La Vida Vampire

I checked messages, and sure enough Maggie had called. I snagged the extension and dialed the number on the way to my room. No answer, but voice mail clicked on, and I left a brief, highly edited message saying Saber was with me, I was going to dance class, and I’d call her when I returned.

I chucked my clothes and stepped in the shower for ten minutes. The steaming water eased my stress less than I hoped because it triggered memories of that erotic dream. Damn the timing. I gave myself a stern lecture that my libido and Saber didn ’t mix as I dried off and donned the red bra and panties I’d broken down and bought myself for Valentine’s Day. I applied a little more makeup, rearranged my ponytail, and slipped into one of the few dressy outfits I own: a filmy red, pink, and green hibiscus-patterned skirt and a red scoop-neck blouse with short sleeves. Red was a power color, right? Well, I was going all out tonight. I dug my red pumps with the two-inch heels out of the closet and was ready. Back in the living room, Saber sat parked in front of the TV watching ESPN. Did his eyes flick to me as I came in? Who cared? I was ignoring him, right? I crossed to the table where I’d tossed my purse, pulled out a credit card, a twenty dollar bill, and my key.

“I’m ready,” I said and headed for the door.

Saber pushed the Off button on the remote, stood slowly, and turned to me. In the time it took him to look me over from head to toe to head again, I could’ve changed clothes another three times. Maybe I should’ve changed, because I didn’t want to like the way his cobalt blue eyes gleamed. In appreciation, I thought, until he opened his mouth.

“Is this a fancy restaurant you’re dragging me to?”

I rolled my eyes. “This is a tourist town, Saber. Nothing is that fancy except the Casa Monica Hotel.”

“Then why are you—” He flipped a hand at me. “—dressed up? You have a boyfriend we don’t know about?”

“I wish,” I muttered. “Can we go already?”





TWELVE


Café Cascada was usually packed on a Friday night, the multiple fountains with their mini -waterfalls a tinkling background music to dining. Tonight, it seemed quieter, the lighting seemed dimmer, more intimate. Danielle, part-time hostess, part-time dance instructor, greeted us before Saber and I got all the way in the door. Looking gorgeous in her full, iridescent blue skirt and off -white peasant blouse, her flame-colored hair loose around her shoulders, she beamed at us.

“Francesca, you brought a dance partner tonight. How delightful!”

“No, no, Danielle,” I denied, “he’s just here to eat.”

“Not to dance?” She gave Saber a blatantly feminine appraisal—one I wished I could pull off—and stepped closer to him.

“What a shame. You look like you can move.”

He waggled his brows. “I can.”

I restrained myself from doing an eye roll.

“He’s hungry, Danielle. For food. He hasn’t eaten all day.” I shoved Saber toward a table—which was rather like shoving my truck—but I got him to a table for two.

“Go ahead, Saber,” I said, motioning to the chair. “Sit, eat, have some wine. The class won’t last too long.”

Danielle, who had followed, pulled the chair out for him, something I’d never see her do for other guests. He rewarded her by aiming a dazzling smile over his shoulder. At me he smirked.

I escaped—okay, flounced—through the arched doorway into a slightly smaller room ringed with dining tables for two and four. The middle of the floor was left open for dancing, but it looked to be a tiny group compared to most Fridays. The Franklins, a middle-aged couple, sipped their usual sangrias. Two blonde women I didn ’t recognize, who couldn’t have been much over twenty, sported tight jeans and tighter sweaters. They drank something dark from clear glasses —rum and cola, I thought, though the rich aromas of the restaurant almost overrode the smell of the liquor. When the salsa music started, Danielle made her entrance in a swirl of skirts. We reviewed the steps, spending more time on review because this was the blondes’ first class, and because a few diners who had finished joined the fun. After fifteen or twenty minutes, we began dancing in earnest, and I lost myself and all sense of time in the music and movement and energy of the dance. Mr. Franklin gamely took turns partnering the three of us singles, but we didn’t mind practicing the steps on our own. We laughed, swayed our hips, and twirled to the driving rhythm. I was having a blast, until I twirled smack into Saber.

I knew I hit him hard enough to send him reeling. He didn’t. Instead, I bounced off his body, and he reached out to steady me, his hands on my upper arms. My mostly bare upper arms that now crawled with goose bumps. I reached for my hair as if to straighten my ponytail, and his hands fell away, but his mischievous grin stayed put.

“Finished with dinner already?” I asked, a little more breathless than I wanted to sound.