Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Colletion_ Books 11-15 - Laurell K. Hamilton [914]
“Yeah, I do. They’ll think of you as a stripper named Nicky and that’s it. You won’t be anything or any more to them than that.”
“Strangely disturbing, but why Nicky, why that name?”
“Because I knew I’d remember it.”
“Remember it, why?”
“Because it was my name when I did porn.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“Nicky Brandon is the name I used when I did movies.”
I did the long blink, the one that meant I was thinking hard, or too surprised to think. “You gave me your pornography name?”
“Half of it,” he said.
I didn’t know what to say. Was I supposed to be flattered, or insulted? “I declare this fight over until I figure out if we’re actually fighting.”
“Trust me, Anita, this isn’t a fight.”
“Then how come I’m angry?”
“Let’s see: there’s some bad vamps in town messing with us, you always hate it when fans recognize Brandon the stripper, but tonight, for the first time, you got recognized from the one time you went on stage. If you’re embarrassed by my job, you’re even more embarrassed that anyone would think you could be a stripper.”
“I’m not embarrassed about your job.”
“Yeah, you are,” he said.
I started the car. “I am not.”
“Then next time you introduce me to your friends, don’t call me a dancer, call me an exotic dancer.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, and started backing up. I wouldn’t do it. He was right. I’d keep introducing him as simply a dancer. “Do you want me to introduce you like that?”
“No, but I want you not to be ashamed of what I do.”
“I’m not ashamed of you, or your job.”
“Fine, have it your way.” But his tone said clearly that he was letting me win, but that I was wrong, and hadn’t won anything. I hated when he did that. He just stopped fighting in the middle of the fight, not because he’d lost, but just because he didn’t want to fight anymore. How do you fight with someone who won’t fight? Answer: you don’t.
The real trouble was, he was right. I was embarrassed about his job. I shouldn’t have been, but I was. When he was a teenager, he’d been a runaway, and a prostitute, and on drugs. He’d been off drugs for nearly four years. He’d been out of “the life” since he was sixteen. He’d done porn, and I knew that. But I didn’t dwell on it. I assumed he’d stopped doing the movies about the same time he stopped hooking, but I wasn’t sure of that. I hadn’t really asked, had I? He was a wereleopard, which meant he couldn’t catch any sexually transmitted disease. That helped me ignore his past. The lycanthropy killed everything that could injure the host body; it kept him healthy. It made it so that I could pretend he hadn’t had more sexual partners than I wanted to know about.
I was trapped at the light across from St. Louis Bread Company when I said, “Want to hear what Jean-Claude told me about the mask?”
“If you want to tell me.” He sounded mad.
“I’m sorry that I’m not completely comfortable with your job, okay?”
“Well, at least you admit it.”
The light changed, and I eased forward. We’d had two inches of snow, and everyone here forgot how to drive in it. “I don’t like to admit when I’m uncomfortable, you know that.”
“Tell me what Jean-Claude said.”
I told him.
“So they may be here for Malcolm and his church.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t demand more answers on the phone.”
“I didn’t know what the happy couple wanted. Jean-Claude said we’re not in danger, so I hung up.”
“It’s not my fault that they recognized us.”
“You. They recognized you.”
“Fine, they recognized me.” He was back to being mad again.
“I’m sorry, Nathaniel, I’m really sorry. That wasn’t fair.”
“No, you’re right. If we hadn’t been out together they probably wouldn’t have spotted you.”
“I am not embarrassed to be seen with you in public.”
“You hate it when fans recognize me.”
“I thought I was pretty cool when that woman passed you her phone number at dinner, when you were out with Micah and me.”
“She waited until you went to the bathroom.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?