The Meridian Gamble (10 page)

I can’t keep from letting out a
laugh, in disbelief. I don’t really know how to respond.

“That’s right, you don’t like me
being tacky and throwing my money around.”

“Oh, I like it. I’m just not going
to accept any of it,” I say. “And I don’t really drive all that much. I’m not
sure what I would do with a car like this.”

“Well, let me know if you change
your mind. I can arrange for parking, too.”

It’s so weird, I just don’t know
what to make of this guy. He’s the exact opposite of the men I’m used to
dating, who seem to want everything from me, so they can give nothing in
return. Adam wants to hand me the world on a silver platter, and he doesn’t
seem to want anything back. And he’s the one who’s supposed to be the monster.

I notice that he drives cautiously,
almost like a granny. The car moves at an even pace, no faster or slower than
any other vehicle around it. And he eases to a stop well before every red
light. It’s almost like a robot is driving. I would have thought he would speed
around like a maniac, like other young bucks, but I guess he doesn’t need to
show off. And I wonder if maybe he’s trying to blend in, drive in a way where
he won’t stand out.

It’s another frustrating conundrum
about him that begins to collect in my mind.

In a flash, we’re pulling up to a
valet at the restaurant, “Grill.” It’s a nouveau Korean barbecue place that has
been getting great reviews, especially among the hotshots at work. They
specialize in bombarding diners with a variety of dishes, lots of tiny
appetizers and platters of meats to cook up right at the table. Staci and I
have talked about coming here, but we haven’t been in a rush, because the
prices are far too expensive. And in this moment, I’m definitely not
complaining about Adam flashing his wealth.

“Wow. How did you know exactly the
place I had been wanting to try?”

“Maybe our minds are on the same
wavelength,” he says. “But I thought it might work for us. They bring you a bit
of everything to grill up. I’m not a big eater, but I like to try little
tastes. And you won’t have to waste a lot of time wondering what to order, so
we’ll have more time to chat.”

“It looks like they sunk a lot of
money into it. Which means, of course, that it won’t be around for long.”

“So let’s live in the moment,” he
says, with another big smile.

We step inside, and I find the
interior appealing. There’s a beautiful koi pond that fills the entryway, where
fat orange and white fish swim about, and a walkway of deep brown wood has been
built over it so you can cross to get to the bar and waiting area. The
restaurant is open and spacious, and the entryway gives you a view inside to
where the tables are. The booths are set generously apart, perhaps to give you
room to talk without worrying about anyone eavesdropping, and sections are
elevated higher than others, to allow an even greater sense of privacy. And I
can’t help but to wonder if Adam brought me here for that reason, so we can eat
our meal in peace.

He whispers a few words to the
hostess, and we’re quickly led to a table, in the center of which there is a
sunken grill with little vents all around it to pull away the smoke. I can see
a waiter with spiky, blonde hair approach a table across from us, and he twists
a few knobs to turn on the grill for the people sitting there. The man is
handsome, like all the rest of the waiters, and could easily pass for a model. It
almost seems cruel to me that the staff at high-end restaurants are always so
pretty, like the cast of some nighttime soap. I feel sorry for the ugly waiters
of New York who need to earn a living.

Another model-like waiter
approaches our table, a cute Asian guy who has his hair gelled back in a
luxurious sweep, and the perfection of his style almost makes him look like a
page from a magazine. He offers us a welcoming smile.

“Hi, my name is Dalton, and I’ll be
your server tonight. Let me just start up the grill, so it will be ready for
your meal.”

He turns the knobs on our table,
and Adam leans over to me, whispering.

“Wanna see something fun? Watch
this,” he says, with a mischievous grin.

“Can I get you both something to
drink?” the waiter says.

Adam doesn’t reply, and only stares
back at him intently. And the waiter responds as though they’re having a
conversation, and begins jotting down notes on his pad.

“Yes, we have an excellent Chateau
Margaux French bordeaux that I can recommend … Of course, water for both of you
… If you’re ready, I’d be happy to take your order. Yes … that comes with a
Market Price Kobe filet mignon, which is quite excellent. … Absolutely. Alright,
that will be our meal for two, with steak, chicken, pork and shrimp, and our
appetizer array with extra spring rolls. Will there be anything else?”

It’s amazing. Adam never so much as
twitches his lips, and the waiter never breaks their gaze during the seemingly
one-sided conversation, taking down our order as he would at any other table. And
what’s equally strange is that no one other than me seems to notice that Adam
isn’t speaking.

Finally, the waiter turns to me.

“And is there anything the lady
would like to add?”

Obviously, I don’t have the same
mental talents Adam does, and I have to speak up.

“Actually, yes. I’m not really
crazy about shrimp.”

“That’s not a problem at all, we
can substitute lamb,” the waiter says.

“That’s fine,” Adam says aloud,
clearing his throat as he momentarily drops his trick.

“And can I get a Coke?” I say.

“Of course.”

Adam looks to the man one more
time, and I get the impression he’s also adding something to the order, once
again using his psychic powers.

“Yes, sir. Absolutely, right away.”

The young man scurries off, and
that time, though I’m not quite sure, I almost feel like I could hear the
whisper of Adam’s voice in my mind. It could be my imagination, but I think he
ordered a Coke for himself, though it’s an obvious guess.

He turns to me with a
self-satisfied smile, and I can’t help but to laugh.

“You said you wanted to know more
about my powers,” Adam says.

“Wow, that was super creepy, yet
incredibly fascinating. It was like he couldn’t tell the difference between my
talking to him and … whatever it was you were doing.”

“It’s called telepathy, just like
in the comic books. And he wasn’t aware of the difference at all.”

“But, aren’t you worried that
someone around us might notice?” I whisper.

“Not really. I was scanning them,”
he says, in low tones. “If anyone was listening in, I would have blocked them. But
they didn’t pick up on a thing.”

“And, were you just communicating
with him, or can you make him do stuff?”

“Well, we’re going to get very good
service, that much I can assure you,” he says. “And depending on the person, I
can get them to do more complicated things. His mind was weak, it would
probably be very easy for me to make him flap his arms like a chicken, or spill
his tray on another table. And, of course, there are others who are better at
it than I am, though not many.”

“Well, let’s not have him dump his
tray on the other guests so they can enjoy their meals,” I say, looking around
warily.

I lean closer, speaking softly.

“What about me? Can you make me do
something?”

“No. As I’ve said, your mind is
very strong. It’s hard for me to even detect your thoughts. Can you feel this?”

Adam stares at me intently, locking
his green eyes with my own. And I sense something, almost like a static
electricity at the base of my skull. It begins to move up and around the edges
of my mind, and the effect is a bit unnerving.

“That’s me, tying to get inside
your head. And I can’t do it.”

His features visibly soften, as he
seems to stop. And the buzzing instantly goes away.

“That’s so strange. I felt that
same energy in the bar the night we met. I thought it was something from the
crowd.”

“No, that was me checking you out. But
you’re very perceptive, it is a kind of energy, my mental energy reaching out
to yours. And perhaps you’re particularly sensitive to that, which is why you
can’t be read. Somehow, the mind’s natural defenses kick in when a person is
able to detect the invasion, and it shuts you out.”

“Yeah, that could be it. I’m kind
of sensitive to energy, sometimes,” I say.

“Interesting,” Adam says, with a
smile. “And you wonder why I find you so fascinating.”

The waiter returns with a tray, and
sets our drinks before us, Coke and water. He places two glasses on the table,
and pours us a red wine.

And as he’s standing there, it
starts to happen again, at yet another unwanted moment. I look around the room,
and begin to feel the energy shift. The wallpaper on the walls is a tan color,
with little strands woven into it. And suddenly, it becomes the sandy walls of
a temple. The lights become torches, and the places where the pictures hang
suddenly recess, and become spots for art to be displayed, little vases and
urns. And Adam changes, his hair grows longer, and a braid forms within it. He
wears long flowing robes, and the waiter becomes some sort of attendant, in
more primitive garb.

I shake my head. I don’t want any
of this right now, no strange visions. I just want to be in the here and now
with Adam. I drink some of my Coke, and the coldness of the soda seems to
ground me in reality.

He takes a sip of his wine, and
nods his head in approval to the waiter.

“It’s quite delicious,” he says
with his actual voice. “Thank you.”

Even though I’m not much of a
drinker, I force myself to take a sip of the wine, so as not to seem rude. It
tastes the way all alcohol tastes to me, like turpentine.

The waiter steps away, leaving us
alone once more.

“So I’m guessing you have a lot
more questions for me,” Adam says.

“Funny you should ask,” I say. “Because
I do have one in particular. I’m wondering if you believe in reincarnation.”

Adam crooks one of his eyebrows,
and looks at me, quizzically.

“That’s what you want to know?” he
says.

I seem to have caught him off
guard, which is odd. I didn’t think that anything I could say would surprise an
immortal.

“Well, it’s just that … I figure,
who better to ask than someone who’s lived forever? Or at least for a long
time. I thought that maybe you’ve encountered people you’ve … known. Or maybe
felt like you noticed similarities.”

Adam says nothing for a moment, and
seems to collect his thoughts.

“Reincarnation exists,” he says. “It’s
something real. I can tell you that definitively.”

“Definitively? Really?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding his head,
solemnly. “There are people I’ve met over the years who I’m certain I’ve known
in the past. They’ve been able to describe places and events where I had been,
prior to when they were born. And there are even some … individuals I’ve
encountered who can remember in great detail other lives they’ve lived.”

“I wonder how they know?”

“I don’t know. It’s actually a
topic of great interest among the vampires, one of the great mysteries we hope
to solve. But if I had to guess, I’d say it must be some sort of psychic
phenomenon that gives them the talent to tap into the energy of the past. Like
we said, they have a sensitivity.”

“I actually feel that way
sometimes, with my friend Staci.”

“How so?” he says, with a tone that
shows more than just a passing interest.

“I’m writing a story about two
sisters who are sort of rivals for a rich man’s hand in marriage. Or at least
the one sister is jealous that the second one has caught his attention. It’s a
period thing, one of those costume dramas. And I’m basing one of the characters
on Staci, the wicked sister. But it feels so real sometimes, I think that it’s
something that’s actually happened. That maybe we had that connection in the
past.”

“It’s possible. Perhaps you’ve come
together to work out some karma. Or maybe her energy simply reminds you of this
person you once knew, and it’s helping you recall that time from another life.”

“Interesting … very interesting,” I
say, trying to seem nonchalant.

I hesitate to mention any more, the
odd visions I’ve seen of him. It seems silly, to think that I can remember my
past lives. But the nature of our relationship is so bizarre already. How much
more strange could it get?

“Actually, I feel that way with you,
too,” I say, trying to gauge his reaction.

“Oh really? How so?”

And Adam leans forward just a bit,
seemingly fascinated by what I’m saying, but he takes a casual sip of his wine
to cover it. And I’m more than just a bit nervous to have piqued his interest.

“It’s ridiculous, I suppose. But
you remind me of one of the characters in this other story I’m working on. A
visiting prince who the heroine falls in love with. But she can’t act on it,
because she’s part of a secret society that’s determined to destroy the royal
family, and is in the temple on a mission to kill Pharaoh. I don’t know where I
came up with it, but I call the character Saga.”

Adam spits out his drink, and I’m
shocked.

He begins coughing violently, and
holds a napkin to his face. I worry, as his eyes widen and Adam turns several
shades of red. People dining in the restaurant begin to look over, despite his
purported influence over their minds. But slowly, he regains his composure.

“Have you published this story? Or
shown it to anyone?” he says, almost panicked.

“No! God, no. It’s just some notes
that I’ve written.”

“Meridian, I’m going to ask you to
do me a favor,” he says, very slowly. “Please never discuss this with anyone
other than me.”

“Why?” I ask, in concern. “Is it
bad that I’m writing it?”