How to Discipline Your Vampire(81)
I knew about her likes and dislikes, I knew about her sexual preferences, but as for the real details, I was ignorant. I didn’t know about her family. I’d only met one of her friends, and she had never told me anything about previous relationships.
But I did know this: I could fix it. She had given me confidence that I was worthy and that I was good at what I did. So, I must win her back.
Tonight.
Most women seriously read into things that may or may not be there. A song coming on the radio at a certain time. The name of a new martini at her favorite bar. And, even though Cerise would scoff at it, a line in a horoscope that just had to be true.
So I grabbed a few items around town, and headed to Cerise’s to do what the kids call a ding-dong ditch.
I quietly strode to her door, hung the dress on the knob, and tacked two things next to the hanger. On a book of matches from Gypsy, a chic bar in town, I wrote SEVEN PM. Underneath, I placed a Leo horoscope that read, among other things, “You will meet a handsome stranger,” and highlighted that line.
Then I rang the bell and hid behind the bushes, waiting for my little lioness to appear.
She came to the door in a baggy tee shirt and yoga pants. Her hair hadn’t been brushed, and her eyes looked tired. Something was clearly bothering her. I feared it was my confession: I loved her.
Her beautiful face, however, brightened as she looked at the dress and the notes. She didn’t break into a complete smile, mind you, but I could see that my little surprise had intrigued her. She ran her fingers down the cotton dress, and I caught her looking around for my car. I had run here, of course, so as to be inconspicuous.
The effort I usually put into a scene showed just how much I was committed to pleasing Cerise. I selected the décor and props with care, and I picked out the costumes with equal attention to detail. I wanted her to be consumed by my vision and flattered by my attention.
Tonight, however, I couldn’t redecorate the bar, and I couldn’t come up with precontrived notions of what was going to happen. All I knew was that I had to be a handsome stranger and try my best to “pick her up.”
So I took care with my appearance, since it was the only thing I could control. Instead of leaving my hair in its usual state of trendy “flow,” I combed it back in a sophisticated manner. I wore a polished, gunmetal gray suit and monochromatic tie. Tonight I’d play the part of a businessman away at a conference. I printed up some phony business cards, and I programmed my BlackBerry with some stock apps to check when Cerise was seemingly not looking. I usually never wore cologne, but this evening I walked by the perfume counter at the local Neiman Marcus and sprayed myself with some Burberry Brit. I looked in the mirror and smiled.
I could do this.
Cerise was the only thing that mattered to me, and I was going to fight to keep her. Not because I couldn’t live without her, but because I deserved to live with her.
I deserved this. I’d earned some happiness.
This was my mantra during the painfully slow traffic in Portsmouth. My nerves were threatening to get the better of me, but I shook them off and told myself this was best for both of us. She just needed me to show her.
Tonight I took my Corvette, and was glad when the valet parked it right out front. I hoped to be able to chauffeur Cerise to the “hotel where I was staying.” She had seen only my SUV until now, and I presumed she’d enjoy my sports car’s flashy looks. After all, I was a successful businessman.
I didn’t want to see Cerise yet. I wanted her to see me first. I strode to the bar with confidence, and ordered a single-malt Scotch on the rocks. I stretched out, checked my stocks, and nearly snickered at how uncharacteristic I was acting, and took a sip of the drink the bartender poured for me.