Chapter Three: Lip Service
 

I found myself staring up at a pair of giant red neon lips. They were accompanied by a titling telephone receiver in bright white and the name of the club was spelled out using the curly cord –

‘Lip Service’.

Before we even walked through the doors I could tell it was one of those ‘themed’ places; the type we had so many of back in St. Louis. On the inside, it was dark with a ton of art deco flare and more neon. But not abundantly so. It was tasteful, if not, plastic. A plethora of small tables scattered the split-level establishment, decent dance floor taking up the lower half. Sitting on each table tops, which were alit with their own number, was a small raised platform with it’s own telephone. Those red-lipped plastic ones.

Inventive, yet childish. Patrons were encouraged to call the table number of their prospective mate instead of actually socializing face-to-face.

A bit passive-aggressive for my taste. But then, as I’ve said, I suck at flirting.

Really, it was a pick-up bar. A creative meat market. But chances were that Donna’s gal pals picked it for its novelty like all the other yuppies in the place.

Either Donna had been completely surprised by the impromptu party or she pretended to be. She was certainly surprised that I was tagging along. As was I.

There were six of us; me, Donna, Asuka and three other women whom I’d yet to learn the names of.

We grabbed a table smack in the middle of everything, Number 22, and right away a waitress was suddenly there . Donna balked at my order: Mountain Dew on the rocks. It was the strongest thing I could think of without ordering coffee.

“Anita, is that all you’re having??”

“I don’t usually have anything harder than that,” I replied, unable to keep from staring around the place. Some people were talking nervously and excitedly on their phone, others were sitting quietly and having a beverage. Others were dancing.

Donna’s new age pals wasted no time in testing the phone system out.

It was certainly enough to drive me to drink. I was never one to depend on the numbing effects of alcohol, but it would probably help me get through the night. I made a snap decision.

“I’ll be right back,” I announced and walked away from the table. I think they were already too absorbed in their surroundings to notice.

I made for the bar.

The bartender had his back to me.

“Hey,” I hollered. It was louder over here with the dance floor being so close.

He turned and I could see a tray of five champagne cocktails towering over my little Mountain Dew.

I hesitated only for a moment. “Could you spike that one for me?” I asked nodding to my soda.

“Sure,” he smiled. “With what?”

“Surprise me.”

“You got it.”

I leaned back against the bar and continued to people watch, reluctant to return to Table 22.

I could see it from where I was. One of Donna’s friends was talking excitedly over the phone line while the others were laughing, craning their necks to get a good view of the person on the other line. I followed their line of sight to a table nearly thirty-five feet away, where a man in a gray suit sat by himself, looking smug.

I was amused by the notion that, if Donna enjoyed these kind of games, she probably forced Ted and the kids to sit and play Life or Monopoly one designated night a week.

If so, maybe Edward was getting exactly what he was asking for, making a mistake like marrying her.

I zoned out on this thought as I stared at the crowd, frowning a little. Was he making a mistake?

Or was I just jealous? Good Lord, I’d have to be a fool for having romantic thoughts about him now, of all times.

Our waitress broke my field of vision and I stopped her, taking the Mountain Dew off the tray and swallowing it in one gulp.

“Table 22 goes on my tab tonight,” I said, replacing my drink with a credit card.

“But -”

“I don’t care who say’s they’re buying. Just do it, please.” I was giving the poor girl one of my coolest stares, and she hurried off to deliver the rest of the drinks.  I wasn’t sure if I was feeling guilty about not getting them a wedding present or for the thoughts and plans of action running around my brain.

I put the glass on the counter. “Another, please.”
 

o.…o
 

The Mountain Dew had such a strong taste as it was that I could barely detect the alcohol in it, much less determine what kind of liquor it was. Maybe each time I ordered another one, the bartender put in something different.

That was probably dangerous. But I didn’t care.

I was Anita Blake, Vampire Executioner. I could hold my booze.

It was my third trip to the bathroom when I overheard familiar voices. There was one of those tall, red London phone booths at the restroom entrance and some strange instinct told me to hide behind it and listen in on the conversation happening just inside the ajar doorway.

“Donna,” Asuka said in a hushed voice, and I could hear her smiling. “I wanted to give this to you.”

“Oh! What’s this?”

“It’s called Bloodstone. Do you know it?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve ever had it in my shop. Is it a herb?”

I strained to see through the crack in the door. It’s funny how being even slightly drunk will make doing the stupidest things seem reasonable and commonplace.

It looked like a small flowery-mesh bag tied with a ribbon.

“No,” said Asuka. “It’s a stone ground to powder. It comes form India where it’s used as an aphrodisiac.”

“Oh, Asuka.” I heard Donna laugh, and I could imagine a slight blush running over her face.

“For your honeymoon in Rio.” I think I actually heard Asuka wink.

“That’s just … Come on, Asuka, don’t you think Rio will be enough of an aphrodisiac? And really. Ted and I hardly need something like that!”

I put my finger in my mouth as if to gag myself. Urgh.

“You never know, dear Donna. You never know.” And with that I think she handed the offending package to Donna and they both proceeded to walk right past my hiding place.

It was a few moments later that I finally remembered my bladder.
 

o….o
 
 

When I made it back to Table 22, I effectively drown out the images of Bloodstone and Donna and Teddy-Boy taking a roll in the hay by having another drink.

No sooner after that, I was saved from looking Donna in the face when Marvin Gaye’s “Got to Give it Up” came over the speaker system and they all sprinted to the dance floor.

“Anita! Come on!”

“Nope. You all go on.”

It wasn’t hard to convince them to leave me alone. Apparently they found me intimidating.

Good.

I didn’t know why the hell I was here. I just wanted to blend in with the surroundings. But as soon as the table’s phone rang, I knew that there was no chance of that. In fact, I’d had the sinking feeling that someone had been watching me all evening.

Or maybe that was the Mountain Dew talking.

“Nobody’s home,” I answered. I went to hang it back up, but the voice stopped me.

“Are you having fun?”

I sat up straight at Edward’s calm voice. He sounded so close. I tried to look around nonchalantly but I didn’t see him anywhere. The sneaky bastard. I sighed and promised to guard myself against his weird sense of humor as well as I could.

“Hell, yes, I am!” I replied. “And it’s the ‘cleaning my bathroom’ kind of fun, too.”

“Then why are you torturing yourself? Just leave.”

Out of the mouths of babes, I thought, leaving room for a pregnant pause. “I could ask that same thing of you, god dammit.”

A moment passed before he replied. “You could, but you won’t.”

“You’re awfully sure of your self, Teddy.”

I heard him chuckle. “You’re drunk.”

“Not yet. But I will be. I wanna be passed out cold before I go back to the motel.”

Another pause. I could hear him breathing. “Avoiding Richard, are we?” Was that gloat I heard in his tone?

“You’re too smart to be a blonde, Edward. Hey. What do you call a “smart blonde”?”

I heard him smile. “I don’t know, Anita. What do you call a smart blonde?”

“A Golden Retriever.”

“Clever. Got any more?” He was humoring me.

“Sure,” I replied, trying to keep the jokes in theme with the evening. I was hoping he heard the edge in my voice, no matter how garbled. “How do you change a blonde’s mind?”

“How?”

I lowered my voice in mock-playfulness. “You blow in his ear.”

He actually laughed at that one. It sounded nice and male and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “That might work, you know,” he replied.

I swallowed hard, trying for a thread of sarcasm and failing. “Thanks for the head’s up.”

“No problem.”

“Stop flirting with me, dammit. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Didn’t know I was. I apologize.”

“Bullshit.” And then, “Where the hell are you? And why are you here spying on your bride-to-be?”

“I’m not spying on Donna. I’m spying on you,” he replied, bluntly.

Humph. “Afraid I’m gonna take out your ‘honeypot’ in the ladies room?”

“No. But I saw you eavesdropping on her, by the way. You’re very stealthy when you’ve had one too many.”

“Shut up ... Why then??” A slower, heavier beat flowed through the smoky atmosphere as the other song ended out on the dance floor, and I watched carefully for the New-Age’ers to return.

I heard him sigh. “Let’s just say, I’m doing someone a favor.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Not at all. It could have many creepy and dangerous implications. “What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

“It means I have my reasons.” His voice was starting to take on that stillness. More games. At least Donna’s were innocent. That was something that could never be said about Edward.

“You cryptic bastard,” I grumbled.

“Always.”

He was making me angry. And when I get angry when I’m drunk (which is not often) I get confused and depressed. So I had no problems pulling out all the stops with my retort. “You know, no matter what you think this marriage will do for what’s left of your soul, in the end you’ll still be the same ‘ol Edward. The same ol’ ghost. Never be able to let anyone get close or know too much of the truth. Donna can’t change that. No one can, as far as I can see. Why even bother?”

“You’re just a barrel of laughs tonight.” His voice was dead inside.

“You bet your ass. And have you heard this one? How do a blonde’s brain cells die?”

I was greeted by silence and I answered for him.

“ Alone, Edward. They die alone.”  And I slammed down the phone. Let the secret loving bastard follow that one.

I felt like crying.

See, this is why I shouldn’t drink in the first place.

But Donna and her entourage were back from dancing  just in time for me to get a grip on the tears.

“Oh! Anita’s been chatting with a boy!”

Asuka smiled. “Yes. From what I saw,  it looks like she gave him an ear full, too.”

Donna chuckled. “And with a hunk of a man waiting for her back at the motel too! What’s the new beau’s name, Anita?” she teased. “Did I hear ‘Edward’?”

I inwardly groaned, hiding my face in my hands, and thinking of calling for a taxi.
 

o….o
 

Edward sat on the other side of the bar, in shadows, watching Anita. He’d gotten the call from St. Louis right after the women had left for their night out.

And the call had come into 1704 Turtle Run Circle, not his pager. At first he assumed that that Sergeant Dolph Storr had tracked Ted Forrester down through the Santa Fe Police Department in order to find him at Donna’s house. But it was more probable that he’d simply found out from one of Anita’s boyfriends where she was.

Storr was a good cop, and had not wanted to divulge any extra information about the case that he didn’t want to. The man was tough. But Ted had cracked him.

Someone was hunting down Anita, leaving her photograph at fake crime scenes, making it look like ritual magic, and trying to draw her out into the open. Storr had said that it looked like an amateur, maybe just some loon that saw her picture splashed all over the papers and was trying to get attention. But he couldn’t be sure.

Storr also doubted that she could’ve been followed out of town, but just in case he wanted her warned and to return his call.

Just in case…

She had asked him what he was doing following her to the bar. He was watching her back as usual, dammit. Good thing too, because she’d had at least five of whatever the hell she was drinking and in no position to take the news of a potential stalker. Obviously, from her sudden outburst, she had other things on her mind.

And apparently they all pointed to him.

She was wrong, though, about him never letting anyone get too close. Because someone had.

Which was exactly why he should have told her to stay home that day on the phone, despite the lunatic after her.

Being here in Santa Fe, and close to him, was a whole lot more dangerous.

o….o
 
 

~~~~