Adduné - the Vampire's Game (46 page)

“
Not this time.”

“
Well, then just consider it a word to the wise about being careful,” Tiffany said walking around the corner looking like the ravishing young heiress that she was. While it was partl
y
her immaculate grooming and expensive clothing, what really gave her away was her bearing. She carried herself with a grace that most often inhabited orchestra seats – or populated the professional stage.

It was remarkable that it required so little effort for her to become publicly presentable. Miranda used to always say that Tiffany got ready faster than any other girl she knew because she didn’t have that much to do and it was true. Preparations and machinations were saved for women who had to correct or disguise flaws – Tiffany had none to cover.

Miranda took another admiring glance at her friend. Her long, thick, dark hair was teased slightly at the crown. It gave the slightest bit of height to her straight and sleek hairdo that rested comfortably on her shoulders and draped down her back almost reaching her waist. Her make-up consisted of the slightest bit of powder and cat eyes achieved through the expert application of black eyeliner. Her face and hair complimented her white jumpsuit She looked young, sleek, and polished.

Miranda gave the jumpsuit a second look. Not very many women could have pulled it off, but it fit Tiffany’s slender body like a glove. The soft sheen of its silver mandarin collar illuminated her young luminescent skin and added a bit of drama to her already dramatic, dark presence. Tiffany had a dark, smoldering beauty that was softened by her ever-present radiant smile. On Tiff, it looked fashion-forward and trendy. On someone else, it would have resembled Elvis leaving the building.

“
Ready, chickie?”

“
Absolutely. That jumpsuit is gorgeous. Lauren?”

“
No, Herrera.”

“
She does the most elegant designs speaking of which, it’s the three B’s for us tomorrow,” Miranda reminded.

The recited in unison, “Bloomingdale’s, Bergdorf’s, and Bendel’s!” as they headed out the door and into the concrete jungle.

They hopped a cab to an Upper East Side French restaurant that was a favorite of theirs. It boasted the most delectable chocolate mousse dessert ever. They were more than willing to leave the perfunctory room to enjoy the sugary froth of heaven.

The waiter recognized the pair as soon as they entered the small bistro and greeted them warmly.

“
Aramando, can you squeeze us in? I’m afraid we don’t have reservations,” Tiffany asked, pouting her sensual lips and giving a slight frown.

“
We always make room for such beautiful ladies,” he replied charmingly as he led them in-between the crowded eatery to the corner table right in front of the huge picture window. They could gaze out on the quiet, townhouse-lined street where nothing ever changed except the length of the resident’s pampered pooches’ leashes.

They ordered quickly, and before long were treated to a tasty appetizer that they both made hasty work of.

“
Delish,” Tiffany commented as she dabbed at her corners of her mouth with the restaurant’s starched white napkin.

“
Agree. It surely beats plane food.”

Tiffany smiled conspiratorially and lifted her wine glass partially covering her mouth.

“
Okay, now, don’t look around too quickly, but that gorgeous man over there, he’s looking at you chickie!”

Even though told not to, Miranda held herself back from recklessly craning her neck around and seeing who Tiffany was talking about. Instead of impulsively acting, Miranda waited a beat, then very slowly began to scan the room pretending to look at the décor. She casually turned and saw the gentleman Tiffany had told her about. He was staring and when Miranda turned, he raised his glass and smiled.

Miranda returned his pleasantry and refocused on Tiffany.

“
Thanks. He is cute, and I am flattered, but …

“…
he’s not rotten enough for you.”

Miranda winced and then nodded. There was a grain of truth in her remark.

”
Well, I should be grateful. At least some men find me attractive,” Miranda uttered almost to herself. She raised her glass and took a few sips of her wine trying to rid herself of the mystery man’s brutal insult. It was once again rising up in her mind as if to dampen her spirit and crush her evening.

Tiffany caught the change in expression in Miranda’s face. She remembered her earlier remark and decided to try to pry out what happened that upset her best friend.

“
Okay, what exactly does that mean, chickie? Somebody dis you ‘cause it’s the second time you went there? Let it out. Tell me what that asshole said to you.”

Miranda realized she’d made an error in judgment by bringing it up. She had never meant to let that particular cat out of the bag. She didn’t ever want to relate the entire story – not even to Tiffany. She was embarrassed by it as it would mean revealing her insecurity to someone else. It was bad enough one person had found it out. She didn’t need to blab it to the whole world.

“
What can I say? Evidently I wasn’t his type.”

“
What? I should think a devastatingly gorgeous, young, brilliant, compassionate, kind, good-humored, charming girl was everyone’s type. You sure this guy has everything upstairs?”

Miranda laughed at her friend’s sarcasm.

“
I don’t know. I wasn’t on intimate terms with him.”

“
Thank God! Not that it isn’t on the list of your next possibilities though.”

“
What does that mean?”

“
It means what I said a little earlier. The part about that dreamy man sitting two tables over not being rotten enough for you. Any other woman would kill for even a second or third glance from that guy, but not you, Miranda. Not for nothing, chickie, but your track record with men sucks. Let’s see,” Tiffany said putting down her wine and exaggeratingly counting on her fingers, “there was Jeffrey in college. Loser! And you thought he was sooo sincere. Then Mike, Ted, John I and II. Were they related? I don’t think so. All of them were men you said you could depend on and what did they turn out to be? More … L-O-S-E-R-S!”.

Miranda would have loved to disagree with her friend’s history lesson, but it was all true. It was time to come clean at least as to why she dated such reprobates.

“
You’re right!“ Miranda admitted as their empty plates were cleared off to make room for the entrees. “I had a bad boy syndrome.”

“
Had?”

“
Might still have,” she joked taking it back as soon as it left her lips. “No,
had
. I’ve changed. I knew those men were incapable of being trusted. Of course, I insisted they were capable of changing and becoming stable members of society so that you’d get off my back about throwing my life away on …” Miranda paused waiting for her friend to join in on the punch line.

“
L-O-S-E-R-S!” they both repeated as if cued.

Both dissolved into laughter, and for a few seconds, Miranda was whisked away to the past when they were both kids in college with no problems except for how to spend their daddy’s money and what outfit to wear. When had life become so difficult? Miranda knew the answer to that one – it had happened four months ago. She fingered her neck unconsciously.

Miranda looked down at the steaming hot plate of grilled shrimp and couscous done in a French Moroccan style. Miranda always ordered it since it was always cooked to a divine perfection. She poked at her food suddenly feeling her appetite implode and dissipate into thin air.

“
What’s the matter?” Tiff asked noticing her friend’s lack of appetite. She always could read her moods. “And here I thought we were having so much fun.”

Tiffany wanted to ask sooner. She’d known something was wrong the minute she saw her standing in the hall. It went beyond a stupid remark by a man that her friend would probably never see again. Tiffany just sensed something was there – lingering and festering. She hoped that now was the time to ask. It wasn’t.

Miranda considered Tiffany’s question. It was well-meaning and on target. She would have loved to talk about her problems – all of them. The truth was that she just wasn’t ready to discuss her father’s possible felony. Then there were those dreams … and Reginald’s conversation about vampires. Miranda held to the assertion that discretion is the better part of valor. She quickly changed the subject back to something she could be entirely honest about.

“
God, I’ve missed you, Tiff!” she said staring into the beautiful dark eyes of her friend. They were large and almond-shaped. With the black eyeliner, they looked positively enormous – so large that the entirety of the room was reflected in their black center.

“
Me too, chickie. You know,” Tiffany started as she cut into her chicken covered in a creamy rosemary garlic sauce. “I’ve been thinking about your mother, and her being all by herself in that huge estate. Why doesn’t she move here?”

“
You mean, get rid of the house?”

“
She wouldn’t have to. I know a certain real estate developer that could get her a second place – cheap.”

“
Well, why not? I’m here and Chase is near and … why the hell not?” Miranda chirped finding her appetite had returned. She guessed having gloomy thoughts were an anathema to eating and pleasure in general. She dug into her shrimp finding it succulent and juicy. The outer crust was slightly charred, but not so much that it bruised or detracted from the flavor. She swallowed and took small bites so she could safely and politely continue the conversation.

"That’s what I’m thinking. Sometimes we just have to shake things up. Adjust to things.”

“
Tiffany, that is a great idea. She lived in New York until father plucked her from the cover of some magazine. She always speaks fondly of her time here. And she’s still young and … she might even meet someone ...”

“
Does she want to?”

“
Probably not right now. She’s never even mentioned anything like that. I’m sure she’d think it was being disloyal – to father. But if you think about it, it just isn’t realistic for her to be alone forever.”

“
You know, you’re a wonderful person, Miranda.”

“
Me? What brought that on?”

“
Because most kids are selfish brats. They only want what’s best for them, but you … you’re looking out for your mother. You want what’s best for her. It’s why most children want their mother to just sit in the dark by themselves. Be in a kind of prison to uphold what they think is the memory of their father. The truth is the best thing they can do to honor their spouse is to go on living – and that means being happy.”

“
Yes, that’s very true. One doesn’t replace the other. My father will always be who he was. There wouldn’t be anyone that could take that away, but as for that other part about me, I don’t know if all that’s true.”

“
Well, I do. Accept it. You’re wonderful.”

“
Yes,” Miranda said extending her arms carefully so as not to intrude on another diner’s space, “I’m wonderful!”

She heard her cell phone ring. It was buried in the bottom of her purse. She picked up her bag and rummaged through it quickly to find it. She glanced at the number on her ID; it wasn’t one she recognized.

“
Sorry. I don’t know who this is. Excuse me a moment,” she said getting up and walking outside. Tiffany watched her talk for a few seconds and then excitedly re-enter and sit down.

“
I’m so happy I took that one,” Miranda blurted out as she tore into the remainder of shrimp on her plate. She didn’t want it to go cold before she finished. It would be a shame to waste any of it, “It was this man I met on the plane.”

“
You met a man on the plane? You holding out on me, chickie?”

“
It was nothing like that I can assure you! He’s much too stable for me to be interested in!”

Miranda joined Tiff in a laugh. Tiffany enjoyed Miranda’s self-deprecating humor.

“
Well, then what’s it about?”

“
I’m meeting with him tomorrow to discuss … a few things … you know, this and that.”

Miranda knew she was being evasive. She didn’t like being that way with Tiff, but what could she do? She didn’t know anything for sure at this point. Meeting with Stroker would clear-up some mysteries and that was what Miranda needed before she talked about what was happening in her life. Right now, it was all idle speculation about subjects that were too personal or too crazy to mention.