chapter Thirteen
BENNY AND CHER
LIZETTE severely resented the fact that men claimed women were complicated. They were the ones who changed their minds with no warning or logic and who seemed terrified of just speaking the truth.
Five minutes earlier Johnny had been slowly and skillfully kissing her, and sounding very sincere in saying that he liked her, and wanted her to stay with him for a few days. She had been flattered and intrigued by the idea of spending time with him, and so she’d said yes. Then his mood had immediately changed, and he had just about dragged her out of the apartment, insisting they get the cuffs cut off, with an urgency previously unseen. She had actually thought he’d been somewhat enjoying their enforced togetherness. But not so now.
He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, and had practically begged to stop for a drink without any warning whatsoever. How could he go from purring contentment to skittish without any apparent trigger? It was a mystery to her, and she instantly lost a bit of the contented mood that she had been feeling. Was that what he had done? Changed his mind? Regretted his suggestion for her to stay with him?
Had he just been hoping for oral sex after all?
Now she wanted a drink as well. Bastard. She had never felt particularly concerned about her attractiveness or her lovemaking skills, and yet for some reason Johnny made her doubt herself. Made her want to please him, including taking him into her mouth. The very idea made her blush, as she had been so trained to think of it as crass, but she had thought he would like it. She had trusted him with the truth, but now she was feeling uncertain. Which was frustrating in the extreme, and she vowed not to let it get the best of her. She was not insecure, and she was not going to let some fickle vampire who faked his own death make her feel inadequate in any way.
She realized it was the same bar they had met in the other evening when she had been showing him the list. Funny how then she had been so sure of herself and her professionalism. Now she had just made love to him on the floor and she still wasn’t wearing underwear. But oddly, she didn’t feel particularly upset about it. Well, she wasn’t entirely comfortable not wearing panties, but that had nothing to do with Johnny. She had reconciled herself to the fact that she must have slept with him because she liked him, and that was perfectly acceptable. She was owed vacation time, so there was no reason she couldn’t resign from this case and spend a few days with Johnny.
After canceling the lingerie and vibrator orders. Speaking of which, she should do that soon. They sat down at the bar, the same bartender from the other night waving to them. Lizette ordered a glass of wine and crossed her legs while Johnny looked everywhere but at her, his fingers drumming on the ancient wooden bar.
“Is that Cher?” she asked him, eyeing a woman bent over with a pool stick. Her legs were a mile long, her skirt extremely short. Her companion was a muscular young guy wearing a very prominent cross on his chest.
“You know who Cher is?” Johnny asked her.
“Everyone knows who Cher is.” She suspected every woman secretly wished that when she turned sixty she would magically morph into Cher. That wasn’t Lizette’s desire, as she would never have the kind of showmanship that Cher displayed, nor did she aspire to that, but she did admire her ability to ignore everyone else’s opinions of her. “I believe that is her Bob Mackie look, given the headdress she’s wearing.”
“Sweetheart, that’s not Cher. It’s not even a woman.”
“What?” Lizette stared a little harder. “That’s a man?” It didn’t look like a man. There was no . . . hair. Well, there was plenty of hair on her/his head but not on her silky-smooth legs.
“I think he was at the wedding last night.” Johnny stood up. “Wait, is that Benny? Nigel,” he called to the bartender. “Is that Benny with Cher over there?”
“The one and only. Benny, not Cher. There is definitely more than one of her running around this town.”
Feeling like there was an inside joke she was not privy to, Lizette studied the duo at the pool table. “Who is Benny?” Lizette asked.
“He’s a stripper who works at the gay club, and he’s friends with my sister. I should say hi. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
Suddenly aware of the fact that she was wearing Johnny’s T-shirt stapled closed and Johnny’s oversized nylon sports shorts, Lizette rose with Johnny and tossed her hair back. She really wished she hadn’t lost her Louboutins . . . she’d prefer to be wearing them if she were going to be introduced to a well-dressed transvestite. He was bound to be up on fashion and Louboutins were like style armor—no one could touch you if you were wearing them.
“Benny! What’s up, bud?” Johnny shook his right hand, the free one, with the broad-shouldered pool player. “Who’s your friend? I think I saw you at Zelda and Saxon’s wedding last night, right?”
“Totally. That wedding was full of fabulous people. I loved it, even if Zelda is a bit of a bitch.” Bob Mackie Cher stuck her/his hand out. “I’m Richard.” He grinned. “And yes, you can call me Dick. In fact, I prefer it.”
Lizette marveled that his voice was so deep, in sharp contrast to his very feminine appearance. His cheeks were as smooth as a baby’s bottom, and she wondered how much the laser hair removal had set him back.
“Who is this little precious?” he asked, smiling at her, false eyelashes fluttering, feathered headpiece bobbing slightly.
“This is Lizette, my friend in town from Paris. We got a little drunk last night and uh, found ourselves a bit tied up.” Johnny lifted their handcuffed hands.
Did he have to mention that? It was possible no one would have even noticed if he hadn’t brought it up. Now she had Dick and Benny grinning at her.
“Nice to meet you,” Dick said. “I guess the cuffs explain the interesting ensemble.” He gestured to her shirt.
“Pleasure,” she said with a nod, though she wasn’t really sure it was.
“I’m Benny.”
The other man stuck his hand out. She shook it with Johnny’s limp hand dangling below hers, because she couldn’t exactly shake with her left hand. “Enchanté.”
“I’m straight,” he told her, which seemed a little unexpected. “I just dance at the gay strip club because the money is good.”
“That’s nice,” she told him, unsure of what a proper response was.
“If you were a gay man, he’d tell you he’s gay,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. “Benny likes to get whatever he can. Which I can’t say I have a problem with, but just so you know the score.”
“Thank you, but I am not interested either way,” Lizette said, trying to be polite. She really couldn’t imagine herself feeling amorous toward the bulky Benny, even if she hadn’t just been sexually intimate with Johnny.
“She’s with me, bonehead,” Johnny said dryly. “Can’t you see we’re handcuffed together?”
“Well, how do I know why you’re handcuffed? Maybe it was a social experiment. Maybe it’s some kind of weirdo ritual you guys do, I don’t know.” Benny waved his hands around. “Hey, is Stella still dating that bass player?”
“Yes, she is,” Johnny said. “So no go for you.”
“Damn. You know I want to bag your sister. I’m sorry, maybe that’s tacky, but it’s true. She’s like my first—”
Johnny cut him off. “Have you seen Saxon?”
Benny’s jaw shut. Dick shook his head. “No. Not since Zelda got her wig in a wad and threw us out of the reception last night.”
“What time was that?”
“Two.”
“Hmm.”
“Were we still there then?” Lizette asked Dick. “Did you notice?”
Dick eyed her shrewdly. “You don’t remember?”
“Not exactly, no. I cannot say I was paying attention to the time.” She had no intention of admitting the entire night was a complete black hole.
“I didn’t notice,” Dick said, in a dismissive way, not looking her in the eye.
For some reason, Lizette didn’t believe him. There was just something about his posture that seemed stiff. He sounded friendly, but she had the sense he was not a friend to them.
“Hey, if you want those cuffs taken off, I have a friend who is fabulous at picking the lock. I can give him a call.”
Johnny glanced at her. He didn’t look suspicious of Cher at all. “Sure, that would be great. I’m sure Lizette would appreciate just a little bit of space.”
What did that mean? Two hours ago she would have thought it was thoughtful, but now she felt like there was a hidden meaning behind his words. Maybe she did need a bit of privacy to collect her thoughts. Johnny had offered for her to stay with him and she had said yes automatically, without even stopping to weigh the consequences. She was not normally impulsive, but it had felt right.
She was falling for him. She could not help herself.
But now she had the feeling that something was simply . . . off.
“I saw Saxon,” Benny said.
“What? When?” she asked, because Johnny was conferring with Dick and didn’t seem to have heard him.
Benny reminded Lizette of a puppy—he was quite eager to please and possibly would lick you if you let him.
“About an hour ago. We were having a drink to celebrate his marriage.”
“An hour ago?” she asked in surprise. “How long were you together?”
“Couple hours. I ran in to him here after my day shift at the club. So I guess it was probably around ten.” But then he looked around and patted the pockets on his tight jeans. “But wait, what time is it now?”
“It is two.”
“Then I’m not really sure. But it was tonight. That I can tell you for sure.” He gave her a friendly smile.
That was interesting. Not Benny’s smile. The fact that Saxon had been with him after waking up for the night. Did that mean he’d been with them in the dungeon until he’d woken up? But surely he would have roused Zelda as well if that had been the case, at the very least to make sure she was all right. “Did he mention not remembering his wedding night?”
Benny gave her a blank stare. “Who doesn’t remember their wedding night? I mean, come on. It’s kind of noteworthy.”
“That’s true.” Lizette glanced over at Johnny and Dick, who were now busy looking at the screen of Dick’s phone. “Care for a drink, Benny? Let’s sit at the bar, shall we? Johnny, Dick, can we sit at the bar?”
Johnny gave her a distracted nod, but he didn’t protest when she started dragging him the three feet to the barstools. He held out a stool for her, then continued his conversation with Dick, which seemed to have left the field of handcuffs and ventured into the territory of online gaming. There was a lot of weaponry discussion and strategizing going on.
“Okay, thanks.” Benny followed her as well, pool stick in tow. “I’ll have a Heineken,” he told Nigel.
“Riesling, please,” she ordered, crossing her legs after she climbed onto the stool. While the bartender moved to get their drinks, she turned back to Benny. “When I meant memory loss, I was thinking more along the lines of when someone drinks to excess, or perhaps has something slipped in their drink that makes them lose their memory of the night.”
“Oh, gotcha.” Benny nodded. “I totally understand. I had that happen to me once, you know. The night of Johnny’s wake. I totally didn’t know any of these guys until that night.”
“Really?” she asked politely, though she wasn’t particularly interested. Her focus was on the night prior, not what antics Benny had gotten into in the past. “So Saxon didn’t mention anything like that about last night?”
“Nope. He said the wedding was a blast and Zelda tore him up in bed. He was smiling and looking good.” Benny grinned.
Now that was odd. So Saxon remembered the night, but no one else did? How had that happened? “Did he say where he was going when he left here?”
“Nope. So the night of Johnny’s wake, did he ever tell you about that?”
“Not specifically.” Which was the truth. He had told her why he had faked his own death, but he hadn’t described the outcome or how quickly he had come clean with his friends and family. Obviously not before they’d had a wake for him. That must have been awkward, and Lizette found herself in sympathy with Stella. It must have been horrific for her to plan her brother’s funeral.
“So it’s really a funny story.” Benny thanked Nigel and took his drink from him. “So like I said, I had never met any of these guys in my life, and I just went to work as usual, except it was Tarts and Vicars night at the club so I was dressed like a priest, crucifix and all. I forgot to bring a change of clothes, so it was either walk home in a Speedo or the costume, so I left the robe on. Then I don’t remember a damn thing until I woke up the next night in a bathtub three blocks off Bourbon with a chick screaming and a bunch of hungover dudes all arguing with each other. Then a bat bit me. I mean, just swooped down out of nowhere and bit the shit out of me, and while she’s biting me, she just turns into a hot babe. Like bam! There she is—hot babe sucking on my neck and I thought, ‘Whoa. These people are vampires. Could anything be any fucking hotter?’”
Lizette almost fell off her stool in a dead faint, her panic growing with each and every word he spoke. “What do you mean?” she managed, a strange buzzing sounding in her ears.
“I mean it was like my fantasy come to life, man. Stella is smokin’. I’ve been trying to get her to bite me again ever since, you know what I’m saying?” He winked. But then he sighed. “But she’s all into that Wyatt guy. It sucks. Where am I going to find another vampire chick like her? She’s my Dark Angel.”
Lizette felt hot, her fingers gripping the edge of the bar. She forced herself to take a sip of her wine to collect her thoughts, though the sweet liquid almost made her gag. “So are there a lot of women who pretend to be vampires in New Orleans?”
“Sure. But this isn’t pretend. Stella is the real deal. So are Johnny and all those guys I hung out with that night.”
This was a disaster. An absolute complete and utter disaster. It was a breach in security of epic proportions. This man was just casually mentioning to her that vampires existed. He was mentioning names. To her, whom he didn’t know at all. If he was willing to disclose such information to a total stranger, how many people had he told thus far?
It was catastrophic.
She didn’t dare look at Johnny. She felt like if she did, the entire truth of who they were would be written all over her face, and there would be no way out of this situation. She would find herself tied up in a laboratory like Jean-Baptiste had, being dissected alive. Johnny and Dick seemed to still be stuck on gaming, so she didn’t think he had heard her conversation with Benny.
Suddenly it also occurred to her that it was a rather alarming coincidence that on two separate occasions where a large group of vampires had gathered, multiple people had been drugged to the point of no memory.
That terrified her. Was it a conspiracy? Were the mortals out to kill vampires? Vampires out to expose and eliminate other vampires?
She did not know what any of this meant.
“I cannot believe this,” she whispered.
“Wait a minute.”
Her head snapped up. She realized Benny was staring at her. “You’re one too, aren’t you? Of course you are! God, I’m so stupid.” Then he put his hand over his mouth. “Sorry, am I not supposed to say the G word? Ever since I gave Saxon that crucifix burn on his forehead I’m always worried I’m like causing you pain or whatever.”
“I am not . . . a vampire,” she managed to say, though the words stuck in her throat. Her entire life had been spent hiding the truth, to the point that no one had ever suspected what she was. In two hundred years she had never once been accused of being a vampire, and she found the direct question overwhelming and frightening to the point of paralysis.
“You don’t have to deny it. I should have guessed it before. You’re pale and you’re from Paris.”
What did that have to do with immortality? “I am just French. I wish I were immortal,” she said, with an attempt at deflection. “Then I wouldn’t have to worry about watching my weight.” It seemed like something a mortal woman would say, but Benny seemed to immediately dismiss her words with a wave of his hand.
“Whatever. Your secret is safe with me.” His eyes lit up in a way that only deepened Lizette’s fear. “You can bite me if you want. Drink my blood. I’m down with that.”
That snapped her out of her stupor. “Don’t be ridiculous!” she said to him. “No one is going to be biting anyone.” Of course, that had not been the case ninety minutes earlier, when she and Johnny had been sinking their fangs into each other. But this was why their identity needed to be a secret, why the VA was so important. Benny was most likely harmless, albeit a nuisance, but for every Benny, there would be a mortal who could present a real danger to their very existence.
It infuriated her that Johnny and others were so casual about letting mortals know the truth.
“That sucks.” Then Benny burst out laughing. “Ha-ha. Sucks.”
Lizette wasn’t one to normally roll her eyes, as she saved her irritation with others for her private thoughts, but she could not restrain the impolite gesture now. She was not in any mood for manners. “Call Saxon and tell him he needs to meet us here. Now.”
Benny’s laughter cut off and his lips jutted out in a pout. “You don’t have to be mean. Geez.”
Knowing that she was about to lose her shit entirely if something didn’t happen in the next sixty seconds, Lizette took a deep breath. “Will you please call Saxon and ask him to meet Johnny and me here? It’s extremely important.”
“Sure. Are you sure you aren’t interested in biting me?”
Before she could respond, Johnny finally seemed to have pulled his head out of his imaginary computer screen game playing and heard what they were discussing.
“Hey,” he told Benny. “Don’t be talking to her like that. I just told you she was with me.”
Yet, that wasn’t the kind of assistance she was looking for from him. “Johnny, may I speak with you outside? Benny saw Saxon earlier tonight and he is going to call him on our behalf and ask him to meet us here.”
Johnny wasn’t even looking at her, she noted with total frustration. Did he not understand the importance of what was happening? They had been outed.
“Can it wait a second, babe? Dick’s friend Brian just walked in.”
“It really cannot wait!” she said shrilly.
* * *
JOHNNY WASN’T SURE why Lizette suddenly had a bug up her butt. Here he was trying to get them out of handcuffs and she was shrieking at him. Though he supposed he had been acting weird for the last hour. He wasn’t exactly stellar at hiding his awkwardness, and his sudden and unexpected feelings for Lizette made him feel hugely awkward. Going-through-puberty awkward. So maybe she was just picking up on the vibe he had created. Which was why it made even more sense that they get out of the cuffs.
“Brian has a lock pick,” he told her. “Dick says he can spring us in two minutes flat.”
She didn’t say anything, but her foot was tapping furiously on the rung of her stool and her fingers were drumming on her purse, which she had slapped onto the bar. With more attitude than grace, she dug into her bag one-handed and pulled out a wad of singles. One by one she started counting them out and Johnny had to admit he was mystified as to what the hell she was doing.
“Are you a dancer too?” Benny asked.
Oh, bad question. Johnny winced.
“No.” Her response was almost a growl.
Johnny shifted on his seat, suddenly fearful for his testicles. She looked enraged and he had no clue why. Fortunately, he was spared from having to confront the issue by Brian approaching Dick, and introductions were made all around. Lizette ignored them, even as Brian pulled on the cuffs to examine them, forcing her hand to dangle over the bar.
“This is a double lock. Little harder but nothing I can’t handle. It will just take me a minute or two.” Brian wasn’t as tall as Dick, but he had a similar build, long and lean, and he had straight black hair and a strong nose. Between his features and the necklace and vest he was wearing, Johnny had the impression he was of Native American descent.
“Thanks, man, I appreciate you doing this.”
“Sounds like a crazy night.” Brian was quiet, calm, pulling a pick out of his pocket and studying the lock on the cuffs with intense concentration. “So who should I spring first?”
“Lizette,” Johnny said without hesitation. She clearly needed something, maybe being free of her titanium restraint would improve her mood. Funny how an hour ago he had been panicking at the thought of Lizette staying with him, now he was panicking at the thought that she might not want to stay with him. Stupid. Completely and totally stupid.
“Merci,” she said coldly and formally, which was not at all reassuring. Then she said something to him in French that he suspected was her explanation of why she was so pissed. Only he of course couldn’t understand a freaking word she was saying.
“I know,” he told her, because really what else was he supposed to say? They had a skinny guy with Cher hair in between them jamming a pick into their cuffs.
Wait a minute. Brian looked like Cher, too, now that he thought about it, though he was dressed like a man and wasn’t wearing mascara. But there was something familiar about him. Johnny swung his gaze back and forth between Dick and Brian and felt a niggling of a memory. “Were you both at the wedding last night?”
Dick grinned. “Maybe. Don’t you remember?”
Brian had been Half-Breed Cher. He was sure of it. “I’m starting to think that all we need is a Turn Back Time Cher and we’ll have Cher through the decades.” God, that was weird. If a flash mob of Cher impersonators broke into “I Got You, Babe” all around him, he was out of there.
“First lock undone,” Brian murmured, hair sliding over Johnny’s arm as he worked in concentration.
Lizette said something in French.
“Absolutely,” Johnny said.
“Dude,” Benny said.
“You’re a little slow on the uptake,” Dick said. “Of course we are.”
What? “You mean you are Cher through the decades?”
“Duh. Every tranny gang needs a theme of sorts.”
Tranny gang? Did such a thing exist? And if so, why? It wasn’t like he and the other guys were a vampire gang. They were just a group of friends who hung out. They were a band, which was a legitimate reason to call themselves a group. “What makes you a gang?”
But Dick clucked his tongue. “Never mind.”
“Got it.” Brian clicked open the ring around Lizette’s wrist and let her free, then closed it again.
Lizette’s eyes lit up and she bent her arm and clutched her now-free hand to her chest. “Oh, thank you. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this!”
Wow. That sounded like eager relief to be rid of her attachment to him. Johnny felt a little bitter.
“Oh, shit, we’re late!” Dick glanced at his phone. “Benny, we have to blow. Brian, let’s go.”
“I never said I would blow you,” Benny said.
Dick rolled his eyes, his fake eyelashes fluttering. Glittery eye shadow floated down to land on his flawless cheeks. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want you to. It would be like—”
Johnny cut him off because truthfully, he didn’t want to know where that statement was going. “Brian, can’t I at least buy you a drink for your help?”
But Brian shook his head. “Sorry, Richard is right. We need to take off. Since I only got your friend free, don’t worry about it.”
Hold up. “You’re not going to get me out of the cuffs?”
“Sorry, got to run.” Brian started to move away from the bar. Dick was already almost at the door.
“Can’t you at least leave me the pick?” he asked.
“No, this is custom-made. Look, I’ll catch up with you in an hour or so, okay? See ya.”
Then they were gone and Johnny was left staring at the door as it swung shut behind them. So he was no longer attached to Lizette, but he still had a metal bracelet on. He sighed.
Benny hung up his phone and said, “Saxon isn’t picking up.”
Johnny could have told him that. He’d been calling the guy all night and he hadn’t picked up. Lizette said something in French. Johnny was getting a headache. It was like his hangover was reappearing.
Maybe it was time to come clean. “Lizette, I have to tell you the truth. I don’t really speak French. I have no fucking idea what you’re saying. Or have been saying.”
It wasn’t that big of a deal, right? Just a minor fact he had forgotten to share with her.
“Uh!” She gasped in indignation. Then she threw her glass of wine in his face.
The cool liquid hit him before he could react, and Johnny blinked, droplets on his eyelashes blurring his vision. He licked his lips and found her taste in wine was too sweet for his liking.
“How dare you!”
Johnny wished he had a counter to keep track of how many times she had said that to him in the last eight hours. It would make a fun drinking game, if he were in the mood for fun. Which he wasn’t.
“Pretending to understand me all this time! I feel humiliated.”
“Yeah, a whole whopping eight hours. The breadth of my deception is enormous.” And yes, that was sarcasm. “At least you’re out of the handcuffs now.”
He wiped his face with his hand and flung wine onto his jeans. That had not been a drink-in-the-face offense, he had to say.
“Which is excellent news because it means I can walk away from you.” She rose from her stool, head held high, slapping down a pile of ones to pay for her drink.
She was leaving? Where was she going? Johnny stood up, the loose end of the cuffs dangling and hitting him in the thigh. “Is everything okay?” he asked, because it seemed like a safe enough question to ask. If you asked a woman what was wrong, she either said she was fine or she jumped your shit for thinking something was wrong. This way, it sounded more polite.
Which did not explain why Lizette, the most by-the-book woman he had ever met, flipped him off as she strode out of the bar in her stapled T-shirt, expensive handbag firmly on her shoulder, his shorts sagging on her narrow hips.
Flipped him off.
What was that?