Tags:
Fiction,
General,
Romance,
Fiction - Fantasy,
Fantasy,
Fantasy - Contemporary,
Contemporary,
Crime,
Horror,
Paranormal,
Occult fiction,
Vampires,
American Science Fiction And Fantasy,
Occult & Supernatural,
Serial Murderers,
Attempted assassination,
Fantasy - Dark,
Werewolves,
Romance - Paranormal,
Blake,
Saint Louis (Mo.),
Anita (Fictitious character)
different. Of course, he was only twenty-two. It wasn’t like it was too late for him to change jobs. But it felt odd thinking that, as if Nathaniel not working at Guilty Pleasures would change things, as if the man I was watching swoon and dance onstage would be someone else if he did this every night.
He lay down on the stage and his hair began to unroll from the bun, but it was too sudden a change and I realized as she collapsed on top of him that the hair was part of the show, the emotion. His hair spilled out around them across the pale wood stage and something about the lights hitting it, or the color of gel used, turned all that auburn hair to red so it was as if they both lay in a pool of thick blood. She made one last futile gesture with her pale arms, and again something about the lighting put her in a pale, white glow so she looked almost translucent. It was a neat trick with the lights, her glowing and ethereal while Nathaniel lay in the richer reds so it was all death and violence and transcendence and beautiful.
There was another of those breathless silences as the lights faded so we wouldn’t see them leave the stage. And then the audience was on its feet again, and it was wonderful.
“Oh my God,” I said, as I stood there and clapped along with everyone else. Micah beside me was shaking his head. I wondered if he’d been thinking the same things that I’d been thinking.
Jean-Claude beside me said, “Our kitten has become a cat.”
I leaned around Micah to J.J. “Tell me if I’m just in love with him, or was that amazing.”
She nodded. “That was really good. With more time and work it could be amazing.”
Another bouquet of roses was brought out for the ballerina. She tore her bouquet in half and handed it to Nathaniel, and made him bow with her.
Monica leaned around J.J. and said, low, but not so low that J.J. wouldn’t hear, “And to think you get to take that home and play with it.”
I must have turned pretty abruptly, and what I was about to say wasn’t friendly, but Micah grabbed my arm and blocked my view of her. The look on his face was enough. It made me count to ten. But while I counted J.J. said, “You’re going to take that from her?”
I looked at Micah. He said, “No, but easy.”
I nodded. Jean-Claude leaned in to it all and said, “Is something wrong?”
I leaned over everyone. “Nathaniel is not an it , okay.”
She made a little push-away gesture, but there was something in her face that let me know she’d baited me. The only question was, why?
Vivian on the other side of her had been utterly quiet through all of it. She was standing and applauding, but she wasn’t looking at us. It was almost like she wasn’t really here.
I reached past Monica and touched Vivian’s arm. She startled and turned wide eyes to me. She was a wereleopard—you didn’t sneak up on them—but I’d genuinely startled her. What was she thinking about so hard?
Asher said something to Jean-Claude. I caught enough of it to know it was French and that was all, but whatever he said, Jean-Claude looked less happy than I did about Monica. I watched Asher’s face as he looked at the other man, and I knew that look. It was the same look he’d had when he tried to kiss Micah tonight. What the hell was wrong with Asher tonight? He could be pushy and a pain in the ass, but he usually had a reason that I could figure out. Tonight I was lost.
The next senior girl was Stephen’s ballerina. I wondered how they’d top or even come close to what Nathaniel and his had done. But lucky for everyone concerned, it was a jazzy tap dance to some older Broadway musical number. The girl and Stephen were both in fedoras, white dress shirts with rolled-up sleeves, loose collars, unbuttoned vests, and belted dress slacks. Both of them had hair past their shoulders; his was curly and blond, hers was curly and brown. His suit pieces were black and hers were thin navy pinstripes.
The number was funny,
James Patterson, Andrew Gross