Eternal Service (3 page)

“Good Morning, Alex. Happy belated birthday.”

Alex’s eyebrow rose questioningly, but she composed herself quickly. She had given the therapist a fake birthday due to security reasons, but had forgotten until this very moment. Her birthday was actually weeks ago. She smiled at the woman and said, “Thanks, Micki. My birthday was earlier this week.”

Micki pulled out a pen. “What age did you turn this year?”

“Thirty–eight.” She was really thirty–nine.

Micki smiled at her attractive, well put–together client. “Well, you appear much younger – probably due to all the workout and training you do.”

Alex felt her cheeks flush as she flashed a smile. She brushed her shoulder length auburn hair behind her ears. “Thanks Micki. And thanks again for meeting me so early this morning.”

“No problem,” Micki smiled. “Last week when we met you seemed a bit anxious about your age and the passing of time in general. How was your birthday?” Micki thumbed through the folder she kept with the details of the years of therapy she conducted with Alex.

Alex cleared her throat. Growing older always worried her. She thought back to her birthday. “I’m slowly dying alone. I’m shriveling up and I’m lonely. So in every respect, my birthday remained the same as all the other days, except the day came with a Sara Lee individual, frozen, fat–free cake at the end of it.” Alex’s tone saddened as she played with her fingernails. She hung her head and avoided eye contact with Micki.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about the day itself,” Micki suggested as she moved the box of Kleenex closer to her client.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Alex said, settling deeper into the couch. “I’m getting older, and the few men I do attract are immature boys.”

“Uh huh,” Micki studied her client’s folder, flipping back several pages. “Alex, try to remember how far you’ve come,” she said as she put down the folder and looked into Alex’s eyes. “Only a few years ago you were afraid to even date. Not only are you going out, you have had several dates this past month alone.”

Alex glanced away. The increase of dates was directly proportionate to her birthday weeks ago. “I don’t think any of those guys count as real dates. In fact, one seemed more interested in my X–Box than he was with me, and believe me Micki, that isn’t a euphemism.”

Micki leaned in, “Alex, you chose to date those men. You said ‘yes’ to their invitations to dinners and movies, but then you rejected the one who wanted to have sex with you.”

Alex sighed and thought back to that moment. If she had eaten breakfast, it would be coming up right about now. Alex raised her voice in protest, “I don’t want to settle. I want a real man.”

Micki nodded, “You’ve told me in the past what a ‘real man’ is for you, but I’d like for you to tell me again now that you’ve started dating again.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I don’t know,” she asserted, but mentally she thought back to the man she had been dreaming about as of late. She couldn’t completely make out all of his features, but the name Adonis came to mind. Her heart rate sped up just thinking about him and his dark hair, but she repeated, “I’m not sure what I’m looking for.”

“Somewhere deep inside, you do know. And you also know why you went out on dates with those other men as well.”

Alex crossed her arms and looked away from Micki, “I don’t want to talk about dating.”

“All right, we can postpone this discussion for a few minutes. However, we will still need to address your dating choices. I can’t help you unless you’re open and honest with me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. We can come back to that later.” Micki picked up the folder and flipped through more pages. “Looks like over the last few years your career took off. You had two promotions … and now you’re up for another one. If you get the promotion, it will make you … ?”

“‘Security Chief’ is the unofficial title,” Alex said, giving the woman an ambiguous job description. If she did accept the promotion, she couldn’t afford to allow a therapist to know exactly what she would be doing. It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust the woman; she just didn’t know her more than their therapy sessions. And even then, any personal information shared could be open to future blackmail. Even after all this time, Micki never even knew Alex’s real last name – and she always paid in cash. “I’d be responsible for the security teams that guard state officials,” she added, not wanting to mention that the state official would be the President of the United States. “The position is a good career move, even if it does sound like a mountain of paperwork.”

“Fair enough,” Micki replied as she studied her client. “You don’t need to share with me the exact title or duties, but I do want to know how you feel about this promotion and what it means for your career?”

Alex grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and, while she played with the tassels along its edge, she reflected upon her career. If she wanted something career–wise, she got it. She had always positioned herself strategically so she could command the best opportunities that were available. “I put my career above everything else. It’s what I do, but at least I can control what direction my career takes me,” Alex grimaced. She pulled at the strings of the tassel, carefully straightened them, and then moved to the next one in the row.

Micki wrote in the folder as she commented, “Control is very important to you.”

Isn’t it to everyone?
After a pause, Alex admitted, “At least I can get what I want.”

“And how is that working out for you? Is it making you happy?” Micki asked.

“Ugh!” Alex threw the pillow aside. “My career is great, but what I really want is a passionate relationship. I want a family. Where are all the real men?” She glanced over to her therapist, “I mean, I have this unclear picture of who I want. He’s perfect. He’s a Mr. Butch Manly … I just can’t seem to find him.”

“Alex, you’re a top level security specialist. Your accomplishments at this young of an age can be intimidating to some men.”

“To all men, I guess.” Alex said, “Except for the socially inept or the mama’s boys.” Alex bit her lip, looked down to the floor, and added, “Or the crazy stalker types.”

“Men come in many sized packages, Alex. But it’s what’s on the inside that counts. A small–framed, computer nerd who loves playing games can be a wonderful catch. You need to get past the wrapping.”

Wiping away a tear, Alex confided, “It’s … it’s not the wrapping, Micki. I never get to know a man well enough to even get to the inner layers of who they really are.”

“I know, and you’re doing a great job working on that. You are approaching your 40th birthday in a couple of years. The big ones tend to get people thinking about where they are in their life and what they are doing. We’ve had this discussion many times in the past, Alex. You want a passionate romance with a ‘Butch Manly’ type of guy, but you select men who never quite fit that bill, then you only go on one date with them. You force yourself to be emotionally flat in these relationships in an effort to protect yourself from being vulnerable.” Looking at her client she asked, “It’s been a long time since we discussed it, but you did just mention it. Do you want to talk about the stalker that attacked you some more?”

“Hell, no! I just wonder where all the heroes are.” Alex peeked at her watch and realized 45 minutes remained.

The scent of freshly made coffee invited Raymond into the kitchen. His bare feet barely made a sound on the tile floor as he walked over to the long counter filled with coffeemakers. From French presses, machine drip and even percolators, he had many choices. He preferred whole beans freshly ground over the pre–ground, tasteless variety stored in cans. He considered a French Roast, but instead settled on the already made Texas Pecan flavor.

While he poured himself a cup, he noticed his sister Sulie sitting quietly at the kitchen table working a crossword puzzle. She seemed blissfully unaware of the mountain of dishes piled up in the sink, on the counter tops, and even on the stove top. Raymond checked his pocket watch. The time was after 8am, so the mess resulted from Jackie getting her two kids off to school. Counting all the wineglasses laying about, he realized the dishes had not been done in some time – obviously the kids were not drinking wine.

“Good morning, Sulie.” When she barely nodded a hello, he asked about the mess in the kitchen.

She shrugged dismissively. “We had to let the maid go.”

Raymond looked over the dishes. Pregnant vampires, and children who had not reached their transitional year, ate human food. Actually, by the amount of dirty dishes, they ate a lot of food … or perhaps the maid had been gone for several days and he had not noticed.

“Let me guess,” he began, “Sterling took an interest in the maid and then he compelled her to leave after she visited him upstairs in his bedroom.”

“Stop,” Sulie chided him. She glanced up from her crossword puzzle. “We did our best in raising him. He’s a good kid.”

“Hardly a kid,” Raymond said. “Boy’s nearly 180 years old, and still acts like he’s a horny teenager.”

Sulie brought her hand up to stifle her chuckle. “You need to lighten up on him. Life is hard when you don’t have your mother. I did the best I could to help you raise him, but it’s not the same. Besides, the maid left because of something else,
this
time. She had been compelled a little too often to ignore empty blood bags and syringes lying about. Her mind couldn’t take the erasing anymore. She suffered migraine headaches so I let her go.”

Since the vampires received free room and board from the Government, they had also negotiated a maid come with the deal. It was a smart move on their part, especially since none of them knew how to operate any household appliance more advanced than a coffeemaker.

“Regardless, Sterling is out of control. We worked late last night. Afterward he ran off to find a date. I heard him come in a few hours ago.”

Sulie looked up at her brother. Her eyes seemed a bit more tired and her face more haggard looking than normal. Her short normally coiffed hair was unkempt. He noticed she still wore a fuzzy blue robe and house slippers. “The kids kept me up, then you woke me, then Sterling came home and the noise woke me up again.”

“I’m sorry, sis.” When moving into the mansion, which they called Fang Manor, Sulie had selected a bedroom on the first floor next to the kitchen. The mansion had twelve bedrooms, scattered among three different floors. The walls were thin, but surely the other bedrooms not so close to the kitchen were quieter. If any had been vacant he’d suggest she switch bedrooms.

“Do you want some coffee?” he asked.

She stood up from the table and shuffled in her slippers to the cupboard to get out a wine goblet. She then poured blood from a medical bag into the cup. “I’m good.” The back doorbell sounded. Raymond knew who the visitor was, and he arrived right on schedule.

The beeps sounded as Sulie disabled the high tech alarm system and opened the door. “Hey, Karl. Nice to see you. We’ve had a busy day today at the hospital,” she suggested, looking into his eyes and compelling him to see the images she laid out for him.

His expression instantly changed and his eyes became distant. “Hello, Dr. Smith. I have this week’s supply of blood for the hospital. Can you please sign here?”

“Gladly Karl,” she said taking the clipboard. “Please bring in the blood. You know where we keep it.” Karl obeyed, wheeling in carts of blood for the mansion, or as it was classified by the government, “Colony Private Military Hospital.”

“Kind of early for wine this time of the day, isn’t it?” Karl asked.

“I’m coming off the night shift, Karl. This is my nightcap.”

“Ah, well I can understand late night hours. I used to work them myself for a while.” He busied himself with storing the blood in the walk–in cooler.

“She’d offer you a glass Karl,” Raymond began, “but trust me. You wouldn’t like this vintage.”

*****

Alex stepped into the office belonging to Matt Dickson and Brandon Wyatt. She had worked very little with the pair, but they were always good for a comedy relief in an otherwise routine afternoon.

Matt stood the taller of the two, standing at a lengthy 6’ 5”. He wore Burlington store brand suits, not designer or even tailored fit ones. Overall, he always appeared clean and pressed, even if the quality seemed a bit off. Today he wore a single-breasted suit, light heather in color. The pink tie threw off the assemble but matched in an odd way. About 80% of the time, Matt acted as rock solid as any other agent. That is, when his sidekick, Brandon, didn’t pull him down some rabbit hole looking for a white rabbit, or more likely, a white
alien
rabbit.

Alex gazed over at Brandon, who had still not noticed her enter the room. He kept himself busy by listening to his chest with a stethoscope. Man, she really didn’t want to ask about that one. Brandon was probably doing his best to confirm that an alien had probed him during lunch or something – which was not a conversation she wanted to listen to. When he turned to face her, Alex noticed that Brandon could take fashion lessons from Matt. Brandon’s black suit jacket didn’t match the dark navy blue pants, not even in the dim light of this office. Of course, who would notice such a horrid combination with the fluorescent green tie the man wore?