Guilty Pleasures - Laurell K. Hamilton [44]
When I got to the part about Aubrey smashing me into the wall, he said, “You are kidding.”
“Want to see the bruises?”
I finished the story and watched his solemn, square face. His large, blunt-fingered hands were folded on his desk. The check was lying beside him atop his neat pile of manila folders. His face was attentive, concerned. Empathy never worked well on Bert’s face. I could always see the wheels moving. The angles calculating.
“Don’t worry, Bert, you can cash the check.”
“Now, Anita, that wasn’t . . .”
“Save it.”
“Anita, truly I would never purposefully endanger you.”
I laughed. “Bull.”
“Anita!” He looked shocked, small eyes widening, one hand touching his chest. Mr. Sincerity.
“I’m not buying, so save the bullshit for clients. I know you too well.”
He smiled then. It was his only genuine smile. The real Bert Vaughn please stand up. His eyes gleamed but not with warmth, more with pleasure. There is something measuring, obscenely knowledgeable, about Bert’s smile. As if he knew the darkest thing you had ever done and would gladly keep silent—for a price.
There was something a little frightening about a man who knew he was not a nice person and didn’t give a damn. It went against everything America holds dear. We are taught above all else to be nice, to be liked, to be popular. A person who has set aside all that is a maverick and a potentially dangerous human being.
“What can Animators, Inc., do to help?”
“I’ve already got Ronnie working on some things. I think the fewer people involved, the fewer people in danger.”
“You always were a humanitarian.”
“Unlike some people I could mention.”
“I had no idea what they wanted.”
“No, but you knew how I felt about vampires.”
He gave me a smile that said, “I know your secret, I know your darkest dreams.” That was Bert. Budding blackmailer.
I smiled back at him, friendly. “If you ever send me a vampire client again without running it by me first, I’ll quit.”
“And go where?”
“I’ll take my client list with me, Bert. Who is the one that does the radio interviews? Who did the articles focus on? You made sure it was me, Bert. You thought I was the most marketable of all of us. The most harmless-looking, the most appealing. Like a puppy at the pound. When people call Animators, Inc., who do they ask for?”
His smile was gone, eyes like winter ice. “You wouldn’t make it without me.”
“The question is, would you make it without me?”
“I’d make it.”
“So would I.”
We stared at each other for a long space of moments. Neither of us was willing to look away, to blink first. Bert started to smile, still staring into my eyes. The edges of a smile began to tug at my mouth. We laughed together and that was that.
“All right, Anita, no more vampires.”
I stood. “Thank you.”
“Would you really quit?” His face was all laughing sincerity, a tasteful, pleasant mask.
“I don’t believe in idle threats, Bert. You know that.”
“Yes,” he said, “I know that. I honestly didn’t know this job would endanger your life.”
“Would it have made a difference?”
He thought about it for a minute, then laughed. “No, but I would have charged more.”
“You keep making money, Bert. That’s what you’re good at.”
“Amen.”
I left him so he could fondle the check in privacy. Maybe chuckle over it. It was blood money, no pun intended. Somehow, I didn’t think that bothered Bert. It bothered me.
18
THE DOOR TO the other office opened. A tall, blonde woman stepped through. She was somewhere between forty and fifty. Tailored golden pants encircled a slender waist. A sleeveless blouse the color of an eggshell exposed tanned arms, a gold Rolex watch, and a wedding band encircled with diamonds. The rock in the engagement ring must have weighed a pound. I bet she hadn’t even blinked when Jamison talked price.
The boy that followed her was also slender and blond. He looked about fifteen, but I knew he had to be at least eighteen. Legally, you cannot join the Church of Eternal Life unless you are of age. He couldn