Fangs for Nothing, page 23
part #2 of The Fangover Series
Of course she didn’t want him to actually physically fight with anyone, but she wanted him to at least face the situation he had created, intentional or otherwise. She already knew that it would be impossible for them to have a relationship even if she did live in New Orleans, but somehow in her heart she needed to see that she wasn’t wrong about him—he was a good man, with a kind heart. She wanted to know that she was right to trust herself, and that sometimes emotions weren’t logical, but they were valid.
She wanted to believe in something as romantic as passion and love at first sight, even if it could not be acted upon.
* * *
JOHNNY KNEW IN his gut that Lizette was right, which was really damn embarrassing. She had a way of making him feel like he was a little kid who had pissed in his pants. But he knew that she had a point, one that Stella had been trying to drive home for years—he needed to grow up. He’d been feeling that very sentiment himself since his wake.
So he told her, “By the way, I feel the same way about you. I could fall in love with you, too, Lizette. Easily.”
He would have expounded on the fact, except that Raven punched him in the face. His head cracked back. Damn it. He’d been sucker-punched.
That was unacceptable.
Ignoring the blood in his mouth from biting his tongue, he raised his fists into position and tried to reason with Raven. He did not want to hit Raven. He really didn’t. He took no satisfaction in knocking someone to the ground, unless it was an arranged fight for sport. “Dude, come on. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were dating her.”
“She has a name.”
Oh, Christ. “Yes, she does. Melissa. Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Could we maybe do this another night, when I’m not hungover?” When Lizette wasn’t standing in the doorway watching. It made him feel like a total douchebag. He was not the type of guy to poach on someone else’s girl, and he didn’t want Lizette to think for a minute that he did.
Okay, so he wasn’t exactly Mr. Commitment. But he had always made sure women knew he was looking for casual. He had never cheated, never deceived, never gone after someone else’s girlfriend or wife. He may be immature, but he had ethics. Standards, for Christsake.
“I’ll buy you a drink, Raven, and we can talk it over, rationally.”
Raven swung at him, but it was wide. Johnny easily dodged it. “Dude, I don’t want to fight with you.”
“That’s because you’re a slimy wimp who sneaks around in the dark seducing women.”
Wow. That made him sound far more ambitious than he really was. “Hardly.”
“Is that how you scored your French whore?”
Hey, now. That was crossing a line, big time. He glanced back at Lizette. Her face was frozen in mortification. “Should I hit him?” he asked her.
She shook her head no.
Damn. “Okay, baby.” If she didn’t want him to punch on her behalf, he wouldn’t. Even if it was hard as hell.
“Raven, you need to apologize to Lizette right now,” he said, trying to stay calm. He didn’t yell. His voice was steely, eerily calm. Forcing his shoulders to relax, he told him, “This is between you and me. Don’t insult her to get to me. That’s not cool.”
How mature was that?
Raven had finally dropped his own hands. “I’m not going to apologize to someone who isn’t here. Not that I was going to anyway.”
“What?” Johnny looked behind him. Lizette was gone. “Fuck! Thanks a lot, dickhead!”
Sprinting through the bedroom, he went through the shotgun cottage and out the front door. Down the street, he saw Lizette stepping into a cab. He ran, but there was no way he was going to catch her. She was around the corner and gone before he could go more than a block. “Shit!”
Pulling out his phone, he tried to call her, but she didn’t pick up. Slowing to a stop, he stood on the corner and called his sister. “Hey.”
“Hey, where are you?”
“I’m at your house.”
“My house? Why are you at my house?”
“It’s a long story. By the way, you and Wyatt should lock your bedroom door. I came right over the courtyard wall and I was in. That’s not very safe.”
“If we locked it, then how would you get in?” she asked wryly.
Good point. He wasn’t always known for using the front door. “Have you heard from Saxon?”
“No.”
“Where is the little freak? Benny said he saw him a couple of hours ago and he was fine, but I don’t think he’s going to be fine when Zelda finds out he’s just been running around without her on his first night as a married man.” The thought made Johnny wince. He pictured a lot of whipping in Saxon’s future.
“Geez. You’re probably right. Where did you see Benny?”
“Fahy’s. He asked about you, of course. Then he went and freaking told Lizette we’re vampires, and she freaked out and left and I don’t even know what hotel she’s staying in.” Johnny started walking back down the street, realizing he probably shouldn’t have left Raven alone in Stella and Wyatt’s place. Given their unexplained long-standing tension with the guitar player who played in a rival band to The Impalers, he wouldn’t put it past Raven to steal something. Like a bass guitar or an amp. Or Stella’s pants. The guy was known for wearing girls’ jeans. Gross. Johnny didn’t hate the guy, but he didn’t love him either. Sort of like his feelings on Benny.
“Oh, crap. Of course he did,” Stella moaned. “I wish I could take back that bite on Benny, but what’s done is done. Lizette will get over it, right? I mean, she’s not going to narc on us or anything.”
“I wouldn’t count on her keeping quiet. She’s a stickler.” Along with a few other sexier things he didn’t want to mention to Stella. “The thing is, she has a point. It’s probably not smart for us to be telling everyone we meet the truth. All it takes is one obsessive person and we have problems.”
“Wow. You don’t usually think about stuff like that.”
Well, maybe he was going to now. There had been a number of things during the course of the night that made him think maybe he needed to reevaluate his priorities. But he didn’t really want to discuss that with Stella over the phone. “Are you coming home?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I don’t know. I just need to talk.” Now that sounded manly. Not.
“Okay.” Stella sounded mystified. “Be there in a minute.”
Johnny sighed and went back into the house that he had left wide open. “Raven?” he called. But when he got to the courtyard there was no sign of him, or in the house. “Whatever.”
He was sinking on the couch and flicking on the TV when Stella came in the front door. “Hey.”
“Hey. Where’s Wyatt?”
“He’s with Drake. So what’s going on with you? Two nights ago you were acting like Lizette was just some annoying person sent from Paris to mess with you.” Stella dropped her messenger bag on the coffee table, and then sat down next to it. “Then at the wedding you were dancing up a storm with her, and now you’re acting like your life is over because she left. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? To get her out of your hair?”
She made it sound like he was a tool. “It’s not that simple. I mean, of course I wanted her to go away initially. She froze my bank account and wouldn’t let me in my apartment. But then we got drunk and woke up handcuffed together, and I don’t know, we had a good time together.” Both in clothes and out.
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is she left!”
“No, that is the consequence of the problem. Why did she leave?”
Johnny shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “Because she thinks I’m an immature commitment-phobe.”
“She said that?” Stella asked in astonishment. “I mean, it’s true, but it was kind of rude to just throw it out there like that.”
“No, she didn’t put it like that. She said that I don’t know how to follow the rules or take things seriously, that I don’t take responsibility for my actions. She’s pissed about Benny knowing the truth about us.” He put his feet on the coffee table and sulked.
“Well, what is it you want?”
That was easy. “I want to get to know her better, but it scares me. I’ll never be good enough for her and I can’t promise that I can handle eternity without fucking it up.”
His sister stared at him so long he wanted to throw a pillow at her. “What?”
“I’m just trying to reconcile the fact that you clearly dig this woman enough to want to attempt a genuine relationship. After one night. I don’t think that’s ever happened to you before.”
Yeah, well. Maybe because it sucked.
“I guess it had to happen sooner or later.”
“The thing is, Johnny, why do you always look at every woman and think it has to be either a hookup or eternity? Why can’t there be an in-between?”
That was a good question. One he had honestly never asked himself. “I don’t know. I guess because it seems like, being a vampire, a relationship is going to go on for a really long time. That’s intense.”
“There is such a thing as just dating, getting to know each other. Having fun, being monogamous, but not getting married.”
“I suppose some people do that.” But it seemed like for most people it was hard to stay content in that middle ground. “But Lizette was with some guy for a hundred years. That’s only a couple of years less than I’ve been alive. She can commit the shit out of a relationship. How can I compete with that?”
“You’re assuming that she wants another few centuries with someone. Maybe she would like to just ease into it this time around.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He felt more mature already. Look at how easily he had admitted his sister could be right. “But none of it really matters. She’s going back to Oh La La Land and that will be the end of it.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to give up?” Her expression was one of clear disapproval.
“What am I supposed to do? Chase her down? Tackle her?” His handcuffs rattled as he asked the question, waving his hand around.
“You could start by getting your name taken off the Dead List. Do everything she wanted you to without prompting from her. Find out what really happened last night. I have a feeling she’s the kind of woman who will appreciate the truth, even if it’s unpleasant.”
“You’re right.” Stella was right. There it was again. He tried to shake the feeling of melancholy. “Man, this is hard work. It was easier to fake my death.”
“Keep that up and I’ll arrange for your real death.”
He didn’t believe her for one second.
He did, however, believe that if he wasn’t careful, Lizette might decide to keep him on the Dead List after all.
In fact, she just might put the whole lot of them on the list.
Then none of them would exist.
Which would be a problem.
Chapter Sixteen
PARTY OF FIVE
JOSIE Lynn knew she should have been totally mortified to walk out of a bedroom where she’d just made love to a man she barely knew in the bed of a couple she knew even less, but aside from being a little sheepish, she simply felt good.
Okay, good was an understatement. She felt amazing, giddy, like she was walking on air. She knew that by all appearances she’d just found herself involved with a man who was the stereotype of all things she’d sworn to herself she’d avoid. Sexy, too charming for his own good, wicked in bed, and a Bourbon Street guitarist to boot. But she found herself trusting him.
Her—trusting a man. She never thought she’d say that. Or at least not for a good long time. But something about Drake made her believe.
She followed Drake out of his roommates’ room and across the hallway to his room. They’d been so close to making love in the right room, she smiled to herself at the ludicrousness of what they’d just done. The liberating wildness and excitement of what they’d done. She hadn’t felt this free and happy in months—honestly, maybe not for years.
“Are you okay?” Drake asked as he crossed his room, which now that she was in, she could tell was his. It was as rakish as he was, with a huge burgundy velvet canopied bed covered in black silk sheets and tons of pillows. A guitar lay on the bed. And he had two armoires that looked expensive and antique. Like the bed.
“I’m great,” she assured him, stepping farther into the room as he went straight to one of the armoires. While he looked for clothes, she wandered around, running her hands over his finely made furniture, torn between admiring that and Drake’s finely made rear end.
“All of this furniture looks old,” she said.
He gave the room a cursory glance, then returned to rummaging through his clothing. “It is. Most of it has been in my family for years.”
She touched the velvet of the bed’s canopy. There was an almost otherworldliness to the pieces. Like it all came from another time, which of course it had. But she was also reminded of how Drake could have moments where he seemed like he came from another time, too. There was a gallantness to him. And a strangely proper way of talking. And even when they’d been having sex up against a door, she sensed something almost proper—or elegant—or something, about him.
Maybe she’d just never met anyone like him before. She glanced over at him, standing there totally naked, still managing to look regal.
No, she’d definitely never met anyone like him before. Katie and Stella said he’d come from a privileged background. For a moment, a rush of insecurity filled her. What did she know about privilege? Nothing. She was just a bayou girl trying to make something of herself. And failing thus far.
“You are looking far too serious to be feeling great,” Drake said, pulling her out of her reverie.
She smiled, although some of her giddiness tamped down a bit. “I was just thinking about finding out what happened last night.”
That was sort of true.
“Right,” he agreed, pulling out a pair of jeans and a black shirt. “We need to get back to work finding those Chers.” He tossed his clothes on the bed, eyeing it. “Or we could just stay here a little longer.”
Josie Lynn genuinely laughed at the naughty glint in his dark eyes. “I think we’d better behave for just a little while.”
He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “Okay, super sleuth, but promise me you’ll come back here with me after we are done. Because, my love, I am not done with you.”
She smiled, but her heart seemed to beat both with joy and pain. She didn’t want him to ever be done with her. But it was far too soon to make admissions like that. She did know enough about men to know talking commitment too soon was a surefire way to send them running for the hills. Or in her experience, another woman.
“I’d love to come back,” she said, keeping her tone light and flirty. Even as that bittersweet pain filled her chest again.
Drake kissed her, then returned to getting dressed.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” she told him, pointing to the door, feeling the need to get herself together a little. She was sure she looked like—well, like she’d just had the best sex of her life, which was great for her mood, but probably not so great for her hair and clothing.
“Beware the bird.”
She shuddered. “That’s not even funny.” She poked her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear.
“You’ll take on a gator, but a parrot scares you.” Drake chuckled.
She made a face at him, then stepped into the hallway. She could hear Cort and Wyatt in the living room. They seemed to be discussing where to find the person who owned the parrot, or at least that’s what she thought.
She started to head toward the bathroom but changed her mind. Between the two glasses of wine and crazed lovemaking, she was beyond parched, and the refrigerator stood out like a beacon. Cold water. Yeah, that’s what she needed.
She tiptoed to the kitchen, mainly to avoid the attention of the bird rather than Drake’s bandmates. She opened the fridge to find it empty except for a six-pack of beer, a bottle of vodka and large blue Tupperware pitcher. Water? Juice? At this point, she didn’t care, she just wanted something cold.
She pulled out the pitcher and set it on the counter, then she opened the first cupboard next to the fridge. It was empty.
That’s weird. It seemed as if Drake and Cort and Katie had lived here for quite some time. Although she didn’t exactly recall Drake saying that. She guessed she’d just assumed they had from the way Katie and Drake had been teasing each other about his frequent nudity. That seemed like the kind of joke old roommates would share.
She moved to the next cupboard, which was also empty. Finally, at the last cupboard, she found glasses. And only glasses. Regular drinking glasses, wine goblets, beer mugs.
Okay, these guys must definitely eat out a lot.
She reached for a plain juice glass and returned to the pitcher. Just as she lifted it, to start pouring a drink, she heard the loud flap of wings and a high-pitched caw.
“Jack and coke. Jack and coke.”
She instantly jumped and screamed, both the pitcher and the glass crashing to the floor.
She spun to see where the parrot was, terrified it was near her. She located the red bird perched on the top of the refrigerator, regarding her with unblinking, beady eyes. Evil eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Josie Lynn looked away from the bird to find both Cort and Wyatt in the kitchen doorway.
“I’m—I’m fine,” she managed, casting another wary look toward the bird. “The bird startled me. And—and I kind of made a mess.”
She looked down, then blinked. The drinking glass had broken, and whatever had been in the pitcher had splattered all over her bare legs and the floor. And it definitely wasn’t water, and it didn’t look like juice either. Whatever it was looked dark red and viscous. Like blood.
