A Vampyre's Sunrise by Jeff Schanz (read book .TXT) 📖

shrugged. On the phone was a well-framed picture of her and Brandt embracing. They were both wearing formal evening wear since they were on their way to an L.A. philharmonic concert. It was her favorite photo. She loved the look of them as a couple. For a brief moment, she was lost admiring her husband: his strong jaw, boyish smile, short tousled hair that never stayed combed very long, piercing eyes that were so kind to her but could become hard as steel when he felt she was threatened. She loved who he was and what was inside of him so much, she forgot at times how outwardly attractive he was. He could easily be a heroic movie actor if he ever wanted a new job. Lia pointed the cell phone at both ladies.

“Awww,” said Marge. “He’s handsome. Very handsome. Ok, I kinda get why you like him.”

Celia stuck her finger in her mouth. “Yeah, yeah, he’s pretty. You have any good ones? You know?” She wiggled in her chair, acting like she was undressing herself.

Lia’s face went ashen. “No,” she said too quickly. She was about to pull back the phone when she thought of something. “Well – there is a shot of him and his Army friends at the pool. Oh wait, here’s one of just him.” Lia liked the picture immensely. She was very proud of Brandt’s chiseled body, but she was hesitant to show it to everyone else without his approval.

Celia was giddy. “Gimme, gimme.”

She plucked the phone from Lia and looked. She held her eyes on it for a moment, then her mouth slowly opened. “Those abs are for real?”

“Of course they are real,” said Lia. “He works very hard on them.”

“I thought they only came that way on book covers,” said Celia. She blinked several times, her eyes tracing the angular lines defining Brandt’s torso.

“Damn, you ho, stop drooling over the poor girl’s husband.” Marge stole the phone away and pulled it closer to herself. After she blinked a few times, she said. “Ooo, honey,” then fanned herself with a napkin. “I don’t doubt you no more. If you want to ride that cowboy every night, I wouldn’t blame you.”

Lia was almost purple from embarrassment. She liked that women admired Brandt, but this felt wrong to her.

“We don’t mean anything, sweetie,” said Celia noticing Lia’s discomfort. “We’re just playing. You’re a lucky girl and he’s a lucky man.”

Marge continued to fan. “Celia, honey, we are way too jealous of other people’s lives.”

Celia raised her glass to salute the thought. Marge tipped her glass into her own mouth as an abbreviated salute. She touched the screen of Lia’s phone and the next image came up. It was a shot from the same pool, but now Brandt was posing with several of the VIP Security men. Marge put her glass down. “Who’s this?” she asked.

Lia leaned toward Marge to see. “Oh, those are several of Brandt’s – uh, friends. We are around them quite a lot.”

“Ok, but who’s this? This one. That handsome hunk of dark meat right there?”

Marge had singled out Rollins.

“His name is Rollins Richards,” said Lia. “I like him. He is very nice.”

“Mmm hmm. Very nice indeed.”

Lia added, “Brandt complains his appetite will make us – um, go broke? But he is only kidding. I enjoy feeding Rollins.”

Marge’s eyes widened a bit. “He likes home cookin’, huh?”

“Quite a lot of it,” said Lia.

Marge nodded and smiled to herself. “Now, why don’t I get to meet men like that?”

“I am not sure,” said Lia. “I see him most every day at – um, my house.”

Marge raised her brows and turned to Lia. “So, when will I be coming to your house then, hmmm?”

Lia looked apprehensive, then Marge laughed. “Oh, honey, I’m teasing. But –if you didn’t mind me dropping by, you know, one day when he might be there? I could bring some of my famous casserole?” Marge shrugged and tried to look innocent. “Just sayin’.”

Celia snagged the phone back from Marge and looked at the photo herself. Her eyes found something too.

“Who’s this one?” she asked.

Lia shook her head unable to see, then Celia turned the phone to Lia with her long fingernail pointing to the broad-shouldered man on the end.

“Oh, that’s Manuel Castillo. He prefers to be called Manny. He is very sweet. I like him too.”

“Those shoulders and that jaw certainly are sweet,” said Celia. She smacked her lips. “Is he single? And does he come over a lot too?”

“Yes,” said Lia timidly.

“If she’s coming over,” said Celia, waving a hand at Marge, “Then I am too. We’ll just have another lunch at your house.”

Lia tried to look pleased, but was nervous. She liked the ladies just fine, but had never brought anyone to her home. Her dealings with people had always been brief, easier to hide her affliction when all she had to do was play the normal human for a short while. Continued and prolonged exposure to people would be harder to carry herself off as human. Her security “boys” saw her in her own element, protected from the sun, with rooms she could hide in should she need to, so at least if these ladies came over, Lia would have that benefit. She swallowed and tried to think quickly.

Marge said, “Oh, look at us, inviting ourselves to the poor girls’ house. What kind of ladies are we?”

Celia snorted. “Aw, sweetie, it’s ok. We’re just teasing. Don’t mind us.”

Lia tried to correct them. “No, no. I’d like to. It’s just – I’ve never had friends… never brought anyone home before.”

Marge put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’re being very rude, honey. I’m sorry. You were probably the prettiest girl at school, and all the girls hated you because they all thought you were going to steal their boyfriend. But you’re so shy, and you have your skin condition, and all you probably did was avoid everyone so they wouldn’t mess with you. Huh?”

Lia obviously couldn’t correct that statement, so she just shrugged.

“Look at her,” said Marge, curling her thick arm around Lia like she had just adopted Lia as her daughter. “She’s been scared of meeting folks and all we do is just jump all over her, inviting ourselves into her life.”

“No, please,” said Lia. “I would very much like you both in my life. It’s just – my life is very abnormal. I am – very abnormal. It has been difficult to make friends, so I am not used to it.”

“Sweetie,” said Celia. “Anyone who doesn’t want to be your friend is just plain an asshole. Probably jealous. The only abnormal thing about you is that you make me think some Photoshop pictures might be real. If that’s a disease, I’ll take some of it. No one has skin as gorgeous as that. It doesn’t exist anywhere in nature except on your perfect body. You might have a condition sweetie, but you’re stunningly beautiful. A living porcelain doll. And sweeter than anyone has a right to be. So, if someone has a problem with you, then someone should kick that rude bitch’s ass.”

Lia smiled.

Marge smirked at Celia. “You act like you’d kick the rude bitch’s ass yourself.”

Celia sipped her wine. “Maybe I would. It’s a good workout for the hips and thighs.” She made a comical pretense of pressing her finger against her hip and making a sizzle sound.

Marge guffawed.

Lia beamed. “My husband would do it with you.”

Marge looked at Celia, then back to Lia, surprised.

Lia noticed their confused expressions. “He would kick anyone’s aaah – rears too. He always threatens to. But I am afraid he would be arrested.”

Marge burst out laughing. Celia followed her, trying not to spit out her wine. Marge clapped a heavy hand on Lia’s shoulder. “You’re alright, girl.”

Lia smiled and sipped at her own wine.

Celia put her glass down, and said, “Ok, ladies, we have serious business to discuss.”

Marge looked questioningly at Celia.

Celia grinned and made the pretense of looking respectable, folding her hands in her lap, lady-like. There was a long silence before Celia finally said, “Seriously. When can we come over?” Celia made an amused snort signifying that she was only playing.

Lia shook her head, but smiled. “As soon as possible,” she said. “I would very much enjoy a lunch at my house.”

Marge huffed at Celia. “Now you’ve gone and done it.” She turned to Lia. “Listen, honey, if you’re serious, we’ll bring the food. You won’t need to go to any trouble. We’re not that rude. And pick a time you like. We’ll work around it.”

“Would Friday be ok?” asked Lia.

“Will Manny be there?” asked Celia.

“Yes,” said Lia.

“Deal!” said Celia.

Marge looked uncomfortable. Celia waved a dismissive hand at her, facing Lia. “She’s too proud to ask if Rollins will be there. So, I’ll ask.”

“Yes,” said Lia.

Celia grinned wickedly and shot Marge a “gotcha” look. Marge lowered her eyes, but smiled.

When Celia raised her empty glass, Marge and Lia responded by raising theirs. Celia let loose another snort. “Jesus, I’m not proposing a toast. I’m asking for more wine.” She whistled through her teeth. “Waiter?”

 

 

 

They finished their wine, though, to Lia’s relief, none of them finished their salads. Celia was fairly tipsy. She had poured herself far more wine than the other two women and now was amorously looking at one of the busboys.

Marge noticed and said, “Honey, you better slow that roll or you’re going to wind up sneaking out of some college boy’s dorm room in the morning again.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“You’re thirty-five. You ever think that dating – no, sleeping with nothing but college boys is the reason you don’t have a steady relationship?”

Celia shrugged. “Just because the packaging is out of date doesn’t mean the product isn’t good. They know what they’re getting.”

“Yeah, but you don’t. You need to start looking at men your own age,” said Marge. She turned to Lia. “How old is Manny?”

Lia shrugged. “I’m not sure. He might be around forty. I’m not a good judge of human – uh, men’s age.”

“There. Manny’s a good change for you.”

Celia shrugged. “Ok, ok. But that’s Friday. I’m still gonna be horny tonight.”

Marge harrumphed. “Honey, you’d be better off staying home with your little pink toy.”

“It’s not a toy. You know damned well it’s a personal tension release apparatus,” said Celia.

Lia was curious. “Pink toy?”

Marge nodded, smirking. “Yeah. She likes hers pink. I kinda like ‘em darker.” She giggled.

Lia was utterly confused. “Why does she want a toy?”

Marge laughed, probably thinking that Lia was teasing. She soon realized that Lia was not. Marge said, “Well, honey, those of us who are without men in our lives have to find alternate ways of…” she bit back a laugh, “…releasing tension.”

“Amen,” said Celia, raising her wine glass.

Lia was still confused.

Marge tried to rephrase her answer. “It’s a vibrator, honey.”

Lia shook her head. The word still didn’t register. “A toy that vibrates?”

“It’s a mechanical penis, darling,” said Celia, blurting it out. “I have one just in case. Like just in case I’m not wrapping my legs around that boy’s fine ass tonight.” She sipped her wine again.

Lia slowly placed her hands to her mouth.

“You’ve gone and shocked the girl,” said Marge to Celia.

Celia blew a drunken raspberry.

Marge offered to Lia, “Don’t let this ho make it sound all sleazy an’ shit. I’m not ashamed to say I use mine. It lets me get my thoughts back to what I’m doing instead of daydreaming about the kind of stuff I write, like some gorgeous hunk of man laying my main character down and…” she started fanning herself. “Oh, there I go. I might just need it tonight.” Marge chuckled. “It’s an honest tool to help me keep my mind on my work. Seriously. It’s not sleazy at all.”

Lia looked at Marge and nodded slowly. “Because you think too much about – sex? And it helps you remedy that?”

“That is exactly what it does,” said Marge.

Celia tried not to laugh. “I only use mine when I strike out.