My Familiar Stranger (32 page)

Elora then presented an idea that had been germinating. She was thinking that maybe the same contact who booked the house bass player gig for Baka could arrange jobs for the four of them. That way they could be there every night without their constant presence raising suspicion and could keep each other in sight.

Everybody liked the idea. They argued over which jobs would best fit their purpose and which of them would be best suited for a particular position.

“Can you dance?” Kay asked Elora.

“You’re talking about the cage dancers on the club level?” Kay nodded. “I’d have to get a new partner if I took that job.”

“Why?”

“Because Rammel would never sleep again. There just aren’t that many cold showers in a day's time.”

Kay snickered. Storm pouted.

With a rakish smile, Ram said, “I’d be acceptin’ that challenge, my girl.”

Elora grunted as if that was drivel and turned back to Kay. ”Okay. Seriously. If the vamps are coming and going from the live music level, then, shouldn’t that be the center of the operation?”

“She’s right.” Storm said. “She should serve drinks. Right or wrong that’s what patrons expect to see female employees doing. Plus it gives her a mobility that we wouldn’t have as bouncers or bartenders.”

“Too bad,” Ram stared at Elora with a gleam in his eyes, biting his bottom lip, unabashedly and conveying the impression that his imagination was still lingering on images of a scantily clad Elora writhing, bumping, and grinding.

She was starting to feel her cheeks heat and Ram was clearly enjoying making her squirm. She knew she had only herself to blame. She had started it. But it was a lesson learned and she made a mental note, "Do not ever challenge the sex god to a duel of sexual inference. You’ll lose."

In the end they agreed that it would make the most sense for Ram to bar tend so that he could stay in constant contact with his partner ordering and serving drinks while Storm and Kay worked security. That gave them the perfect excuse to stand on the sidelines and observe without looking out of place.

Elora spent the rest of the week in briefing, target practice, and, finally, on the splat gun course. She also spent some time with the kitchen and bar staff consulting on the details of professional drink delivery.

She made arrangements with the Operations Office to qualify a few dog lovers for walking and exercising Blackie when Elora was on duty. He was so well-behaved that they decided he could hang out in the Operations Office at night and set up a large, comfy bed for him in a corner.

Blackie was becoming a master at ‘hunt the vampire’ using two halves of Baka’s shirt; the one to queue the dog and the other to hide for him to find. He was a very quick study, showing remarkable aptitude for tracking. As an added bonus he liked it and thrived on solving puzzles. It was the doggie version of a Sherlock Holmes mystery and also made him feel like he was working for his keep.

One beautiful fall afternoon, after a romp in the leaves, Elora decided to alter the game a little. She got Ram to let her borrow a Black Sabbath tee shirt that he had worn recently and had him hide somewhere in the building without telling her where, stipulating that he should start in the hub. She promised to call if it looked like Blackie couldn’t find him.

She took Blackie to the hub. He had grown into the role of the mascot they had hoped he’d become when he was adopted. He liked getting affection from the people he thought were in his pack: Elora, Ram, Sanction, and a few more in Operations. For the rest, he was tolerant, but not overly engaging. When women would switch to baby talk, Elora would have to stifle a laugh at the sardonic way Blackie looked at them. If he could have arched an eyebrow and said, “What the fuck?”, he would have. Elora couldn’t be more proud. In every way, including temperament, he was the finest example of a mature, Alsatian male.

Having just stopped by the coffee bar, Storm noticed the commotion and wandered over.

“What’s up?”

“We’re playing a new game today called Find Sir Hawking.”

“You’re trying to turn that mutt into a bloodhound?”

Elora gaped. “Who are you calling a mutt? For all we know this may be the finest Alsatian alive.”

“The finest what? Elora, that dog is a German Shepherd.”

She looked dubious. “Whatever. Lots of dogs are good at tracking, Storm. Not just bloodhounds. They train Beagles to look for termites. I think Blackie could do just about anything he was asked to do.” She absently ran her hand behind Blackie’s right ear. “You’re welcome to come along if you want.”

Storm was wearing that signature, skeptical look, but he was amused, too. “Sure. Let’s see what happens.”

After a few minutes most of the people went on about their business. To the rest she said, “Sorry everybody, if you’ll excuse us, Blackie’s on a mission today.”

People looked intrigued, but backed away as requested.

Elora took Ram’s tee shirt out of her backpack and put it in front of his nose as she had done with Baka’s shirt. But, instead of saying, “Find the vamp,” she said, “Find Ram.”

Blackie brought his head up and his ears far forward as he looked at her to make sure she’d got it right because those weren’t the words that signal the beginning of the game. With an intelligence that was superior to many people, he was saying, “I’m not sure I understand you.”

She repeated. “Ram. Find Ram.”

He whined and wagged his tail so she unhooked the leash. He started sniffing in circles almost frantically. He trotted to the lounge, then backtracked, sat down in front of the elevator and looked back at Elora as if to say, “Make this thing open.”

Elora knew Ram was hiding on one of the two sublevels because those were the conditions of the game. Storm, Elora and Blackie entered the elevator and pushed SL1. When the doors opened, Blackie exited and sniffed around. Elora held the doors open waiting to see what would happen. After a couple of seconds Blackie trotted back into the elevator. She pushed SL2. When the doors opened, Blackie exited, sniffed in a circle, and took off running.

Elora looked up at Storm and grinned an I-told-you-so. By the time they jogged the length of the first hallway, Blackie was out of sight. They turned the corner, looked down the second long hallway – also nowhere to be seen, but they could hear him barking in a tone that sounded a lot like a song of victory. When they reached the end of that hall and turned the corner they found Blackie standing outside the cage that used to be his nightmare, wagging his tail. He had one paw up on the chain link gate as if to say, “Got you.”

Inside Ram was sitting inside cross legged, reading a book.

Elora went to her knees to smother Blackie in pets and,“Good boy’s”, while he licked every inch of her face.

Ram stood up and let himself out of the cage. “I’d be askin’ for a hello kiss myself if you were no’ wearin’ so much dog drool on your face.”

Storm shot Ram the obligatory nasty look for talking about kissing while looking at Elora, then congratulated her on a successful exercise.

***

BLACK SWAN TRAINING MANUAL, Chapter 16, #39.

The myth that vampire may sometimes be repelled by religious symbols is the result of misidentification of cause. Religious symbols, particularly in the form of jewelry, are often made of silver or contain silver in the alloy. Vampire instinctively recognize silver as a potentially fatal substance since it can incapacitate and render the vampire helpless. It is, of course, the metal and not the symbol that creates the aversion.

The plan to work at Notte Fuoco was given the green light and jobs were arranged. Ram spent a couple of hours at the lounge bar every day being trained on bartending. He carried a handbook with him so that he could study drink recipes and Elora quizzed him nightly. By week’s end, he could pass for a bartender. What he didn’t have in flashy moves he more than made up for in sex appeal.

Female wait staff at Notte Fuoco wore white tank tops with the club logo and tight, black mid thigh skirts. Elora worked with field operations to modify the uniform to a black, mid thigh, tiered skirt with a saucy kick and knee high boots.

Male staff wore black tee shirts with the club logo and jeans. With their size, physiques, and presence, Kay and Storm were completely believable in the role of bouncers. There was no unobtrusive way to hide a splat gun behind tee shirts and jeans so they went bare bones.

Elora, on the other hand, could easily attach a splat pistol to a garter underneath her skirt. They ordered multiple pairs of low heeled boots with enough room in the calves so that stakes could be attached to specially sewn, elastic loops.

When the duty roster was posted, B Team was in rotation for the first time in months. They had Thursdays and Sundays off since those were the slowest nights at the club.

Monday night, the first night on duty, Ram seemed as at home behind the bar as if he’d been doing it all his life and, of course, there was always a throng of women three deep slurping drinks while following every move he made with lust in their hearts and dreamy expressions on their faces. Even though he seemed oblivious to all the female attention, Elora found it irritating. The fact that she was irritated made it all the more aggravating.

Storm and Kay tried to be as inconspicuous as two very large and striking men can be. To the casual observer, they might appear to be relaxed, but they were always on duty, aware of everything going on in the room, dividing their attention between watching for developing trouble of the human variety and watching for vampire to surface, prepared to lunge into action at a millisecond’s notice.

Elora, on the other hand, struggled to get her bearings. She didn’t always recognize the names of the drinks being ordered and cursed herself for not studying the handbook Ram had used. Whenever, she entered the far end of the bar to place an order, Ram looked up and gave her that special smile that she had come to know was for her alone. The one that said, “The sun just rose in the heavens because you’ve arrived.”

Once an hour, management sent people from other levels down to spell Ram and Elora so they could take ten minutes. After the third hour, Ram suggested they go up and out onto the street to fill their lungs with some freshly, exhaust-filled air.

Getting outside of the club did make it feel more like a real break.

They had just arrived on the street when a boisterous group of young women half stumbled out of the club. Seeing Ram, one of them approached, opening her coat with pride to the striped, sequin tank top underneath. She stepped in front of Elora and pressed farcically inflated, permanently pushed up breasts into Ram’s torso while batting fake Bambi lashes that outlined eyes both shiny and red rimmed from too much drink.

The interloper was wearing her long, straight hair in one of those silly, sideways pony tails. Acting on pure impulse, without thinking it through, Elora reached out, grabbed a fist full of sideways pony tail in her right hand and pushed the skank toward the curb saying, “Find something else to do.”

The woman had to take a couple of steps and grab on to friends to catch her balance and keep from falling. While turning the air blue, she gave Elora a look of challenge like she was thinking about coming for her.

Seeing this play out on the woman’s face Ram laughed, shook his head and said, “Oh. I definitely would no’ if I were you.”

Deciding on the better part of valor on her behalf, her friends encouraged her to move along with them. Giving Elora one last look that could kill, she half walked, half staggered away.

Ram turned a high beam expression of delight on Elora who was stunned by her own territorial behavior and feeling embarrassed. She looked around anxiously. “I really have no idea why I did that. It was wrong. I mean it’s not as if you can’t take care of yourself or decide whose fake chest you want pressed against you.”

“Elora…,” he began.

She started away. “I’ve got to visit the Ladies before time’s up. I’ll see you down there.”

“Hold on. Partners stay together.” In two long strides he caught up. “Remember?”

Shaking herself internally she fired back. “You are not using that as an excuse to come in the women’s restroom with me.”

He smiled. “No? Well, then I’ll wait outside for a count of one hundred.”

Tuesday night, when it was time to go on duty, Elora answered Ram’s knock with her hair cut to within two and a half inches all over her head and spiked up in a messy, edgy do that was appropriate for club work. Ram did a double take.

She shrugged. “Kay’s right. Long hair’s too easy to grab. I found that out last night.”

Ram nodded and gave her a little smile. He had loved the gorgeous, many colored mane, but her appeal didn’t depend on it. She was inalterably adorable. He reached up and ran his hand over her head while she resisted the impulse to lean into it.

“Still beautiful,” was all he said.

Elora hadn’t realized how much his opinion mattered until she saw his reaction and heard the reassurance.

Baka took short breaks when the bands did and longer ones when a band brought their own bass. He usually spent his free time staring at Elora and she could always feel it, like hands on her body. She knew he was aware that he made her flush and she knew he enjoyed the power he was transmitting telepathically; the very potent threat, or promise, of passion with single minded purpose.