Ten, p.2
Ten, page 2
She slipped into a prime spot just past the handicapped zone and breathed deep the heady aroma of charred meats. She popped
down the visor to fluff her hair and touch up her lipstick before strutting out into the unseasonably warm autumn night. The server at the door stared brazenly at her legs and other assets that beautifully filled out a pair of jeggings. She smiled slyly his direction. He ended up running into the glass rather than opening it for an older couple just trying to get a Friday night date-night going.
Paige clicked her heels against the cement walkway as she looked for a taller, curvier Italian woman among those waiting to be seated. Before she could even unlock her phone, a brilliantly loud,
“Paige!” echoed behind her along with the slam of a car door.
She whirled around and had to go “oof” as one Maria Lucia DeMarco swept her up and gave her a huge hug. The older woman pulled out her wallet and flipped up her shiny new Tennessee driver’s license. Paige promptly did the same.
“We are both officially free of that name and that man,” Maria said.
“Are you sure you’re OK with this?” Paige asked. “I mean you did marry him and keep his name for like twenty-seven years.”
“Oh sweetie, I only ever kept it because mom was old-school and because of you,” Maria sighed. “If I had my way, I would have ditched it the second I found him in bed with his publicist.”
“So tonight, we celebrate our first week of freedom,” Paige said.
“Damn it’s good to be a DeMarco again,” Maria said.
“And there is kinda someone I want you to meet, um, formally,”
Paige said, staring shyly under her wall of ringlets.
“No more Mr. Darcy?” Maria asked with a raised brow.
“Mom, that was over a long time ago—”
She kept her brow raised. “Trust me, sweetie, I saw the two of you together. He doesn’t seem to be the kind of man you just get over—”
“Mom!”
“Please don’t tell me that you’re bringing home another winner like Cal—”
“Mom, our reservation is totally ready!” Paige said quickly. She eyed the alert on her phone telling her that she had three texts from Morgan already.
“And where is this man?” Maria asked as she pushed aside both the door and the gawking server trying his best not to get whiplash from alternating his stares at the Italian hottie brigade.
“Already inside and holding our table, mom,” Paige muttered.
“What does he do for a living?” she asked. Before Paige could answer, a convenient server cleared her throat.
“DeMarco, table for three,” Paige said. “We have reservations for six-thirty.”
Paige did her best to tune out her mother as she bobbed and weaved through the dark restaurant. The mix of meaty smells made her stomach growl audibly. Maria scanned a table with a nebbish thirty-something man in a terrible plaid shirt. She breathed an audible sigh of relief as the server kept leading them further to the back.
Their destination ended up being the corner booth by the open kitchen. Both women could only see the menu for the Eastside Steakhouse, a pair of sensible khakis, and a black sleeve to start.
The waitress all but swooned as she leaned towards the man at the table and choked out, “The rest of your party is here, hon.”
Paige’s smile returned as their third dinner guest slowly lowered his menu. Both Maria and the server gulped as a pair of piercing blue eyes outshone the candles and the mood lighting. He rose to his feet and offered up his hand.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. DeMarco,” he said in a voice filled with a mix of Midwestern twang and a touch of Southern drawl.
Maria took his hand and nodded approvingly at his firm grip. She sized up the barely contained biceps and pecs in his expensive designer shirt, his classic square jaw covered with a movie-star appropriate swath of stubble, and his neatly trimmed hair that flirted between being blond and brown. Meanwhile, the server gave dagger eyes at Paige as the younger DeMarco woman pushed up on tippy-toes to give the hottest man in the room a peck on the cheek.
“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.—” Maria said, still scanning for any chinks in his armor.
“Blaylock, Morgan Blaylock,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. DeMarco.”
“And I’ve heard nothing about you, Mr. Blaylock,” Maria said as she slid into the booth. “And for god’s sake, call me Maria, and I’ll address you as Morgan, rather than mystery-man-my-daughter-has-been-seeing. We clear?”
“Crystal,” Morgan said sliding in so that Paige could settle down next to him. She instantly intertwined her fingers with his as she scanned the pass on the open kitchen.
“You look like you work at the gym with my daughter,” Maria said as she scanned the menu. “The wine list here is fairly shit for the price you pay, by the way. I’ll order us something decent though.”
“It’s OK, I don’t drink wine,” Morgan said.
“Recovering?” Maria asked without skipping a beat.
Before Paige could finish growling “Mom!” her companion squeezed her hand.
“Sulfites give me headaches, I’m afraid, but I’ll be happy to toast you both with a beer. I understand it’s an important week for you two.
Also, I don’t work at the gym, just frequent there.”
“That I can tell,” Maria said as she continued to read. A moment later, she set the menu down, folded her perfectly manicured hands in front of her, and stared Morgan right in the eye. “So, what do you do for a living, Morgan?”
“Accounting actually.”
“CPA?” Maria fired right back.
“Yes, but not in the state of Tennessee yet. I’m certified in Illinois.”
“Not local?”
Morgan shook his head.
“So where did you meet my daughter?”
“At work, her old work actually,” he said with a taut smile. “My uncle and I were scouting a deal on valves, and Paige was nice enough to show me around. You could say we had an instant connection.”
Paige stifled a little giggle. She chimed in with, “And after I decided that I needed a break from all the mess with Cal, we ended up meeting in Chicago.”
Maria muttered, “Yes, I remember you running off quite clearly, and you come back just in time for your father to be in another scandal.” She took a deep breath. “So how long have you two been seeing each other?”
Morgan and Paige eyed each other guiltily. “Since I came back from my little getaway, and I broke it off with Lorcan.”
“So almost a year then. Well, I thought you seemed happier, and I’m sure you wanted to spare the poor guy an Italian mother’s judgement. Let’s say we get some appetizers and alcohol going because I’m sure it’s going to be a long evening.”
Georgia Sutherland lounged across the armchair in the den as she leafed through the monthly bills. She spied a hissing and spitting of snow trying its best to stick to the windowsill and heard the wind rattling against the panes. The vampire in the room padded over and turned the gas fireplace to high, dropping one of his many pashminas on the carpet. As he bent over to pick it up, he witnessed the other ginger in the house, a mountain of fluff and whiskers, hop into his vacated seat and stretch over half the sofa.
“Your siblings were delicious, you know,” Mr. Lambley snarled at the nonplussed feline.
“No threatening Schrodinger,” Georgia warned as she entered another invoice into the computer.
“But he’s impossible!” Mr. Lambley huffed as he struggled to lift one set of paws to make a space. Eventually the cat ambled to one side. However, the moment Geoffrey settled into the cushion, the cat flopped unceremoniously across the vampire’s lap, leaving a lovely pattern of orange fur on top of a silk smoking jacket.
“Curses, you vile beast!” he huffed, but soon the siren song of a warm vibrating cat was too much, and Mr. Lambley ended up petting the beast until it rolled over and fell asleep belly-up.
They continued in content silence until Georgia got to the last pile of mail. As she saw an old-fashioned black envelope with a red-
dragon wax seal, her heart skipped a beat. “Mr. Lambley, were you expecting anything from your mom?” she asked hopefully.
“No. . . why?” he too trailed off as he saw the envelope. “Curse the United States Post Office!”
“Now, let’s not panic just yet, Mr. Lambley. It’s probably just an invitation to. . .” she cocked her head as she pulled out the single notecard contained within. “Are you related to anyone called Edgar Lambley?”
“Edgar Lambley, are you sure?” he asked, turning even paler than his normal ghoulish complexion.
Georgia nodded. “It’s a wedding invitation for you and a plus one.”
“He’s getting married again? To whom?” the vampire choked out.
“Someone named Carmen Corazon de Azarola y Pendragon,”
Georgia said as she squinted to read the ornate script. “Weirdly enough, he is also listed as Edgar Lambley de Azarola.”
“My heavens,” Mr. Lambley choked. His hand shook as he stroked the cat. “He’s of marrying age now.”
“Mr. Lambley?” Georgia asked. She flipped over the card and saw the names of exactly who sent the invitation. The names Lord Lorcan Darcy Pendragon and Lady Meenakshi Thakkar of House Pendragon stood out in bright red print. “I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that this Edgar Lambley is a relative of yours.”
“He’s the son of my mother’s cousin, many times removed,” he said as his eyes got lost on the fire. “He’s a noble but only just barely on the Azarola side—”
“And?” Georgia prompted.
“When I was human he was my father,” the vampire whispered.
“He’s the one who . . . who sold me to Lorcan in exchange for eternal life.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna go get the blood with the brandy in it,” Georgia said as she hurried back to the kitchen. “At least we’ve got a few months to prepare for it. The wedding isn’t until June. I guess even vampires like to get married in Ju—”
She sloshed the special reserve in the glass and ran back to the den. Her hands were shaking as she handed the glass over to her
boss. He didn’t even complain about the messy rim as he took a sip.
She grabbed the invitation and grimaced at the date – June nineteenth.
“This wedding is totally the day before the Solstice Ball. Why do I have a terrible feeling—?”
Her stomach turned as she flipped over a pre-approved credit card offer to find two more black envelopes, one addressed to Mr.
Geoffrey Lambley and the other to none other than Miss Georgia Sutherland. The proud countenance of Queen Elizabeth stared at them from under a Royal Mail stamp.
“Well, bollocks,” Mr. Lambley sighed as he took another long drink.
Georgia hunted down a clean glass and plain bourbon for herself.
“Just what we needed, another damned vampire ball,” she sighed before gulping down her first round.
2
“WOW THAT IS A LOT OF FOOD!” Maria exclaimed, as two double-thick porterhouse steaks topped with mushrooms and bacon were set before the young couple across the table. She looked down at her own petite sirloin au poivre and shook her head.
“We’re—” Morgan started.
“Training, for a half marathon, aren’t we, babe?” Paige finished.
She started plowing through her sides of mac and cheese, bacon mashed potatoes, and token broccoli with unabashed delight. Next to her, Morgan began to neatly slice his steak into perfect one-inch pieces and arrange them in a line, alternating with carefully selected roast potatoes and rosemary-glazed carrots.
Both DeMarco women could only watch in awe as he meticulously set up his plate before deigning to take a single nibble.
Finally, he looked up and gave a weak smile. “I like to be methodical about eating,” he confessed.
“Can you eat her cooking?” Maria asked with a nod to her daughter.
“I usually cook.”
“Well, some things never change,” Maria teased. She stopped occasionally to marvel at just how quickly her daughter could polish off the tenderloin side of the prime beef. “It’s also good to see you eating. I’d kill for your metabolism, Paige. If I looked at that much steak, I’d gain five pounds.”
“Man, I could almost go for another one,” Paige said as she patted her flat tummy. “What about you, babe?”
He shook his head but did eye the bit of mac and cheese clinging on the edge of her ramekin. “I’m all good.”
“I think I’ll hit up the ladies before dessert,” Maria said, giving a slight nod to her daughter.
“You know, I’ll join you. Morgan, will you have the bones packed up, you know, for the dog?” Paige said as she slid out.
“You have a dog?” Maria asked incredulously.
“Neighborhood one,” Paige offered up quickly.
“Well, don’t stay around it too much. Your allergies—”
Paige looked over to the kitchen window. One of the line cooks openly gawked at the petite powerhouse in her tight jeans and gauzy sweater. The elder DeMarco woman broke into a broad smile and waved to the bulky dude with a dark goatee and shaved head.
“Oh, I can’t wait to see if he finds our table in the crowd,” Paige said wickedly. “Approve of my choice of restaurants now, mother?”
“As long as he doesn’t piss in my chocolate soufflé,” Maria muttered.
“Trust me, I would smell that a mile away,” Paige muttered. She waved frantically and offered up, “I mean, come on, I lived with Cal for years, nothing produced from his body wasn’t fragrant—”
“Spare me the details,” Maria said as they slipped off into the ladies’ room. Only when they were finally both washing their hands did Maria speak up again with, “I rather like this one, Paige.”
“Really? I think you’ve scared him half to death by now.”
Maria tucked a stray lock behind her ear. She scowled at a pesky gray standing out among her dark waves. She checked her makeup and spritzed on one shot of perfume before daring to face her daughter.
“You know that we DeMarco gals haven’t had the best luck with men lately, and I have to wonder why you haven’t brought him around. Is there something you’re afraid I’ll see?” she asked.
“Maybe I’m just afraid of you scaring him off,” Paige snapped.
She instantly cringed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“You did, and I deserved it, sweetie.” She put her hands squarely on her daughter’s shoulders. “You just seem so… so different now, and I am doing my best to keep pushing you away, aren’t I?”
Paige wrapped her arms around her mom and gave her another hug. “Am I that different?” she asked her mom’s shoulder.
“You act like a light has been turned on inside you, baby. I’ve never seen you this confident or this happy. I just wish you’d share a little more, like we used to. I guess this is the price we moms pay for our babies growing up—”
“Oh, mom,” Paige sighed as she squeezed one more time. “I promise to come around more, and I’ll even bring Morgan. I was just so afraid of me messing up and picking the wrong guy again that I waited for him to meet you until I was sure—”
“Sure—?” Maria asked.
“I really think he’s the one, mom,” Paige said, breaking into a huge grin. The smile quickly appeared on Maria’s face as well.
“The one?” she asked.
Paige nodded.
“Well come on, this calls for more booze and something drenched in chocolate!” Maria cried. “Any chance I might be a nonna while I’m young and cool enough to enjoy it?”
“Mom!” Paige sighed before prancing back to the table. Sure enough, their young, blonde waitress was taking all the time in the world to describe every part of the dessert menu to a cringing Morgan.
“Oh, there you are,” he sighed with relief. “Apparently the chocolate soufflés are the house special, but I was thinking caramel apple pie.”
“I can’t believe that you, of all people, gave up caffeine, Paige,”
Maria said.
“Well, it turns me into a real monster now,” she quipped before ordering apple pie a la mode and a shot of whiskey.
“Same here. It’s, um, difficult to live with migraines,” Morgan offered as he nodded to the floor. Paige nudged him, and he returned his focus solely to the two women at the table.
“No chocolate, no red wine? You poor, unfortunate soul!
Speaking of unfortunate souls, guess who just tapped out of the grill station, sweetie?” Maria said as she eyed the window into the kitchen.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got this.”
Paige slipped from the booth and followed her nose to the door between the kitchen and the dining room. It swung open to reveal a tall, beastly dude in a chef’s jacket. His brown eyes widened into saucers as he saw his pint-sized ex leaning casually against the wall.
“Wow, Paige, it’s really you,” he gasped. “You look… awesome.”
“Hi, Cal. How’s it been going?”
He smiled awkwardly and rubbed the sweat off his shiny head.
“Oh, you know, same hours, same crappy pay. I did get a full-time gig here though on the grill. It’s a lot steadier then when, you know
—”
“How’s Stacy?” Paige asked pointedly. “That was her name, right?”
Cal shuffled uncomfortably. “No, um, she’s gone. Wow, you really look great. What have you, um, been up to?”
“Working at a gym. You met my boss, Nadia, once.”
“The one with the purple hair, oh yeah. Wow, it’s definitely—” He flushed as he raised his eyes upwards. The sweat continued to pour from his brow. “You know, I am so sorry about how things ended. Do you maybe want to get some coffee and just talk?”
Paige smiled as a familiar scent wafted near her. She didn’t even have to turn to see whose shadow appeared on the wall.
