Casa Dracula 3 - The Bride Of Casa Dracula (23 page)

“I’m not going to get into your relationship, but that man loves you.” She stood up and said, “I’ve got to get the house ready.”

“How’s business?”

She brightened. “Good. We’re selling out about half our shows. Oh, your friend Frankie called. I might hire him.”

“Really? That’s great, and it will get his mom out here to do shows more often.”

“If you can be happy for me doing well, I think you can show a little enthusiasm for Oswald expanding his business.”

“It’s not the same,” I stammered. “He works crazy hours, and he’s already got so much money-”

“It is the same. Go help the bartender prep for the night. Don’t eat all the cherries.”

“I never eat all the cherries,” I said. I usually ate all the orange slices and munched on peanuts, but she didn’t need to know that.

The show that night was fantastic. It was just an indie rock band, but the lyrics, what I could understand of them, were really evocative. I joined the crowd on the dance floor, and if there was a really pretty young guy dancing right next to me for most of the night, well, I hadn’t invited him to stand there. And if he bought a few drinks for me, and I treated him to a drink or two, that was just cordiality.

And if I let him put his slim arms around me and ask me to go with him to a party, that was just nostalgia for my old life, remembering what it was like to run off into the night with a boy who smelled of clean boy sweat and excitement and rash decisions. I held up my hand to display my engagement ring-and remembered that it was missing.

“I’m engaged,” I said.

“You’re breakin’ my heart,” he said, dropping his head and looking up at me through his long eyelashes. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Soon he moved on to another girl, and I said good night to Mercedes and her staff and went back to my funky loft.

Oswald called just as I walked in the door. “Hi, babe,” he said as if nothing was wrong. Maybe nothing was wrong.

“Oswald,” I said. “How was your dinner?”

“How did you…never mind. It was good. This woman’s amazing. She’s a perfect fit for my office, specializing in eyes and noses, but she does good neck work.”

When your fiancé is a vampire and admires someone else’s neck work, it’s time to become concerned. “You’re getting in awfully late from a business dinner.”

“I knew you were at My Dive, probably flirting with some helpless innocent.”

“He wasn’t helpless or innocent,” I said, laughing. “How come you’re not jealous?”

“Who says I’m not?”

“What about you going on a date with another woman?”

“Yeah, I was getting all turned on when we were discussing billing methods.”

“So what’s her name? Is she sexy?”

“Her name is Vidalia Littner, and no.”

“Vidalia? She’s named after the onions? I find this very difficult to believe. Are you lying to me?”

“A little, because she’s got a high-strung sexiness.”

When I didn’t say anything, he asked, “Are you still there?”

“Yes, but I’m waiting for you to beg me to come back.”

I heard him sigh. “I don’t mean to be patronizing, babe, but I put you in this situation. I’m responsible for you.”

It was an old discussion. He felt guilty that he’d first infected me, but it wasn’t as if we could go back and undo what had been done. “Oswald, I’ll go along with this on one condition, that you’ll agree to get over your guilt.”

“It’s not that easy,” he said. “Do you mind being away so much?”

“It’s not that bad,” I admitted. “I can get a lot done here, and I can work with Nancy on the wedding. But I miss you, Oz.”

“I miss you, too. I also miss the remote control for the television. Where did you hide it?”

“You don’t need it because I’m going to entertain you right now. Get comfortable and let me tell you what I’d do if I was there.” I settled into a fuzzy fuchsia armchair, switched off the light, and began to elaborate. I said to him, “I’m wearing a skimpy exam gown and I’m on the exam table. You come in wearing your white coat and tell me that you’re a doctor, I should trust you…”

I treated our separation like a vacation and the days flew by. I went to the Indian market, found dried pomegranate seeds, and bought the other dried fruit for the cake. I dumped them in several wide-mouth glass jars and poured the nasty green vampire alcohol over them. Then I put them in a cupboard and forgot about them.

I found a group called Stitching & Bitching that met every afternoon in a bar and worked on crafts while talking about politics, culture, and relationships. The chicks in the group hauled in portable sewing machines, and they helped me with the tunics, even taking over the embroidery when they saw my clumsy stitches. In a city filled with eccentrics, my project was never questioned.

Another level of needlecraft was being done by Nancy’s cousin. Sissy was all business as she fitted a muslin model of the wedding gown on me and explained boning in undergarments and the importance of trying out shoes, hair, and the gown together. She had a bolt of the pale violet satin on a shelf with other fabrics. It shimmered softly, and when I touched it, the satin felt cool and smooth.

Oswald and I kept up our phone calls and I became more comfortable with incorporating his fantasies about our lovemaking. I still hesitated, however, when I described how I would take out a knife and cut him. How could I hurt someone as wonderful as Oswald?

One day I looked at my fauxoir and knew it was complete. It was 350 pages of fabrication, hyperbole, purple prose, and specious nonsense. In other words, it was perfect. I called Don Pedro to arrange delivering the document and collecting the rest of my payment.

I was surprised when he told me to meet him at an expensive restaurant on the water. It was an unusually balmy day, and the hostess led me to a table outside. The breeze carried the fresh saltwater smell, and sailboats dotted the bay.

Don Pedro was sipping iced tea and wearing a white guayabera, neat tan slacks, a bolo tie, and a panama hat. His worn leather satchel was on a chair beside him.

“Milagro! It is done, then?”

“I’ve got it right here. Both a printed copy and the file.”

He signaled to the waitress and I ordered a cranberry juice and a salad.

It was then that I noticed a big man in a dark shirt, jeans, and brown leather sandals standing off to the side of the patio. He was watching me, but not in a lascivious way. Don Pedro slathered butter on a piece of bread and talked about the seagulls and how he had once spent a day as a seagull eating sardines in Monterey Bay.

I placed the thick manuscript on the table in front of him and told him what I had written. He read a few pages, careful to hold them at the edges to keep them neat, and he smiled broadly, showing his neat rows of teeth. “Perfect! Perfect! You have captured me exactly, as I knew you would.”

His smile and praise made me sit taller. “I’m glad you like it. I think it’s-I’m very proud of it.” I explained the themes I’d worked into the story, and suggested that he search for a legitimate printer to turn out the fauxoir.

“There are so many scam vanity publishers out there, Don Pedro. Please be careful not to go to anyone who overcharges or makes promises he won’t keep.” I didn’t want to see the silly little man cheated, and I’d even looked up honest businesses that specialized in self-published memoirs. I handed him the list and said, “You’ll probably want to get a few estimates and compare them. All of these companies have good records.”

He patted my hand with his neat, small one and I saw that his nails were neatly trimmed and buffed. “Muchas gracias for looking out for me. I will take your advice.” The waitress brought over our bill and he said, “Now it is time for me to pay you, Milagro.” He handed me a check for the balance of his payment.

I looked to make sure everything was right and said, “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Don Pedro. I hope your family and friends enjoy your memoir.” I thought about asking him to send me a copy of his book, but he’d probably be printing up a few dozen copies at most, making each one an expensive present.

“I’m sure it will be a huge success! It is our secret though, yes?”

“A promise is a promise.” I glanced over and the big man was still standing there. “Don Pedro, I don’t mean to alarm you, but a rather large fellow seems to be watching us.”

My companion smiled and said, “He is my associate. He is a great follower of my teachings and he thinks I am too naive to be safe in the big city!” He laughed. “I asked him to join us, but he is trying to learn to shape-shift to a snake and so he eats infrequently.”

“Well, good luck on that.” I had nothing against snakes; they ate rodents, which made me hope that the new cats were working out at the ranch.

We bid each other good-bye and the little man said, “Fly in joy, magical bat!” Looking into my eyes he said, “You will conquer your enemies, and we shall meet again in this world or another.”

“I look forward to it.”

I was smiling as I watched Don Pedro and his hulking friend walk toward the parking lot. I knew I’d probably never see him again, and I was more than a little sad to know that my story would soon be forgotten.

Edna finally returned from her long sojourn. She came through the City on her way home and visited me at the loft. I kissed her soft cheek as she came inside.

“You look tan and rested, except for the tan part,” I said.

She was wearing a chic wraparound print dress. Her silver hair had been cut short recently, showing off her neck and shoulders. My mother Regina would have said Edna had perfect posture. Edna looked around my new domicile and blinked. “It looks like an explosion at the Pepto-Bismol factory.”

“I’m glad you like it. Nancy gave me the furnishings.”

“This is the same young woman who is planning your wedding? Oswald’s mother will be overjoyed.”

“Nancy has lulled Oswald’s mother into quiescence by sending her daily updates and dropping names. May I offer you some tea?”

Edna went to the window and said, “At least one can enjoy the view out of the room.”

I filled a saucepan with water and put it on the stove. “I’m getting to like this place, and I’m getting a lot done here for the wedding.” I went to the closet and took out the wedding costumes.

She tilted her head and looked at the groom’s robe. Some seams were a little crooked, but they wouldn’t be too visible at night, when the ceremony would take place. The embroidery by my fellow Stitching Bitches was of a better quality.

Edna started laughing at the garments, and I said, “I think they look pretty good!”

“I’m sure you do.”

I found my tin of tea and spooned some directly into the saucepan of water. Edna rolled her eyes, so I said, “I’m making do, okay? How was your trip?”

“Marvelous, if only because I missed your contretemps with Cornelia.”

“So she wasn’t trying to kill me. But I’m sure she’s up to something. She’s inexplicably crazy about the guy at the local nursery.”

“Is he good-looking?”

“Very, and he’s got this really manly vibe and he’s kind of surly.”

“Then what is inexplicable?”

“One, he is not rich. Two, he is not a vampire, and she’s a snob about that, isn’t she?” The tea came to a boil and I turned off the heat. “You may remember that Cornelia once called me a common Mexican girl.”

“How can I forget, since you bring it up every time Cornelia is mentioned?”

“Well, I’m just saying…” The tea seemed reasonably dark, so I poured it into two mugs that I’d picked up at the Dollar Store. I handed one to Edna.

She stared at the design on the mug-a koala surrounded by pink hearts-and then she sat on the watermelon pink velvet sofa. “Mugs like this make the world a worse place to live,” she said. “Cornelia felt that you’d slighted Ian.”

“I couldn’t keep going out with him after he offered me a thrall as a treat,” I said. “But that was then. Now he has a new girlfriend. She’s a nuclear physicist and Miss Universe, or something.”

“You mean Ilena?”

“I met her in New York. She insulted me.” Edna raised her brow inquisitively and I added, “I’d rather not go into it. Suffice it to say that it was a very unkind remark about my appearance.” My will broke under Edna’s penetrating gaze and I said, “She called me a chubby pickle!”

Edna burst into laughter, and I huffed, “Well, that’s the last time I expect any understanding from you!”

“I understand very well, Young Lady. How is your cake progressing?”

I showed her the lurid concoction that was steeping in the cupboard. The green liquor had tinted the fruits a horrible slime green.

“That looks as bad as this tea tastes. Let me take you to a proper tea.”

We went to one of her favorite department stores to have afternoon tea under a stained-glass cupola. She looked around with a satisfied expression and said, “It’s good to see you again, Young Lady, even though I enjoyed my time away.”

I grinned at her. “Someday you will reveal the details of your tawdry relationship with your addled young lover.”

“I do not have a lover,” she said coolly. Then she gave me a sly grin. “And if I did, I would never tell.”

An hour passed quickly and we said good-bye. She promised to look for my engagement ring, visit Daisy’s grave, and alert me when Cornelia reappeared.

I walked back to the condo in the cool of the evening. Buses jammed the streets, and the sidewalks were crowded with people going home, going out, living their busy lives. I missed Oswald and my garden and even elusive Pal, but it was easy to fill my days here.

I wrote the outline for a story about a young woman who is lured to the underworld, a metaphor for the dark powers of consumerism. I went to the library frequently, happy to sit in the company of other readers among the thousands of books.

The vampire ophthalmologist came to the City and examined my eyes. He gave me a clean bill of health, and I forgot about my earlier visual distortions as quickly as most people forget a cold.

Nancy and I met frequently, and I continued to transcribe her declarations on style, planning to give her the composition book as a gift after the wedding. I convinced her to use wild-flower seeds as party favors, but I lost my battle to hire a rock band at the reception when Nancy joined forces with Oswald. He wanted a cover band that would play his parents’ favorite standards, and since he was writing the checks, I gave in.