Charlotte Marries a Vampire Page 2

  “What’d you wish for?” Perry asked.

  As earlier, Charles sensed something out of kilter with Charlotte and Perry didn’t have a clue. But he couldn’t be faulted, Charles reasoned. Perry had only known her a year and a half compared to his thirty.

  “She can’t tell or it won’t come true,” Charles joked as he tried to camouflage the brewing trouble. He caught June’s perceptive eye and noticed she was keenly aware of Charlotte’s unhappiness, too. “Unless she tells her dad.”

  Charles thought that if he could get Charlotte to open up to him, it might help dissipate the tension. He leaned in to Charlotte and whispered, “What’s my little girl want?”

  Charlotte felt the question was the queue she needed to release her feelings. She stood up, unaware how her eyes blazed and confidence soared.

  “I’m thirty years old,” she said.

  “It’s not that old Charlotte,” Perry said. “I’m thirty-two.”

  Instead of finding solace with his comment, she felt like her insides would catapult through the ceiling while she carelessly spat out her words.

  “Thirty and pulling duck feathers!” She moved away from the table, grabbed her purse and marched to the front door.

  “I can’t do this,” she said turning once more to the bewildered faces at the table before she left.

  Perry turned to Charles and June. They seemed equally puzzled. He’d never known Charlotte to act like this. Maybe it was a birthday thing. He tried thinking back to the only other one that they’d spent together. They had been dating for six months when he had surprised her with a drive up the winding Appalachian Mountain roads to have dinner at a cozy restaurant nestled in the pines. The evening was complete with a breathtaking view of the ridge at sunset. He felt like the eyes of her soul had opened when she thanked him at the end of the night for a memorable birthday.

  Maybe she needed fresh air Perry thought. Maybe she’d had a bad day at work. He mulled over the possible reasons for her behavior but he couldn’t get out of his mind the plans that he had waiting for her in the garage. Surely, she would return shortly.

  “Should we eat cake?” Perry asked. “She did blow out the candle.”

  The faces of his hosts suggested otherwise.

  * ~ *

  Chapter Four: Unaware

  The perplexed cab driver who had picked up the attractive young woman on the residential street corner sighed. He guessed some domestic problem was at the heart of the matter.

  Her clouded face told him that she couldn’t see past her own thoughts, and her terse actions told him not to ask a thing. It was as if her body language said, “speak only when spoken to.”

  Finally, she requested a quiet place to be alone. The cabbie recommended Victor’s Grill & Pub. Its surroundings would probably suit her neighborhood stature. Plus, it was a good twenty to thirty-minute drive to the South Park area. Not too far for her to grow annoyed but far enough for a better fare and tip.

  * ~ *

  At Victor’s, bar glasses methodically clicked and clanged from the wait staff to the barback as Stefan filled the evening orders. Another steady night of boredom.

  Stefan dwelled on the Johnsons’ love and more importantly, his desire to start his own business – an upscale club with a late-night dinner menu that drew in a younger crowd. Something more hip than Vic’s. He’d studied the numbers and on his salary, he’d never get there – especially with the immortal restriction of no worldly accumulation but he was determined. For the most part, he’d lived and worked along the Southeastern coast and the Gulf as far as New Orleans. Now he was inland and had grown stifled with his current gig. He was too young for a life like this.

  By the time Charlotte entered Victor’s, she’d spilled a few hot tears and dropped thirty bucks for the cab fare and referral. She’d heard of the restaurant before although usually patronized places in her Dilworth neighborhood even though South Park was less than ten miles away.

  The wood paneling and orange-bronze color accents of the decor somewhat soothed her self-pity. She looked beyond the host station to the dining area and saw that it was relatively busy for a Tuesday night after eight. She then turned her attention to the bar, which was quiet in comparison. She never frequented bars alone much less sat at one but tonight was different. She didn’t want company. She wanted to nurse her emotions and continue to mourn that she was thirty and unmarried.

  Behind the bar, Stefan had noticed Charlotte upon arrival. Her flowing brunette hair shined underneath the luminescent lights. As she indicated to the hostess that she would be seated in the lounge area, he could tell there was something different about her. One, it was a weeknight and she was twenty years younger than the average customer, and two, she was alone and gave the impression that she preferred it to stay that way.

  He liked her style of dress, tailored navy slacks and tunic adorned with a single silver wrist cuff and hoop earrings. Stefan unabashedly zeroed in on her left hand with a fresh French manicure. No wedding ring.

  As she positioned herself on the stool, he noticed that was different, too. She wasn’t a bar hopper. Her vulnerability heightened his interest and made him instantly drawn to her. She wasn’t like the girls he was accustomed to meeting, flirty and unsure.

  The combination of her chocolate-colored demure eyes and creamy angelic-like face was enough to make him want to shroud her in his arms and hold her tight, never letting her go.

  Charlotte somewhat clumsily situated herself in the pub area. It felt awkward but she supposed that awkward meant progress if she was going to pursue new things or more importantly, a new beau.

  As she opened up her oversized handbag, she heard something drop to the floor. To avoid being noticed, Charlotte tried to discreetly reach for the object on the floor while staying balanced on her seat. However, she couldn’t see well in the dim light and suddenly jerked her head up.

  Slam! The back of her skull smashed against the edge of the solid wood bar causing her to groan with pain. As she held the back of her throbbing head with one hand, her face came within inches of the most handsome man she’d seen in a long time.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  No, she wanted to scream as her blurred vision strained to focus on the image before her. Instead, she managed a slim smile and a brief nod okay. Okay that she was viewing some Greek god in the flesh.

  Self-consciously, she brushed her thumbs underneath her eyes to rid any residue of tears. Then she straightened her torso slightly to regain an air of assurance.

  “You lose something?” the bartender asked.

  “My old life,” she said as she fumbled with her bag. “I mean I’m trying to lose my old life.”

  What a dorky thing to say. Something she probably said in the sixth grade as she caught him staring at her opened purse stuffed with the paraphernalia of her life – everything from monthly bills to dry cleaning coupons.

  “I think you’ve got a chance there.” The corners of Stefan’s flawlessly full-shaped mouth edged upwards ever so slightly.

  “I’ll have a Cosmos, uh, I mean a Cosmopolitan,” she said as if she ordered one frequently. The truth was that she had never had one but she often heard the drink mentioned as the cool beverage of choice on trendy TV shows.

  “Is that for your old life or new life?”

  “New life,” she replied enjoying his wry banter. Maybe the night wouldn’t be a total wash.

  “New life definitely,” she repeated and hoped he would read her interest between the lines. She feigned a coy glance until her right leg weighed down by the heavy bag slipped off the bar seat causing her to lose her balance. She quickly steadied herself on two feet before sitting down again. She was a train wreck at flirting.

  Stefan had already walked away missing her free fall mishap. He liked her. He liked her a lot. She wasn’t chatty like most girls who would hang around the fringe of the bar in the latter hours nursing one too many drinks. This girl, or woman, was never meant to be around a bar
and it dawned on Stefan that this was exactly the type of woman he was looking for in a real love situation – if such a thing was possible.

  “For your new life,” Stefan said returning with her drink. “And if your old life wants a drink, let me know.”

  He flashed a look that he knew was killer with the women and purposely positioned himself on the other side. He wanted her. Old life or new, he’d take both and he knew just how to do it. For hundreds of years, his tricks had always worked.

  * ~ *

  As the hours passed, Stefan would catch Charlotte’s eye from a distance and pose a shrug as if to ask her whether she wanted another cocktail. When she shook her head no, he would refill her water glass, which she appeared to prefer.

  Time evaporated as Charlotte watched Stefan prepare the bar area for closing. She tried not to stare even though he was unusually gorgeous. With caution, she glanced behind her to make sure no one caught her gawking.

  His deep blue eyes lit with mischief and fun, and when he smiled, she felt silly with warmth. Her face blushed with embarrassment when he directed his gaze towards her. Who she really was and what she wanted seemed transparent to him, and their unexpected meeting made it seem like something more.

  As he took one final review of his dominion, she realized that the other patrons had already left while the restaurant staff hovered near the register tallying their numbers, anxious to go.

  Just as she started to call a taxi, Stefan leaned towards her. His broad arms rested against the bar with his hands clasped together while he rubbed his thumb against the edge of his front canine. Charlotte briefly envisioned her lips replacing his thumb before blushing. He seemed to know her every thought as his smile widened and his solo cheek dimple deepened.

  “I’m curious. You own your own business. You’re smart, pretty. What’s the old life missing?” he asked.

  “Excitement!” she blurted. Actually a husband.

  “Well this may not be too exciting but what about joining me for a late night breakfast?”

  Her immediate reaction was absolutely not. She would be crazy to go somewhere at this hour with a stranger, although a very attractive one. Then she remembered. She was thirty years old. She wanted to be married and the traditional route had failed to work for her.

  “All right,” she said hesitantly. “What’s open at this hour?”

  She didn’t quite foresee true love at the national chain pancake house that advertised a huge caloric breakfast for $3.99 but she remained open to the possibility.

  “There’s this great little place on the wharf that stays open all night. Best coffee and pastries you’ll ever have,” he said. His words were as smooth as his lips appeared.

  Wharf, she thought. Water. Instinctively, she was reserved. She reminded herself that her new life was all about adventure and his velvet-like voice was enticing.

  “The wharf? At the lake?” she asked. She didn’t know any place like that at nearby Lake Norman or Lake Wylie.

  This time he leaned in closer to her as if to whisper a best kept secret.

  “Nah, you have to go to the coast for the good stuff,” he said. “Charleston.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s a little over three hours!”

  “I know, I know,” he assured her as he cupped her hand between his. “I’m inviting the new life to go with me.”

  That’s all he needed to say to remind Charlotte that her future would involve taking risks. Before, she would have never gone to a bar by herself, much less made an impromptu trip to Charleston in the middle of the night. She rationalized that since he’d worked at Victor’s for two years, it wasn’t like he was some fly-by-night bartender.

  “Okay,” she said as her leg wobbled off the barstool again. She slid off with a sloppy finish before gaining her balance. “Let’s go!”

  * ~ *

  Chapter Five: A New Adventure

  The drive in Stefan’s older convertible heightened the excitement of the midnight rendezvous from Charlotte to Charleston. Leaving the city, the cool air dampened Charlotte’s face with a mist of revelation. She was elated to feel so alive and surprised at how easy it was for her to talk with Stefan about anything. He was a great listener and interested in every aspect of her life.

  In turn, Charlotte learned more about Stefan. An orphan as a young teen, he grew up earning his keep as a dishwasher for a bed & breakfast located on the Mississippi Gulf coast. He bounced around a few more coastal towns throughout the years before taking the job with Victor.

  Although Stefan was only five years older than Charlotte, his knowledge was greater. She marveled how he could speak in such detail about events. To hear him retell Martin Luther King’s visit to Biloxi, one would have thought he’d actually been there. He was definitely wise beyond his years and she found herself thinking that she could learn from him.

  As she completed her mental list of suitable characteristics for a mate, she discovered Stefan had been baptized in the Catholic Church, considered himself spiritual but not religious, wanted children sometime in the future, desired at succeeding in business and enjoyed music. Since he was steadily employed, she summarized that he checked out okay.

  By the time they entered the port city of Charleston, the landscape had broadened with the inclusion of expansive oak trees dripping with Spanish moss and soaring Palmetto trees masked by the night fog. South Carolina’s state motto held true: Smiling faces, beautiful places. Although it was well past midnight, there was a fair amount of activity along the pre-dawn, cobbled waterfront streets.

  * ~ *

  Stefan knew the trip was a big step for Charlotte. How many sensible young women left a bar with a complete stranger? She’d probably endured too many boring boyfriends who took her good nature for granted, he thought as he glanced her way and caught how she pressed her lips inward. Her apprehensiveness pleased him. Intoxicated by the thought of mortal love, he knew with Charlotte, he was closer than ever. He vowed to give love a try – although the restrictions of his existence deemed otherwise.

  Charlotte had never seen Charleston as vibrantly as she did now. Streetlights illuminated the buildings’ pastel hues of dusty pink, robin egg blue and pale yellow, and the detailed touches of the architecture added to the night’s dreamy setting.

  Along the harbor walk, gas lanterns glowed with effervescence contagious to Charlotte’s new attitude on life. Just one look at Stefan convinced her that things had changed for the better. His chiseled face and molten sapphire-colored eyes accented his best feature: a dazzling smile encased with perfect-shaped lips. The combination was unusual. Charlotte thought more like out of this world.

  “What do you think?” His gaze practically seeped into the pupils of her own eyes as he unfurled his arm towards the building in front of them.

  She took a closer look at Celine’s, the non-descript café by the water. From the outside, its walls were smooth and tan with a whisper of ocean blue paint accenting the door’s edges and window frames. A simple logo in script Celine’s was painted above the door in the same shade of blue. No flash or pizzazz inside; nothing to make it trendy-looking old because it didn’t need the pretense. It was old. Clean, but old. Off-white Formica tabletops and vinyl covered chairs, a little worn but probably refurbished at least once during the years, were a platform for plain white dinnerware and sturdy flatware. Blue-checkered napkins were the only accent color amid a palette of putty, white, brown, gray and steel unless the pink packets of sugar substitute counted.

  When Stefan told her that Celine’s had the best coffee and pastries, he hadn’t exaggerated. The coffee came in one flavor: Celine’s.

  Another new patron made the mistake of ordering a decaf non-fat latte and Charlotte was privy to overhear the repercussions. Celine’s, the customer was informed, serves the very best coffee in the South. Hand selected, hand roasted in the back, there was no need for foam, steam or any other fancy topping because the coffee was too good for any type of interference. Fresh cream was
okay if necessary and decaf served begrudgingly.

  By the time their server came to the table, Charlotte knew to order coffee with a little cream on the side.

  If the history of the coffee was one lesson, the pastries were another. Made onsite by Celine, the owner, there was an assortment of fried pies, éclairs, croissants and the norm. But what distinguished Celine’s pastries from others is that they were laden with ingredients both light and heavy in taste. The flaky crusts were delicate but not tasteless and the fillings were a warm concoction of flavors so indulgent that each bite was to savor.

  Upon remembering that she’d missed her birthday cake, Charlotte felt justified in having a slice of coconut pie with the black magic brew. Absorbed in epicurean heaven, she scarcely noticed that Stefan hadn’t touched his coffee or ordered a pastry. No wonder his physique was that of an Adonis statue. Charlotte was impressed with his discipline.

  After delighting in the tastes of Celine’s, they embarked upon a lengthy stroll along the historic Charleston waterfront. Like Celine’s pastry fillings, the air was heavy while sounds of the harbor played like an all-night symphony to Charlotte and Stefan who opened their hearts to one another during the wee hours.

  At least Charlotte opened her heart. She covered birth to age twelve, and then skipped a few grades before wrapping up high school. Because Stefan revealed that he had been an orphan, she was reluctant to share stories of her dad and focused more on her college studies and work. Stefan, she learned, had always been fascinated with the restaurant business and gravitated to making it a career over the years.

  She yearned to ask more but something inside told her that it may be painful for him to discuss the past so they stuck to contemporary subjects like politics, movies, music, work and everything but religion. Again, Charlotte avoided the subject instinctively. She’d left her boyfriend and parents only hours before and didn’t exactly feel like dredging up the guilt that would come with knowing how worried they probably were.