Fangs But No Fangs

CHAPTER 10

Was she ever going to have a night when she didn't come to work obsessing about something? Jolee finished putting the change in the register, washed her hands, and then started filling metal buckets with peanuts from a large plastic tub under the bar. But the task didn't get her overactive mind off her current fixation.

Christian's kiss.

Why had he kissed her? And why had she allowed herself to react? She'd known, from the moment she moved into her trailer, he had to be in some sort of trouble. The car, the clothes, all of it screamed something wasn't right. But last night, she'd let herself forget. All because of a pretty face and a few good deeds. And a kiss.

She sighed. God, that kiss.

See, that was why she was in this mess. But she wasn't even going to ask him about the kiss when she saw him again, because they had to discuss something more important. His addiction. If he was an addict, he needed friends. She believed that. But he needed help more. She was willing to do what she could. Although she knew from Vance that she couldn't help him unless he wanted it.

Last night, as she hadn't been able to sleep, she realized what the list was on his fridge. A twelve-step program. She hadn't put that together at the time. She didn't understand why he titled it "Being Human." But she did know that was what it was.

So he seemed to already want help. And she would offer any help she could. But she wasn't going to be involved with him in a romantic way.

Involved with him. She didn't even know if that was what the kiss meant. It could have been simply a kiss designed to show her she was an attractive woman.

She paused, a fistful of peanuts forgotten in her hand. How would he kiss if he was actually into her? Her poor heart couldn't handle even the thought.

She blinked, frowned at the peanuts, then dropped them in the bucket. Hadn't she just told herself she wasn't going to get involved? No more thinking about kisses. She picked up the tray now loaded with filled buckets and started distributing them to the tables. Glancing at the door, she wondered if it was going to be another busy night.

Then she wondered if Christian would stop by. She told herself it was best if he didn't, but that didn't stop her from hoping he would. She couldn't talk to him here, but at least she could see how he looked and how he acted.

The back door opened, causing Jolee to jump.

"Sorry," Jed rasped. "I didn't mean to scare you."

She smiled. "You caught me daydreaming."

Jed gave her a knowing smile as though he knew exactly who she was daydreaming about, then he headed to his usual barstool.

"How's the arm?"

"Much better," she told him. It was still stiff, but overall, she felt pretty good.

She glanced at her watch. It was five, and she crossed to flip on the «Open» sign and unlock the front door. She opened this early for the happy hour crowd, which she hadn't actually gotten yet. But she was ever hopeful. Then she went around putting up all the windows. It was a warm evening, and she didn't have air conditioning. Well, she did, but that was on the fritz when she bought the place. Another expense to deal with, later.

"Well, let's hope tonight is like last night," she said, going to the bar to pour Jed a beer and herself a glass of ice water. She took a long sip, then sighed.

Then she looked at the closed door.

By 8:30 P.M., Jolee was starting to consider two possibilities. The bar wasn't going to be as busy as last night, not even close. And she was starting to doubt whether Christian would stop by. Maybe he was embarrassed to see her. Maybe he was unwell. She tried to tell herself his absence was just as well. Herself didn't buy it.

She filled a mug for Dale, one of her half a dozen or so patrons, and strolled down the bar to place the beer in front of him.

"Slow night," he commented.

"Yep, should have been here last night. It was hopping."

"Well, it's early yet."

She nodded. It was Friday night; it should be much busier than a Thursday night.

With everyone set with drinks, she left the bar to wander to the jukebox. She sighed, dropped a quarter from her apron in the slot, and then punched in «Sundown» by Gordon Lightfoot. The tune seemed appropriate as she watched the light fade to black outside the window. She meandered back to the bar, taking a seat next to Jed. Well, this wasn't the first long, profitless night they'd shared, and she guessed it wouldn't be the last. She'd been too quick to hope the bar's business was changing.

Just like she'd been too quick to be attracted to Christian. She didn't think she was a reckless person. As she glanced at her dead bar, and longed to see someone who was probably very bad news, she decided she might be misjudging herself. She glanced over to the booth where the karaoke waited silently. She had a huge selection of songs, and even without people to sing them, the music would be a nice change from the jukebox. She'd heard every song on that old machine at least twenty times.

She slid off her barstool and walked over to the booth. The sound system was elaborate, with three different CD players and knobs and buttons that ran the monitors and speakers. She pushed the «on» switch and the system hummed to life. She then flipped through the books of CDs. Country, rock, disco, even gospel. You name it, she had it.

Well, nothing released within the past six months, because she didn't have the funds to keep the lists updated, but still hundreds of choices. She picked out one, a Neil Diamond classic, and more importantly, a song she didn't have on her jukebox. She put the CD in and pressed the play button, then adjusted the volume. "Crackling Rosie" began, upbeat and fun. The lyrics appeared up on the screens, clear and crisp. The few patrons turned from the bar to look at her and then to the screens. Reading along.

She smiled at everyone and shrugged. "Just thought I'd see how it's working."

The bar was slow enough that she could probably run back and forth to play songs and serve drinks. At least it would keep her mind occupied. She was tired of her thoughts tonight. She fixed the microphone, attaching it to the stand beside her in the booth. And she plugged the socket into an outlet marked «microphone» with red labeling tape.

The microphone shrieked to life, the deafening, high-pitched noise making her and everyone else jump. Jolee quickly brought it out of the booth away from the other equipment.

"Sorry." She winced as she placed the stand on the stage.

The Neil Diamond song ended, and she picked another. An old country song she remembered from her childhood, also not on the jukebox. Then she went back to the bar, taking three of the karaoke songbooks with her.

She placed one near Dale and another farther down the bar.

Then she walked over to another of her regulars, an odd little man who came to have his pitcher of beer every Friday and Saturday night. He never spoke, except to place his order, then he sat in the corner, watching the other patrons. She put a book on his table.

"If you feel the urge to sing a little something," she explained.

He just stared at her with his slightly bulging dark eyes. Then he nodded, and that was the end of the conversation. She smiled to herself as she walked away. He might be odd, but he was loyal.

She checked drinks, and then went back to put on another song. The songs did sound a little strange, since they were just the music without the main vocals, but she didn't mind and neither did the patrons. They read along with the lyrics, and looked content to do so. The music certainly lifted her spirits. She wasn't achieving quite the atmosphere she wanted, but it was closer.

"Do you sing?" Dale asked as she came by to check his beer.

She hesitated. Wasn't that why she'd wanted this particular bar? Wasn't it her way of fulfilling a dream that was too far out of her reach?

"I do," she admitted, though it was difficult. She loved to sing, but she still heard the voices from the past telling her she wasn't good enough.

"Sing us something, Jolee girl. You should be the first one to break that contraption back in." Jed nodded for her to go on up.

Her gaze roamed from one customer to the next. They all watched her with encouragement in their eyes, even the odd, quiet man at his table in the corner.

She smiled nervously, but went back to the booth.

What did a person sing for the very first song in her own bar? She flipped through the CDs, nothing jumping out at her. Then she saw a song. Not necessarily a song she'd normally pick, although she knew it well and liked it. And the lyrics seemed to fit how she felt tonight.

She slid the CD out of the plastic sleeve. "The Game of Love" by Santana, featuring Michelle Branch. Maybe not the classic she thought she'd sing, but why not? Maybe it would be therapeutic in some way.

A song about a woman's confusion with love, and how one situation with her man leads to another more complicated situation. Very appropriate, given every time she and Christian were together the relationship seemed to change and become something very different than either of them planned.

She placed the CD in the player, then left the security of the booth to stand before the small group at the microphone stand.

She breathed in, trying to calm her nerves. This was what she'd hoped to do from time to time as she ran the place. She loved to sing.

The intro started and her fingers shook as she held the mic. The words appeared on the monitor. She glanced at the customers in front of her, then she started, her voice warbling on the first lyrics.

The music was upbeat with Carlos Santana's distinctive guitar rifts. She liked the beat and eventually she was lost in the music, rather than her nerves. By the first chorus, her voice rang out with more strength and confidence.

She stopped watching the lyrics, and allowed herself to look at her tiny audience. Jed tapped his fingers on the bar. Dale grinned and nodded. The two guys playing pool leaned on their sticks and watched. Even her reticent patron in the corner tapped his sneaker-clad toe.

She smiled, feeling wonderful.

By the middle of the song, her confidence soared, she sang the lyrics with feeling, shimmying with the beat. She felt better than she had in days. Well, aside from the breathless, incredible moments when her lips had been pressed to Christian's. But she knew after this song was done, she wouldn't feel confused and deserted and irritated with herself.

After the bridge, she glanced up at the monitors to be sure she started in the right place. The words scrolled out in front of her and she sang along. She looked back at the room, a dramatically pleading look on her face as she questioned why her love didn't come see her anymore. But she didn't see her supportive audience. She only saw him.

Christian stood in the doorway, a bemused look on his face, his eyes locking with hers.

Christian had heard the singing as he stepped out of his car, a mellow and mesmerizing voice. He didn't recognize the song, but something about the voice was so familiar, so transfixing. Still, he'd been stunned when he opened the bar door and saw Jolee on the small stage at the end of the room, singing as though she'd done so for years.

She faltered just slightly when she spotted him, but she recovered and finished the song. The few patrons clapped and cheered. Instead of coming over to him, she placed the microphone back in the stand and went to the booth. She didn't look in his direction as she busied herself with the equipment.

He frowned, wondering why. Was she upset because of the kiss? He suspected she might be. He'd said he wanted friendship, then he'd kissed her. His actions would have confused him, too, if he didn't know his erratic behavior was caused by blood lust rather than regular lust.

Now that was satisfied, and he could behave like a normal— vampire. He grimaced slightly. Normal vampire, that was an oxymoron, wasn't it? Well, he could act marginally normal anyway.

He nodded at Jed, who sat on his usual barstool, his customary cigarette hanging from his lips and dangerously close to his bushy beard. The old man nodded back with a shrewd glint in his blue eyes. What did the old guy think he knew? Christian didn't stop to ask, continuing straight to Jolee.

"Hi," he greeted her, amazed at the peace he felt just being near her.

"Hi," she said. Her cheeks were flushed, and he knew the blush wasn't solely from the thrill of performing. Why would she be embarrassed? She had a…

"You have a beautiful voice," he told her as the thought completed in his own head. "I shouldn't be surprised; you have such a pretty speaking voice."

She glanced up at him, the blush along her cheekbones turning rosier. "Thank you."

He smiled. She looked pretty tonight too, her thick, dark red hair pulled into a loose bun at the back of her head. Several tendrils had escaped and clung to the graceful length of her pale neck. Her green T-shirt was snug, showing the narrow curve of her shoulders and the swell of her breasts.

He frowned, confused as to why he would still notice such things. Plenty of blood hummed in his veins. He should be back to himself. The self that wouldn't be distracted by a mortal's appearance.

She put another CD in the player, then exited the booth. She moved carefully around him so her body made no contact with his. So they were back to this, he thought, disappointed by her distance. Although he should be glad. After all, he didn't want her upset because she thought he was interested in a romance. That would be awkward.

He followed her behind the bar, and she whirled around when she realized that he was there. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you."

"What? Why?"

"Because you need the help."

She glanced around at the practically deserted room, then raised an arced brow. "I think I can handle the rush."

He had to admit the bar's patronage tonight was a far cry from last night, but she did need the help.

"You need someone here, if for no other reason than security."

She bristled at that, coming to her full height, which brought her level with his nose. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the length of the bar to the far end where the other patrons couldn't easily hear them.

"I can handle things here just fine. I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

He didn't doubt that— although he did wonder how she'd made it as long as she had unharmed. She had this desire to trust people. The need was there, warm and gentle, in her dark eyes.

"But you do seem to have a number of shady men showing up on a regular basis," he pointed out, ignoring the fact that he might fit that description, too.

She narrowed her eyes. "Only two, and I could have handled them if you hadn't been here."

He hoped so. He hated to think of what might have happened with either man, if he hadn't been there.

He nodded but crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't leaving.

"Plus I do have Jed here every night." She gestured to the elderly man. Jed leaned on the bar, his chin propped on his hand, and he appeared to be dozing. A cigarette still dangled from his lips.

"I don't think Jed's going to be much help unless the troublemaker gets close enough to him for Jed to burn the guy with his cigarette."

She gave Christian a disapproving scowl, but then stepped over to pluck the burning cigarette from the old man's mouth.

Jed jumped, and Jolee crushed out the end in the ashtray.

"You need to be careful with those," she warned.

Jed grunted, taking a sip of his beer as if nothing had happened.

She came back to Christian, the stern yet caring look she'd used on Jed replaced by a determined frown. "You are not working here. First of all, I can't afford to pay you."

"I don't need money," Christian stated easily.

"And secondly, I know about your problem."

Christian froze. She knew his problem? That he was a vampire? Impossible. He hadn't lost complete control during his bouts of attraction to her. She couldn't have seen anything.

"What problem?" he asked.

"You look much better today," she said quietly, "but I know you're using drugs. I can't have an addict working for me."

Drugs? An addict? He wasn't an add—

Well, if she'd seen him last night, she'd sure think he had some sort of addiction as he slinked through the hospital in search of the blood bank. He'd definitely looked like someone who needed a fix. Especially when his shape-shifting ability had failed him, and he changed from shadow into solid form with a bag of B negative hanging out of his mouth. He shouldn't have attempted using his powers in his weakened state.

Fortunately the janitor who'd spotted him had his own drinking problem. He'd just groped in his pocket for his flask, taken a swig, and hurried on. But if that wasn't risking all to feed an addiction, then he didn't know what was. But he wasn't the type of addict she suspected. Of course, blood addiction wasn't generally anyone's first guess.

"I don't use drugs. I never have." Okay, there was an incident in an opium den in China, but that was more than 150 years ago, so that really didn't count now.

She regarded him closely, skepticism still narrowing her eyes. "So why did you look so pale and shaky last night?"

"I hadn't eaten."

Her unconvinced expression stated that she thought that was a lame excuse. Ah, but ironically the truth.

"So you were just hungry?"

Just hungry didn't quite do justice to preternatural hunger, but it was going to have to do.

"I'm— " He struggled to find the right term. "Hypoglycemic." Thank you, St. Elsewhere.

"A sudden drop in blood sugar makes you that pale and disoriented?"

Why did he have the feeling she wanted to use a more descriptive word than disoriented? Deranged, perhaps.

"Yes," he said. Drop in blood sugar, drop in blood. Close enough.