Vamp City Page 3

  By the time she got to the door, now depressed at spending another night alone, she almost missed the envelope with her name on it taped just below the peephole. She went inside, put the groceries away, then sat at the front desk to examine it.

  It was just a white card, but written on it, in blood no less, was “You are being watch.”

  Sophia shook her head at the terrible grammar. “Then I hope you’re not as bored as I am.” Carmen came in and Sophia realized how loud she’d said it.

  “What’s that?” Sophia gave her the card. “Oh, wow. This is scary.”

  “I don’t know. Most vamps are so into drama. After a few decades, it can be something to drive you, to keep you from going nuts. David nipped those buds, so I try not to indulge.”

  Carmen handed her back the card. “You may not have a choice.”

  “That’s what worries me. I don’t know the players in this town. I don’t know the moves they’re gonna pull, what pisses them off, where they get their kicks. This could be something bad or a bunch of hot air.”

  “Ask the people at the meeting. This isn’t AA. You can get to know them better. That would be good for you anyway.”

  Sophia could feel the barbs at the ends of those words, but Carmen was right. It was time to get a life.

  She pulled the recently acquired business card out of her tote and called Cecily. “Here’s my deal: one hundred dollars a plate for a four-course serving. You book the room and add on what you need.”

  Cecily’s cackle was joyous. “Oh, honey. You’re gonna take this town by storm.”

  Chapter Three

  After calling her butcher contacts, informing them her next order would not be for the non-profit so she needed some prices and the most exotic bloods they could find, Sophia lined up a solid flight of four. Cecily would provide appetizers and desert, so the customers wouldn’t feel underfed.

  She hired Jeremiah to help her with transport and heavy lifting, happy he accepted the friend rate of fifty bucks for the night plus gas money. She was glad to have him along, as he was the friendliest of all the rehab people. While the vampires kept their distances, sounding like they wanted to keep the relationships professional, the kid looked happy to have a friend. She could also feel the puppy dog eyes bounding up and down her body but wasn’t ready to get serious. She wasn’t sure when she would be ready for that.

  The place Cecily booked for the evening wasn’t far from the offices, but in terms of monetary level, it was worlds above. Built into the Los Feliz hills with giant wooden logs supporting the living room and balcony, the house stayed true to the mid-1960s with mod flourishes like an open floor plan featuring sunken rooms, a fire pit in the middle of the living room with a long chimney hovering over it, pale wall paint and many wrought iron railings to create separation between spaces.

  Luckily, the kitchen had a separate entrance, as surely the owner wouldn’t want raw food falling on the pristine carpet. While Jeremiah loaded in the buckets, Sophia decided to check out the space to see how they could do the service.

  She walked into the first sunken room, the front door opening onto a landing above stairs, and heard Cecily talking on the phone one level down. As she stood at the top of the first set of stairs—a second was on the other side of a load-bearing wall made of brick—she caught a glimpse of the view from the balcony. Sophia descended and Cecily waved but didn’t hang up. She decided to take in the panorama, opening the glass door and walking onto the redwood perch.

  This view awed her, as she finally realized the scope of the city, the street lamps stretching like dozens of Christmas light strings and glowing with the same warmth. New Orleans looked great up close but couldn’t compete as an expanse.

  “Great, isn’t it?” Cecily had finished her call. “One day you could live in a place like this.”

  Sophia laughed, but Cecily looked hurt by that. “You’re serious?”

  “I didn’t say you could buy it but renting places like this isn’t totally out of the question.”

  “Really?” Sophia could see she was serious. “I used to live in a slave quarters—"

  “Oh my god! You were a slave?”

  “No!” Cecily joined in Sophia’s laughter, mostly from relief. “It’s what we in the South call little apartments off the main building.”

  “Couldn’t they come up with something not so…blech?”

  “They don’t let go of things easily down there.”

  “You’re in L.A. now. You should call them garden apartments.”

  “Fine. But that was a studio in the Quarter. I’m used to small spaces.”

  “Dream big, doll. It’s what we don’t let go of.” Cecily playfully slapped Sophia’s shoulder. “Let me show you the setup, so we can plan this out.”

  They went back into the wide room, where Sophia saw a very long table fitted with a draping white tablecloth. Right behind it, where it had been brick in the front room, was a wall-length mirror.

  Dodging to the wall so Cecily wouldn’t notice her reflection was missing, Sophia dug within herself to find her most pretentious voice. “Do you mind if I have a moment alone? I need to visualize the experience from many different perspectives.”

  Cecily put her hand to her chest. “I knew I picked out a true artist. Take your time. We aren’t expecting anyone for half an hour.”

  Cecily went up the stairs, then out the front door. She knew how to give someone their space.

  Sophia ran to the kitchen to see Jeremiah staring at his phone. “Come look at this,” she said, trying to keep her voice down. “I need some ideas.”

  Jeremiah followed her to the dining area, then whistled when he saw the mirror. Sophia waved at him to not make so much noise.

  “Who the fuck does this?” Sophia stared at the mirror as it only reflected the kid. “Who the fuck is so vain?”

  “It’s kinda cool. In a weird way. But look.” He pointed to the corners of the room. “There’s plenty of ways to hide from it.”

  Sophia saw how nook-y the room was. Good. “We have to draw the blinds. Make this room as dark as can be.”

  “But ain’t the point of the party being around other people? Seeing and being seen?”

  “Well, we’re serving blood, right? We gotta give them the goth experience.” They heard the front door open and close.

  “May I come down?”

  Sophia pressed herself against the wall, hand on her face. “Don’t laugh,” she whispered. “You’ll blow it.”

  As Cecily approached, her face brimmed with excitement. “Dazzle me, doll.”

  “I see…darkness. We have to match the mood to the food. With blood, there must be drama. And no overhead lights. Candles!” Sophia was glad she’d listened to so much jazz because this was pure improvisation.

  Cecily’s face looked serious, her bottom lip tucked under the firm top one. She nodded. “I have a candelabra guy.”

  Sophia turned to Jeremiah. “You heard that. She has a candelabra guy.”

  “And he’s close. We’ll have your vision fulfilled before guest one is comfortable.” Cecily dashed out of the house and, when the door slammed, Sophia and Jeremiah collapsed to the floor laughing.

  “You can sling some bullshit, girl!” Jeremiah blew out a deep breath. “Now let’s get to work.”

  As the guests arrived, Sophia could hear the buzz build in the main room, a furious hum of anticipation. She felt the guests’ hearts pulsing as they readied for the meal. She looked at Jeremiah who was finishing pouring the first course into small crystal decanters.

  Cecily popped her head into the kitchen. “Almost ready?”

  Sophia looked at Jeremiah who nodded. Sophia ran her hands along her shirt to smooth any wrinkles. “Okay, let’s get it going.”

  “We have to introduce you first, then everyone will sit.” Cecily wrapped her arm around Sophia’s shoulder. “Let’s do this.”

  “Laissez le bon temps roulez.” Cecily canted her head at Sophia’s French. “Let th
e good times roll.”

  “You are so precious!”

  As they entered the front room, Cecily tried to lead Sophia to the center, but Sophia held her back.

  In a whisper, she said, “Crowds make me nervous. I need to stay to the edges.”

  “What baby wants, baby gets.” Cecily walked to the set table, raising a bulbous wine glass. Tapping it with a knife, she brought the party to order. “Hey, guys. Let’s take our seats.”

  Sophia got her first looks at her audience. She still wasn’t used to how clean everyone was. Even casual denims and shirts were as sharp-angled as the shiny cocktail dresses. She looked at the faces, each like pedicured toes, buffed and glowing in the candle light. And those were the men. The women had a much more practiced elegance, but Sophia could see the amount of maintenance each had undertaken. These folks were a far cry from come-as-you-are New Orleanians.

  Cecily introduced Sophia to a round of applause. Before giving her the floor, she swept her glasses off. “Now all of you know what a shrinking violet I am.” The crowd laughed as Cecily mugged through her irony, pursing her lips and shaking her head with dramatic flair. “But Sophia had no idea how her artistry and taste would play in Hollywood. I told her how big she’s going to be, but you get to say you did it first!”

  This got a bigger hand than Sophia thought necessary, but now she saw the motivation behind these foodies: urban explorers. They had to say they did it before anyone had even heard of it. Regardless, tonight’s service would be excellent if they could handle what would be considered vile in most American homes.

  But they all played along. By the end, she had them exploring each nuance, examining each sip as if it were fancy wine. When dessert was served, most faces were flush from the iron, but each seemed excited if overwhelmed.

  As they ate small cakes and drank brandy, a few people came up to Sophia to chat, but they cleared away when a lumpy man with sandy hair and owly glasses approached.

  After shaking hands, he said, “You know, I’ve tasted my share of blood, mostly in Vietnamese restaurants. But this was so excellently ordered! The way you went from thin and sweet to viscous and grassy. I was thinking goat would be too much, but you showed how delicate it is, even though the meat is gamey. I have to say, this was a singular experience.”

  He shook her hand again then ambled over to a tall, blonde woman whose tan t-shirt, jeans and clogs didn’t match with the other guests. Sophia turned to go to the kitchen, but Cecily was right in her line, leaning in nose-to-nose.

  “Oh. My. God!” Cecily bounced with excitement but whispered her words. “That’s Michael Silver, THE food writer in town.”

  “Who’s the woman?”

  “Jordan Feinberg. She has a must-listen radio show about food.” Jordan looked over and waved at Cecily. As she went to join the two, Cecily patted Sophia’s shoulder. “This is huge. Huge!”

  But Sophia had maxed out. Being around mortals raised her hackles, as each of the well-groomed and well-fed would make a tasty bite for herself. Flushed with lust, she retreated to the kitchen to down any leftovers.

  Jeremiah stood over the kitchen sink, soap bubbles floating just above his belly button. “You did okay?”

  “I think it went well, but I need a hit. Where’s my reserve?”

  “Over there.” Jeremiah pointed his elbow to the small table in the breakfast nook. A flight of glasses, each filled with ruby liquid, awaited. She sat and took the first one down. She felt the last few drops while licking her lips, her now-protruding canines scratching her tongue.

  “Oh, what a night!” As Cecily came charging in, Sophia put her hand over her mouth. Cecily’s brow scrunched. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just having a drink.”

  “Savor it, babe. You deserve it.” She reached into her purse, pulling out folded money. “This is for you.” She placed three bills next to the sink. Jeremiah nodded thanks. “And for you.”

  Sophia took the paper. A check. The number was large for someone who had nothing, but she wasn’t sure if it would give her enough capital to get her own apartment. But then she realized another problem.

  “Guess I have to open a checking account.”

  “What?” Cecily again wrinkled her face. “How do you not have a checking account?”

  “My bank back home doesn’t have a branch out here.”

  “Oh. Don’t worry.” Cecily had no clue this was a ruse. “There’s lots around here which aren’t that far from your house.” Cecily sat across from Sophia who felt her canines had receded far enough to have a normal conversation. “I have a serious question for you. Can we go weekly with this?”

  “Will I get this much each time?”

  “That’s just the starters. Those people were the in crowd, the tastemakers. After their tongues get wagging, we’ll hit the real players. Beverly Hills. Producers. Actors!” Cecily’s giggle bubbled over her lips. “You and me, babe? The sky’s the limit.”

  “What about me?” Jeremiah beamed his goofy grin over his shoulder as he continued to scrub glasses.

  Sophia picked up the second glass. “As long as you want in, you’re good.” Jeremiah’s smile turned into a nod.

  Cecily kissed Sophia’s forehead. “Let me say goodbye to everyone.” Cecily paused after the slight buss. “Are you okay? You’re freezing.”

  “I always run cold. It’s annoying.”

  “Go wrap up in blankets.” Cecily snorted. “Oy vey, what yenta.” She waved her hand dismissively and left the room.

  As the next sip of blood hit her tongue, Sophia took the time to savor it. She didn’t know how to run a business like this and still stay hidden, but right now she didn’t care. This goat’s blood was just too delicious.

  Jeremiah drove Sophia home. His goodnight hug lingered too long, as Sophia felt his blood pressure skyrocket just by touching her. She was unsure how she felt about him, but his emotions beamed like garish neon.

  But she walked away from him, not even a chaste cheek smooch for the lycanthrope. He was a simple guy, but going forward with him would be complicated. Sophia felt she should at least have her own apartment before going out on dates.

  She lifted the stack of empty plastic buckets to rest on her belt as she waited for the light to change so she could cross Hyperion. Carmen told her jaywalking was one of the most ticketed misdemeanors and Sophia couldn’t make a court date.

  She crossed over, excited to get her head on a pillow. But something tickled her senses, a faint echo that set off her radar. The nervous edge grew as she approached the center’s front door. The twitching in her head was so bad she dropped the buckets. Sharp claws snapped out and canines popped, she squatted into a defensive position and snarled with predatory rage.

  “There ith no need to be tho dramatic.” Emerging from the shadows just past the corner of the building, the Spanish-accented vampire cut an unusual form: brocaded black jacket, pants so tight as to be like a snake’s skin, brilliantine-slicked white hair. He walked with a dancer’s grace, approaching slowly. “But I did tell you that you were being watch.”

  Sophia straightened and retracted her defenses. “It’s watched. Past tense.”

  “Bah. English ith a barbaric language. If you thpoke Thpanish, you would hear my poetic pronunthiation.”

  Sophia wondered if he came from Barcelona or was putting on the lisp. Regardless, she saw how she was dressed compared to him and chuckled. “Me dramatic? You’re the one dressed for a bullfight.”

  As he stopped his tango-like approach, Sophia half expected him to draw one leg up and point his toe. “Yeth, you are right. But I am the one known in this town and you are the mythterious thtranger.”

  “I’m Sophia.” She held out her hand, but he looked as if she were presenting him with a dead rat.

  “You may call me the Caballero.” He pronounced his title with a whipping flourish of his right arm. “Ath you know, there ith no counthil in Loth Angeleth, however I am the elder. That cometh with a thertain…defe
renth.”

  Sophia bowed, twirling her hand under her head. “I have nothing but respect for you.” As she straightened, the Caballero had adjusted his gaze to maximize his down-the-nose look at her. But then he jerked his head to the sky.

  “I got to know David. Your bithneth of blood denial is acctheptable. But watch every thtep of your common exithtence. I will tolerate no incurthion to or revoluthion of the thatuth quo!” He drew a hidden cape across his face, morphed his body into a bat and flew into the night.

  Sophia bent over to grab the buckets. To the empty sky, she called, “You should visit New Orleans sometime. They’d love you on St. Ann Street!”

  Chapter Four

  “He actually turned into a bat?” Sandy’s voice was excited, as was the rest of the group. “Nobody ever taught me that trick.”

  “Me neither. The New Orleans council frowned on changing shape.” Sophia paused, wondering if she should brag. Why not? “I can do mist form.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I’ll show you how after the meeting. It takes a bit of finesse.”

  While the meetings were always focused, especially after she re-introduced fresh blood, this crowd giggled like twelve-year-old girls in front of the new, cute pop star.

  “I can’t believe you met the Caballero.” Monroe, whose law firm specialized in catering to undead needs, twitched with the news. “I’ve been trying to get a meeting for twenty years now. It’s impossible!”

  Sophia caught the faces spread out around her nodding at the statement. “Really? Me meeting him was unusual?”

  “Are you kidding?” Sandy’s jaw dropped. “Just seeing him was unusual. It’s like spotting Elvis. People talk about the Caballero, but he keeps to a tight circle.”