Just Wanna Testify (25 page)

The doors opened for the benefit at seven o’clock. By six thirty, cars were already arriving fast enough to keep the white-jacketed valet parkers busy. Iona and Abbie were moving among the candles, lighting each one themselves as if they didn’t trust anyone else with this final, finishing touch. The girls from the Spelman College jazz ensemble, in their elegant black gowns, were warming up on the bandstand that identified them as The Club Zebra House Band for tonight only, while the sound engineer checked the mics one more time and gave the technician in the booth a thumbs-up.

Zeke was giving last-minute instructions to the bartender. Henry was talking to the security people. Peachy gave the tuxedo-clad Morehouse students a final once-over and nodded his approval.

Blue was talking to Peachy near the bandstand. Peachy was
always the master of ceremonies and Blue was always the last one on the program. That only made sense. Nobody wanted to try to talk to a crowd after Blue sang. The band would just keep on playing after he left the stage and people could dance or mingle or order another bottle of champagne, as the spirit moved them. She wondered what would happen after he sang tonight.

Before she could consider the options one more time, Blue turned toward her in the candlelit room as if she’d called his name.

“Gina?”

“Here, baby,” she said, standing up and moving toward him between the tables. She always sat up front when Blue sang. Tonight would be no exception.

Peachy, wearing his trademark white dinner jacket, let out a low whistle. “Girl, I do believe you get finer every year.”

Regina was wearing a red strapless dress and a bright embroidered shawl she had gotten in Trinidad after Blue’s song won best in Carnival four years ago. People were dancing to it all over the island twenty-four hours a day. One evening, walking home from another round of parties, the night was so beautiful, they spread that shawl out on the beach and just laid back on it and watched the stars.

“Promise me …” she had said
.

“Yes,” he had said. “I will.”

“How can you promise when I haven’t said what I’m asking?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he had told her. “The answer is always going to be yes.”

So far, so good
, she thought, smiling to acknowledge Peachy’s compliment and taking Blue’s arm. “You better be careful there, Mr. Nolan. My husband is a very jealous man.”

She was trying to keep the teasing tone they always used, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.

“You got that right!” Blue leaned over to kiss her cheek lightly and waved a hand at the table in front. “This table still okay with you? It’s got the best sight lines.”

She nodded. “Perfect.”

“Good. I’ve got Aretha sitting with us, too, and Abbie.”

“Right next to me,” Peachy said, patting her chair like she was already in it.

“Where are you going to put
them
?” Regina said.

Blue pointed to the table next to their own. “Right here. Close enough to see me sweat.”

Peachy snorted at the very idea and rolled his eyes at Regina. “Listen, I’ve known this Negro for thirty years and in all that time I have never seen him drip one drop. Why the hell would he start now?”

Before she could answer, Zeke appeared at Blue’s side in a dark blue tux with Henry following close behind him.

“Time to let these folks in,” he said with a club owner’s reluctance to keep paying customers waiting. “You ready?”

Blue looked at the band director who nodded at the girls and raised his baton for a downbeat. Around the club, the candles were lit, the lights were low, the tables were set with their trademark zebra-striped tablecloths, and the staff was in position to make every patron feel special, living or
undead
.

“Ready,” Blue said, and squeezed Regina’s hand. “Let’s show ’em what we got!”

It was seven thirty. Serena, already dressed and fully made up, sat in front of the mirror, unmoving, staring unblinking into her own dark eyes. Everything was right on schedule. The limo would arrive in an hour to drive them over to the benefit together. This was intentional, of course. Seeing one of them was startling. Seeing all six at once was unforgettable.

Downstairs, the girls were putting the final touches on their brand-new outfits, prior to gathering in Sasha’s room at seven forty-five. Scylla and Serena would join them at eight o’clock sharp for a fast review of how things were going to proceed throughout the evening; a quick check of their luggage, which was headed for the airport in its own limo so that they could be sure they hadn’t forgotten anything; and finally the revelation that they would be carrying only one passenger, not five.

Scylla had thought that telling the girls about Blue too far in advance
might upset their delicate equilibrium. Part of her job was to keep them as tranquil as possible, so Serena had agreed, but now that the time had come to share the news that Mr. Hamilton was their one and only new breeder, she didn’t want to make the announcement. She didn’t want to hear the excited hissing and low whistling that her words would certainly set off among her sisters. She didn’t want to have to think about him lying with them for the purpose of making a generation of very smart, very brown, very blue-eyed baby girls. She picked up a pair of long silver earrings and held them up against her cheek. She had to stop thinking like this. Serena knew that Scylla would pick up the vibe, and then she’d never hear the end of it.

As if on cue, Scylla walked into the bedroom where Serena’s suitcases were already standing neatly at the door. Dressed in a strapless black leather mini and a new pair of red-soled Christian Louboutin ankle-strapped stilettos, she had pulled her hair back and twisted it into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. The absence of any jewelry drew attention to the fierce red of her lips and the bottomless darkness of her eyes. She looked stunning.

“You’re gorgeous,” Serena said, slipping the earrings through the hole in one ear and then the other. They felt cool and smooth against her neck. “Should we head on downstairs?”

“I need to ask you something,” Scylla said quietly. “And I want you to tell me the truth.”

Serena stood up. “I always tell you the truth.”

“Are you feeling something for him?”

There was no point in trying to buy time to concoct an answer by saying For who? They both knew who Scylla was talking about.

“I am keenly aware of his value to us and to the survival of our tribe, if that’s what you mean,” Serena said calmly. She had done nothing for which to apologize. Scylla herself had applauded when Blue said he was going with them. No one could deny that she had led her mission with courage and integrity. They were bringing home a prize.

“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it,” Scylla snapped. “I mean personal feelings of attachment and possible affection.”

Serena turned away and walked over to the window, considering her words carefully, unable to meet the unwavering gaze of her closest comrade.

“What if we’re wrong?” Serena said quietly.

Scylla narrowed her eyes. “Wrong about what?”

“Wrong to think there is no possibility that love between a man and a woman could ever be good and true and healthy and nurturing to them both.”

Scylla rolled her eyes. “Name me one man other than Blue Hamilton who you wouldn’t feel was a total waste of your time.”

Serena didn’t hesitate. “Barack Obama.”

A small frown appeared between Scylla’s carefully arched brows. “Okay, that’s two, and for the record, Michelle isn’t going to let go as easy as Regina did. Besides, it doesn’t have a thing to do with us.”

“Why doesn’t it?”

“Because we’re vampires!” Scylla practically spit out the words. “Because the wise woman who was our First Blood Mother made that deal so long ago with Madame Laveau to be sure that we would never, ever be vulnerable to men. To be sure that we would never surrender our hearts or our smarts or our reproductive organs again. We would never subject ourselves to misogyny and control and rape and violence and constant interrupting and professional football and war and all the other bullshit men do whenever you let them get the upper hand. That is our tradition and that is our legacy. We are first, last, and forever vampires.”

Serena didn’t want to argue. Her mission had snagged a breeder beyond their wildest expectations, but she took no pleasure in it. The boys whom Blue was prepared to protect at all costs were not worthy of his concern, and winning a contest of wills with him when he had those boys for his teammates was such an unfair advantage that it almost felt like cheating. She wished she could have won this
contest between them fair and square. That was the only way he could ever come to respect her and, in time, accept her for everything she was.

“You’re right,” she said, turning back to Scylla. “That’s exactly what we are. And the sooner Blue Hamilton understands that, the better.”

“Exactly!” Scylla rippled her bare shoulders in approval and ran a slender hand over her sleek dark hair. “Now let’s go show these hicks how it’s done!”

Everything was perfect. It was like stepping back in time to a hip speakeasy at the peak of the Harlem Renaissance. The band was playing a set of Duke Ellington standards like the professionals they were well on their way to becoming. Couples were sitting at round tables around the crowded dance floor, watching as their friends—men in tuxedos and women in all manner of silky after-five dresses, evening suits, and formal gowns—showed off their steps.

People came to this benefit every year to look and feel good, and tonight they seemed to be trying to outdo themselves in both categories. Once word swept through West End that the Too Fine Five were coming, people had talked of little else. Even though no press was allowed on the grounds of the country club, the paparazzi were swarming around at the street entrance, trying to talk themselves into sneaking onto the property, but then remembering all the stories
they’d heard about Blue Hamilton and then just as quickly talking themselves out of it.

Not that the vamps discouraged publicity. Yesterday after all the tickets, including standing room at the bar, had been sold, they had gone on the Ryan Cameron radio show and said they were going to be there, and then revealed that they were going to contribute fifty thousand dollars to what Scylla kept calling “the cause.”

That made headlines all over the world, and the excitement in the place tonight was palpable.
Their godfather sure knew how to throw a party
, West Enders thought, watching Blue and Regina moving easily through the crowd, greeting their friends and neighbors, sometimes standing together, but more often working different sides of the room. It was from across the room that Regina saw Henry approach Blue and bend to whisper something in his ear. She excused herself from Catherine and Phoebe Sanderson and headed toward her husband.

“Showtime,” he said with a smile, reaching for her hand. “You ready?”

She nodded as they walked behind Henry through the building to a private entrance where they would welcome their very special guests. “Ready.”

Something in her tone made him turn to her. She tried to smile, but it came off a little tight.

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. Hamilton,” he said. “I never would have agreed to do this if I wasn’t good at it.”

“And are you good at it, Mr. Hamilton?” She was glad she had worn a long dress so he couldn’t see her knees shaking.

“Baby,” he said, as the vamps emerged from their limo, “I’m the best.”