Amaretto Flame (4 page)

“Madam, your illegal documents,” he said in a
false British accent, waving an envelope at me. His shaggy black
mane sparkled with tiny drops of water, and a five-o-clock shadow
darkened his chin. He scooped me up in a quick hug as he entered
the living room, somehow making the enormous house seem much
smaller and cozier.

While he took off the light jacket he was
wearing, I peeped inside the envelope to find a perfectly-created
identification card that turned me from a teenager into a
twenty-two year old. Again I felt the warm pleasure of
rebelliousness, and an unexpected excitement for the first day on
the job.

“So, you want to tell me what you needed the
ID for?” Max asked, turning the corners of his mouth up in a sly
grin. He rubbed his hands in front of the fireplace, letting the
heat take the remainder of the chill out. I eyed him for a long
moment and then I shrugged. If I felt a flicker of shame at my
childishness, I didn’t let on.

“Ivanna wanted me to live as a human, so I
got a job.”

Max cocked his head and looked at me
incredulously. “A job?” The word came out like a curse. “So why did
you need a fake ID? Did you get a job as a stripper?”

“No,” I shrugged again. “I got a job at a
bar.”

After a long moment, Max raised an eyebrow
and gave me a little smile. “Ivanna’s going to love that.”

“You’re not going to tell her,” I
replied.

Slowly, Max nodded, and then looked around
the living room for the first time since he’d entered. “Do you have
everything you need? Is there anything I can get you?”

“I’m fine, Max.”

He smiled again, this time a genuine one, and
nodded. “Well in that case, I have to get back. Ivanna gave me a
time limit.”

“What?” I scoffed. “What did you tell her you
were doing?”

“Bringing you a painting.” I noticed the
smudges of paint on his hands just then. In addition to being great
with a keyboard and mouse, Max was quite the accomplished artist.
“Things are kind of…tense right now,” he added.

“Why? Does it have to do with the meeting?” I
said, instantly curious. Maybe I could get more out of Max than
Everett had been willing to share over the phone.

“I don’t know. Ivanna and Perry have told us
nothing, but that’s what I’m guessing. Everyone has been a bit more
vigilant, talking in whispers…you know. But I guess all will be
revealed tomorrow morning.”

I thought about the meeting again with the
Moss Point coven, and felt a strange lurch in my stomach. Coven
meetings were rare unless there was some sort of big celebration,
like a marriage or one of the Sabbats. If Ivanna and Perry were
giving coven members time limits, and things were ‘tense,’
something bad was happening.

I nodded at Max and he kissed me on the
cheek. “Be careful,” he said, looking pointedly at the
envelope.

“Careful is my middle name,” I arched an
eyebrow dramatically, and Max smiled. As he shrugged the jacket
back on and gave me one more little wave, I wished suddenly that I
were back home. If something terrible was happening, no one needed
to be in Eagleton as badly as me. I could protect my family if
needed. I could put into action the years of training I’d received
there.

Frustrated, I slumped on the sofa near the
fire. Harm none. These were the two words that had been repeated
over and over during my years with Ivanna and the coven. The energy
that a person spends in life will most certainly find its way back
around, and having gained momentum on its journey, will be more
powerful when it has made the full circle. I knew this, and I
believed it with all of my heart. And still, I was created for the
sole purpose of harming others. I’d been told time and again how
rare this gift was that I’d been given.

When I was a very young girl, not long after
Ivanna had rescued me from the foster home, Perry had attempted to
explain things to me.

“Of course we should never harm any living
thing, little one,” he’d said, “but we must also protect ourselves
from being hurt. If someone were trying to harm us, then it might
be necessary to hurt them. Do you understand what I’m saying?” His
brown eyes studied me, looking for a sign of comprehension.

“And if we harm them, we will be punished? It
doesn’t seem fair,” I said, wrinkling my brow with the task of
conveying my feelings through the limited vocabulary and
understanding of a child.

“It’s true that our energy will come back to
us, but do you think the Great Mother would punish you for
protecting yourself?” He sighed. “There is balance in everything.
Never forget that. The Goddess is the life in the flowers that
spring from the ground, the rabbit that hops in the forest, and the
weather that is ever changing. But the Goddess is also the wrathful
face of death—in the winter that freezes those same flowers, in the
destruction of a hurricane, and in the runt that the mother bird
throws from the nest.”

I thought about that for a long moment, and
then I looked into his face with a sudden understanding. “I am the
wrathful face of the Goddess,” I said, referring to my abilities.
Perry’s expression flickered from contemplation to pity, and then
to warmth.

“Yes, dear Olivia. I suppose you are the
wrathful face of the Goddess. But the work you do will be
honorable, and the energy you expend to do it will be out of love
for your family and for what is right.”

The conflicting feelings welled up in me as I
watched the flames in the great fireplace flicker and dance. In
remembering the teachings, I felt foolish about my little stunt
with the fake ID and the job. At the same time, I welcomed the pain
and annoyance I might cause, because at least I was controlling
this rather than simply dealing with things that were beyond my
control. The latter feeling won, and I began to dress for work
early, not knowing whether my sudden irritation was at Ivanna or
the Goddess herself.

I saw him as soon as I entered Stallott’s. He
was on the stage, sitting on a stool and fiddling with some knobs
on a big machine that I couldn’t identify. He looked up as I
entered, running a hand through his coppery hair, and shooting me a
smile and a little wave. I felt a little off-balance, but I
returned the smile. I’d walked slowly to the club, my skimpy
uniform covered by a thigh-length, tan jacket. The steady drizzle
had demanded an umbrella, something I would normally have chosen to
leave behind, but used this time to prevent myself from showing up
looking like a drowned rat.

I ducked into Bob’s office and provided him
with the fake ID, and listened to a quick round of last-minute
instructions. “Just make the customers happy,” he said finally,
signaling that he was finished. When I returned to the outer club,
Erika and Jenny greeted me excitedly.

“Olivia!” Jenny said, giving me a hug as if
we’d been friends for years. I studied her face, looking for some
sign of mocking, but finding only warmth. This brought a small
smile to my face. She was impulsive, this human girl, never having
to be guarded.

“We have a few minutes before we actually
open,” she said. “Why don’t you show me something?” She glanced at
the door, as if half expecting to see someone there. “Maybe
something small that would give someone the message to back
off.”

She wore the same blue eye-shadow, but today,
her short hair was streaked with pink, making her look a bit like a
cartoon character. I shrugged out of my jacket, and placing it
behind the bar, tried to pull my skirt a little further down my
legs. There was no way I could actually do any real movement in
this uniform, and I was well aware of Jackson’s presence on the
stage behind us.

“Well,” I said, thinking quickly as Erika and
Jenny looked at me expectantly. “The most important thing you can
start off with is your attitude. You don’t want the attacker to
think you’re scared. You have to show him that you’re not
intimidated and that you’re willing to fight it out. This will make
him think twice about wanting to try something.”

Jenny glanced at Erika and then back at me.
“How do I do that?”
“You use your words, and your facial expression, and your body
language. Most people will lower their head when they’re afraid.
Their voice will become quieter, and they’ll stammer. Lift your
head up, square your shoulders, and speak loudly. Threaten, look
your attacker dead in the eyes, and make sure they know you mean
whatever you say.”

Jenny nodded, glancing back toward the door
as Renee entered, brushing rain drops from her jacket.

“Okay,” Jenny said. “Like this?” She leaned
toward me, her chin high, and narrowed her eyes. “I’ll hurt you,”
she said loudly, balling her fists up at her sides. She looked so
awkward doing it, that a giggle erupted from Erika, and I fought to
keep from laughing as well.

“That’s good,” I said. “Try cursing, like
you’re really mad. You’re not going to take anything from
anyone.”

Jenny laughed a moment, and then consciously
smoothed her face out. She leaned in toward me again and said, “I’m
going to kick your ass if you touch me again.” This time, there was
a real fierceness in her voice that didn’t appear false. I nodded
approvingly.

“Great job,” I said, and her face instantly
brightened again, her smile easily brought out. She laughed, and
Erika looked at me.

“There’s a creep that comes in here who gets
awful friendly sometimes. Jenny’s his favorite,” she explained
quietly, balling up her own fists.

“Can’t you tell Bob?” I asked. “He said no
one was supposed to touch his waitresses.”

Erika rolled her eyes. “She won’t do it.
She’s afraid of losing the job.”

I looked back at Jenny. “I don’t think he’d
fire you. He seemed pretty serious about that.” Before either of
them could answer, I heard the rich sound of the guitar and
swiveled to glance in the direction of the stage. The instrument
was draped across Jackson’s lap, and his head was bent to look at
it, his fingers playing expertly.

There was fluid in his movements, a grace
that must have come from playing so often. My glance must have
lingered, because when I turned back to Jenny and Erika, they were
both smiling at me mischievously. The next second, when I grasped
the meaning behind their smiles, I felt my cheeks turning warm.

“That’s Jackson Vance,” Jenny said, her smile
growing. “He’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“No!” I said, flustered. When the two of them
exchanged a glance, I wondered if I might have offended them. I
quickly moved to fix my error. “He’s very nice looking,” I said. “I
just…I’ve never known someone who could play the guitar.”

Jenny rolled her eyes at me. “Don’t worry.
You can say he’s gorgeous. Just don’t get too close. Jackson is
something of a…” She searched for a word fitting him.

“A what?” I asked, suddenly curious.

“A ladies man,” Erika offered up. “He’s
actually very sweet. He just doesn’t get too involved as far as
relationships go.”

“Well, let’s be honest. He gets involved,
just not emotionally.” Jenny laughed, and then looked at me. “But
he’s a really good friend.”

All at once, I felt awkward, as if this kind
of conversation was beneath me. Still, I couldn’t help but feel
curious. I’d never spent time around men who weren’t Wise Ones, and
the topic had a certain appeal to me. Thankfully, we weren’t able
to continue the conversation, because the first few customers came
through the door and moved toward a booth.

I spent the next several hours receiving
training unlike anything I had ever experienced. I felt
claustrophobic as the building began to swell with customers, all
wanting something sweet, tart, or fiery to drink. Still, I was
determined to beat it down and do what I’d come here to do. Jenny
and Erika towed me along with them for the first few hours,
explaining how to take the orders, give them to Renee and serve the
drinks. I watched them interact flawlessly with the customers,
smiling and laughing at drunken jokes.

The people were amusing, and I often found
myself overwhelmed at the simple pleasure they seemed to be
enjoying. Even during celebrations in Eagleton, when we were all
laughing and having a great time, there was vigilance; some lesson
that could be learned. Here, the entire point was fun, and I liked
watching the easy laughs, the human contact.

The hardest part was remembering which drinks
were in what glasses. When there were only a few watered down sips
in the bottom of a glass, a gin-and-tonic looked a lot like a pina
colada. I quickly found that by smiling sheepishly and telling the
customers that it was my first night, I was met with support and
praise. Also, the customers continuously handed over tips that I
shoved into the pockets of the tiny apron tied around my waist.

I enjoyed the music. Jackson had a voice that
was smooth and bluesy, and it wound its way through the melodies of
his songs perfectly. In the moments when he took a break and played
some upbeat, current song, I found myself wishing he’d sing
again.

Another thing I learned is that all of my
years of training did not prepare me for the protests my feet would
make. They felt like clubs by the time the last customer stumbled
outside and the place was empty. For the next hour, we dipped
cloths in hot, sharp-smelling water and wiped down all the
table-tops and vinyl seats, and washed our way through a mountain
of dirty glasses.

Finally, when I thought I could pass out on
my feet, it was time to leave. As the girls put their jackets on
and straightened their tips, I glanced at the clock. It was well
after two in the morning.

“Olivia, you should come to May Days with us
over the weekend,” Erika said, pulling me out of zombie-mode as I
shrugged my jacket on.

“What is May Days?” I asked, wondering if she
could possibly be referring to some sort of Beltane celebration.
Very few humans celebrated the seasons in the way Wise Ones did,
and her question threw me.