Living Violet (11 page)
12
I
've never considered myself a finicky eater. No pie ever crossed my path and survived.
've never considered myself a finicky eater. No pie ever crossed my path and survived.
However, watching Caleb get his grub on removed any trace of my appetite. I sat on the other side of the booth, watching him ingest his second stack of waffles. Blueberry syrup, berries, whipped cream, sprinkles, nuts, Skittles, and one of those little drink umbrellas formed a Tower of Pisa at the top.
My upper lip curled. “Dude, you're gonna die.”
“Naw. I'm a professional. Don't try this at home.”
“Or anywhere else,” I mumbled. “How can you stomach all that?”
He drizzled more syrup on his already soggy plate. “I have a fast metabolism. It goes right through me, and it takes a lot of fuel to feed a spirit.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you were eating for two.” I reached into my bag. “And you're right. I do have a few questions.”
Cheeks crammed to capacity, Caleb waited for the interrogation to begin. After a noisy swallow, he griped, “Tell me you did not whip out flash cards.”
“I like to be organized and thorough during the interview process, Mr. Baker.” I shuffled the cards in my hands.
Throwing his head up, he exhaled. “Fine, go on.”
“Okay.” I cleared my throat. “Why heart attacks? Why don't they just drop dead?”
His shifty eyes darted to the surrounding patrons; then he leaned closer. “It has very little to do with the actual heart, but stress
to
the heart. In most cases, women just faint or pass out for a few hours until their energy's restored. The body is constantly producing energy, so a simple kiss isn't as potent. If the kiss goes any deeper, the body tries to fight back, straining to build enough energy. If unsuccessful, the blood pressure will drop, causing shock and possible cardiac arrest.”
to
the heart. In most cases, women just faint or pass out for a few hours until their energy's restored. The body is constantly producing energy, so a simple kiss isn't as potent. If the kiss goes any deeper, the body tries to fight back, straining to build enough energy. If unsuccessful, the blood pressure will drop, causing shock and possible cardiac arrest.”
“Within what span of time?” I asked.
“The delay depends on the amount of energy pulled and the individual. It could be immediate if too much is taken, or drag out to about forty minutes of suffering.”
“The girl at the bookstore had her attack hours after you kissed her.”
“No, about an hour. She kissed me twice. The first time when you walked in, and another when we were closing. The second kiss was longer than the first. She hid in the storeroom, waiting for me. When I was closing up she snuck up on me from behind and ...”
“Order up,” I finished.
“Yeah. I finally got her off me and showed her out. She must have had a fit in her car while we had our book meeting.”
“If you knew what could happen, why didn't you help her?”
“Who do you think called the ambulance? It can only go so far until they need medical attention.” His body tensed at the horror of his own explanation. Anger lines marked his face, then slowly disappeared.
I controlled my breathing and shook off the chill of what could've happened. “What is it that draws these women in?”
“My eyes, for one thing. They think purple is pretty.” He batted his lashes.
I snickered. “Speaking of which, the night at Robbie's party, I saw your eyes glow. It happened before when in the magazine aisle at the bookstore. I thought I imagined it, but you did it again when you came over to my house. Why do they do that?”
“When the spirit is anxious or excited, it shows itself. It happens right after I feed. But outside of that, it usually occurs when I'm mad or really horny. It only lasts a moment. And they change colors, from indigo to lavender.”
“So, you've got mood-ring eyes. ThatâIâthat's just creepy.” Albeit peculiar as hell, this little fact made Caleb a lot easier to read. I consulted the list again to keep occupied. “You said that your, um, spirit didn't have a name. Does that mean he talks to you?”
“Not reallyânot with words, anyway,” he said. “You can tell if a dog is happy, scared, or when he needs to go outside. Yet he can't talkâjust signals and indications. I can feel his mood, and that's how we communicate. He feels my emotions and responds.”
“That recognition thing works with emotions?”
“Every person triggers a different response. When you see your parents, you feel one way; when you see someone you don't like, you feel another. My spirit tries to memorize each one.”
“So it's like âoh, I feel uncomfortable and I don't know you so it must be lunchtime'?” I summarized.
He shrugged. “Basically.”
My eyes traveled to every item in our booth, all except the boy across from me. “So how do you feel about me?”
He considered his answer for a moment. “At ease. Happy.”
“And that doesn't fill you up?”
“Yes, it does. I'm full of excitement and energy. My pet is quite pleased. You are his Scooby Snack.” Another cocky grin shot my way.
I tossed back my hair. “I bet you say that to all the girls. But does it have a name? I mean at all?”
Caleb shrugged and shoveled a week's worth of carbs in his mouth.
“We should name him. I have suggestions.” I sifted through my stack of cards.
Caleb stopped mid-chew. “What?”
“Hey, if this is gonna work, you need to personalize your demon.”
“It's not aâ”
“Whatever. I have some suggestions that I wanna run by you, and see if he likes it.” I cleared my throat again. “Pookie, Balthazar, Damien, Zulu, Obi-Wanâ”
“Remind me to never have children with you. Those names are hideous. Why can't he have a normal name?”
I rubbed my chin. “Something mysterious and exotic like ...
Fernando
.”
Fernando
.”
“Hell, no.”
“Or Diego, or Bruce.”
He grimaced. “Bruce?”
“Yeah, it's a good tough-guy name.” When Caleb shook his head, I moved on. “Loki, the god of mischief.”
He paused. “Maybe.”
“I know, how about Leroy?”
Jabbing his food, he shook his head. “You are soâ”
“Yes, I have ghetto tendencies, but it's a good family name.”
Caleb's expression was pensive as he stared off into space. “You know what? I think he likes it.”
I perked up. “What, Leroy? Really?”
“No!” he snapped, then continued eating.
“Fine, let's see, what's a nice tough-guy name? Ooh, Capone. That's straight gangsta.”
Caleb leaned back in his seat and watched me. Slowly, a curl formed in the corner of his mouth. “Capone. I like that. I think he likes it too.”
“So it's official. Your sentient being will hereby be regarded to as Capone,” I declared as we shook hands.
Wiping the syrup from my fingers, I noticed the waitress approaching us again. This should've annoyed me, but I wanted to observe the exchange from a scientific perspective, to watch the predator operate within his natural habitat.
The waitress asked if Caleb wanted more waffles. She barely looked at me, not even when I jangled my empty cup at her for a refill. She bent over to take Caleb's first plate, showing him the benefits of having a good plastic surgeon. But Caleb seemed more impressed with the stack on the table slathered in butter. Cake Boy was on a mission and nothing could distract a guy from his food.
When she left, he looked at me. “Hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable.”
I stared at my hands. Needing something to do with them, I rummaged through the condiment rack at the end of the table. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”
“I'm not interested, Sam.”
“Hey, who am I to get jealous?”
He looked at me under heavy lids. “It's okay if you are. It shows that you care.”
“It just shows that your ego is bigger than your stomach.”
Resting his elbow on the table, he leaned forward. “If a man could have any woman in the world, except the woman he wanted, how happy would you think he'd be?”
I shrugged. “He'd be preoccupied.”
“And empty. I feel sorry for those women, really. Women's attraction for me only translates that they're unhappy.”
I shifted in my seat. “Elaborate.”
“Take the woman in the bookstore. What little energy I took from her, I could tell she was unloved. She was abandoned at a young age and never found her real parents. That one at Europia Park, her husband left her after twelve years of marriage for his personal trainer. And the other was a widow. All those women were hurting and wanted to be loved. The need was so desperate, they left themselves open to anyone. That's not a good way to be, especially in my case.”
“What about my mom?” I asked.
“She doesn't act as bad as most, but she needs to get out more. I like your mom a lot. She reminds me so much of my mom, it's scary.”
“Oh yeah?”
As if to confirm his remark, Caleb dug in his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. I waited while he sifted through each compartment. A moment later, his hands reached out to me with a small photo clamped between two trembling fingers.
I recognized the woman before he spoke her name. Caleb's mother was not only a beautiful woman, but Adriane Baker and my mom could've passed as cousins. Though their similarities were notable, so were their differences. The main difference being that one of them died half a decade ago.
I returned the picture and awaited Caleb's response. He took his time, gently tucking the photo into its secret compartment, careful not to rip or bend the edges. His entire body centered on that simple action, and he wouldn't utter a single word until the task was complete.
Tension spread over the table like a vicious rumor. Breaking the ice, Caleb spoke up. “You're mom is a very intriguing woman. It's hard to believe she has problems finding a man.”
“She's going on a speed date on Saturday.”
Caleb's eyebrows rose. “Oh yeah? Do those things work? They kinda remind me of some sort of love musical chairs.”
“Well, we'll find out on Saturday.” I looked down and played with the index cards. “Mmm, Caleb, is there something wrong with me?”
“Of course there is,” he affirmed.
“No, I mean emotionally. Why doesn't the draw work on me? Am I an ice queen, or emotionally handicapped, or something?”
Caleb dropped his fork and he reached for my hand. “Samara, look at me. There's nothing wrong with you. Like I said, not all women are affected by it. The fact that you've never been in love and don't want to be makes your resistance very high. Among other things,” he mumbled the last part, then lifted his fork.
“Like what?”
Dodging my curious stare, he murmured, “I don't wanna embarrass you.”
“You won't.”
“Well, the same reason why my allure doesn't affect Alicia or children. The draw doesn't normally work on ... the chaste.” His eyes slowly met mine.
I was now thankful for the disclaimer. It was beyond disconcerting to have someone, especially a guy, put my virginity on blast.
The red flush to his cheeks revealed that I wasn't the only one uncomfortable. “I told you you'd be embarrassed.”
“Is that why you're after me all of a sudden?”
He snickered. “And you talk about
my
ego.”
my
ego.”
“Well, you barely looked at me in the year and a half I've worked at Buncha Books, and now I can't get rid of you. What's up with that?”
“I looked at you a lot. You just never looked back. As far as how this started, you approached
me
; you came to my side of the store and sparked a conversation with
me
, and I took the opportunity for what it was. Like I said before, you're pretty standoffish when you want to be, and you have every right in my case, but man, would it kill you to say hello once in a while?” His reply came out a little tart and tangy, showing more hurt from my avoidance than he would ever confess.
me
; you came to my side of the store and sparked a conversation with
me
, and I took the opportunity for what it was. Like I said before, you're pretty standoffish when you want to be, and you have every right in my case, but man, would it kill you to say hello once in a while?” His reply came out a little tart and tangy, showing more hurt from my avoidance than he would ever confess.
Heat spread to my cheeks, but I kept my posture of indifference. Pouting my lips, I whined, “Aw, poor baby. I figured all the attention you had, you wouldn't notice me anyway.”
“I did notice, and you left an impression on me. For what it's worth, I like you this way, snide, cautious, and just plain weird. You're not blinded by the draw. You can see me for who I really am and you're still sitting here with me.”
“Well, we came here in your car. I'm not walking home.”
“Sam.” He laughed softly. “What else is on your list?”
“Oh, yeah.” I skimmed down my notes. “What powers do you have?”
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