Chapter 7
7
D ignitary was situated in an outlying suburb of San Francisco. What suburb it was exactly I couldn’t say, having never had a reason to go out that way. The business itself was located inside a residence, but that didn’t concern me. Due to the density and lack of space in the Bay Area, a lot of smaller companies were run similarly.
I’d been so worried about being late that I ended up arriving ten minutes early. I parked half a block away and sat in my car, trying not to look like a burglar casing the joint. With lavish iron gates and pristinely tailored laws, every palatial home on the block had a price tag well into the millions. Private neighborhood security was guaranteed. If I’d learned anything about rich people from my time at Dewhurst, it was that they were exceedingly paranoid about being invaded by outsiders like myself.
I primped in the rearview mirror, adding another layer of lipstick and boosting my cleavage inside my bra. I flipped my head upside down to fluff my hair, cracking my forehead on the steering wheel like an imbecile. I rubbed at the spot, willing it not to rise. That would be a great first impression, showing up with a giant welt on my face. Other than the fading red mark on my forehead, I thought I looked okay. Not amazing and not haggard, but okay enough.
Having been a broke student for few years, and then just a broke person in general (as Liz so graciously pointed out), I didn’t have a lot of clothes in the stylish department. I wore a slinky wrap dress that had been given to me by Liz after she’d accidently shrunk it in the dryer. It was a little tight even on me, so I hoped the fabric pulled against my body in a way that was flattering. I also had on simple black heels, the same ones I always wore to official job interviews that took place at nine in the morning instead of nine at night. It was the best I could muster on such short notice, so if I wasn’t elegant enough for Dignitary, they could sue me.
I was aware of the potential danger of meeting with Michael and Marlena on my own, but I didn’t have much of a choice, with the only close friend I had in town avoiding me. Also, I hadn’t thrown caution completely into the wind; I’d left a note for Liz that provided the address of my whereabouts, should I happen to disappear, and had also stashed a canister of pepper spray inside my handbag. I patted it nervously as I exited my car, hoping I wouldn’t need to use it.
The exterior of Dignitary was painted a pastel salmon shade. The grand mansion looked like it had been taken straight out of the French Quarter and plunked down in the middle of San Francisco. It was from a more graceful time, an era when one would sit on the porch drinking mint juleps while fanning their face with a lace hankie and saying things like goodness gracious and I do declare. Marlena had provided me a gate code, so I used it to let myself in.
Nearing the entryway, I smoothed down the front of my secondhand dress, feeling ratty and unbefitting for such a graceful environment. I raised my hand to knock on the door, but it opened before my knuckles could make contact. A stunning woman I assumed was Marlena beamed at me from inside the house.
She was tall, about the same height as Liz, but built differently, with one of those rare, unfeasible body shapes that is both feminine curves and taut muscles. Her alabaster skin glowed from within like she’d been eating fireflies as vitamins. Maybe she and Michael shared the same jar of skin cream. A fiery copper shade, her bouncy hair hung loosely around her shoulders. Estimating her age was tough, as her face was youthful but shrewd. Early forties, maybe?
Her dazzling emerald eyes looked me over. It could have been nerves on my part, but her smile didn’t seem to reach her eyes. Then again, with the kind of money she had, she’d probably had Botox to Mars and back.
“You must be Olivia,” she said. She wore a silky tailored pantsuit the color of whipped cream. I had no doubt that it had cost more than the trailer I’d grown up in.
I swallowed. “Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Marlena. It’s so very nice to see you. Welcome to Dignitary!”
The reception was a trifle over-the-top, as if she’d never been more ecstatic to see any person in her whole life. Her words dripped with with phony, kissy-face enthusiasm—the sort of voice an A-list actress would use while promoting a movie she obviously thought was crap. I credited Marlena for attempting to make me feel at home, but I didn’t like being bullshitted.
She beckoned me inside, curling her arm around my shoulders as I entered. Her body was icy even through her clothing, and it took all my concentration not to recoil. She smiled down at me a little warmer. I reevaluated my snap judgment, ashamed for being so judgey. Though she unnerved me in a way I couldn’t isolate, it was easy to feel like Quasimodo next to her perfection. Bitchy insecurity wasn’t a good look on anyone.
She led me through the cavernous house, inviting me to take a seat once we arrived at a large den I imagined a well-to-do person in the South might call parlor . The space was old-school, a smart haven ideal for a retired Ivy League professor or perhaps one who fancied themself a “serious” writer: dark tapestries, a pair of matching brown leather Chesterfield sofas, novels lining built-in bookshelves from floor to ceiling, a chunky Georgian desk in the corner the size of a rhinoceros. The room smell antiquated, but not in an unpleasant way.
Marlena took my handbag and hung it on a coatrack by the door. I noted with pleasure that a fire was blazing inside an old-fashioned hearth. The place was like the inside of a freezer. Commenting on my goose bumps, she added another log.
Michael arrived shortly thereafter. I stood and he hugged me like an old friend, kissing both my cheeks. His touch was even colder than Marlena’s, which tempted me to ask if they were trying to cut costs on their energy bill.
“Olivia!” he bellowed. “I’m so pleased you’ve decided to give us a chance.” His over-the-top fervor was on par with Marlena’s, but unlike the frosty redhead, Michael seemed genuine.
“Nice to see you again,” I said shyly. It was all a little overwhelming.
He clasped my hands in his icy grasp. “Are you hungry? Thirsty? I can have something made for you—a sandwich?” Brows knitted together, he was a caricature of an anxious grannie, doting on a visitor with offers of sustenance. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he whipped out a plate of freshly baked cookies from the bottom desk drawer.
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” A yawn escaped me, which was mortifying, since Michael noticed. I blamed the lingering hangover and the pizza I’d wolfed earlier.
“Are you sleepy?” he asked. “Of course! You were out late last night. I sometimes forget that humans—er, young people like you—don’t keep the same hours as us. I’ll have my assistant make you a cappuccino. You do like coffee?”
“Really, I’m—”
Michael held up his hand, cutting me off. “It’s no trouble.”
“Okay. Sure, a cappuccino would be great.”
He spoke into an intercom on the wall, asking a youngish-sounding male on the other end to please make my coffee and then bring it into the office. I wanted to laugh, since I was lucky if Liz remembered to refill the water jug after she emptied it. One of the endless benefits of being rich, I imagined, was that you could hire someone to be at your beck and call around the clock. Must be nice. I appreciated that he’d used please and thank you when speaking with his employee. It showed me a lot about his character. The devil is in the details, as the saying goes.
Ready to get down to business, we settled in on the sofas, my hosts sitting on the one opposite me.
“So!” Michael chirped. “You’re probably wondering what we do here.”
“It has crossed my mind, yes,” I said with a nervous chuckle. At that point, I couldn’t even guess, though my vague worry that it was a tacky pyramid scheme seemed unlikely. They didn’t seem the types. I had a hard time picturing them, Marlena especially, trying to hard sell me on vacation club packages or herbal weight loss supplements that made you pee ninety times a day.
Marlena said, “Before we can elaborate further, I must ask that you give us your word of confidentiality.”
“Confidentiality?” I repeated, thinking, uh-oh . Given the current state of humanity, nothing would surprise me. I seriously hoped these two weren’t crazy sex freaks looking to tie me up in their dungeon and throw canned creamed spinach on my naked body while I called them Master.
Michael said, “As I told you last night, we run our business guardedly. Our clients are very powerful and wealthy, and they value our discretion.”
Yep. Sex freaks. I totally knew it.
“Of course,” I agreed, more out of curiosity than anything else. “You have my word of complete confidentiality.”
They exchanged a look. Michael sighed, looking anxious. Marlena reached over and squeezed his hand.
“Okay, here goes,” he said. “What we do at Dignitary is offer companionship to clients who need to maintain a certain facade.”
This did not sound promising. Imaginary red flags dripped from Michael’s tongue with each new word he uttered. Soon there would be a mountain at his feet, a jumble of sticks and cloth.
“Companionship service? Not prostitution, because you said—”
“Goodness, no!” Marlena cut in. “Nothing like that.”
“And in case you’re wondering if we’re hiding behind semantics, we also don’t operate in the realm of dates or escorts, or anything else of that nature,” Michael added, reading my mind.
I cocked my head to one side. “So then?”
“A more appropriate term would be decoy ,” Marlena said. “That’s the term we use here for all our employees, who are both male and female.”
“Decoy? Like bait?”
“Okay, let me try a different angle,” Michael said. Marlena crossed and uncrossed her legs impatiently. I got the sense that it was killing her to not talk over the top of him.
“You see, Olivia, when I spoke earlier about humans—young people like you—I was implying that Marlena and I are different. So are our clients, who are also like us.”
“Different? Because . . . you’re older?” Marlena frowned and I amended, “Wealthy, I mean?”
Marlena threw up her arms. “Oh, for Pete’s sake, Michael! You’re not making any sense! No wonder she’s looking at us like we’re nuts!” She turned to me, took my hand, and stared into my eyes. “You are going to find this difficult to believe, Olivia, but Michael and I run a decoy service for vampires.”
Vampires?
I snorted, shifting my gaze back and forth between my hosts, who were not sharing my amusement. Serious as a heart attack, these two. I glanced at my purse and thought of the pepper spray inside, abruptly concerned for my safety. These people were clearly out of their minds.
This was a million times worse than Michael and Marlena being sex freaks. I’d been formally schooled on how to distinguish run-of-the-mill fetishes, but individuals who believed in wizards, werewolves, and vampires were a completely different story. They were an extra-special kind of psychotic I wasn’t equipped to deal with.
“Right.” I smiled pleasantly, contemplating how far I’d get if I made a run for it, or if I could even manage to find the front door without getting lost.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when a boy of about twenty strolled into the room carrying a tray with my coffee. As if I’d drink anything these nutballs gave me. Cappuccino, please, hold the sedatives .
Like Marlena, the boy was impossibly beautiful. While his features were Mediterranean, his hair and eyes warm and dark, his complexion was chalky. Without a word, he set the drink down on the small antique coffee table that sat between the two sofas.
“Wait a tick, would you, Stephano?” Michael asked. Turning back to me, he said, “Olivia, I imagine you are perhaps concerned about our sanity—”
“Oh, no, not at all,” I broke in with what easily could have been the hardest lie of my life. It had taken everything I’d had to keep a straight face.
He gave me a disbelieving look and continued, “I cannot blame you for your doubt. In fact, you’re not alone in your reaction.”
“No decoy has ever believed us straightaway,” Marlena said with a laugh. “But they always come around. So, please, would you humor us and stay just a little longer? I promise, you’ll have all the proof you need.”
I nodded, because it wasn’t like I was going to challenge the lunatics.
Michael turned back to Stephano. “Do you remember that thing you did for me in the past?”
The boy nodded, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his plush mouth. “Yes, with Jared, if I remember correctly.”
“Would you mind doing it again?”
“Not at all.”
“Okay, Olivia, keep your eyes on Stephano. Are you ready?”
“Absolutely,” I said solemnly. If Stephano wanted to bare his teeth and hiss at me or pretend not to see his reflection in the mirror, I would play along with an Oscar-worthy performance even Meryl Streep would envy. Whatever I needed to do to get the hell out of there in one piece.
At the blink of an eye, Stephano was gone. I looked right-left-right-left. He had literally vanished. “Where did he go?” I whispered.
Michael and Marlena casually pointed up. I followed the direction of their fingers. Stephano was sprawled on the ceiling, his chin resting casually on his hands. He playfully wriggled his fingers. “Hi, Olivia.”
“Holy shit!” I sprang to my feet, slopping cappuccino onto the rug as I knocked my knee hard against the coffee table. I ran toward my purse— pepper spray, get the pepper spray —but I didn’t get too far on gelatinous legs. Dozens of white flecks danced in front of my eyes. I waggled my head to make them go away.
As the world began to turn black around me, a tranquil voice asked, “Think she believes you now?”