When You Were Young

I stepped into the bar the next night, giddy with the thought of seeing him again. The sounds of the bar didn't even phase me this time. I parked it at the bar and ordered a glass of white wine. I couldn't quite bring myself to drink it.

I had never been much of a drinker. I swirled the alcohol in my glass, enjoying the elegant weight of it in my hand. My eyes scanned the crowds, looking for him. He wouldn't leave me, wouldn't stand me up. I knew that he was coming for me.

“Nadya,” his voice whispered in my ear. I jumped and turned, smiling.

“Remy! You came.”

“Y'knew Ah would.” he chuckled. I nodded and blushed. Shame on me for having doubted him, even for a second.
“Come and sit wit' me, cher.”

Once again he took my hand. The electricity surged through my body again. But instead of feeling elated this time, I felt serene. We walked to a small table in the darkest, quietest corner of the bar. I breathed in, taking in his scent.

I hadn't realized how badly I had missed the smell of him. After I went home and changed and crashed for a few hours on the moth eaten couch in my tiny apartment, I had dressed in sweats and hit some of the shops. I had to find his cologne, had to know what it was that made him smell so wonderful.

But no one seemed to have it. And it wasn't something that I could properly put into words. Anyway, how do you say that the man who drank your blood the night before wore it? Maybe Calvin Klein did a line for vampires?

“I missed you today.” I blurted without meaning too. I could have slapped myself, but Remy's slow smile was plenty reward.

“Ah missed ya too, cher.”

“So, I've got some questions for you.” I swallowed.

“Ah 'spect ya would.” he leaned back in his chair. “Nadya, to tell ya de truth, Ah didn' think Ah'd be seein' ya t'night. Or ever again.”

“You know,” I said thoughtfully. “I didn't think you would either.” Of course I had been enthusiastic to get another invitation from the vampire, but as I dressed in my only other sexy outfit, I had second thoughts. As I leaned towards the scummy mirror in my bathroom to paint my lips bright pink, I wondered if I wasn't making a mistake.

Maybe I should be heading for the police. Or perhaps a priest. I wasn't too sure who'd be of more use to me in this situation.

“But,” I continued. “I couldn't really refuse you. And you knew that, didn't you?”

“Oui,” he said softly. “Ah knew.”

We sat for another moment. Not knowing what to do, I sipped on the white wine. He stared at me through those devil's eyes. I wanted to reach out and cup his face in my hands. I wanted to pull him closer to me and examine him in minute detail.

“Ya'd do better if we was in my bedroom, cher.” he said in a low voice that made me giggle like a school girl.

“Were you reading my thoughts?”

“Oui. Ya gotta do a better job of hidin' dem.”

“You could ask my permission.” I said, miffed. He nodded.

“Ah could.”

“But you won't.”

“Non.”

No, of course not. Then again, he really did have the upper hand with me, didn't he? I smiled dryly and set my glass down.

“Remy, you're a vampire. And you bit me. You're meeting me again. I really don't think I know what's going on here.”

“Ya don' b'long here, cher.”

What? Where were we going with this? Didn't belong where? In Louisiana? In the bar? With him? There were too many things that he could mean, too many ways to take the sentence. I just shook my hair back a little and gave him another coy smile.

“Belonging is a state of mind.”

“And ya never did b'long is ya own mind, did ya?” he was looking at me shrewdly again. My spine straightened and I almost shuddered. I felt like he was staring into my soul and reading all my secrets. But it wasn't intimate and sensual. It was like nails down a chalkboard.

“No. I suppose not.” I murmured. “Maybe the state of belonging never belonged to my mind.” I sipped a little bit more to combat the dryness that had taken over my mouth. The whole chain of thought made me feel dizzy and tied my tongue into knots. The arrogant vampire across from me just laughed.

“Tell me, ma petit, ma cher...” he took the glass from me and twirled the stem idly between his fingers. “Did ya ever wanna be somebody else?”

“Every day of my life.” there was no sense in beating around the bush. Lying to him was pointless. He could read me no matter what I said. I might as well cut out the middle man and be honest.

“And what if Ah could make ya somebody else?”

“How?”

“Ah could make ya like me.” he didn't have to explain what he meant. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I began to shake my head.

“No. I won't do that. I don't want that.”

“Think twice about it, cher.” he warned me, eyes growing serious. “'Cause dey dat are given dis offah—dey don't ever walk in de light again. Even if dey say no.”

His meaning rang bell clear. I worked my mouth a few times before I could speak.

“Are you threatening me?” my blood went icy.

“Ah don't threaten.” he leaned across the table and buried his face in my hair, his lips brushing against my ear once again. “Ah PROMISE.”

“You're—trapping me.” I pushed my chair back from the table, ready to snatch my purse and run out of there as fast as I could. I might be able to lose him in the crowd of people, might be able to weave up and down Bourbon Street.

It was probably foolish to run from a vampire. Like swatting at a bee, it would only piss them off more.

Remy grabbed my hand, applying just enough pressure so I was aware of the fact that he wasn't REALLY hurting me. But he could if he wanted to. And he was very close to wanting to.

“Think of it as as gift, cher.” that sweet smile that had intoxicated me last night. Even now, in my fear and anger, it was hard to resist.
“Think of it as me givin' ya what de rest of de world would kill for.”

“I'm not like the rest of the world, Remy.” I yanked on my wrist. He yanked it back. I bit my lip to keep from crying out against the pain that sparked up my arm.

“Dat has always been clear to me.”

I rose slowly from the chair, not even daring to blink. He watched me with an amused smile. I stared at his hand around my wrist, his skin on mine. Once again I was aware of my blood thrumming through my body.

“I said no.”

“Non, ya didn't. And ya don't wanna.”

“Yes! I do! And I did!” I went to yank again. He yanked back, and I knew with terrifying clarity that killing me wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to him.
“If you don't let go--,”

“Ya ain't stupid, cherie!” he shook his head with a sigh. “Think dis through! Like I can't influence someone into thinkin' ya just hollerin' 'cause ya mad at me for some lover's spat.”

“You son of a bitch!” I hissed.

“Leave my mama outta dis.”

The tension thickened between us. It was suffocating me. My breath rasped in my throat as I struggled with each breath. I sank back into my chair, feeling faint. Remy's grip on my didn't lighten in the least.

“I don't want to die.”

“Too late for dat.” he chuckled. “Ya dead if ya say no. But if ya stick wit' me, cher... Dat death gonna feel a whole lot nicer. 'Specially what gonna come after.”

“You're a lot crueler than I thought you were.” I bit my lip.

“Ya get used to dat.”

I looked away. I looked at the bar, the building ready to crumble down around us. I looked at the women, the whores who tried to dress ten years younger than their age range, who caked themselves in foundation that didn't match their skin tone. Their hair was falling out from too many bleach jobs, and though they tried to giggle and bat their eyelashes, they just looked tired.

I saw the men, hunched over bottles and glasses. They had begun coming here as soon as they were legally able. And though some of them probably hated it now, they wouldn't know what to do with themselves without the alcohol.

And finally, I listened to the aching of my heart. I listened to it in a way that I hadn't since arriving in New Orleans. The emptiness, the loneliness. The misery. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, unable to stand the darkness one second longer, there was Remy.

“Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “Take me away.”

“Ah knew ya'd see it my way.” he rose and offered me his arm, still the gentleman. With shaking knees, I followed him once again to his car.