For the Love of Giving
Chapter One
by Laura Smith
Copyright ©2009
Vanessa McMinnen shivered in her thin coat, her cane held tight in her hands, as she waited for the bus to stop. Outside, snow fell at an alarming rate, blanketing the streets and obscuring everyone’s vision. She heard the driver muttering under his breath, his voice tight with frustration and a tiny thread of fear. It was not a good night to be out.
Wiggling her toes in her ragged shoes, she tried to beat warmth back into her feet before the bus stopped for her. Her jeans were still wet from standing at the bus terminal and they chafed against her skin. She was wearing every shirt she owned, and she could still feel the bite of the cold. Her already painfully hard nipples now felt as if they were about to crack. It was just too cold, and her stupid self was out in the weather doing a fool’s errand because she’d gotten a thick wad of cash and a tape of instructions in the mail.
But she needed the cash. She was three months behind on her rent, and the electric company was threatening to shut off her power. She’d die if she didn’t have any heat, so she’d taken the money to pay off her outstanding bills and stock her shelves with much needed food. That afternoon was the first time in a long time that she’d had something besides Top Ramen, reigning food of the poor.
The instructions were simple. Go to an address, knock on the door, and tell the person at home that he was invited to a Christmas party. All easy to do. The hard part, and this was stressed in the taped recording, was that she couldn’t leave until he agreed. She was to get his RSVP by any means necessary.
She had no idea how she was going to be able to do that. Her frozen mind couldn’t even imagine situations in which she would need “any means necessary” for a Christmas party. All she could think, as she remembered those three words was that it must be some wicked party.
The bus began to slow and skid on the snowy street. The driver cursed, but brought the rig to a safe stop.
“All right, lady,” he snapped.
Nessa turned to him and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“Whatever,” he mumbled as she carefully stepped down to the street.
She shook violently as the bus drove away and the cold washed over her. She wouldn’t have believed it, but the old bus had been warmer. Snow came up past her ankles and flooded through her shoes via holes and crevasses. Her feet were quickly numb.
Her cane was useless to her in snow so thick. She’d never gotten the hang of using it, anyway. Stepping carefully, her cane outstretched to tap against the hidden buildings in the snow, she felt her way to the brick wall. Huddled there, she pulled the tape recorder from her jacket pocket and pressed play.
The soothing baritone sounded from the decades old speakers that gave the message a cracking and aged hum. “Once you get off the bus, walk straight down the street until you reach the third building. There will be steps up to a door. On your left will be a list of names along with buzzers. You want the far right column, three buttons down. Say you are delivering a package.”
Nessa stopped the tape. She ran her hand along the brick wall, feeling building, alley, building, alley, and building. She tripped over the stairs and her knees cracked onto a step. She cried out and it echoed back at her. Biting her lip, she pushed herself to her feet and limped up the stairs.
She felt for the buzzers and counted over and down until she hit the right one.
“Yes?” a man answered irritably.
Her chattering teeth made her stutter as she leaned close to the wall. “I-I-I’m he-he-here to d-d-deliv--“
“Yes, fine!”
The door buzzed and she reached out quickly and stumbled inside.
"I don't know what I ordered to make anyone come out in this weather."
Nessa lifted her head as she stomped her numb feet. "I-I-I--"
"Yes, yes, that can wait. Come on up here and let's get you warmed up before I send you back out in that."
She took a step forward and collapsed as her numb foot refused to hold her. She cried out again, the tape recorder falling to the ground with a crunch and her cane was sent flying. Before she could push herself up, hands gripped her shoulders.
"Are you all right?"
She turned towards him, surprised at how quickly he was beside her. She could've sworn he was up the stairs, but here he was kneeling next to her and she hadn't heard him come down. A nod was the best she could do as she gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering.
"Stay where you are and I'll get these."
She listened to his steps echo as he gathered up her fallen cane and now broken tape recorder.
"This is an interesting cane," he said as he helped her to her feet. When she started to stumble again, he lifted her into his arms, easily carrying her and her things.
"I-I'm b-bl-blind-d." Her body shook harder now that she could feel warmth seeping through her clothes from his chest.
"Of course, you are," he said under his breath before addressing her, "You're not here to deliver anything."
It wasn't a question. She shook her head.
A long sigh expanded his chest and she rose with it. "Father."
Nessa clinched her hands together and blew on them. That one word, spoken harshly and with great impatience, summed up her own experiences with that particular parent. Fathers, on a whole, were an inconvenience to be avoided, if not hated. Her own paternal unit had been a cold, unforgiving man. He had treated Nessa with indifference and most of her views on what little she could do because of her disability came from him.
Her mother had been the supportive and loving parent and it had destroyed Nessa when she had passed away from cancer.
The man carrying her kicked open a door and stepped into a blissfully hot room. She could feel the heat like a prickly pain all along her limbs and she bit her lip on a moan.
He set her down on a couch, a crackling fire warming her. Soft music played, too low to discern anything but percussion. He lightly placed her cane into her hand before striding away.
"I'll find you some dry clothes. You'll need to get out of…what you're wearing."
Nessa turned at the pause in his voice and then placed a hand on her stomach, feeling the old cotton tee. The cloth was thin and there was a hole almost as a big as her palm near the hem. She had forgotten that it was there. When she had gotten dressed, she had just put all of her shirts on. She hadn't checked them so that her less holey ones were on top.
A blush burned at her cheeks as he went away. She must look like a beggar in her ragged, old clothes. She couldn't even remember if she'd brushed her hair before going out. Her hand reached up and she touched coarse snarls instead of curls. She hadn't brushed.
"I put some clothes in the bathroom. You can change in there."
Her hand dropped as he came back into the room. He lightly touched her shoulder and she automatically lifted her arm to be led. The habit to let someone else guide her everywhere she needed to go had been a hard one to break. As frustrating as it had been to be so dependent on another, it had also been freeing, and when she was in unfamiliar surroundings with a body she couldn't quite control at the moment, it was just easier to let the stranger take her elbow.
"I need t-to talk to you," she said as he put her hand on his shoulder.
"Later, we'll first attend to you."
"There's no n-need. I just have to go out in-n it again," she said.
His hair brushed her knuckles as he shook his head. "What kind of person would I be to let you travel in that?"
"You were going to have me drop off my delivery and send me back out," she reminded him sourly.
He made a soft laughing sound. "My father didn't tell you much." He took her hand from his shoulder and put it on the doorjamb. "There's a towel next to the sink. If you wish, you can shower first."
She pulled her brows together in a frown. "Just what do you think I'm here to do?"
"What do you think you're here to do?" he asked, turning the question back on her.
She lifted her chin. "I'm here to tell you that you are invited home for a Christmas party and I'm not to leave until you say yes."
"And how are you going to get me to say yes?"
"Why do you want to say no?" she retorted, smugly.
"Do you like tea? I'll brew a pot while you get changed." He walked away and Nessa could feel the humor radiating off of him. She scowled and bit down on the childish urge to stick out her tongue at his back. She also felt like calling out that she hated tea, but in all honesty she had yet to come across a cup she didn't like. It was coffee she couldn't stand. Wanting to be churlish, she stamped her foot and wished he had asked if she liked coffee just so she could tell him no.
She went into the bathroom and locked the door. Quickly disrobing, she put her wet freezing clothes on the toilet. Her skin felt clammy and her hair fell about her shoulders like icicles. As much as she didn't want to follow that man's suggestion for a shower, she knew it would be the fastest way to warm up. She took one quickly, just long enough to melt the ice from her hair and get rid of the sickly feel to her skin.
Finished, her hands reached back for the counter and the towel waiting there. Her fingers dipped into the fluffiest, softest fabric. She gasped and brought the towel to her cheek. It unfolded across her shoulder and the hem brushed her knee. It was heavy and felt like it could be a blanket.
The sound of a kettle whistling brought her back to where she was and she quickly dried her body before toweling her hair. She let it drop to the floor and reached out again to the counter to get the clothes. She picked up a silk blouse and a heavy denim skirt and refused to let herself wonder how she looked in them.
Collecting her cane, she walked back out of the bathroom. She held out her cane and walked back the way he had led her.
"Ah. There's color in your cheeks and your lips aren't so blue anymore."
Nessa bit at her lip. "Thank you for the use of your shower. Will your wife mind if I use her clothes?"
"I'm not married." He took her hand and guided her back to the couch.
"Girlfriend, then," she said as she sat.
"I'm single. Those clothes belonged to a girl my brother brought over one day some years back. I don't know why I kept them, but I'm glad I did."
Nessa found herself blushing and she fiddled with her cane.
"How do you take your tea?" he asked.
"Plain, thank you." She took the saucer that he pressed into her hand and she let it rest on her knee. "I'm Nessa."
"Hello, Nessa. I am called Leo." The cushions of the couch shifted as he sat back.
The room fell quiet all except for the popping of the fire. Nessa could feel his eyes on her and sensed that he was content to just stare at her. She tapped her thumb against her cane in nervousness. "You turned your music off."
"Yes. Not everyone appreciates the finesse and intricate art of Snoop Dog."
Her lips moved as she mouthed 'Snoop Dog' and then she shook her head. "Leo, will you go to the Christmas party?"
He sighed, as if bored. "No."
"Why not?"
"Why should I?"
"Your father is inviting you, right? Well, then it would be the perfect time to go and see your family." Just because she didn't like her father, didn't mean everyone didn’t like theirs.
"My family can do without me."
She scowled. "Do you have something else you need to be doing?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. I have my work."
Her scowl deepened and she turned towards him, hearing humor in his voice. "Do you, or are you just making that up?"
He laughed softly. "No, I haven't lied to you. If you could see, you would see my studio is littered with canvases and half finished statues."
She shrugged. "Do you have a deadline that you are trying to meet?"
"No. I am, in fact, in a rut." The couch shifted as he stood and walked away. There was a whoosh as a sheet was pulled away and then a slap as he smacked his palm against stone. "I have been unable to dredge up any enthusiasm for anything I've started. I don't hate them yet, but the more I gaze on these hunks of stone and blobs of paint, the more I feel like rending them to dust."
She nodded. "A good reason to get out and renew yourself. Go to the party and come back refreshed."
"I am not in the holiday spirit. I want to do nothing more than remain cloistered here until I can at last make something that comes half way to pleasing me," he said in mild frustration. "How much did my father pay you?"
Reaching out her cane to find a coffee table, she put down her tea. "It doesn't matter how much. It's spent."
"Ah."
She bit her lip as her hands ran over her cane, thinking how best to convince him. "What will it take to make you say yes?" she asked. Might as well do this directly. She was never very good with subtle.
"How far are you willing to go?"
She turned her head with a jerk as his voice came from behind her. She hadn't heard him move. It unnerved her a little that he could move so quietly that she couldn't hear him, couldn't track where he was going and what he was doing.
Then her mind went over his question. "I'm not a whore," she said quickly.
"Prostitution is illegal in every state of the Union except Nevada," he said laughingly. "I have never understood why women immediately assume that sex is the only thing a man wants from them."
She turned her head to the other side as she listened to his voice move around behind her. "What do you want then?"
"Your body," he said.
Her brow wrinkled as she shook her head. "Hang on. You just said that you--"
"I'm an artist, Nessa," he gently reminded her and she felt a small trill along her spine as he spoke her name. "You have a beautiful profile."
The tips of his fingers touched her chin and she jerked back. She thought she could feel him next to her, his hand still extended to touch her, waiting for her to accept it. Slowly, she leaned forward again. His fingers ran along the curve of her jaw, his thumb brushing over her lips, and then up along the bridge of her nose.
"When you looked up at me after you fell, I knew that I wanted to sketch you, to immortalize you in stone." He gave a small, bitter laugh. "Leave it to my father to find the one person in millions who could stir my artist's soul."
Nessa held her breath. He spoke so reverently, as if he were talking about a priceless artifact, as if she was a treasure. A shiver ran through her, but it had nothing to do with the cold outside. She barely knew the man and he had her emotions going from one extreme to the other so quickly that she felt dizzy. No one had ever affected her that way.
"Leo," she said breathlessly.
His hand whipped away and he was gone. She felt the lack instantly. Although only his fingers had touched her, the side he had been on suddenly felt cold and she rubbed at her arm. She turned her head to try to hear him, to find him in the room, but she might as well be alone.
"So--" She swallowed as her voice squeaked and tried again. "So, I let you sketch me once and you'll go to the Christmas party?"
"Once?"
Nessa took a deep breath in relief as she pinpointed him on her other side and turned to him. "Yes. One sketch for one party."
"It will take more than one sketch for me to be satisfied. No, I don't propose a trade of sketch for party."
Trying not to growl in frustration, she scowled at him. "Then--"
"I want to hire you as a model, starting immediately." There was a pause as her jaw dropped. "The snow is beginning to let up. Perhaps it will be safe to go out by midnight. That will have to do for now."
"Wait, what?" She sucked in a breath, clutching at her cane with her hands. "You want to hire me?"
"I can pay you better than any job you already have and I am willing to give you an advance. I will demand strict hours, but I will more than make up for it with benefits. Health, dental, anything you may need…. Retirement." He paused and she leaned her forehead against her cane.
Her head was spinning. Just last evening she was curled in her tiny apartment, timing how long she could have the heat on compared to how much she would have to pay for it and listening to her stomach growl. She was unemployed, had been since her job was exported overseas, and her social security checks had dwindled greatly after she had turned twenty-one. She had been thrilled to receive the money that morning. It delayed her eviction long enough for her to hopefully get a job. She had thought to go back to Disabled Services to ask for help in her search, but she never would have dreamed of starting a career as a model!
"I will, of course, pay for wardrobe, your commute, as well as travel expenses when we go to any of my other homes."
Her head jerked up. "Other homes?"
"Mmm, the flora of Argentina would be exquisite with your coloring."
"Argentina?" she echoed, stupidly. She shook her head hard. "What about the party? Are you going?"
"If you take the job," Leo said.
Her cane creaked as her hands squeezed it and she had a hard time catching her breath. "How much pay are we talking about?"
"Let's haggle."
Leo's hand sped across the page of his art pad as he sketched. His eyes remained fixed on Nessa as she slept on the couch, her cheek resting on her arm and her other hand tucked childlike under her chin. Her wild hair fanned out over the cushion in a black web. The peach colored blouse was a little big on her, but the long length denim skirt was perfect as it hugged her hips and thighs before flowing around her knees and calves. Two small feet were buried under the cushions for cover and warmth.
It took less than a minute to finish his sketch and he smiled down at the pencil drawing that was her likeness. He had seen more beautiful women over the years, but none that had ever attracted and held his eye. There was an aura around her, a sense that was both sensual woman and innocent child. Every move she made was grace and her face was an open book. She was the perfect model, a challenge and deviation from his usual macabre.
His cell phone buzzed and he tossed his pad aside as he reached into his pant pocket. He smiled as he recognized Harold's number and answered it. "Father."
"Son. Do I have an answer?"
Leo leaned back in his chair as he turned his gaze back to his guest. "You may ready two more rooms for the holiday."
"Two?"
His smile widened. "You knew I would not be able to resist."
Deep laughter came over the line, a copy of Leo's own just an octave lower. "S'truth, but I didn't intend for you to bring her. Have you tasted her yet?"
Leo tensed slightly. "Should I?"
"Relax, son, I haven't touched her. I knew Vanessa's mother and have kept an eye on the daughter. I've tried to give her a helping hand from time to time, but she never knew it was me." Harold sucked in a deep breath. "You may want to get here early. I don't like the scent on the air."
"As soon as she's packed," he said in farewell and turned off his phone.
He got to his feet and walked behind his couch to look down at Nessa. She was one of Harold's projects. He should have known. It didn't change anything, but it seemed clichéd that Harold would be bringing together one of his projects with his son, accidental as it was. It was something right out of a romance novel.
Leaning over the couch, he lightly touched his fingers to her brow. He traced over the black arches over her closed eyes to the vein in her temple. He felt the pulse of her blood flow and tuned his hearing to her heartbeat. It had been too long since he had used his gifts and with the rush of awareness came the thirst.
Leo's lips pulled back away from his teeth and the fangs that were painfully pushing from his gums. He straightened and turned away from her. He needed air and he quickly went out onto the fire escape. The cold didn't bother him and he gazed down into the white alleyway below.
His large studio apartment was on the top floor of the ghetto-like building, but he gave that no thought as he climbed up onto the railing of the fire escape and stepped off into the air. He landed with little sound, only the crunch of the snow beneath his feet, and he slid his hands into his pockets before setting off.
There was little sound in the city besides the wind and his own footfalls. But he didn't need to hunt. Since vampirism had first been romanticized, there had been plenty of willing subjects. He walked by memory to the underground club. Though he was hardly dressed for the Goth culture in his turtleneck and slacks, the guard at the door stepped aside to let him in without question.
Leo didn't pause as badly mixed techno assaulted his ears and the strobe lights flickered, turning the writhing, dancing bodies into an obscenity. He continued calmly to the back and stepped into the private rooms where young idiots made believe and bit each other. Here, he paused. His gaze traveled over the people until he found somebody alone.
She gazed back at him with what he thought was supposed to be a sultry stare and sensual smile. There was the glint of light off of the false fangs on her teeth. He didn't say anything, made no move, but she stood and came to him as if he had called to her. She held out her hand and he took it, bending over it gallantly before turning it over and lightly touching his lips to her wrist.
Her smile widened.
He bit, breaking the skin and suckling on the sweet copper of her blood.
She gasped and her eyes closed in pleasure. He could hear her heart speed up and she swayed on her feet. The thirst that had brought him to the vampire wannabe club slaked and disappeared. He ran his tongue over the puncture marks, sealing the wounds with his saliva, and straightened.
She opened her eyes, but he was already gone, back out into the snow and back to the woman he really wanted, sleeping in his apartment.
To Be Continued...
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