United Service (40 page)

Alex cleared her throat. She was always worried about getting older. She thought back to her actual birthday. “I’m slowly dying alone. I’m shriveling up and I’m lonely. So in every respect, my birthday was the same as all the other days, except it came with a Sara Lee individual, frozen, fat–free cake at the end of it.” Alex’s tone saddened as she played with her fingernails. She hung her head and avoided eye contact with Micki.

“Why don’t you tell me a little about the day itself,” Micki suggested as she moved the box of Kleenex closer to her client.

“There’s nothing to tell,” Alex said, settling deeper into the couch. “I’m getting older and the few men I do attract are immature boys.”

“Uh huh,” Micki studied her client’s folder, flipping back several pages. “Alex, try to remember how far you’ve come,” she said as she put down the folder and looked into Alex’s eyes. “Only a few years ago you were afraid to even go out on a date. Not only have you been going out, you have had several dates this past month alone.”

Alex glanced away. The increase of dates was directly proportionate to her birthday weeks ago. “I don’t think any of those guys count as real dates. In fact, one was more interested in my X–Box than he was in me, and believe me Micki, that isn’t a euphemism.”

Micki leaned in, “Alex, you chose to date those men. You said ‘yes’ to their invitations to dinners and movies, but then you told the one that wanted to have sex with you that you weren’t interested.”

Alex sighed and thought back to that moment. If she had eaten breakfast, it would be coming up about right now. Alex raised her voice in protest, “Look, I don’t want to settle. I want a real man.”

Micki nodded, “You’ve told me in the past what a ‘real man’ is to you, but I’d like for you to tell me again now that you’ve started to date again.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I don’t know,” she asserted, but mentally she thought back to the man she had been dreaming about as of late. She couldn’t completely make out all of his features, but the name Adonis came to mind. Her heart rate sped up just thinking about him and his dark hair, but she repeated, “I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Somewhere deep inside, you do know. And you also know why you went out on dates with those men as well.”

Alex crossed her arms and looked away from Micki, “I don’t want to talk about dating.”

“All right, we can postpone that discussion for a few minutes. However, we will have to address it. I can’t help you unless you’re open and honest with me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. We can come back to that later.” Micki picked up the folder and flipped through more pages. “Looks like over the last few years your career has taken off. You had two promotions … and now you’re up for another one. If you get it, it will make you … ?”

“‘Security Chief’ is the unofficial title,” Alex said, giving the woman an ambiguous job description. If she did accept the promotion, she couldn’t afford to allow a therapist to know exactly what she would be doing. It wasn’t as if she didn’t trust the woman, she just didn’t know her more than their therapy sessions. And even then, any personal information shared could be open to future black mail. Even after all this time, Micki never even knew Alex’s real last name – and she always paid in cash. “I’d be responsible for the security teams that guard state officials,” she added, not wanting to mention that the state official would be the President of the United States. “It’s a good career move, even if it does sound like a mountain of paperwork.”

“Fair enough,” Micki replied as she studied her client. “You don’t need to share with me the exact title or duties, but I do want to know how you feel about this promotion and what it means for your career?”

Alex grabbed one of the pillows from the couch and, while she played with the tassels along its edge, she reflected upon her career. If she wanted something career–wise, she got it. She had always positioned herself strategically so she could command the best opportunities that were available. “I know. I’m putting my career above everything else. It’s what I do, but at least I can control what direction my career takes me,” Alex grimaced. She pulled at the strings of the tassel, carefully straightened them, and then moved onto the next one in the row.

Micki wrote in the folder as she commented, “Control is very important to you.”

Isn’t it to everyone? After a pause, Alex admitted, “At least I can get what I want.”

“And how is that working out for you? Is it making you happy?” Micki asked.

“Ugh!” Alex threw the pillow aside. “My career is great, but what I really want is a passionate relationship. I want a family. Where are all the real men out there?” She looked at her therapist, “I mean, I have this unclear picture of who I want. He’s perfect. He’s a Mr. Butch Manly … I just can’t seem to find him.”

“Alex, you’re a top level security specialist. Your accomplishments at this young of an age can be intimidating to some men.”

“To all men, I guess.” Alex said, “Except for the socially inept or the mama’s boys out there.” Alex bit her lip, looked down to the floor, and added, “Or the crazy stalker types.”

“Men come in many sized packages, Alex. But it’s what’s on the inside that really counts. A small–framed, computer nerd who loves playing games can be a wonderful catch. You need to get past the wrapping.”

Wiping away a tear, Alex confided, “It’s … it’s not the wrapping, Micki. I never get to know a man well enough to even get to the inner layers of who they really are.”

“I know, and you’re doing a great job working on that. You are approaching your 40th birthday in a couple of years. The big ones tend to get people thinking of where they are in their life and what they are doing. We’ve had this discussion many times in the past, Alex. You want to have a passionate romance with a ‘Butch Manly’ type of guy, and then you select men who never quite fit that bill, then you only go on one date with them. You force yourself to be emotionally flat in these relationships in an effort to protect yourself from being vulnerable.” Looking at her client she asked, “It’s been a long time since we discussed it, but you did just mention it. Do you want to talk about the stalker that attacked you some more?”

“Hell, no! I just wonder where all the heroes are.” Alex peeked at her watch and realized 45 minutes remained.

Watching the apartment window from where she was seated in her parked car, Sulie let out a huge yawn. She couldn’t help it. Her insane schedule was taxing her body. Between her shifts at the hospital and her responsibilities as a member of the Colony, the secret vampire task force for the White House, she needed a break. She wondered how human women could keep up. It wasn’t like she had a career and a family, but two careers were enough — at least for now.

She had awakened before dawn to give the President his yearly physical before leaving for Camp David. As the President’s private physician she would be accompanying him once again. She cringed at the thought. The man was a letch when it came to women, especially blonds. Sulie looked all of twenty–two and had long blond hair, curled in locks. She inwardly cursed herself for not cutting and dyeing her hair before the trip.

It was all routine. Her packed bags had already passed through security checks and had been loaded onto Marine One, the President’s private helicopter. The trip was not business related, and should—in theory—be relaxing, but she always hated going to Camp David. Again she would have to dodge the President’s advances, or ignore the man’s parade of women. The Secret Service would be discrete, as always, and Sulie would be asked to compel any humans to forget anything less than proper. She hated doing that. She was a trained professional doctor and soldier, not the man’s personal clean–up crew.

Sulie sighed heavily as she again glanced up to the apartment window. These presidential trips used to have a silver lining – a silver–haired lining named Jonathan Dixon. He was the retiring Director of the Colony and had always accompanied her when she traveled with the President. The Director was the human liaison between the President and the vampire team that had protected all the presidents since Lincoln’s assassination. Dixon had served in that role for thirty years. Sulie liked the new replacement Director, but he was no Dixon.

Nobody was better than Dixon. He had been the best Director the team ever had, and the one person in the world that Sulie trusted, depended on, and loved with all of her heart. She felt the pain as her stomach twisted at the thought of his retirement.

With his retirement, Dixon’s memories of their last thirty years together would be wiped away. She, and everything they did together, would be forgotten by Dixon. He had known the outcome when he had accepted the assignment and was willing to fulfill his last duty with the team. She couldn’t let that happen. At least, not before she told the man how much she loved him. Even if he didn’t love her back, at least he would know how she felt.

This was the time. This was the place. She looked down at the now empty bottle of scotch lying in her lap and felt the slight buzz of its effects. It had taken the whole bottle for her to muster the courage to do what she needed to do, to say what she needed to say. There was no turning back.

Grabbing her purse, she opened the car door. The glass bottle tumbled to the concrete street and shattered. She clung onto the car door and took several deep breaths. Other than wine, she had never been much of a drinker. And even then, she never allowed herself to get tipsy.

The two flights of stairs challenged her, but she got her second wind when her foot hit the last step. Apartment 26E. It was an apartment she was very familiar with. As she approached the door, she again felt the butterflies in her stomach.

She rotated her neck and rolled her shoulders before knocking on the door. When she heard Dixon approaching, she took in a deep breath and remembered to smile, her fangs slightly showing.

The door flew open and she gazed into Dixon’s panicked eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I need you.”

CHAPTER TWO

Sulie quickly walked into the small, sparsely furnished apartment. Immediately her nose wrinkled at the scent of stale food. “What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing at a stack of empty pizza boxes and take–out containers on the dining room table.

Dixon closed the door and walked past her to the kitchen. The mortal man was in his mid–sixties and more than a century younger than Sulie. Over the years, his salt–and–pepper hair had grayed. His waistline had widened slightly, but his 6’1” frame carried the extra weight just fine in her opinion. He wore bifocals, but still had the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen. She inhaled deeply and took in the subtle scent of his aftershave as he walked past. The man had aged well, just like a fine bottle of wine.

Fumbling through his medications in a cabinet, Dixon pulled out a small, empty bottle with a dropper top. “I’m out of Devolixion,” he said reading the label, his voice nearly breathless. “I called the pharmacy, but even when I spelled out the medication they said they couldn’t fill it.”

I slight smile crossed Sulie’s lips. “It’s fine,” she said reaching into her purse. “I brought you a three–month supply.” She handed one of the bottles to Dixon and stored the other two in his cabinet.

She watched as Dixon smiled and let out a sigh of relief. The man had no idea how adorable he was. He could lead the team of vampires when it came to missions with the President, but ask him to keep track of anything personal and he was a mess. Sulie thought the man needed a woman in his life. She knew Dixon had been married several times, and had suspected that he had given up when it came to matters of the heart.

Now was the time. All she had to do was confess her love, but why were her knees suddenly shaking? The butterflies had also returned to her stomach. Feeling queasy from the scotch, she decided to have a seat in the living room.

There was a couch, a chair that did not match, and a huge television in the room. In the middle was a table, stained from years of abuse, which desperately needed coasters. The dry cleaning she had picked up for him days ago was still in its plastic bag and draped over the overstuffed leather chair. As she shifted the laundered clothes aside so she could sit, she caught her reflection in the small mirror that was hanging on the wall. Her reflection was fuzzy because of her vampire nature, but clear enough for her to recognize the image as her own. In preparation for this day she had spent all of yesterday at the spa. The hair extensions were an easy choice to have done, especially since she knew Dixon liked long, flowing hair. The manicure and pedicure would probably go unnoticed, but were pleasant, and the facial had been nice.

She sat down and noticed Dixon yawning as he squirted some Devolixion into his coffee cup. He stirred the drink as he walked to the couch, leaning heavily on the armrest as he took his seat.

“Dixon, it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Why are you so tired?” she asked.

Slouching, he rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m late taking the Devolixion?” he asked looking down into his coffee mug.

“No,” she said quickly. She moved onto the couch and, taking his hand, she used her special ability to read him medically. A simple touch was sufficient for a good diagnosis, but she ran her hand up his arm and allowed it to travel to his face. Caressing him tenderly she continued diagnosing him.