Blood and Guitars (5 page)

“What’s the point in meeting girls at music
lounges if you won’t even follow them to the party afterwards?” I
asked.

He shrugged casually. “Parties aren’t really
my thing.”

“A musician who doesn’t like to party,” I
observed. “You’re either a rare breed or a liar.”

Trey grinned at my statement and leaned
forward, resting his forearms on the table as he gazed at me with
interest. I briefly contemplated how fun it would be to paint him.
He would be something close to the perfect subject. I envisioned
myself with a paintbrush in hand, trying to capture the strong
lines of his jaw, the texture of his hair, and the strange
intensity in his eyes that he managed to pull off without coming
across as arrogant or intimidating. Of course, I’m not one to be
easily intimidated.

“What brings you here tonight? I don’t think
I’ve seen you around here before.”

“I was thirsty,” I admitted. It was true,
after all. Trey eyed my bottled water curiously so I added,
“Someone left a flyer on my door. I decided to see what it was all
about.” He didn’t need to know that I never did things like
this.

“And?”

“And what?” I asked.

“What do you think? It’s great, isn’t it?” He
gestured with a sweeping hand around the club and to the stage up
front.

I shrugged and smiled at him. “Not bad,” I
said. “In fact, the night has been more interesting than I would
have guessed.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said as his bottled
water was set down in front of him. He thanked the girl and opened
it up, taking a swig.

“The crowd seemed pretty into you,” I said.
“You must be a regular on stage or something. Why’d you do open mic
night if that’s the case?”

He chewed his lip for a second and then said,
“Let’s just say that I used to do a lot of gigs here. I haven’t
been around for a while, but the owner’s an old friend. He did me a
favor tonight by sneaking me in.”

“Really? Because I would have guessed that
you were the one doing a favor. You drew more of a crowd in here
than anyone else has since you got off that stage.” I gestured to
the guy who was currently singing on stage. The teens had only done
one song and then taken off. The present entertainment was around
forty with silver specks in his hair and although he wasn’t a bad
singer, most of the crowd were talking amongst themselves and not
paying attention to his set.

Trey took another sip of his water. “Like I
said, I played here before I was old enough to legally get in. Most
of the people around here know me. That’s all.”

“You mentioned you haven’t been around for a
while. Where have you been?” I asked.

“I went on the road with my band.” He wasn’t
bragging, but he didn’t seem embarrassed by it either. I don’t know
why that surprised me.

“Any success?”

He gave me that killer half-smile again and
said, “You could say that.”

I nodded, impressed. “Those songs you sang
tonight, were they songs you do with your band?”

“They might be,” he stated. “I wrote them
while we were on the road. I haven’t shared them with the other
guys yet. We’ll just have to see.”

“Is this where you test the waters? Try out
new material? ”

“Sure. At least, that’s what I used to do.”
He gazed at me, and if I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought he
was trying to penetrate my thoughts. I recognized the familiar and
faint hum of power in the back of my mind, and knew the moon had
appeared in the early night sky. I considered reaching into his
mind, but found that I was having much more fun trying to get
information out of him the old fashioned way, so I pushed the urge
aside. “What kind of music do you listen to?” he asked.

It was my turn to shrug. “I’ll listen to just
about anything that can inspire me,” I admitted. “Although I do
have a soft spot for moody stuff.” I couldn’t go into the fact that
I didn’t like the Euro-techno dance music that most vamps like to
listen to, and honestly, ever since my change, I’d pretty much
given up on trying to relate to human music anymore.

He grinned at me and asked, “Are there any
newer bands out there you like?”

I sighed. “I can’t keep track of all of the
new bands.” That was a lie. I could easily have stayed on top of
the current top groups without much effort, but I’d gone out of my
way to avoid doing that. In my human years, I’d really enjoyed
music. My brother Aden and I had spent most of our money growing up
on music and concert tickets. Since my transformation I’d lost
interest in most things that had captivated me as a human. I’d
attended a concert not long after I’d made the change, but I’d been
so distracted by every flaw I could now hear in the singer’s voice,
and each note that wasn’t played perfectly, that I hadn’t enjoyed
the show at all. I’d since given up on trying. It was easier to
accept the fact that most human pastimes no longer suited me.
Painting was the only hobby I had held onto with iron fingers.

Trey was still looking at me expectantly, so
I added, “There are songs on the radio on occasion that are good.”
He nodded, still smiling at me. “What?” I asked, finding myself
wanting to know what he was thinking, but still unwilling to pry it
from his mind.

He glanced behind him in the direction of the
group of women who were still eyeing us from a distance. Then he
met my eyes again. “Do you want to get out of here?” he asked.
“Maybe take a walk or something?”

The invitation caught me off guard. Kacie was
the only human I ever associated with, and as much as I liked her,
we would never get together outside of work to hang out or
anything. Looking around the club, I scanned the potential donors,
my mouth watering a little. I’d been enjoying the conversation,
with a human for that matter, and that alone was enough to make me
consider his offer. As I bit my bottom lip and studied Trey, musing
over his intentions, I realized I wasn’t ready for our conversation
to end. “I live nearby. You can walk me home if you like.”

He smiled and stood up, pulling some cash
from his wallet and dropping it on the table.

“You know it’s on the house,” the girl who
had been serving our table called out to him with a smile.

“And you know I’m going to pay anyway,” he
said, returning the smile. She shrugged and waved. “I’ll just grab
my guitar,” he said to me. “Meet you at the door.”

I nodded and watched him go. I was suddenly
grateful that Mark had been forced to work tonight. I might have
asked him to join me when he’d texted me earlier if he hadn’t had
anything better to do. I decided not to think too hard about
exactly what I was doing by agreeing to leave with this human that
I’d just met, but he seemed harmless. I justified my decision by
reminding myself that, if nothing more, I could invite him inside
and get my fill of blood for the week out of him. I got to my feet
and found him waiting for me at the door, guitar in a gig bag slung
on his back.

It’s really not like me to meet women at
music lounges. Okay, it’s really not like me to meet women at all
unless they happen to be in the front row at one of my shows. But
there was something fascinating about this girl. I couldn’t put my
finger on it, exactly. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t just that.
I felt drawn to her in a way I couldn’t explain.

It was a warm August night. A breeze off the
coast made the temperature next to perfect as Aurora and I walked
down the sidewalk, the music from the lounge dying down a little
more with every step we took. Aurora’s silky black hair moved in
the breeze and I found myself stealing glances at her. There was
something exotic about her features. Maybe it was the striking
green eyes. They were the color of old fashioned 7-Up bottles. More
than once tonight I’d wondered if the color was the result of
contacts, but they looked genuine from every angle. Either way, I’d
never seen anyone like Aurora in my entire life. Even her walk was
mesmerizing. It was like she was almost gliding along the sidewalk
in her heels. The closest thing I could compare it to is the way a
model floats across a runway, but even that description doesn’t do
it justice.

Aurora was mysterious, and that was
definitely part of the attraction. (The last girl I’d dated had
been the typical superficial Hollywood type.) And the best part?
Aurora honestly didn’t seem to have a clue who I was. She
apparently wasn’t familiar with the band at all and that was
refreshing for a change. It was nice to have a real conversation
with a woman who didn’t have ulterior motives involving my fame or
my wallet.

“What do you do for a living?” I asked
casually, hoping to strike up conversation. Mostly I just wanted to
keep her talking, to enjoy the melodic quality in the timbre of her
voice.

“I’m an artist.” She looked over at me as we
walked.

“Really? What kind of artist?”

“I do oil paintings mostly, but whatever pays
the bills.”

“You any good?”

“You could say that,” she said with a
smile.

“I can see it now,” I stated. “You wearing a
little white apron, paint smeared on your cheek, and rocking out to
Pink Floyd while you create a masterpiece.” She let out a laugh
that can only be described as musical, and my heart did a flip at
the sound of it.

“You’ve got me pinned.”

I chuckled and stuffed my hands into my jeans
pockets, shuffling my feet as we walked. “You from around here,
then?”

Aurora shook her head. “I grew up in
Chicago.”

“So the windy city just blew you right on
over to the sunburn state?”

“There are some vicious winds.” She smiled at
my lame joke.

My phone buzzed and I pulled it from my
pocket to see that I had a text from my manager, Wes.

Studio 2morrow.

I smiled and quickly responded.
I’m
there.

“Girlfriend wondering where you are?” Aurora
asked.

“Not even close.” I laughed. “No girlfriend
to wonder.” I shoved my phone back into my pocket. “Just a message
that we’ve booked the studio for tomorrow. Looks like I’ll be
working.”

“Studio?” She looked up at me. “So, is this
garage band makes a demo or something?”

“Or something.”

She gave me an impressed nod and then turned
down a walkway. I regretted that she lived so close. I could have
kept walking with her all night. She must have noticed that I
wasn’t behind her because she turned to look at me.

“Would you like to come in for a while?”

My eyes grew wide as I looked up at her,
surprised by the gesture. She wouldn’t have invited me in if she
didn’t find me at least somewhat interesting, yet I was pretty
certain that if I refused her offer and left now, she wouldn’t
waste another second thinking about me. I don’t know why that
impressed me. “Sure.”

I followed her to the front door of a modest
sized house. It was chocolate brown stucco with black shutters and
a glossy black front door. I watched as she pulled out her keys and
unlocked the door. I walked inside behind her and glanced around
quickly, curious to see what the house would tell me about her.
Dark wooden floors ran throughout the spacious living room, where a
deep red shag rug was positioned between two black leather sofas. A
flat screen TV was mounted on a crimson painted wall above the
fireplace. I could see part of the dining room beyond that, and
assumed that the kitchen was right around the corner.

“Make yourself at home.” She dropped her keys
on the small side table near the door.

“Thanks,” I slid my gig bag off of my back
and set it down. I followed her into the living room and was about
to sit down on the one of the sofas when a large painting on the
opposite wall caught my eye. I walked toward it instead, admiring
the simple beauty of the image. The painting was of a park at
night. What surprised me the most was how vivid the colors and
imagery were, considering that it was night scene. A half moon hung
in the upper left corner, its light cascading on the trees and
nearby pond below. On the right side about half way down, a lone
park bench sat empty, worn from years of use. I didn’t recognize
the landscape, but the city in the background could have been
Chicago. My gaze automatically fell to the signature at the bottom
right corner.

“You painted this?”

“I did.”

“It’s amazing. Is this Chicago?”

She nodded, standing next to me now. “I used
to visit this park a lot when I was younger. When my dad bought me
my first easel and canvas, I hauled them down there and created my
first real work of art.”

“And this is it?” I asked.

She laughed softly. “Definitely not. It was
horrible. But I like to think I’ve gotten better over the years. I
painted this to help me remember all of that.”

“Are your parents still in Chicago?” I
asked.

I saw her hesitate briefly before she shook
her head. “My parents and younger brother were killed by a drunk
driver just after I graduated high school.” My heart sank. She
seemed as though she’d surprised herself by divulging this to me. I
desperately wished I could take the question back as I gazed into
her green eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Her smile was forced. “It was a
long time ago.” I nodded, still mentally kicking myself and
wondering if that was why she hadn’t been drinking tonight. “What
about you? Do your parents live around here?”

“My mom raised me, but she lives in up-state
New York now with her second husband. I haven’t seen much of my dad
since they divorced when I was three.”

She gave me an understanding nod and met my
gaze. “What keeps you here in Florida, your band?”

I shrugged and told her the truth. “You know
… the band, the beach, the feeling of being at home.”

“Yeah,” she said half-heartedly. But I saw
questions in her eyes that I wasn’t expecting before she turned
away. I wondered how long it had been since she’d felt truly at
home anywhere.