It seemed as if I stared at that card for hours.
I knew every crinkle in the cardboard, every stain on its surface. I closed my eyes and saw the cold blackness of the font which was much better then what I could have seen considering the evening I'd just had. How could I have known that the vampire would be in that alleyway? Or that she would be planning on snacking on the four men who had dragged her down there to rape her?
I could still see her in my mind's eye as she stood, her body curved and sleek, motioning me forward. I had wanted so badly to go to her, to be caressed and kissed and to do the same to her.
But why had I stopped? She'd had me, I had felt her power and her seductive charms. I wanted her with a desire I didn't think possible for me to feel. I had never been attracted to another woman before until her. What had stopped me?
That question, followed by a thousand others, broke me out of my shocked daze. I reached for the phone and punched in the numbers on the card that I hoped would bring me answers.
"It's about time." The voice was abrupt and deep, and sounded very annoyed.
Huh? Was he expecting someone... or was he expecting me?
"Um, I found this card at..."
"I know where you found it. I've been watching you since you left Hardbodies. Nice kill. Now, get dressed and meet me at this bar."
He gave me instructions and I quickly found a pen and jotted them down on the first page of the Bible that was in the dresser drawer. It still looked brand new. That thought almost had me laughing, looking around at the bright red paisley bedspread, the red stained curtains, the brown carpeting and the neon light flashing in through the window. If there were anywhere that this bible should be read, it was here.
"Okay, how will I..."
"Fifteen minutes." The line went dead and I heard it reconnect, the dial tone buzzing incessantly in my ear. I dropped it back on the hanger, sent a silent apology up above and ripped the page out of the bible that I had written the instructions on. Then I hurried and got dressed. Even rushing, it still took me longer than the fifteen minutes the voice had specified to reach the bar.
It was a dive. Dirty front windows that had been boarded over instead of being replaced, a large neon sign with half the letters out, the rest buzzing and sputtering all giving the place more than a well-lived in feeling. The name of the bar was Michelle's Tavern but with the letters that were burned out it spelled helle's Tavern. I thought the description very apt.
My shoes stuck to the floor when I walked to the bar. I had no idea who I was looking for, only that I really didn't like being in the place. Whoever Michelle was, she didn't keep a very clean tavern. The barstools were ragged leather haphazardly patched and filthy. The bar was grimy, which was a shame because it looked as if at one time it had been a real showpiece. The brass foot rail was old and scuffed, tarnished and dull. And I didn't want to even think what had been on the floor, or on any of the round, lopsided tables scattered throughout the room.
I gingerly climbed onto one of the stools, staring at the huge man behind the bar. His biceps were as large around as my waist. On one was tattooed a bright red heart with the name Michelle written through it like an arrow. He looked like the normal bartender for this kind of establishment, bald with a large handlebar mustache, bruiser type in a tight tee shirt and a stained white apron wrapped around his waist.
"Getcha..." he gruffed at me.
"Ah..." I hadn't really thought of drinking anything and wondered if the glasses were clean. "Do you have a Coke in the can or bottle?"
He reached under the bar and yanked open a refrigerator case, pulling out a can and sliding it across to me, slapping down a grimy glass on a yellowed bar napkin. "Six bucks."
I wanted to protest but decided that I'd rather pay the money, skip the glass and look for the man who had sent me here. Wiping the edge of the can off with the napkin, I turned to survey the room behind me. It wasn't very busy, a couple of guys at a single table staring at me as if they knew what I looked like naked and a bunch of noise coming from the back half of the room. I could see the green felt of a pool table and a group of guys gathered loosely around it. I could also hear the bass guitar of a very squeaky and brutalized jukebox that really should have been put to pasture a long while back.
I sat for a few minutes, wondering if my contact or whatever I should call him had gotten tired of waiting for me and left if he had ever been here in the first place.
Giving him a few more minutes, I finished my coke, looking everywhere but at the two guys who were still ogling me. What is it about some men? They could make you feel naked if you were wearing a parka.
This was nuts. I was out the second time tonight, far from the safety of my motel room in the presence of rude and rugged strange men. He wasn't showing up. I dropped the empty can back on the bar, nodded to the barkeep who just looked bored and kept rubbing a filthy bar rag over a filthier glass and walked out.
The door shut loudly behind me and I was alone on the almost empty streets. I'd always thought that the city never closed, that the streets always had seemed busy no matter what time James and I had gone out. But this area was deserted. I saw a couple of generic looking bag people huddling in tight balls against filthy cardboard as I passed an alley, but that was it.
