Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles) (17 page)
Read Tears of Blood (The Blood Chronicles) Online
Authors: Tamela Quijas
“I haven’t seen that look on your face in years, Meg.” Chesca whispered.
The voices about them lifted as the next singer mounted the podium at the far end of the ballroom. A chanting, masculine chorus of
Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn,
rose to a deafening pitch before the sultry sound of a woman’s voice filled the room. As swiftly as the voices had risen, silence fell, and excited whispers replaced the previous din.
“Maybe I’m letting you steer me into something I shouldn’t be doing.” She was simply plain old Meghan Stanley, and not anywhere as stunning as most of the women in attendance.
“After what I saw from the store window yesterday,” Chesca muttered. “I’m not the one leading you on a dangerous track.”
Meghan blushed crimson, vaguely wondering how much of the kiss she’d seen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chesca.”
“Don’t play me for the fool, Meg.” Her retort dripped with censure as she reached for a fluted glass of champagne from a passing waiter. After taking a long sip, she leaned in close. “I saw the overly heated, erotic kiss you and that delicious morsel of a man exchanged yesterday, outside the café.”
She suspected her face now burned a flaming shade of garnet at the offhanded comment.
“My God, Chesca, how many people saw us?”
“Nearly half of Bentham had an exclusive view of the most ardent kiss I’ve ever seen in my lifetime. I have to admit, that kiss made me very, very envious.”
Meghan groaned deep in her throat. “I’m so ashamed…”
“Why should you be?” Chesca questioned innocently.
“I made a public spectacle of myself!”
“Sweetheart,” her friend began delicately, waving her hand and sending the bells on her bracelet into tinkling chaos. “In this day and age, how many people see you exchange an enthusiastic kiss with a totally handsome man is the least of your worries.”
“Chesca….”
“Are you feeling guilty?” Chesca murmured wickedly.
“No, I’m not!” She blurted out impulsively. She pressed the palm of her hand to her chest and struggled to breathe inward, the abrupt memory of his lips filching any semblance of coherent thought from her.
“Well, that’s good to hear.” The words reeked with a congratulatory echo as Chesca pounded her on the back. Just as Meghan suspected her spine would shatter, she stopped and leaned close, murmuring slyly into her ear. “Anyway, if you’re ashamed or embarrassed, I’ll take that scrumptious little Sicilian morsel off your hands.”
“Chesca!”
“I’m joking!” Her friend hurried to explain, laughing uproariously at the outrage on Meghan’s face. “Besides, your Amado’s totally not my type.”
Meghan ran an anxious hand across the back of her neck, sighing heavily. “Hell, I don’t even know if he is
my
Amado.”
“You have to be kidding me. Are you serious?” Chesca inquired, surprised.
Meghan shrugged. “I can’t even tell you what Amado looks like!”
“Is his appearance really important?”
“I don’t know!” Nervously, Meghan rubbed at the side of her cheek. Instantly, she stopped, not wanting to smear the make-up Chesca so carefully applied for the night. “For all I know, he could be a troll.”
The other woman deposited her empty champagne glass on the tray of an attentive waiter.
“Honey, trust me, he definitely ain’t no troll.” Chesca jabbed her merrily in the ribs with her elbow. “But would it count if he was?”
Silent, Meghan exhaled heavily. “Honestly…”
“Then let me ask you this,” Chesca began, her words intense. “Does he make you feel special?”
“Yes.”
“Do you enjoy his company?” She persisted. “Does he make you laugh, and do you look forward to being with him?”
Meghan shrugged, unable to answer, before she nodded.
“Are you starting to fall in love with him?”
Meghan’s mouth dropped open and her heart lodged in her throat at Chesca’s question. The blood roared in her ears and felt slightly dazed, realizing she’d pinpointed her exact feelings.
“I think I am.” She admitted dazedly.
“Then, what’s it matter how he looks?” Chesca observed easily. “Honey, as long as you feel that the moon and stars sets on you when he’s around, it’s not significant.”
Meghan laughed and the sound tinkled with pleasure. “I hate to tell you that you’re correct, since you’ll gloat for a week, Chesca.”
“Me? Gloat?” She sounded outraged before she broke out into giggles. “I never gloat!”
“You do.” Meghan supplied smugly.
“Okay, perhaps a little bit.” Chesca conceded. “Still, though, let me tell you something….”
“Now what?”
“Granted, Amado’s isn’t a man I’d go gaga over, but he’s certainly easy on the eyes.”
Chesca’s type was the epitome of the tall blonde Adonis women only saw in magazines, shallow to a fault, and only good for one thing…sex. If Amado wasn’t her sort, then he had to be the exact opposite.
“Can you describe him for me?” She questioned as her curiosity overwhelming her.
“I suppose.” Her friend answered offhandedly, her tone teasing. “Better yet, how about you tell me how he looks?”
“I don’t…”
“Just imagine, Meg.” Chesca murmured throatily as she pressed her cheek to Meghan’s face. “Remember that soul-searing kiss the man planted on you, and tell me what how you imagine he looks.”
Needlessly, Meghan closed her eyes, and recollections of Amado’s lips tormented her hungry thoughts.
“He’s, probably, a few inches taller than me.” She began, recalling he hadn’t stooped to pull her into his arms. “He’s Italian…”
“Nope, darling,” Chesca retorted saucily. “He isn’t Italian, and he’d be the first to correct you.”
“Okay, okay!” Meghan conceded tersely. “He’s a Sicilian, which leads me to believe he doesn’t have your coloring.”
“Nope, he’s not fair skinned or haired.” Chesca supplied informatively. “His hair is nearly a blue-black and his skin has a tan I wish I could get during the summer.”
The mental image grew minutely.
“His eyes are golden with flecks of black, as he told me when I asked.” She continued. “He says he’s a ballroom dance instructor, and I can’t hear him half the time when he’s walking. So, I suppose he’s on the lean side.”
“You're doing pretty good there, Meg.” She could almost hear Chesca nodding.
“So, what am I missing?”
Chesca mulled over her words as Meghan waited. “Do you recall those old films we used to watch?”
“Which ones?”
“The silent ones,” Chesca supplied. “You remember the ones with Armand Gerino?”
“Yes, I do.” Meghan snorted, remembering staring at the long dead actor with teenage awe. “We’d spend hours sighing over him and those overly dramatic advances he’d make toward his female leads.”
“Well, dearie,” Chesca sounded as if she were imparting the most secret of secrets. “If I had to describe Amado for you, I’d say he bears a startling resemblance to Armand Gerino.”
“Yeah, right!” Meghan laughed aloud. “Just like Marilyn up there really resembles Marilyn.”
“Believe what you want, but he’s a dead ringer!” She grumbled. “If someone wanted to pull a DNA test for possible illegitimate heirs, Amado would be the man I’d pick.”
“Oh, Chesca, you’re so silly!” Meghan chuckled, although the image her words evoked did stir her memories.
“You have some sort of image of him, so tell me more.” The other woman encouraged with a smile.
“His voice is like molten lava…”
“And here I thought you said it practically dripped honey the first time.”
“I thought so to, but I was wrong.” Meghan corrected with a secretive smile.
“So, tell me,” Chesca chuckled outright. “How can a man have a voice like molten lava?”
“When he speaks, I want to melt.” Meghan admitted weakly.
“And you say that like it’s a bad thing?”
Meghan sighed, but her mental picture of Amado lingering. “For me, I think it is.”
“I don’t think anything that man does is bad for you.” Chesca shook her head and her hair brushed across her bare shoulder. “In fact, I think he’s the best thing that’s happened to you in years.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Chesca’s reply echoed with an envy Meghan hadn’t ever heard before. “Lord, what I would give to have a man look at me with that much adoration and love!”
She smiled tenderly and her heart skipped a beat. “You’re not teasing me, are you?”
“Darling, I would be the last one to pull your leg.” Unexpectedly, Chesca pulled her into a tight embrace, and planted a light kiss on her forehead. “Also, I think you’re finally enjoying yourself.”
“You know what?” Meghan whispered with a hint of wickedness, winking up in the direction of her flame haired friend as she moved to her side. “Honestly, I really am.”
“I think you need to be sinful a little trace more, and loosen up, Meg.” Chesca managed. “Live a little! Furthermore, I like it when you revert to the old you.”
“The old Meghan died years ago.” She reminded her caustically.
“You’re so full of shit!” Chesca’s words didn’t contain the usual joking inflections. “You allowed yourself to sink into this ugly pit after you divorced Kevin, which makes me sick. You’ve shied away from the world, built this shell around you, and forgotten what it’s like to be alive.”
Meghan tensed, sensing the heavy weight of Chesca’s annoyance. “I didn’t…”
“Didn’t you?” The fiery redhead interrupted caustically. “I remember a girl who used to sing songs that would make chills run all up and down my back. I recall a young lady just as wild as I was, and could fight the world as easily as any pro boxer could.
My
friend laughing at the stupidest things, and enjoy every moment of the world around her!”
“That was a long time ago, Chesca.” Meghan protested halfheartedly.
“It wasn’t that long ago.” Her fingertip jabbed at the center of Meghan’s chest, emphasizing her point. “That girl is trapped in there, longing to have fun, eager to live life in the way she used to, and wanting to be loved, which is why I brought you here.”
“I…” Meghan was lost for words.
“Meg,” Chesca didn’t allow her to find the words filling her, and continued. “I don’t need to tell your fortune to know you weren’t meant to spend the rest of your life alone. Just like I know you dream in color, your heart wants someone to sweep you off your feet, and shower you with the love you deserve.”
She hated it when Chesca was right. Meghan had shied away from life, from living, and from the opportunity of love, and all because of the uncertainty Kevin instilled in her. Meghan lifted her chin as the last warbling tones of the singer’s voice drifted off into silence. A slow smile curled her crimson hued lips as the crowd burst out into applause and she gave Chesca a haughty wink.
“I think you’re right.” She admitted.
“Think has nothing to do with it.” Chesca snorted smugly. “Give Amado a chance, and show him the sensual woman you are!”
Meghan spoke her friend’s name warningly.
“What have you got to lose?” She continued. “I know you’d love to find out what’s beneath that expensive leather jacket he wears.”
“I couldn’t…”
“I don’t think he’s out to hurt you.” Chesca interrupted again. “If anything else, I sense he’s a guardian, and his sole purpose is to protect you. He’s not Kevin, nor will he become him. As it is, he already brings out the best in you, without you realizing it.”
Meghan pulled back, her expression confused. “I don’t get you.”
“You’ve always loved Hollywood, and everything to do with the movies. You’ve always wanted to come to one of these functions, and Kevin would never let you.”
“He thought they were a waste of time.”
“Well, honey, if you haven’t noticed, Kevin hasn’t been around for a long time.” Chesca inserted unkindly. “Stop living like that dumb jock’s standing on the corner, watching every move, and ready to lift a fist to you because you did something for
you
!”
Chesca’s words resembled a battle cry. Even though her ex-husband had vanished, she continued to walk on eggshells. She fought the world when it came to her work, but her private life suffered. She avoided doing the things she loved most and, perhaps, it was a lingering subconscious fear preventing her from being carefree.
She slapped Chesca’s pointed finger away, and her shadowy eyes glittered with an unusual light. Showing more bravado than she felt, she straightened the strap on her dress, the tiny pearl beads in the neckline delicate beneath her fingers.
“How’s the dress look?” She asked in a peculiarly anxious tone.
Chesca warm hands rested on Meghan’s shoulders as she spun her in a full circle. A slow and appreciative whistle escaped her as the shimmering radiance of the iridescent beads caught in the glow of the chandelier lights. Breathing a delighted sigh, she stilled the blonde, immeasurably pleased with the image presented.
“I’m so glad, when I saw this dress in the antique store, I didn’t walk by.” Her fingers trailed over the golden and turquoise beads at Meghan’s shoulder. She admired the details, the knee length flapper dress embellished with faux Egyptian detailing.
Tonight, Meghan wore her hair pinned close to her head, the golden tresses a gleaming likeness to the shimmering material of her gown. Carefully applying her make-up, Chesca had rimmed her lashes with black kohl, the pale blue iris appearing to belong to someone from another realm. If the appreciative stares of the male patrons could be used for judgment, Meg was stunning.