Veronica and the Vampire

The hallways got even dimmer as they walked. Veronica trailed several steps behind Cynthia, noticing that there weren’t any windows in these hallways, and that what light there was came from lamps on tables, where lavish silk floral arrangements mirrored the tasteful carpet colors.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Veronica confessed, growing stiffer by the second and wondering if the darkness hid skid marks — in the direction of the street.

“Sorry about the short notice, Cynthia,” she added. “I understand completely if you’re booked up.”

In fact, she was praying they would be all booked up, politely, without moving her lips. She hoped this was a gross inconvenience, and vowed to play along for only a few more minutes before getting the heck out of there and giving Annie Drew a piece of her mind when she got back to work.

“Oh, I think you’ll be happy to hear we have eight for you to choose from,” Cynthia said, bursting the hasty retreat bubble. Veronica could have sworn she heard a big popping noise.

“Eight?” she croaked. “Choose from?”

“I’ll show them to you now,” Cynthia said over her shoulder.

“Show them to me?” Veronica repeated.

“Annie did mention that you get to choose your escort?”

“Actually, she didn’t mention anything of the kind.”

Cynthia stopped, turned, and waited for Veronica to come alongside.
“So like Annie to be discreet, and her discretion is appreciated. We’ve had one other referral from her, and that turned out very well. It’s how we do business here, you know; by referral only. That’s why we can help you with this wedding, and are happy to do so.”

Discreet? Veronica was thinking. This was Annie being discreet? The words big-time, pertaining to payback for Annie, all of a sudden didn’t seem enough. Try all out war.

When Cynthia started walking again, Veronica couldn’t pry her knees apart to follow. Sensing the hesitation, and with that real keen insight really good salespeople have, Cynthia paused again, and smiled.

“They’re just down these steps. I’ll be with you all the way.”

“You mean you have them here? Waiting? In person?”

Could they really turn out to be in cages? A rippling-muscled, highly tanned all male lineup? Maybe milling about on sofas? In thongs?

Although the panic of the situation remained, it hovered less obtrusively all of sudden.

“The eight I’ll show you are all extraordinary individuals,” Cynthia continued. “You can’t go wrong with any of them, really. However, I have one in particular in mind. I won’t point him out, though. I wouldn’t want to influence you in any way, when attraction is such a personal thing.”

Well certainly Cynthia couldn’t have pointed him out, Veronica thought. Wouldn’t that have been rude, in front of the other seven guys standing or lounging around?

She moved after her hostess on a wide staircase that curved downward. If they were heading for a basement, it would be the first one Veronica had ever seen in California, and she’d been born and raised there. Los Angelinos were sun people, not prone to frequenting dark, moldy, windowless places.

Experiencing a chill at the thought of “subterranean” Veronica tried out her reasoning skills. Question one: Why would guys be waiting for anything . . . in a basement?

Oddly enough, no answer sprang to mind.