One Night Burns (The Vampires of Livix, #1) (3 page)

After washing and drying my hands I stood in front of the mirror. The tear-drop pendant hanging from my small beaded necklace seemed crooked so I straightened it. I removed the barrettes that held my hair back and let my hair out. I ran my fingers through it, teasing the locks into a fuller display after being tied up for the day’s business. I should return. Getting a little hungry too.

“Hey Brett, what’s good for a snack?” I said, looking through the curvy glass display counter. Exquisitely tasty cheesecakes lined up in a dozen different flavors all yielding at least a thousand calories each. A high school boyfriend of mine on the wrestling team told me the only way to purge that many calories involved digging trenches deep enough to stand in with a hand shovel for an hour or run, not jog, practically the whole day. Then the croissants looked great with their flaky texture but why did they never seem to deliver on taste? Croissants always seemed soul-less, if food could have a soul and a meaning. This streamed through my head before Brett started talking.

“The carrot cake is good. I like those cookies … hard to stare at them all day. I could warm one up for you – based on experience – that’s the best! Or are you looking more for a sandwich?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some more work to do, a sandwich … How about soup?”

“I’d recommend the chicken taco soup. We have that here a couple times a month and it’s really good. I’ve tried making it at home but the owner has some secret recipe and I can’t get the details right.”

“Sure,” I said as I saw the two big pots on the flame at the back counter. “And half a sandwich.”

“If you’re not afraid of salt … the Reuben is good.”

Oooh salt and butter … weakness, “I’ll have that.” I gave him some money and soon Brett filled the tray. I returned to my usual little table and found it taken by a swooning couple. Their heads practically clinking over their coffees. My other favorite table seemed occupied as well so I took one of the leather lounge chairs by the windows, always awkward to eat at. And soup added more challenge. I balanced my tray on the little side table and scooped up my soup with several layers of napkins between my hand and the bottom of the hot bowl. Part of me is wondering why I grabbed soup as I’m not usually a soup-in-a-restaurant person.

I can smell the cumin and chili pepper, the strips of tortilla float crisply on top. I take a tentative sip. Amazing! I look back at Brett and see he’s been watching me. The spice burn sliced across my lips with the perfect level of heat without being excessive.

“The soup’s good, right?” He says from the other side of the room, putting his thumb up to me like Caesar, though raising his eyebrows in question.

I grin, “Yes!” and the Reuben turned out as salty as promised. My big cup of water went well with that. Then getting the Reuben butter off my fingers required expert napkin skills. I pulled out my computer and leaned back in the chair. I looked around the shop at the other people as the little machine booted up. I still wasn’t used to the speed the soft African drum sounds made telling me the system had prepared itself for my work. I logged in and started my web browser. I opened the instant messenger program and saw my friend Bethany on line, “Hi. I’m over at the coffee shop and had some amazing soup!”

A moment and Bethany sent back, “I’m waiting for my Dad to get home from work then we’re going to dinner.”

“Any special reason?”

“Idk. Maybe a promotion. He is researching new material effects while mixing biochemicals in process piping. It’d be nice to know more but hard when he’s doing military projects. I’d like to understand the details because I’m thinking of pursuing my Masters in Engineering. But then I’m looking at adhesives. Nice talking shop though. Did Garin show up?”

“… No. Definitely not.”

“got a book ??????”

“yes”

“read for a while and then don’t worry about it, maybe next week.”

“maybe … Maybe I said something stupid”

“what? No you Probably were fine!”

“i had trouble with my computer … and did a blond talk”

“Ohhh. You’ll be ok!:)”

“why do I think this?”

“that’s what we do”

“ok”

“... hey, I see the lights of his BMW ... he asked that we are ready by the door ... Good Luck <3”

“thx”

I closed my computer, bit my lip and looked out the window. I loved how the sun stayed out late in the summer. This chair sat in a great spot near the windows to enjoy the light outside.

I swapped the computer for my Kindle and wiggled my feet out of my flats and spun sideways in the big chair. I read this story about a medieval girl that grew up homeless on the streets and then gets chased by assassins. So she hides in a monastery. And while hiding there she learned of her Destiny to help save the world with her magical gemstone,
The Black Jewel
, second of a series by a new author I found on Amazon from its “customers who bought this item also bought” list. It’s pretty good so far, the Swords and Sorcery genre has always been a secret indulgence of mine. Stories of elves and knights and princesses.

So I read as the ebb and flow of people continued through the coffee shop.

Later, I looked out the window. The warm air eventually convinced me I should go and not waste the sunlight. Michigan has so few clear days, it seemed. I even looked it up once. Something like this corner of Michigan is second or third behind Seattle for the number of cloudy days a year.

He’s not showing up. I put my shoes on and flipped out my sunglasses.

I dumped my tray, grabbed my bag, and walked out to the street.

-:-  -:-  -:-

The next Tuesday duplicated my prior session waiting in the coffee shop most of the day. Bethany had gone out. I talked briefly with my Mom while she remained present as the work crew redoing her kitchen floor tore it up. I did change and order Thin Chai’s, the cinnamon and cardamom are strong … and so very good.

Brett came over, “I’m taking a break, mind if I sit down and ask you a question?”

“Go ahead,” I motioned to the chair and moved some of my stuff. “What’s the question?”

“I’ve been working up my nerve to interest you in going out to dinner or seeing a movie, sometime?”

Startled, I didn’t have anything but my standby, “Ah sorry. I’ll have to decline. As you can see,” I pointed to my stuff spread on the table, “I’m pretty filled up with work and my summer class projects.”

“I realized you’re busy. Many here,” he leaned forward so he didn’t offend anyone, “play games on their computers or crosswords in the paper or talk with a friend about nothing. You seem focused on your career and your work. I like that.” He stood, his hand on the chair, “Let me know if you get freed up sometime, is all.”

“Sure.” I couldn’t tell him that half my time I thought about this Mr. Mysterious who continued eluding me.

-:-  -:-  -:-

Work lulled down after those other projects over the week since Brett tried asking me out. I found six defensible claims on the bracket. Expired prior art invalidated most of their remaining assertions. After drafting the notes for Marilyn I finished up the day with miscellaneous paperwork. But free of that looming workload, I drifted. I thought about rummaging through my purse and cleaning it out of the crap that seemed to find its way in there, but I’d wait and do that at home. Not. Sure. What. I might discover in there. I worried about finding a gooey candy drop sticking a dozen things together. I am being crazy. Why am I so sad? I only met this guy once. And now I’m stalking him. Sort of, since I would likely be here anyway. Not for so long at a time though. I’m anxious for some reason, obsession? I don’t know. I grab the big leather chair and pull out my Kindle and get back to my story. This girl is fierce, unafraid, and not questioning herself. I’ve gotten Bethany reading it now too. She’s a little farther than me because I keep getting distracted by work, but not now.

I hadn’t noticed the sun set hours ago leaving a deep darkness. The coffee shop had emptied except for me and Brett and some big guy with an unkempt frizzy-curly beard at a table near the counter. I noticed he read
The Detroit Journal
as I straightened my legs. I looked at my Kindle, bookmarking my position, and then skimmed back. I’d read a lot and hadn’t noticed the time nor the amount of the book I’d gone through. Brett must have brought me another Chai while I read, I sort of remembered paying for it. Two empty mugs sat together on my little side table. I should drag myself back home to bed.

The warm night kept me comfortable in my sleeveless top. My jacket lay in the car anyway. Sparse traffic and people wandering on the sidewalks this late on a Tuesday in a working town. Street lamps dotted the darkness along my way to the public parking garage. A vague uneasiness settled around my shoulders. I knew the public garage seemed mostly safe but mostly might be too subjective. I liked to park in this particular garage even though others provided more convenience because it had better lighting. The closer lots always seemed to be lurking with perpetual shadows in them that became absolutely freakish at night.

A car passed me on the other side of the street. It slowed as it rolled as far as the coffee shop. I heard the clicking of a shifting transmission, the whine of reverse and then a turn as it roared closer. The bright lights obscured everything else. I wish I paid attention when it drove the other way. Now my nerves vibrated with a creeping desperation being so exposed on this open sidewalk. My steps hastened.

The car whined down and halted a few lengths ahead of me. A newer black Camaro with black-crimson tribal tattoo pin striping nearly impossible to see against the black base coat. But the car stopped under the flood of a street light and the driver got out.

“You know it’s not safe out at night by yourself.”

“Yes. The time got away from me …
Dad
.” I rolled my eyes excessively. I reached into my purse and pulled out Garin’s flash drive, “I wondered when you’d stop by so I could return this.” I tossed it to him over the roof of the car. A bad throw. Yet his hand snatched it out of the air like in those old kung fu movies where they caught moving flies with chopsticks.

He asked, “Do you need a ride home?”

“I’m close to my car. It’s in the public lot right over there.”

“I hoped to see you.”

“For the flash drive?”

“No, just you. A good excuse to see you. I thought.”

“Maybe,” I should say something about his car. The paint job is kind of cool. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about a little drive? I know I can’t keep you out too late.”

“I can probably do with a drive. I had more tea than I should have and my nerves are anxious. It’ll be late before I can fall asleep.”

He came around and opened the door, “You can give me an opinion on the repairs I did to my car.”

“Repairs?” I looked from bumper to bumper quickly. “It looks in great shape.”

“I finished replacing the interior.”

“Oh.” That could be good. Or very very bad. I thought of the stories my mother told me about staying away from stranger’s cars. Creepy old vans with no windows. Offers of candy or puppies. The thick black tinted windows on this car made it as shadowy as a windowless van.

I looked at his eyes. Deepest black against the night, dilated with almost no iris but a thin blue ring. But something about them didn’t seem like he took drugs. Those eyes drew me in. “Are you safe?”

“Honorable intentions,” he glanced down to the seat inside the door, “If you’re uncomfortable tonight we can try a more formal date some weekend night, if you’re interested?” He eased the door closed.

“– No,” I reached for the edge of the door, “I mean, no don’t close the door. I’m interested.” I’m sure my smile sparkled too much.

The car sat low and close to the curb. I had to sit first and swivel my feet onto the floor mat. When my feet touched the carpet he softly closed the door. And then he looped around the car and into his seat surprisingly fast. The interior was as dark as the exterior paint. The almost stifling, powerful new leather smell seemed comfortable and familiar. Like the smell of a new purse.

“I ordered new seat covers and new trim a couple of weeks ago and they came in while I was out-of-town. I finished putting the seat covers on yesterday after work.”

“Traveling?” I had been worrying for no reason.

“Yes,” he looked both ways on the empty street to ensure no one came through and eased the car away from the curb. He reached for the shifter and clutched into second gear smoothly. A little bump of pressure from the power train propelled the car noticeably faster. The buildings became shorter on our way out of downtown Livix.

The seats wrapped me comfortably and like the advertisements they enveloped me in comfort. The luxuriously soft leather and the exceedingly regular and tight stitching a marvel of craftsmanship. After years of shopping for jackets and purses I could tell these had been well made. I ran my hand along the side of the seat next to my leg, “These are really nice seats.”

“I ordered them from a leather manufacturer I know in Brazil. I did some work for them and knew their manufacturing process. Argentinian leather, something about the pampas grass fed steers makes better leather than anywhere else in the world. Then the guys in Brazil know how to fit them to seats.”

“How do you get them on?”

“Warm them up with steam and stretch them by hand. It can take all night to get it together, without rushing and risking damaging anything.”

“All night?”

“… I have a kind of insomnia. Staying busy keeps me out of trouble.”

“Idle hands, I see.” I looked out the window. The caffeine still surged through my mind, a balancing act in my head between jittery and a possible migraine. That would be bad. My mom told me to stay away from caffeine after 4pm. She had a rule and reminded me when I seemed to lapse. Some days I argued with her, what did she know about migraines, she graduated from high school somewhere in the dawn of time even if she had taken those advanced placement biology and chemistry classes.