounded by boxes, pipes, and dismantled scaffolding. Go figure. I’d somehow ended up backstage in a club I was too young to enter.

  “Testing, testing . . . one . . . two . . . three. . .” The soundcheck onstage drowned out most reasonable thoughts and I found myself guided down a metal staircase into the cool, dark underbelly of the beast.

  Superfan pointed to a door marked “Office.” I rubbed my magic bracelet, hoping that did the trick, then stepped inside to see what dire fate awaited me.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Come on in, Miss Jessie. It’s truly a pleasure to see you again so soon.” Wyatt lounged behind a desk, his combat boots kicked up next to the phone and his hands behind his head. Maybe I’d get lucky and the creaking office chair he sat in would give out, impaling him on some bit of debris or other. He tipped his hat, a hipster fedora this time, and gestured to a seat on the other side of the desk.

  Superfan yanked the door shut behind me, but I didn’t fool myself that I was in any position to make a run for it. “A pleasure?”

  Wyatt smiled, showing straight white teeth. “Oh yes, darlin’. I don’t have much use for doing anything that doesn’t please me.”

  “So that’s why you brought me to your . . . secret lair?”

  He swung his feet off the desk and leaned in, giving me an obnoxious wink in the process. “Didn’t you hear? It’s bring your nemesis to work day.”

  Don’t crack a smile, Jess. It’s bad form when the villain makes the quip. Still, he did have a knack for timing. “Oh, so I’m your nemesis now? Guess I didn’t get the memo.” At least he’s an improvement over Lindsey Stallings.

  “You killed some of my posse, annihilated my office help, and generally made me look right terrible on a night when I shoulda been standing tall. Offhand, Miss Jessie, I’d say that at least makes you a thorn in my side.”

  I slid my hand along my neck, caressing one of the hairpins. “So, you’re gonna kill me?”

  Wyatt leapt to his feet, but then grinned again. “Nah.”

  “Nah?” What sort of game was he playing?

  “Are you kidding? Least boring night I’ve had all decade. Besides, you made that flannel-mouthed chucklefuck Colin look a million times worse, and in my book that erases a hell of a lot of debt. You see, darlin’, I have a very simple code in my coven—fight hard, dirty if you have to, but you don’t go running home to mama if you lose. No one here is gonna c
ry for those who couldn’t cut it. Life’s hard, and there’s always someone with your number. You were those poor fools’ number and I, for one, ain’t gonna hold it against you.”

  “So, you brought me here to say no hard feelings?” I’m pretty sure my face gave away the sarcasm just in case it didn’t translate into cowboy vernacular.

  He burst into hearty guffaws. “No. I brought you here because one of the folks you killed was my girlfriend.”

  I reached up to my hair again. Quicker than I could blink, Wyatt appeared next to me and grabbed hold of my wrist. My training took over and I wrenched free, flattening myself against the wall and raising both fists.

  Wyatt’s response was to press his own fist into the wall next to me and lean in close. “See? That’s the kind of fire I like. In fact, the way I see it, the job’s yours. No need for applying, interviewing, or any of that piddling stuff.”

  “What job?”

  “My new girlfriend, of course. You’re it until you’re dead or I find someone better.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Starship Troopers?” he asked, waiting for some kind of response. “No? Damn, I love that movie. We’ll have to watch it together sometime. Nevertheless, it’s a good philosophy, and as a consummate futurist, I decided to adopt it.”

  Words failed me again. This Wyatt was somehow declaring I was his girlfriend on the basis of a Paul Verhoeven film quote. And the worst part is, a part of me found his use of pop culture seriously cute. What the hell was wrong with me?

  He continued to watch me eagerly, a dopey grin on his fuzzy face. “While silence is an admirable quality in some women, I much prefer your sass.”

  That loosened my tongue. “I’m not here to amuse you.”

  “Yet, here you are, doing a right fine job at it. And now that the pleasantries are out of the way, what is your pleasure for this fine fall evening? Dancing? Drinking? A promenade around the park? You name it and we will burn a hole in it, darlin’.”

  “Hold on. Back up. I am not your girl—”

  “Sure, you are. You just don’t know it yet. But that’s okay, makes it all the more fun. Speaking of which, you hungry yet? I had a bite before you came, just to be polite, but I’m more than happy to chat over a meal.” He cracked open the door and whispered something to Superfan, who was still waiting outside. When he was finished, he switched his fedora out for the soldier’s cap I saw on him in Boston, then turned and winked at me. “Believe me, Miss Jessie, I only wish to paint the town red with you tonight. We can do dining and dancing, or we can chase each other around and try our best to kill each other. Either way’s a good time in my book.”

  I considered any of a thousand retorts, but in the end settled for, “Are you buying?” As shallow as it seemed, I wasn’t completely opposed to getting a free meal before kicking his butt. Also, stalling might give Phil and Sensei time to find me.

  Wyatt nodded. “I’ll buy you whatever you want, darlin’, so long as I can keep calling you that.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  A half hour later found us sitting at the fanciest steakhouse in Worcester. I had a steak and lobster combo on order and a Shirley Temple fizzing away in front of me, although I had a suspicion I could’ve ordered anything without fear of being carded. At first, the maître d' seemed annoyed by our presence, but a quick whisper from Wyatt and suddenly we had the best table in the house. We didn’t even have to ask for extra rolls—they just came.

  “Go ahead, ask what’s on your mind,” Wyatt said as he received a whiskey on the rocks despite looking no older than some high school seniors. “I can’t guarantee I’ll answer, but I really am not one to lie.”

  “Fine. Why am I here?”

  “I like to treat my ladies right. If you want a steak, then a steak you shall have.”

  “Really?” I rolled my eyes. “I mean, why are you interested in me? First off, I’m way too young, and second, I don’t for a minute believe you have some sort of girlfriend code.”

  “But I do.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since Lilly killed Delilah in the Salem skirmish of ’88. Before that it was Lucy, but she was more trouble than she was worth. It’s all ancient history. I like to be a more in the moment kinda guy. As for being too young, it’s all relative. There are ladies in the old folks’ home that are mere babies to a fella like me. If I went by that logic, I’d be drinking alone in a boot yard. Besides, I must confess that when you’re stuck with a face like mine for eternity, certain expectations follow you, no matter how old you get. They expect immaturity in word and deed. If you ask the latest crop of bloodsuckers, they seem to think it’s a foregone conclusion that someone like me would be drawn to high school girls like a moth to flame.”

  “So, I’m your high school arm candy?”

  Wyatt nodded, and damn if he didn’t have a cute crooked smile that I should totally not be paying attention to.

  “But why?”

  “Because if I give them what they expect, they see what they want and then don’t dig any deeper. As you may have already surmised, I am quite content to stay out of the politics and belly-aching that those lay-abouts in Boston consider a good time. I am also content to drink my whiskey, make small talk, and eat a prime piece of steer medium rare.”

  “Vampires are weird.” Wyatt raised his glass, I suppose I could drink to that. “I should warn you, I’m kinda boring and not good company. All I know are superheroes, anime, and whatever I’m studying this week. I don’t drink, and I’m not big on hats, so . . . probably not your type.”

  “But you’re a fan of fighting, aren’t you?”

  I kept him in suspense until I’d finished roll number three. “I respect fighting, but not for fighting’s sake. I prefer the fantasy.”

  “So . . . fighting vampires?” he asked with a smirk.

  “Touché.”

  “I can see that. You crushed Colin’s coconuts rather handily, after all.”

  I probably shouldn’t have laughed, but he had a drawl that made all his delivery quite on point. Also, I had filet mignon and an expensive, buttery lobster tail in front of me. It may have lowered my defenses ever so slightly. I watched him cutting his own steak. “You can eat food?”

  “I can take it or leave it. But it would be rude to just sit here and stare. How is yours. by the way?”

  I blinked a few times. Where in the hero-villain banter rules did it cover a steak dinner? I lapsed into simply nodding and devouring my meal as I considered this. We did manage to speak pleasantly enough about the food and even the weather, like a vampire and a shiny one had been replaced by boring office drones on a blind date. I found myself discussing how bad traffic had gotten before Wyatt finally upped the ante and ordered chocolate cake for dessert. Was this some ploy to get me too full to beat him up later? If so, it was working. We actually shared dessert like a normal couple, and I got the supreme joy of seeing him get a bit of raspberry stuck between his teeth, no fangs in sight. At least I hoped it was a raspberry.

  It was only near the end of our meal that I realized I’d made it through dinner and dessert without the Philharmonic finding me. What gives? They usually didn’t give me an hour to myself without checking in.

  “Now tell me the truth, darlin’? Has this been so bad?”

  Why did I shake my head? Come on, Jessie, at least make some semblance of playing the stoic heroine. Chocolate was no excuse to go soft, especially to a vampire cowboy with possessiveness issues. Maybe this restaurant had some kind of romance spell on it, or something?

  “I find a stroll after dinner to be most pleasant. Shall we?”

  “I need to call home. My—”

  “Your friends? Your family? That barber’s cat who was planted next to you at the fight? You think they can’t live without their Jessie for a single night?”

  “My dad will be wondering where—”

  “Doubt it. When last my people checked on him, he was accompanying that pink-haired sorceress back to her d
omicile.”

  “Really?! I mean, good for him,” I bluffed.

  He stood and led me down the busy restaurant row rather than back to the car. “Even if he was worried, don’t you think it’s your duty to rebel just a little? Come on, darlin’, test the waters and try your hand at being bad. You might like it.”

  I eyed the street—chock full of the Saturday night crowd. I even spied a police cruiser just over a block away. Could I make it if I ran? Definitely possible. I could feel the hair heating up under my wig. Was my mojo fully back? Then again, what would happen if a shiny one on vampire fight broke out in the middle of restaurant row? There were a lot of people around, which meant the potential for collateral damage.

  “I can see you thinking long and hard about it.” Wyatt circled me, the bemused smile still on his face. “That’s a good thing, believe it or not. Far too many young’uns are all blood and no brains. You’re probably wondering my angle still. Should you make a break for it, or should you play along to learn more?”

  Damn, he was good, or possibly psychic. No one had bothered to inform me if vampires were psychic or not , but since there were talking Sasquatches, I supposed anything was possible.

  Wyatt stopped dead in front of me and leaned in with a conspiratorial wink. “I think I know what’s going on in your noggin, darlin’.”

  “Oh, I doubt it,” I muttered, pushing away images of Yush.

  “Those folks in your posse, the spell slingers, I reckon they’ve filled your pretty head with all sorts of lofty notions and ideals, haven’t they?” Do not nod, Jessie. Don’t you dare nod! “The thing about lofty ideals is they tend to hinge on arbitrary, simplistic actions. To be good, you need something bad to stand against. Most folks would feel pretty safe in saying that bloodsuckers are the bad guys.”

  Okay, the nod did slip out there, but it was only a little one. Wyatt chuckled. No, I was not letting him win this. “I get it, nothing is black and white except in old movies. I’m not waffling because I’m afraid of having my mind blown by your trite philosophy and limited charms. I’m scared that you’re going to kill me, or worse, my family. I’m not that deep, all right? I don’t want to die, and I don’t want my loved ones to suffer. Leave the philosophizing to the English majors over at the local coffee shop.”