La Posada --Chapter 14 --PG-13

[librarian_7]

Disclaimer: I don't own Josef. He thinks he owns freshie Lucky, but I do.


La Posada

Chapter 14

7:57. Lucky looked at the tiny numerals in the lower right hand of her screen, silently urging them to change. Her internet time started at 8 p.m., after days of being scheduled for the 2-4 afternoon slot, and there was every chance that for once, she’d be on when Josef was up and online. 7 p.m. Pacific wasn’t too unreasonable to expect him to be awake. She’d made a point of dining early, not wanting to miss a minute of her limited time. She drummed her fingers.

7:58. Come on. Three days since her suspicions about Carmencita’s new vamp had begun to bloom, three days since she’d sent Josef that oh-so-carefully worded e-mail. And nothing. Not a call, not a word, nothing. She could cry. She had cried, late into the night, sleeping with her cell phone in her hand as though it were a magical talisman. She’d wanted—badly—to bombard him with a dozen emails, leave him offline IM’s until he was forced to respond.

7:59. She’d restrained herself, though. She knew he read his personal e-mail, and if he hadn’t answered, frantic follow-ups would get her nothing. She scowled at her monitor. I could teach that sorry son of a bitch a thing or two about control, she thought, then regretted it immediately. When Marla had asked after her, noticing Lucky was not eating, she’d nearly bitten off the hostess’s head. She had no use for anyone. If only she could talk to Josef.

8:00. At last. Lucky clicked open the login window and signed on, so anxious she mistyped her username once, and her password twice. The fourth time, she forced herself to take a deep breath, slow down and hit each key in the sequence very carefully, finally rewarded with the news that J’sLucky was logged into the system. About ten seconds later, she was scrolling down her accumulated email, searching for one from theboss@kostanindustries.com. Nothing. A quick login to IM showed him as offline, although she did go so far this evening as to say “hi” just in case he was there, but invisible. There was no answer, and, dispirited, Lucky flipped back to her e-mail. A few messages from friends, but none of Josef’s other exclusives had written her. A dozen junk mailings from various catalog and online vendors. Nothing of the slightest interest. Three Facebook friend requests; two of them mentioned mutual friends on Freshienet.com, and she accepted those at once. The third…Desiree Simmons had left a message.

“Hi, Lucky, I’d love to be your friend. I’m sure we have lots in common. I love reading, star-gazing, and lounging in a hot tub. Desiree.”

Lucky hit the button to view Desiree’s profile at once. The page was minimal, and contained no identifying information whatsoever. Paging back, she accepted the invite, and chose to send a message trying desperately to think of something she could say without tipping her hand. Nothing much was coming to mind. Finally, she messaged back,

“Desiree, you sound like a fun friend. Glad to hear from you. –Lucky”

That sent, she pulled up her other two new friends and sent them very similar messages. Despite her worries, she had to suppress a slight smile. She knew at least four “Desiree’s” back in Los Angeles, but she was morally certain that this was not one of those four. And even though she trusted Josef’s word implicitly, and he’d told her Sam Logan was safe, somehow until she’d heard it from the freshie, she didn’t quite believe.

Messages sent, she went back to her e-mail, clicking refresh even though no “new mail message” boxes had popped up. Twenty minutes into her two hours, and nothing yet.

She thought about the bright, chatty little e-mail message she had all written up to send to him, the one that mentioned in passing how she and Carmencita Diaz had grown to be great friends over the past few days. And how summer seemed to be ending, and the aspen leaves were starting to turn. She tried to imagine the Posada’s grounds and buildings covered with snow. It would happen all too soon, she supposed, and she didn’t want to be there to see it. Already the evenings were cooler, and her ruana was not adequate to keep her warm when she paced her patio at night, looking up at the same night sky that covered Josef in L.A. She knew he didn’t spend much time staring at the stars, but she figured the stars had spent plenty of time watching him.

Lucky roused herself from her reverie and hit refresh again. A new message. Her heart leapt, but it was from Facebook: “Desiree Simmons has sent you a message.” Better than nothing, she supposed, and opened it.

“Lucky—It’s so good to have a new friend. I just changed jobs, and being alone in a new town really sucks, you know? Looking forward to hearing from you soon. –Desiree.”

Now that was interesting news. Josef had been jealous of her relationship with Sam, she was sure of it. And yet, if this really was Sam—and she had little doubt of it—then Josef must’ve extended considerable influence on his behalf. She typed in,

“Desiree—I know how lonely that can be, but I’m sure you’ll make friends soon. Makes me glad I love my job, though! Hope your boss is as nice as mine.—Lucky.”

8:43 and no word yet from Josef. She stood and paced to the window, feeling more bereft than she ever had before. After a few minutes, staring out into the chill darkness, her arms wrapped around herself, she turned back to her desk. She hit refresh, without much hope.

The top line of her inbox read, theboss@kostanindustries.com... re:Missing You. The message was brief, but somehow it reassured her.

“Hey doll, I’m concerned about your last message. Will call you later. Wear the aquamarine satin tonight. J.”


&&

One building over, Marla was watching Lucky’s internet activity, although gallingly, she could not see the contents of the emails to and from the Kostan Industries accounts. She was sure the Facebook messages were more than they appeared, but they were so innocuous, there was nothing she could grab onto.

She checked Carmencita’s connection, but the freshie was spending her time im’ing with her cousin Sasha, who seemed to be dominating the conversation with gripes about the shortcomings of her new boyfriend Tommaso. Marla knew exactly how to interpret that, and it was something to keep an eye on. Then again, maybe hearing about the vamp who’d divested himself of her contract might shut down a few of Carmencita’s lamentations concerning her own circumstances.

The ringing of her phone distracted her from her surveillance. She wondered what new crisis had arisen. Then she looked at the display, and blanched, flipping the phone open with trembling hands.

“Slade?” she said.

“Well, darlin’, it’s about hit the fan now, hasn’t it?” Weston’s dark irony sent a chill down her spine.

“What do you mean? Slade, I swear nothing’s happened here.” Marla’s hands felt clammy.

“Nothing new?”

“No, everything’s been quiet,” she said. “Carmencita’s been making friends with Lucky Alexander, and the two of them have kept to themselves.”

“No offsite communications?”

“Alexander gets emails from Kostan, that’s about it. Nothing else to speak of.”

Slade snatched at that. “What’s she telling him? Or better yet, what’s he telling her?”

Marla dug her nails into the arm of the chair, her face furious. “I don’t know. I’m not a hacker, Slade, and they’re using his company email. How am I supposed to get into that?”

“Your problem, not mine. But it does seem like you’re less on top of things than you might be.”

“Fine. Great. Know of any ex-freshie hackers in need of a job?”

“Don’t get snippy with me, Marla,” the vampire drawled.

She suppressed a shiver. There were not nearly enough mountains between them. “I’m sorry, Slade,” she whispered.

“Whatever, darlin’. This isn’t a social call.”

“Yes, Slade.” She waited, knowing he’d tell her in his own good time. It didn’t take long.

“Some things are going to be changing around your little kingdom, Marla,” he said. “For one thing, the Board has decided they’ve been a tad too laissez faire.”

“Oh?” Marla tensed. More vamp involvement was about the last thing she needed.

“For starters, there’s going to be a Board meeting on site. We’ll be arriving tomorrow evening.”

“On site? Vamps? Here? But—“

“Sweetheart, do I hear you objecting to the owners visiting?”

“I’m sorry, Slade, it’s just been the rule for so long.” She paused. “It’s hard to process.”

He laughed shortly. “Get used to it. I don’t know what all the Board will decide, but the place is stinking for change. And Marla, tell the Diaz girl, one of the gentlemen coming for the board meeting is her new vampire. She needs to be ready to meet him. And you need to be ready to host the Board. You can do that, can’t you?” He cut the connection before she could protest further.

Marla put down the phone, and very deliberately pulled out a bottle of bourbon she kept stashed in her desk, for emergencies. This was a time for it, if ever there was one, she thought.

&&

Josef had worn an amused smile since he’d logged out of his personal email account. That ought to have her stewing nicely, he thought. He supposed it was a little cruel to torture the poor freshie, but if she was going to assume that he’d take on an hereditary contract sight unseen, she deserved a bit of teasing. He completed a leisurely review of current business needing his attention, and caught a bite from one of his “preferred provider” freshies before leaving the office. He was a little short of exclusives these days, and even if the others more than took up the slack, he did need to think about expanding his options. No hurry, though, he decided as he drove through the quiet midnight streets. It wasn’t as if he were going hungry.

He glanced at his watch, as he strode into his study, loosening his tie. It was time to give Lucky a call. He’d made her wait until almost 1:30 am, MDT. Sure enough, she answered before the first ringtone cycle had finished.

“Josef.” Okay, he’d have to admit he loved to hear the tones of devotion in her voice. It pleased him, he could hardly deny it.

“Waiting for my call, doll?”

He heard a catch in her breath. “Always.”

Josef settled back in his easy chair. The leather of it, rich and slick under his fingers, complemented the heavy crystal hardness of the Baccarat highball glass that held his blood and scotch. He took a sip, and as innocently as he could manage, he asked, “So tell me, sweetheart, something’s troubling you. What is it?”

Lucky hesitated, not wanting to whine. “It’s nothing, Josef. Really it’s nothing.”

“And lying to me became an option, when?”

He heard a rustle, as she curled up in her bed. “I miss Los Angeles. I miss my life.”

“Keep trying,” Josef urged, “you’re getting closer.” He sipped again.

“All right, fine,” she said. “I miss you. Happy now?”

“Happier. That’s not the whole truth, but we can work with it.” He paused, listening to her breathing. It was getting faster, shallower. “Tell me about your satin.”

“Josef, you picked it out. You know what it looks like.”

“Is that color good with your skin?”

“Aquamarine? That’s not really my call, but yes, I think so.” She was calming a little, with more ordinary conversation.

“Well, I’ll look forward to seeing it on you, babe.”

“Me, too.” But her voice wasn’t inviting. It was small, hopeless.

This, he didn’t like. She was too meek, too anxious. Too close to tears. “Lucky, doll, you’re starting to worry me.”

“I don’t mean to. This place, Josef. It gets to you, after awhile. It’s a prison. I just…I don’t think it’s healthy.” Lucky bit her lip.

Josef allowed a tone of mild reproof to enter his voice. “They’ve been taking care of freshies for decades. Do you think we don’t know what’s good for our donors?”

There was a long pause. “Josef, you know I intend no disrespect…but what’s good for our blood isn’t always what’s best for our hearts. Or our heads.”

The vampire didn’t answer at once. He listened to Lucky’s small movements, to her breathing. She’d managed to unsettle him, more than he’d planned. He sipped his drink, still unwilling to tell her that her real worries were groundless. He was looking forward to the next act of the farce a little too much, but he found he couldn’t leave her this way.
Nevertheless, in the end, he failed to offer the comfort she needed, saying only, “I understand, Lucky. I do understand.”

“I hope so.”

Josef had a full night planned, and no time to worry about Lucky. The automatic clutch was grabbing a little on the Ferrari, and he wanted to worry about that, not some human. Other than his mechanic, that is. Yet he found himself growing more concerned about this girl, and wondered if he was mellowing in his old age, letting these freshies get so far under his skin. Surely not.