Honeymoon Bite (Golden Vampire Legacy) (14 page)

Robert checked himself out in the mirrored Budweiser sign over his desk. The color on his neck was intensifying.
Great.

On his way to one of his job sites, the local police, stopped him for speeding. He pulled out his license and registration. This was one gargantuan fucked up day, and it was only 10:30 AM.

“Can I see your license and . . . what the hell happened to you? You okay?” The officer bent down to look into Robert’s eyes. The policeman was about the same age as Robert, but he looked about as straight arrow as they came. Probably went to church regularly, too. Ex-jarhead.
Just my luck.

“It’s a long story. My date got carried away last night.”

“Was she pissed?”

Robert’s heart sank. He was hoping it didn’t look that way.
Like he’d been punished. Rather like wearing a scarlet letter. He cursed himself for being so stupid. All these little lapses in judgment were adding up rapidly and were scaring him. If he wasn’t careful, his bad luck could stick around for a while, decide to nest in his life.

“Maybe she was mad.” Robert handed over his license and registration. He sat and waited while he got checked out. He wondered what the code sign for hickie was. No doubt some dispatcher was getting a laugh at his expense. Suddenly the bench seat in his truck wasn’t very comfortable. Several long minutes later, the officer returned.

“Mr. Balesteiri, your license has expired. Just last month. So, I’m going to write you up for that too. You were doing fifty-seven in a thirty-five zone.” The officer seemed to wince before he continued. “Look, fella. None of my business, but I’d keep my mind on my driving, and not whatever else you were into here.” He pointed to Robert’s neck, then smiled.

“Uh huh.” Oh, great, now even the cops were giving him advice.

“Better start paying attention to those little warning signs.” He handed Robert back his paperwork and passed over the thick leather pad with the citation on top for him to sign. “That piece of art on your neck doesn’t look normal. Did she cost very much? Were there two of them? Bet they used handcuffs too.” His face was grim, with just a hint of a smile.

Robert almost choked on his own tongue. “My date, you dumb f— Christ. I said it was my date!” This had gone from bad to worse.

“Uh huh. Okay then, someone might say you’d been abused. You might look into that. Men get abused by women every day.”

“Sure, thanks.”

“It was a woman, right?”

“Of
course
it was a woman! I’ve already told you it was my date . . . not my girlfriend or my wife.” He was a little embarrassed by the revelation.

The officer started to chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Two women.”

Dumb shit. Keep your opinions to yourself.
He handed the officer back the pad, swearing under his breath, and took the pink ticket with a scowl. He hated having his manhood questioned. He’d never had to pay for sex in his life.

He knew the ticket would be a whopper. He needed that like castration with a dull knife, although it might solve some of his problems. Now
that
would really hurt.

He pulled up to the jobsite and his long time employee, Enrique, came out to greet him. They were like brothers, having played on the same baseball team in high school.

“Ah, that’s fucked up, man. Look at your neck. What happened?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Jeez, you try to hang yourself or somethin’?”

Something like that
.

“You gotta put some ointment, some cream on it, man.”

“Look, Enrique. It’s none of your goddamned business. I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Now, can we talk about work?”

“Okay, well, I’m glad you’re here. The missus is real unhappy with the windows, Mr. B. She’s gonna talk to you. I think she’ll be here in ’bout a half hour.”

Robert looked at his watch, only to see a bare wrist. His watch was at the house. He cursed for about the fifth time today. “Uh, I gotta go get some material for my other site. I can’t wait for her. Can you handle it?”

“Nah, Mr. B., she wanna talk to you, man. She’s real unhappy.”

“What about?”

“Her son, you know the kid in college? Well, he has some construction experience, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he came by yesterday and told her the windows is in backwards. I wasn’t watching the guys too good, I guess. The ones I looked at were okay.”

Robert went over to the site of the addition. Everything looked fine in the kitchen, but, sure enough, the windows in the bedroom had been installed in reverse. And now he’d have to pay his crew thirty bucks an hour to correct it. He took out his glass marker and put an X on seven windows.

“Hey, get these changed right away. She’s right.”

Enrique was already rounding up the guys. A little red Mercedes two-seater drove up before Robert could get into his truck.

“Mr. Balesteiri, Mr. Balesteiri.” His client was making a beeline for him. On the other side of her, a lanky teen with hair too long joined her. Mrs. Watson was on a mission. She was a well-put together forty–something MILF. Her breasts were expensive. He couldn’t help but stare at them. He got hard, even though he was fairly sure he would be punished for it.
So welcome to my life.

“Good morning.” He gave her the grin and the stance in his blue jeans that had earned him the job. “You look lovely today, Kimberly.”

His words had no effect. “You are behind schedule. We wanted to be in this house well before Thanksgiving. I’ve got to order all my stuff and I can’t until the walls are finished. We aren’t going to make it.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got lots of time. Barring something unforeseen, a supply hang-up or something out of my control . . .” This usually worked. Anything could be excused and deflected off him if he could blame a subcontractor or supplier. She stopped him.

“Putting in those windows backwards doesn’t help our situation.” She stepped up closer to him, close enough to remind him that she could be grateful in special ways if he played the game her way, that not too close to alarm her college-age son. Her voice was soft and low. “You know, Robert, you were chosen because we had the most faith in you. You weren’t the lowest bidder. But my husband and I liked you the best, thought we could—
work
with you the best.” She sighed.

Robert knew it was because
she
liked him the best. He had to admit, he did enjoy a few afternoons getting to know the lady’s tastes, not just in design.

Then she leaned forward and stared at his neck.

“Good Lord, what is that?” She pointed and spoke so loud the entire place stopped working to look. He shrugged. A smile of bright recognition crossed her beautiful face. “You are a very naughty boy, Robert.”

Actually, he was thinking about the fact that all he had done was to lie there. The woman had been the naughty one. She hadn’t let him do a thing. When he tried to get up, she’d pushed him back down on the bed with such force the pressure of her hands almost caved his chest in.

Oh, God, I’m screwed. Will this day never end?

Mrs. Watson had renewed interest in the sight before her. “You know, I have some changes I want to consider. I’m tied up tonight.” She fluttered her eyes and smiled, probably so he could get the full import of what that meant. She was a very literal person, as Robert had discovered earlier. “But tomorrow night I’m free. I don’t think Charles would mind me going over the changes with you. He has a meeting that will go until late.”

“Um, sure, Kimberly.” He leaned in and whispered, “What about your son?”

She smiled wickedly. “Sometimes he likes to watch.”

Robert said goodbye and drove to his next construction site. He was pleased to find things in much better shape. They were actually ahead of schedule. There was a bonus in the contract to finish early, something he hadn’t been able to get in the Watson contract. At the time, however, he didn’t care how long the Watson project took, as Mrs. Watson’s appetites in the sexual arena were voracious.

Best of all, at this project site, no one gawked at his neck. He was beginning to feel like his old self again. Until lunchtime.

When he walked into the Apple Box Diner, the air took on the weight of a funeral procession. The usual jovial crowd stopped talking and followed his gait with quiet stares. They were somber. Robert felt like someone had given him advanced billing. He felt eyes staring at the back of his head, at his neck. Pissed him off.

He sat in his regular booth. His favorite waitress, Adele, came over with a coffee cup. “You eating alone today?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“You gonna make me ask?”

“I’ll have the regular.” Robert always had a BLT with a green salad on the side.

“Dummy, I meant your neck tattoo. Can’t say as though I’ve seen one like it before. And I’ve seen a lot.”

Robert knew this to be true. He had dated Adele in high school, back when he was a star baseball player. Back when his life was normal. Back before two women had rejected him in one day, one of them being his wife.

He shook his head. “I think I’m going to explode if one more person asks me.”

“You okay? I mean, that’s quite a statement.”

“Mind you own god-damned business, Adele.” She did, retreating to behind the counter.

He looked around the room in time to see several people turning back around so as not to be accused of staring. He rubbed the back of his neck and felt soreness there too.
Even the back of my neck?
He didn’t even remember. Must have happened when he passed out.

Robert ate quickly and then got up to leave.

“Bye, darlin’. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Adele winked and flashed him an orange-lipped smile. Robert remembered those orange lips. He had dreamed about them almost his entire senior year. He glanced at his receipt and noticed Adele had written her phone number prominently in red pen. He looked back, but she was already reaching for something under the counter and was bent over, her cute little ass displayed for his view. She was wearing a black garter belt that held up her black stockings under her blue uniform.

He liked to think about things in baseball terms.
Two hits, two outs, two errors, nobody left on.
Things always came in threes. He was looking for another hit, not an out. But he would be grateful if this day could end without another major incident. His ego was just as sore as his neck.

When he finished his workday, he picked up his mail at the local post office. He opened a letter from the bank and discovered he’d been overdrawn again and had accrued some $260 in overdraft fees. Damn. He’d forgotten to deposit a check. Another little lapse had cost him some money. This needed to stop.

He got to Gary’s about six. He was beat. In his arms, he cradled the few things he had bought. He could hear the loud music about ten doors before he got to Gary’s apartment. Gary was in a party mood. He always played country western when he was ready to go out.

Robert had to knock twice before he got an answer.

“Hey, partner. Look at you!” Gary surveyed Robert’s neck. “All branded up. You are some sore little puppy.”

There was a limit to Robert’s patience. He threw his clothes down on the floor and grabbed Gary by the collar. “Quit it. Not another goddamned word, Gary, you hear?”

“Hey, don’t get the wrong impression.” Gary extricated himself from Robert’s grip. “I was just trying to make light of a pretty ugly situation.” He pointed to Robert’s neck.

“Okay, I’m leaving.” Robert bent over to retrieve his precious stash, but Gary stopped him.

“Come on. Take a shower and get some clean clothes. We’re going out tonight. I’m not going to make you pay.”

“That’s good.” And it was, he thought. Things were finally starting to look a little brighter.

When he found out where Gary wanted to go, his assessment how things were looking up changed. The Double Eights was a topless bar in the seedy part of town, attached to an adult bookstore. The scene of his bachelor party loomed large in his mind. Robert had done some work for the owner, who looked more like a priest than a person who would own such a place. Robert knew what went on in those little rooms in the back, the “chat rooms” as they called them.

When he had worked on the remodel a couple of years back, he had found an assortment of toys and pieces of underwear or paraphernalia like he’d never seen before. The owner had tried to do a trade for services before paying him, which pissed Robert off. But, eventually he got paid. He would have taken the guy to small claims court, but he didn’t want it published in the paper. Anne never knew about this particular job and he wanted it kept that way. He wasn’t a fool. With Gary, he entered the dive, which smelled of male sweat and smoke. The girls looked good tonight, no doubt due to his circumstances. He was grateful for the darkness there too. Easier to hide his neck.

They chose a table in the corner, but with a good view of the two lighted boxes with the dancers in them. Robert never could eat up at the counter. It just didn’t seem right to have some woman’s ass that close to his green salad. Of course, his mouth had done worse. He simply didn’t like to confuse his needs. That’s why Monika’s flavored condoms annoyed him so much.

The salads were passable, prepackaged in cellophane and obviously not made on site. Thank God. The only items of protein were hot dogs, sort of a house specialty. In more ways than one.

He lathered his with mustard and had just taken a huge bite when a black-haired vixen made her way over to their table. She sat on Gary’s lap. Robert could tell she really was looking at him and had wanted the vantage point from Gary’s side.

“Hello, darling. Ain’t you cute?” Gary had no trouble talking to strange women, especially those that would sit on his lap without permission.

“Cute? Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve been called that. I think the last time was when I was a girl of ten or so.” She smiled. She had huge white teeth and the reddest shiny lips Robert had ever seen. She wore black velvet stretch pants with a red satin baby doll top that scooped low, showing her breasts. They were bigger than Mrs. Watson’s, but all flesh, no plastic. They were luscious. She caught him staring and didn’t seem to mind a bit. Neither did he. He quickly finished his mouthful and wiped his mustard-covered lips.