The Source (10 page)

He nods, his lips in
a thin slash across his face.

“Okay, let’s take a
walk,” I say. 

I start to get up as
my legs brush against his knees and he catches my wrist in his hand.  “Stay. 
You shouldn’t be alone with me right now.”

Tilting my head to
the side I say, “Well, I can’t exactly work with you right now either.  You’re
so distracted by something that you’re not going to be able to think straight. 
You need to deal with it, then get back to work.  You can do that alone, or we
can do it together.  Like a team.  Like we said, remember?”

He closes his eyes,
making a strange gritting sound with his teeth. “I’m angry right now.  I can be
unpredictable when I’m angry.”

“Then let’s go to the
cafeteria. A room full of people might help stave your anger.  It would be
better than staying here and having her create a transcript of our entire
conversation.”

He frowns.  Taking a
deep breath, he gets up to leave as I slowly follow him.  I still need to ask
him about that breathing stuff.  Either he needs the oxygen or he’s got it down
pat for dramatic flare.  Rick, the vampire drama queen. 

As I step out into
the hallway and close the door, he’s leaning against the wall waiting for me. 
He has his hands in his jeans pockets, his head tilted down, hair swept back so
that you could just make out his lavender eyes under heavy lids.  Ninety
percent of the time he is frustrating.  But one hundred percent of the time he
is like sex on a stick, just waiting to be dipped into something hot and creamy
then devoured as the heavenly delicacy that he is.

Okay, back to my
question.

“So, do you breathe
or what?” I ask.

“Excuse me?” he asks
with wide eyes.

“Do you need oxygen? 
On a couple of different occasions you have sighed or exhaled deeply.  Do you
actually need the air or is it just a habit left over from before the turn?”

He slightly shakes
his head as if trying to clear his mind. “Um, no I don’t need oxygen. 
Everything we get is from blood.  And even if it’s a small amount, our bodies
have adapted so that we either don’t need the element in question or we can
survive on significantly smaller amounts.  Why does your mind fixate on these
trivial things?”

Exasperated, I throw
my hands up. “It’s an uncelebrated talent.  Now follow me.”

I turn and start
walking down the hall, feeling sure that he would follow.  When I don’t hear
his footsteps, I glance over my shoulder to see that he is indeed right behind
me.  Face blank, he stares straight at me, his hands still in his pockets.  I
turn back around and mentally tell myself that I don’t need to know what he is
thinking about when staring at me like that.  It could have been that he wanted
to wring my neck, figure out what makes me tick or have me for dinner.    The
last wouldn’t be that bad if it included whipped cream.

Hah!  Must stop
thinking.  Well, like this anyway. 

We arrive at the
cafeteria.  There are very few people there.  The ones that are milling about
are obviously staff, only one or two customers actually sitting at tables. 
Regardless, I choose a table that is farthest away from the door and all of the
others, patrons and workers alike.

Rick takes his seat
and drops like a pile of bricks.  He clasps his hands in front of him, resting
them in his lap as he makes every attempt not to look at me.  I tuck stray
hairs behind my ears, gathering my thoughts.  After a few moments of fidgeting,
I finally get my nerve, “So, where did you go?”

He looks at me,
holding my eyes. “To talk to Mr. Caulfield.”

I wait for him to
continue.  When he remains quiet I ask, “About the footage?”

“It’s taken care of. 
I got my answers.”

“Then why are you
still so pissed off?”

“Pretty talk,” he
raises his eyebrows.

“Cut the crap.  I
cannot work under these conditions.  It’s bad enough that I have to put up with
Tucker, now I have to try to work with a pissed off vamp.  So, do me a favor. 
Spill your guts, pat your inner child and get over it.”

He runs his hand
through his hair as he glances away from me, “Who’s Tucker?”

“Stop deflecting.  I
need to know everything that is going on with our project.  How else can I
work?  From the beginning you have suggested that I needed to know more.”

“Not about this,” he
shakes his head.  “What I talked to Caulfield about was personal.  It doesn’t
have anything to do with the project.”

I slump back in my
chair, “Oh.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t realize.”  I take a deep breath.  “But if
it’s going to shake you up so much, you need to deal with it or you won’t be
able to focus on the project.”

“I’m handling it,”
his lips thin into a tight smile. “Now, who’s Tucker?”

I return his smile,
“It’s personal.”

“Hey, Rick.”

I am so engrossed in
my conversation with him that I don’t even see her walk up to the table.  She
is tall, thin, long blond hair.  She’s wearing a knee-length black skirt and
red floral top with short sleeves showing off her bronze complexion.  Her
makeup looks expertly done, but not overdone.  She looks classic, not
cartoonish.  And she calls him by his name.

Rick looks up at her
with a small smile, “Hello, Rita.”

She glances at me, and
then looks back at him.  “When I saw you come in, I thought you were going to
pay me another visit.”  She smiles sweetly, subtly pouting her lower lip.

“Ah, sorry for any
misunderstanding.  Emma and I just needed to get away and talk about the
project.  Um, Rita this is Dr. Emma Burcham.  Emma, this is Rita Mayslip.  Rita
is an administrator.”

I nod at her. She
responds with an overly pristine, toothy smile.  “It’s nice to meet you Emma. 
I trust you’re not the reason that Rick had to come find me earlier.”

I look questioningly
at Rick who is busy rubbing the back of his neck.  I glance back up, “Somehow I
seriously doubt that.”

She grins. “Good.  No
need to get him all worked up when he’s trying to work.”  She looks at him.
“Let me know if you need anything else, Rick.”  She says his name as if holding
the sound in her mouth could make holding him between her lips a reality.  She
makes me want to throw up. 

As she slinks away, I
look at Rick, willing an explanation from him.  I know it’s probably none of my
business, but hey, given that I was just somewhat accused, I feel entitled. 

I tilt my head down,
trying to look into his face.  He won’t look at me so I say, "What was up
with that?"

He continues to stare
straight ahead. "In her administrative position she assisted me
earlier."

I practically snort.
"Yeah, I got that.  It just seems rather seedier than that with the way
she was acting."

Rick shakes his head
and finally looks at me. "When vampires get angry, the predator within
tends to make an appearance.  There are certain ways to control that.  That's
how Rita helped me."  He turns slightly away from me, crossing his legs,
resting his arm on the table.

"Okay, I'm
sorry.  It's obviously your business and something that you don't want to talk
about.  I don't need to know how you relieve your stress," I say. "I
just didn't like thinking that I may have been the cause of it."

"No, of course
you're not.  If anything, I feel calmer around you.  You have an amazing
ability to kill my predatory inclinations.  Usually."

"I don't know if
you just gave me a compliment or if you're saying that I'm the vampire
equivalent of a libido downer."

He finally laughs.  Score
one for the country girl.  "It was a compliment.  If I don't have those
feelings, then I can focus more on the simple things.  Like doing work or just
having a conversation."  He looks at me with a brief smile, his face
softening. 

After a few brief moments
he takes my hand in his, holding it lightly.  "Thank you for your
concern.  I'm sorry that I stormed out earlier.  The footage just hit a little
too close to home.  I knew I was getting crazed and I didn't want to hurt
you."

I inhale deeply as my
pulse speeds up and my heart feels lodged in my throat.  I can’t speak.  The
only thing I can do is silently hope that my hand doesn’t start sweating.  I look
down where our hands rest.  I can’t help but think that it looks just as good
as it felt.  He is fairer than me, sure, but our hands fit together perfectly. 
I must stop letting my mind wander.

I slide my hand from
his and smile up at him.  "I'm glad to hear that you don't want to hurt
me.  It's rather comforting."

"Well, I would
hope so.  Besides, I need you to help me get that fifty thousand dollars."

I whack his arm as I
look up and catch the sight of Tucker coming into the cafeteria.  He quickly
looks away from us and maneuvers amongst the food stations.  I can’t help but
watch him as he gathers items onto his tray, keeping his head down.  His
clothes still look disheveled and his hair appears to be fighting gravity.  I’m
fighting the urge to feel sorry for him.  I can relate in that I've yearned for
someone that didn't want me.  It's heartbreaking and enough to make the sanest
person check themselves into a mental ward.  But there are boundaries.  I
wouldn't have invaded the person's privacy.  Or should I be excited by the fact
that he likes me
that
much?  I shake my
head to clear my thoughts because I am starting to think like a crazy woman.

"Earth to
Emma," Rick snaps is fingers in front of my face.

I look at him.
"Yes, what?"

Tilting his head at
me. "Are you okay?  I've been talking about our next steps with the
project and you are in some kind of trance."  Rick looks over to Tucker's
table. "He’s one of the archivists, isn't it?  Do you know him?"

Trying to smile.
"Not really.  I've seen him around."  I SO do not want to get into
this conversation.  I really don’t want to relive the humiliation of everything
that has happened.

He raises an eyebrow.
"Maybe interested in getting to know him?"

"Not
hardly," I say, slightly rolling my eyes, not wanting to wax too juvenile
on the subject.  "Well, we better get back to the suite.  If you're not
wanting to talk about the things that angered you, we should get back to
work."  Distraction from my issues is my middle name. 

Rick grabs my hand.
"I meant what I said.  I don't want you to think that just because I keep
certain things to myself that it means that I don't trust you, or like you,
or...want to spend time with you."  He stands up, still holding my hand,
giving it a slight shake. "You go ahead back to the suite.  I need to make
some arrangements with Rita, then I'll be right there."

I nod as I slide my
hand from his once again, feeling completely perplexed and somewhat satisfied. 
It's nice to know that he doesn't want to attack me.  Even nicer that he might
actually enjoy my company.  This pleasant discovery made in front of the
viewing audience of Tucker, my clueless admirer.  Hopefully it won't give him
any ideas.  That is if he even saw anything.

I walk quickly out of
the cafeteria and down the hall to our suite. 

When I get there, I’m
surprised to see that Ms. Montgomery has packed all of her things and left. 
Maybe she got tired of our lack of work.  My gain.  I can actually relax now
without feeling like I am being scrutinized under a microscope. 

I go back to the
computer and stare at the screensaver.  I wish I knew what makes Rick tick,
aside from a hunger for blood.  Ick.  I know that something is bothering him,
but he won't talk about it.  And at the same time he appears to be getting
increasingly friendly with me.  Holding my hand?  Sheesh.  When had that
happened last?  I remember the first of only a few times that a man held my
hand.  Actually, he was a boy as I was still in high school.  I felt as awkward
as he acted as he took my hand.  We spent at least five minutes looking at each
other, wondering what to do next.  His name was Billy Somethingoranother.  I
don't ever remember being friends with him.  I just remember that someone had
told me that he liked me, so I jumped at the chance.  Didn't know him.  Didn't
even find him attractive.  Someone was showing an interest, so I couldn't let it
pass by.

See, what Billy
didn't know - and Rick has yet to figure out - I'm the girl who is the good
friend, not a girlfriend.  I'm the girl who listened when guys complained about
other
girls.  I would nod,
ask leading questions and tried to use a Jedi mind trick to get them to notice
me as date material.  I never was a good Jedi.  My control of the Force was
only good enough to get accepted as "one of the guys" when I really
wanted to be one in a million. 

Billy never did
figure it out.  We continued to fumble around with our unsteady status as
"steadies."  I wouldn't break up with him because I couldn't bear
being the girl without a boyfriend, as relationship status became a mark of
general worthiness in high school.  We had nothing in common.  And after getting
to know him, I didn't even really like him.  I had seen movies where big,
gorgeous guys would come in and rescue the broken-hearted damsel in distress,
so I put on my best Scarlet facade and treated Billy in such a way that he
wanted to dump
me
.  No boys came
running to comfort me.  Actually, it further reinforced my identity as a dating
pariah because even one of the school's "losers" didn't want me.