Sips of Blood (13 page)

Talking about assholes. Why the hell did he
allow the fag to tie him up? Because he was stupid? Because he was
suicidal? Perhaps because he wanted to bring a little gift back to
Maîtresse?
Whatever the reason, he rued the previous night's
activities.

Painfully Garrett bent over to pull up the
black silk pajama bottom from around his ankles.

The bastard didn't even get into any blood
sports. That probably was a blessing. His nipples were sore from
the clamps that had looked like miniature wine presses. Cautiously
Garrett picked up the pajama top. He hated slipping it over his
tender nipples, but there were some suspicious bruises marking his
back, and his wife would surely to notice them. Stiffly he
stretched his arms into the sleeves, but before buttoning up he
pulled the Band-Aids from the medicine chest. He placed an
inch-wide strip on each nipple, then closed the pajama top. Not
perfect, but better, he thought.

Another gentle rap.

"Honey, the lawyer's on the phone."

Damn it!
He was in the midst of
closing an important business deal, and he couldn't clear his mind
of the pain to think straight.

"I'll call back."

There were a few seconds of silence.

"Okay." And she was gone, for good, he
hoped.

"Dad!"

"Aw shit!"

"Dad, Robbie hit me again."

He wanted to tell his daughter to shoot her
brother, but he knew that would be unwise because she took things
too literally.

"Yeah, yeah. Get your mother."

"But, Dad..."

He heard his son let out a loud
raspberry.

"Mom!"

Garrett let down the top of the commode and
tried to sit. There was no comfortable position that he could
assume.

Why the hell did he do it?
Nice and
safe, that's how it had always been with
Maîtresse. She's a
professional. The turd last night was a pervert.
And the
jack-off had even invited him back for another session. Told
Garrett his name was Letcher. Rin Tin Tin and Letcher. Garrett
shook his head and almost began to laugh, but caught himself when
the pain kicked in.

Chapter 23

"A Cohiba?" asked Sade.

"Wow! They're hard to come by. Whom do you
know?"

"I get them myself. I bring them back via
Canada. I can't resist the leathery spiceness and dark chocolaty
rich flavors."

David hesitated a moment before choosing a
cigar.

"But it is a tough draw, and I've heard you
have to be careful of fakes while you're up there."

Sade almost dropped the lid of the box on
David's outreached hand.

"I bring them in via Canada, but buy them in
person at a state shop in Cuba. Of course I could purchase them at
the Davidoff shop in Toronto, but I enjoy the trip to Cuba because
I visit some of my old friends."

"Then this should be the real thing."

"I assure you that I don't replace the
originals with fakes just to fool my guests."

Sade lit the cigar for David.

"I don't normally smoke, Mr. Sade; however,
when someone offers me a Cohiba, I think of it as a special
occasion."

Sade sat in a burgundy leather wingchair.

"And it is, David. At least I hope it will
be."

"Mr. Sade, I've enjoyed the meal and the
company, but shouldn't we get down to discussing business?"

"A cognac? The Cohiba is always enhanced by a
good cognac."

"I'm sure it is, but I'd like to get down to
discussing business."

"It'll take me
un moment
to pour each
of us a snifter."

Eat rapidement, ma petite Liliana.
Sade had begun to tire of his guest and wished to move on to his
own nutritious dinner awaiting him on the streets.

"Is this a working fireplace?"

"Mais oui,"
answered Sade. He poured
out a hefty snifter for each of them; after all, it could be a long
night. "We rarely light
un feu
since
les flammes
unhinge me." He walked back to the sofa where David sat and handed
him a snifter. "A spark any bigger than what's on the tip of this
Cohiba..." Sade held up his cigar in his right hand. "Seems totally
useless and dangerous to me. I've lost many of my brethren to
spiteful bonfires."

Sade returned to his chair.

"In fires?"

Sade nodded, but refused to elaborate.

"David, you haven't tried the cognac
yet."

"Actually I think I may have had enough to
drink. When you give me the work papers, I want to be able to make
some sense of them, and hopefully I'll make sense to you. You do
have the papers, don't you?"

"The papers..." Sade halted. He heard the
sound of a car pulling up in front of the house. "Did I mention
that I have a niece?"

"You have a dependent?"

"I have a niece.
She's quite charming.
I think you'll enjoy meeting her." The front door opened and
closed. "And here she is," Sade said, rising from his chair.
"Liliana!"

A wilted young woman entered the doorway. Her
hair looked uncombed, half moons hung under her eyes, and her
make-up appeared to be smeared.

Sade wondered whether he should send her
upstairs and try again another night.

"Uncle?"

Sade sighed and dared to persevere.

"Liliana, I would like you to meet my guest,
Monsieur
David Petry." Sade stood aside so that she had a
clear view of the sofa.

"Good evening," David said while attempting
to stand from the plush sofa's feather pillows. When he finally
stood, he noticed he didn't have a free hand to offer and
immediately put down the snifter so that he could extend his right
hand and walked over to greet the young woman.

Sade turned back to his niece and saw that
her skin had paled nearly to the point of blotting out the dark
circles under her eyes.

* * *

Liliana watched the young man move awkwardly
across the Persian rug. Did he have a limp, or had his foot gone to
sleep? The hand he extended looked smooth and soft. His cheeks
showed no sign of war wounds. But the blond hair, the blue eyes,
the features were there.

"Stuart?"

Liliana did not accept his hand. He let his
right hand droop to his side.

"Don't I know you?" he asked.

"Ah! You feel a certain
déjà-vu
when
looking at my niece."

"No. It's you, sir."

"Moi!"

"Yes. At a diner in New Jersey."

"Hardly the kind of place I would partake in
any culinary pleasure."

"In the men's room. This is quite
embarrassing. You don't remember me? Perhaps I should leave it that
way."

"Oui.
Come join us, Liliana."

She felt the tug of her uncle's fingers on
the sleeve of her dress.

David stepped aside to make room for her.

"You're the young lady who's queasy about
eating rabbits."

Rabbits. Diner. How had her uncle found this
impostor?

Liliana allowed herself to be pulled into the
room, but directed herself to the wing chair. Sade tried to alter
her path, but stopped when she dug her high heel onto his left
instep. There was no cry of pain, only a slight tearing of the
Marquis's eyes.

Sitting down in the wing chair, Liliana said,
"I'd love to know more about your first meeting with my uncle, Mr.
Petry."

"His name is David. And you did hear him say
that he was rather embarrassed about some meeting we supposedly
had."

"Tell me about it, Mr. Petry."

Sade began to pace the room. David, unsure
whether he should stand or sit, decided to lean against the mantel
of the fireplace.

"Call me David, please, Ms. Sade."

"My name is not Sade. It's Liliana Plissay,
but do call me Liliana."

"Or even Lil," muttered Sade mid-way across
the room.

"I'm sure my uncle wouldn't mind if you sat
while he worked off his
anxiety."

"Oh, do, please," said Sade. "Your cognac is
waiting for you."

David took a seat on the sofa and looked
around.

"An ashtray, Uncle."

"Excusez-moi."
Sade retrieved an
ashtray from inside a cabinet. "Matilda, our ser--housekeeper likes
to put everything away."

"You met my uncle in a diner?"

"Yes." David cleared his throat several
times. "I had never been in that diner before, and surely I never
plan on returning."

"I presume you don't even remember the name
of the place," said Sade.

"I don't even remember the location or the
town I was in." He blushed when he looked at Liliana.

"Well, so much for that
petite
histoire."

"Were you dining there, David?"

Sade loudly harrumphed.

"Not exactly, Liliana. I became ill while
driving and stopped to use their men's room. Your uncle came in to
clean up, I believe, and we basically met at the sink."

"Simple, boring
histoire, ma petite
chérie."

"Now you remember it, Uncle?"

"Vaguely"

"And my uncle invited you home with him to do
his accounting books?"

David took a few moments to think about
this.

"I guess I gave your uncle my name. Honestly,
I don't remember telling him that I was an accountant. At the time
he wanted my assistance in getting you to eat some rabbit.

"It's odd that you should have called me, Mr.
Sade. Did we speak of doing some work?"

"Only on the telephone." Sade stopped pacing
to stand behind the wing chair.

David downed almost the whole snifter of
cognac.

"I admit I'm confused as to how you managed
to locate me. I mean, there are tons of accountants out there."

"But none other like you," Liliana softly
said.

The young man fidgeted with the cigar he had
placed in the ashtray. A blush again flushed his face.

"I take that as a compliment, but I haven't
proven myself yet."

"I'm sure you'll get the opportunity. Don't
you think, Liliana?"

"Uncle, I hate you."

Chapter 24

Stupide jeune fille!

Sade recalled the debacle from the previous
evening. He had been certain that Liliana could easily seduce
David. Not only that, she was obviously mesmerized by the
resemblance to Stuart. Why did she have to ruin a perfect situation
with her
stupide
declaration of hate?

Sacrebleu,
what a waste of some fine,
warm, young, and live blood. He would see to it that she had
another opportunity, but perhaps in a more intimate setting.

How long would he be able to put David off?
he wondered. All the young man seemed to talk about was business.
Sade had gone to great lengths to appease his business manager,
Gaspard Francois Xavier Gaufridy, who had certainly been irate when
he had learned that Sade had made him a vampire. He had promised
Gaufridy that he would compensate his family for the loss of their
sole financial support. Unfortunately, while the family was alive,
the Marquis had run into serious financial problems. But who was to
blame for that?

Gaufridy still kept the books, very stingily,
Sade recalled. Sade could not ask Gaufridy to turn over the books
to this boy, even if for a short period of time. Gaufridy would
balk, threaten again to cut off contact with Sade. This threat had
been present ever since their boyhood days.

Sade mulled over the situation in the wing
chair while Matilda cleaned house around him.

"Matilda."

"Yes, sir."

"What would you consider a romantic evening
for a young person?"

"How young, sir?"

"La jeune fille
is seventeen. A very
mature seventeen."

"Seventeen, sir!"

Sade noted that she had instantly stopped her
work.

"And the gentleman, Matilda, is in his late
twenties, early thirties."

"What kind of girl is this?"

"Une jeune fille!
What more do you
need to know?"

"She sounds way to young for the
gentleman."

"More likely the other way around."

"You feel this girl is very experienced?"

"Far more than most people know."

"But you know?"

"In practically every way."

"Except?"

"We have not been intimate. As yet." Sade
smiled to himself.

"I think you--or whoever this gentleman
is--should stay away from her."

"How prudish, Matilda."

"I'm certain the girl has family that would
not look kindly on the relationship."

"Kindly?"

"They'd probably do him in for the
crime."

"What crime?"

"She's underage."

"Nonsense, Matilda. Besides, I'm family, and
I'm trying to set this romance into motion."

"You're related?"

"Liliana, my niece."

"Thank God!"

"You needn't make it sound like she's an old
maid, Matilda."

"She's not an old maid, but I did think she
was older than seventeen, not by the way she looks, of course.
However, she holds a job and has for some time."

"Why do
femmes
choose to make
everything so complicated? Perhaps she's older. I never remember
birthdays." Sade rose from the chair and paced the room. "What
would be a romantic evening for you, Matilda?"

"I'm sure my idea of a romantic evening is
very different from your niece's."

"Hmmmm. So is mine." Sade sighed.

"Does your niece have any interest in the
gentleman?"

"She used to."

"Then they've been separated for a
while?"

"Very much so."

"What initially attracted her to him?"

"The uniform, the scar... hmmm. His shyness.
But with her he opened up. I must work on him, then."

"You can't remake a person, sir."

"I'm not changing him. I simply want him to
be as he used to be."