The Scene (5 page)

             
“Maybe you're right. You in?” I nudged Tatum’s arm with my elbow.

             
“Shit, you know me. I follow the smell of whiskey and the thump of the bass.” She reached out and took my hand and the three of us walked down the length of the bar and out the front door. We didn't have to walk past the line, and back around the corner, thank God. His car was waiting for us out front. A man dressed all in black, but not part of the crowd inside, got out of a very shiny SUV thing and opened the door for us. Cyrus, such a gentleman, helped both Tatum and I get in the car.

             
“Where to, Mr. Atossa?” The man in black asked from the driver seat.

             
“Embrace.” He made that one word a command.

             
The man said nothing, only nodded. It was quiet for a moment, which I hate, so I broke the silence.

             
“What kind of last name is Atossa?” I asked, innocently enough.

             
“Persian.” His answer was very short and seemed a little guarded. He stared straight ahead and made no attempt to speak further.

             
Damn, what the hell did I do now?

             
I know I hadn’t let my mouth run, it’d been shut.

I am such a fucking spaz.

CHAPTER 5

The car ride had suddenly become uncomfortable. The back seat was thick with deception and mystery. Cyrus had become totally still since the whole last name thing.

What the hell could he be hiding?

              I looked at Cyrus. He was staring intently out the window, obviously avoiding looking at me. I glanced over to my right hand man, Tatum. This is funny because she was literally holding my right hand. Although a little ironic because she's a girl and not so much a man at all.

             
Tatum was already looking at me when I turned to her. She gave me the “what the fuck” look and I returned with the “I don’t know, but what the fuck, as well” look. She nudged at me, encouraging a ‘Q and A’ with Mr. Atossa.

             
I sat for a moment or two thinking of what to say. He obviously didn't want to talk about it, but he should have realized he's stuck in a car with two hardcore journalists; we are bound to ask questions. If we don't, we may implode.

             
I rubbed my free hand on my thigh. It had nothing to do with trying to be sexy; I was sweating like a pig and my palm was sticky with sweat. I figured prying into his life may go better if I was a little sweet and touchy with him while I delved into his mind. My lips were really dry, along with my mouth.

Holy shit
, I’m freaking attractive right now!

I turned once again to my hetero-life-mate Tatum. All I had to do was wrinkle my nose a bit while lightly smacking my lips and she knew exactly what I needed. She, very stealthily, got out her breath-strippy things, stuck one in my mouth, and slapped some gloss on my super dry lips. She accomplished this all with her left hand wrapped around my mine and keeping one eye on the secretive Persian over my shoulder, just to be sure he wasn't watching our very private little revamp; he wasn't. She knew I would probably need my right hand back, which was also soaking wet with sweat. I did the rub thing on my jeans with my right hand this time.  Not an extreme makeover by far, but a vast improvement. I looked at Tatum for one last burst of courage; she was really good for that. A slight smirk and an encouraging nod of her head and I was back in the game. 

              I turned on my butt toward Cyrus.

Oh my God he's cute!
Phew, okay Dylan, breathe.

I sweetly hooked my arm through the crook of his, coyly rubbed my cheek on his shoulder, and looked up at him through my lashes.

“So...you're Persian? That's kind of...sexy.” He looked down at me and I knew I had him. Oh the power of the lashes.

             
“Yes...well I suppose one would say Iranian now...but yes I am Persian.” He smiled but his voice was guarded.

             
Now? Persia has been known as Iran since, like, the 1930's. Where has this guy been?

             
He was looking me right in the face. It was hard to hold on to the sultry look while in the midst of utter confusion. He’s so easy on the eyes that one could simply lose their train of thought. I caught myself staring. I'm not really sure how long I'd been silent, mouth agape, completely lost in those perfect green eyes. I shut my mouth promptly and looked down sheepishly. I was only slightly blushing, thank you very much. I glanced back at Tatum, she had that one eye-brow-raised smirk; it was her signature, ‘Dylan's getting laid’ look.  I furrowed my brow and shook my head back at her. She just smiled and nodded as I rolled my eyes and looked back to the eye candy to my left. He had been watching the entire no word conversation between Tatum and I.

             
Crap.

             
“How do you guys do that?” he asked with his super sweet smile that said nothing and everything all at once.

             
“Do what?” I said, knowing full well what the fuck he was talking about. Here's to being a just a naive little girl.

             
“Have an entire conversation with only a raised brow and a little head nodding. I think it's a girl thing. Males,” he made a gesture meaning himself and his kind, “we communicate with a series of grunts and pointing.” Once again he was cracking up, this time at himself.

             
What was he smoking and why was he not sharing?

I laughed too; I mean it was kind of funny. Tatum was cracking up too.

Damn I must just be lacking a sense of humor tonight.

I looked at Tatum “That funny huh?”

“It's funny ‘cause it's true
,” she said through tears of laughter.
I think she may be drunk.

I wanted to know more about the sexy piece of man meat sitting next to me. How to go about prying without, well, prying?

              “So, were you born in the U.S.? Or....?” Real subtle like.

             
He was still smiling and chuckling when I blurted that last bit out. Needless to say, he stopped abruptly and looked straight ahead.

             
“I am Persian, I was born in Persia, but I am an American now and will always be.” He said this without moving, looking straight ahead like he was trying to look through the drivers head.

Can we say Cy-bot? Hello, I am Cy-bot
. I am very pretty. I take pictures in my man panties. I make lots of money, and give preprogrammed answers.
Can't hide bullshit behind a pretty face. Well, Tatum can, but she has no soul. I figured I should probably drop the subject. At least until I knew he was good and drunk.

             
“Cool, so where's this club you speak of?” I was back to being me. No more sultry, no more face of confusion, just me. He seemed to like that before.

             
He looked at me then, quite smugly I might add, and said, “If I tell you, I’d have to kill you.”

             
I just looked him dead in the eye. If I’m good at anything, it's bluffing, and I was bluffing my ass off. Inside I wanted to laugh, roll my eyes, grab that man around his perfect head, and plant one on him all at once. But I didn't. Instead, I looked at him with the blankest face I could pull off, and he bought it.

             
“Sorry, sweetheart, did not intend to offend. I was just kidding around with you.” I continued the dead face but added one raised eye brow, for effect. “You know I was just kidding, right? Right?” He said the last with such sincerity it broke me. I cracked a grin, and he knew immediately I had been fucking with him.

             
“You're a brat! You totally had me going! You ever thought about a career change?” He was smiling now and had completely forgotten about me prying into his life.
I rock
!

             
“Change to what?” I said, now smiling as well.

             
“I don't know, something that would utilize that unbelievable talent you have. Actress maybe? Professional poker player?” He laughed at that.

             
“I suck at poker and I think my fat ass kind of rules me out as Hollywood's new 'it girl'.” He gave me a strong look then. I couldn't tell what the look meant; only that whatever he was thinking seemed intense.

             
“You are wrong, darling Dylan. You are beautiful and your body is that of a woman's, shapely and soft.” He looked at me with that primal look guys get when the images flashing through their minds are of the naked variety.  I don’t get the look very often. Well, ok, never. Unless you include Mike, but he doesn’t count anymore.

             
It only took seconds of him looking at me like that for me to become uncomfortable. I quickly looked away and blushed. Just a little. I was so uncomfortable that I even squirmed in my seat.

             
“Dylan doesn't do well with compliments,” Tatum interrupted as she patted me on the head like a child.

Thanks Tatum, always there to save my ass.

             
“Oh, I see...” I don't know what he was about to say because the man in all black behind the wheel spoke.

“Embrace, Mr. Atossa
,” he said over his shoulder.

Saved by the driver.

              “Thanks Pete, but how many more times must I ask you to call me Cyrus?” The look on his face did not reflect the words coming out of his mouth. The tone was friendly but the expression was anything but.

             
He turned to us then and asked, “You guys ready for the freak show?”

             
“Ready? Never. But what other time in my life will I get this many chances to make snide comments and sarcastic remarks?” Once again I was wearing my dry, dead face.

             
“Of course my darling, that's why we love you.”

Love you too Tatum.

              Cyrus flashed a grin that looked nothing like the others I had seen tonight. This one, unlike the others, must have been only used with his nearest and dearest. It was filled with sincerity, unlike the remarkably believable, yet utterly plastic smile I had seen him flash at the club. This was not his public grin. Not his camera grin. Not the fake, I-have-to-smile-or-people-may-talk grin. This one was just for me. I had never been the center of anyone’s attention before. Well, except maybe Mike. But Lord knows that was a bad situation. I’ve never been made to feel like I was just as good as Tatum, until Cyrus Atossa came along. For once in my fat little existence, the hot guy was paying attention to me.

             
Don't I feel special?

CHAPTER 6

Being the gentleman he was, Cyrus got out on his side and walked around to assist us helpless girls out of the car. He even beat the driver, who was sluggishly walking around the car from the driver’s side. Tatum flashed the driver a look that was so, her. It said, clearly, “Gee, aren't you good at your job. Walk a little slower there 'Cal-Trans'”. I love that girl.

Cyrus picked up on her animosity fairly quickly. He snickered to himself and asked the driver to wait for us in the car. Who knew how long we were going to be in there. I liked his style. Cyrus held his arms out for us to hook ours through. Acting as our escort I suppose. 

             
The three of us walked up an actual red carpet. Probably the only time in my life I will ever walk up a red carpet. As a journalist, I do attend the occasional awards ceremony, for either business or pleasure, but they never lay out the red carpet for just us lay-folk. We were stopped at one of those velvet ropes guarded by a large man wearing a baby-T and an earpiece - very official.

Is this like some kind of bouncer uniform? Is there a bouncer dress code handbook somewhere? Rule 1-A: Said black shirt must be at least three sizes smaller than the size one would naturally wear. Hence, enhancing the effectiveness of looking tough.

All it really accomplished was making it look as though they’d swapped clothes with a kindergartener.

             
“Hey, Cyrus, where you been man? Haven't seen you around in a while.” They did the guy hand shake thing. The high-five and hand shake hybrid.

             
“You know McTavish. He thinks I'll boost attendance at Macabre Saturnine if I am 'featured' there. Or something to that effect.” The large man smiled at Cyrus. Then looked to me, only for a second, before turning to Tatum and giving her the complete once over. It didn't bother me, I was used to it.

Besides, hello? Look whose arm I am firmly attached to tonight
.

He looked at her like she was some exotic car he knew he couldn't quite afford but would give anything to have. She saw this and in true Tatum fashion she said, with a smile,
“I love your shirt. Where'd you get it? Baby Gap?” He actually smiled and looked down at his shirt like she was genuinely interested. Until he heard the Baby Gap part, that is. He looked at her like she had just killed his puppy.
Wow, what skill! To crush a man with one smart ass comment.
She could rule the world, if only she could use her powers for good.

             
“These
ladies
your guests for the evening?” He said ladies as if that one word would cause us to self-destruct. We both grinned back at him smugly.

             
“Yeah, they are,” Cyrus said obviously perturbed at the big man in the little shirt.

             
“You know the rules, Cyrus. They gotta sign in first.” He acted as though asking us to sign in was a huge hurdle we may not want to jump through.

Oh no, I forgot my name, how will I ever sign in?
Phht! Please.

             
I stepped forward. “Do you have a pen? Or should I just sign my name in blood?” I regretted saying it right after it escaped from my big hole in my face that never closes.

Hey Dylan
, I have a great idea, let's offer some blood at a private club for lifestyle vampires. 

The bouncer was so irritated
with us by then, I don't even think he cared. Or if he did, he didn't show it. Thank God.             

             
“Here.” He shoved a pen at me. “Sign in here and I need your I.D,” the bouncer said rudely.

             
“Would you care for a hair sample as well? Perhaps my social security number and mother’s maiden name?”  I held my card up for him to see, purposely not handing it to him. I can be a dick too. Tatum followed my lead: teamwork at its best. The man did not say another word to any of us. Hell, he didn't even look at us, until we walked past him through the double doors where, I am fairly certain, he checked out Tatum's ass.                            

             
Embrace was not just a step up from Macabre Saturnine, it was a giant leap. We had to walk through a very well decorated entry way area and through a set of black velvet curtains before we could even see the rest. Once through the heavy curtains, the decor was a blow to the senses. For one, it was dark, lit only by candle light. There were huge red and black velvet couches tucked here and there. Each with its own table and enough candles to illuminate my entire neighborhood.  The candle light made everything a shadow. The music was of the mellow industrial variety. Is that an oxymoron? The sound was very hypnotic, as if it would draw you into it. The toxic music mixed with the candle light made for bad mojo. That covered sight and sound, but there was one more sense that was thrown for a loop, the smell. There was a strange undertow of humans, and not. It was the smell of people; sweat, skin, hair, pheromones, and under all that, was the distinct copper scent of blood.   

What the fuck? 

              “This place is a trip, huh?” Tatum’s voice was just a breath of a whisper but it scared me. I’d been so focused on my environment, that I’d completely forgotten why I was here and who I was with.

             
I turned to Tatum and with my mouth right on her ear I said, “In and out T, no joke.”  She knew what I meant. She knew I wanted the fuck out of there as soon as possible.

Real, movie style vampires do not exist; we all know that, but this place was fucking creepy. The design was beautiful and I actually liked the music and who doesn't enjoy candle light. But damn if I wasn't about to piss myself.

Maybe I should have packed my holy water.

             
We made our way to the bar. People with lots of make-up on stared as we passed. One girl got up from a comfy-looking couch just ahead and stalked toward us. Now I had seen many a poser attempt at stalking tonight and fail miserably. But this girl had it down. She moved like she had muscles I had never seen and on five inch stiletto heels to boot. Her eyes were an unnatural cobalt blue; contacts I was guessing. Her make-up was done so well, it almost made her eyes glow. She was good. Even I was staring in lustful amazement. I glanced past Cyrus to Tatum and even she was awestruck. The girl moved closer to us and we stopped as a unit: dead in our tracks.

She must be a dancer or something to be able to move with such grace.

I would have eaten pavement about two steps into that strut even without those shoes on. She was fairly tall with perfect curves. Soft and feminine shoulders showed bare in the strapless, satin, evening gown. The dress was done in a blue to match her eyes. It was stunning and showed off her amazing body like it had been tailored just for her - probably was. Her waist was cinched tight with a black corset that I was certain laced up the back, because I hadn’t seen any lacing in the front. It actually looked really cool over the dress and made her hips and bust even larger than they may have been without. A train on the dress trailed behind her as she moved right up on us striking a pose as she did. As if she was on a catwalk.

Model. I knew she had to be something like that.

              “Cyrus, my darling, where have you been?” said the girl in blue who had a very thick accent; if I had to guess, it sounded Russian. That may explain the cobalt blue eyes and coffee-black hair.

             
“Business as usual, as you know, Dominika. I hear Malcolm has you 'featured' here and there, as well.” Cyrus sounded as though he was a bit intimidated by the girl in the blue dress.

I was able to get a much better look at her face now that she was so easily distracted by Cyrus.

It’s okay honey, he distracts me too.

Her features were striking to say the least. Dark shadowy powder covered the lids of eyes that were surrounded by fans of thick black lashes. Not the natural look by any means. With heavy, dark eyeliner and deep blue and black shadow placed perfectly on the lid and around the eye
, the colors became a part of her. The look made those startling eyes scream from beneath her heavy-lidded bedroom eyes. Her sweetly pouted lips were painted in a simple glossy-pink. Which, honesty, made them look more sensual than any macabre crimson lipstick could ever have done for them. Her dark hair, pulled tightly back away from her face, made her already sharp chin and high cheek bones even more predominant, yet still quite feminine. Her dark hair was pulled back tight into a twist with the ends all spiked out in a big fan - very trendy. I happened to notice, whilst staring intently at her, memorizing every detail, the way she was looking at Cyrus. The look was all about sex, nothing more. She wasn't in love with him, hell, she probably didn't even care for him that much. Everything she wanted lay nice and cozy in his designer jockeys. Maybe she'd already been there, done that, and was itching for some more; who knows. I realized at that moment, I had been so focused on Cyrus that I had kind of forgotten the goal of the evening.

Snap out of it Dylan, come on now
.

             
“...and your escorts for the evening?” She motioned to Tatum and then me.

Okay I think I missed something, I'll have to ask Tatum later.

              “Oh, my manners I'm sorry. This is Tatum Price.” I wasn’t aware we were on a last name basis, but he did ‘The Vanna’ for Tatum; she loved it and didn’t seem to notice his psychic slip. Dominika turned to Tatum then and gave Tatum the same between-the-sheets look she had given Cyrus. 
             

Damn, is this chick just down to fuck, or what?

              Dominika moved slowly toward Tatum, brought her hand up to touch Tatum's face, and gave it a soft caress. With her hand still touching one side of Tatum's face, she leaned in and kissed her on the other side. Normally it would have looked strange, but she pulled it off with supreme class and a splash of sexual heat.

The girl in blue pulled back to stare Tatum in the face and without missing a beat Tatum said, “What? No tongue?” 

              Dominika flashed a snide smirk in response and leaned in to give Tatum just what she asked for.

The girl grabbed Tatum by the back of her head and planted one on her. It took Tatum by such surprise it made her arms kind of flai
l about trying to grab for help, I think. Dominika, however, was very soft and sensual with the whole thing. After a second or so, Tatum gave over to Dominika, and let the kiss just happen. I think she even kind of got into it. I just stood there with the look of pure shock plastered on my face. Cyrus was laughing; it sounded like it may have been his nervous laugh though. Many moments later, Dominika pulled back from Tatum's lipstick smudged lips. Once again, she gave that snide smirk but this time she added a light brow raise. She knew she was hot and she used it to her advantage. Tatum just stood there looking like she was coming out of a drug induced haze. 

             
“And this Rubenesque beauty?” Dominika turned then to me and spoke through her smirk. Her eyes shimmered in the light flashing a lime green when she turned to look at me instead of the blue they’d been.

             
That’s a horse of a different color!

             
“This is Dylan Hart.” Cyrus put his arm around my shoulder for a second, before letting his hand slowly glide down my back to rest in the crook just above my butt. But that didn't matter I was nothing but focused. R-i-i-ight.

             
Dominika moved toward me as she had Tatum. But I, unlike my poor Tatum, had the heads-up to these shenanigans. So I did what I'm best at, I was blunt.

             
“Sorry, I don't kiss on the first date,” I said as I stuck my hand out to shake.

             
Her signature smirk faded as she stopped in front of me. I don't think she knew how to play this game. I had a feeling she was accustomed to folks simply fawning all over her because she is beautiful. I’m too much of an asshole to give in that easily to a pretty face. So I'm inconsistent. Sue me.

             
“Well Cyrus, looks like you will be missing out tonight.” Dominika was snickering, and I think it was at me.

             
Bitch.
“I make few exceptions...but I do make them.” It was my turn to smirk, but mine was directed mostly at Cyrus. I said I would focus for the night. All bets were off once we were outside those double doors.

             
Cyrus tightened his grip around my waist and got very still. I think he got the hint; he was even kind of blushing. How fucking adorable.

Fuck! Focus Dylan...later...guys come later.

              The Russian bitch reached out and grabbed Cyrus' free arm. “Sit with me, darling.” She had her best come hither look on at that point. 

You want him you can have him slut. I am a woman on a mission. He has fulfilled his duties for the evening. He got us into this mad house, and he
’s of no use to me anymore.

             
“Actually, we have some work to do, Dominika. Maybe next time.” Cyrus pulled his arm away from her.