24. Willow
Twenty Four
Willow
W illow lightly made her way down the plush carpeted steps into the cool, dark basement. Sammy flipped on the lights that were embedded into the ceiling to reveal a basement that was the stark opposite of the upstairs. There were no gothic paintings and intricate décor with dark hues throughout; instead, the color scheme was beige, with more beige furniture and a weight set in the corner. The only thing that stood out was the large TV screen lining the back wall, with theater-style seating in front.
“Is it safe to assume Gage didn’t decorate this area?”
Willow walked around the overstuffed couch in the middle of the room. She plopped down into it and shivered at the cold touch of the leather, but was comforted by how she sunk into it.
“Good guess,” Sammy chuckled and pulled out two glass bottles from a mini-fridge hidden underneath the staircase. “This is Matteo and Horatio’s man-cave, while Nikolas and Gage get the upstairs. I love my boyfriend, but the man has no taste whatsoever. Thank God he found me. ”
Sammy handed Willow her beer, then twisted off the cap on her own and started chugging as she relaxed into the couch. Willow copied her and finished off the bottle within a minute, followed by a large burp.
Sammy laughed and slapped the cushion. “I think we’re going to make great friends. I know you wanted to talk about Waldo—” she rolled her eyes and gagged “—but first, I have to ask about Gage. He came home in such a good mood. I’ve never seen him like that, and I’m assuming you had something to do with it.”
She shrugged like it was no big deal, even though it was monumental to her. “We made up. I guess we’re official now.” She brushed the mark hiding under her shirt lightly. “He marked me.”
“Cute, Horse put his on my hip. I tried to convince him to let me bite him after I turned, but he said that’s not how it works. It’s always the man who marks the woman, such misogyny.”
Willow scrunched her nose. “Having matching marks would be cute, though. If I ever turn, I’m sure Gage would let me. Horse is Horatio’s nickname, right? How did he get it?”
“Cause he’s hung like a horse.”
Willow tried to hide the look of disgust that was creeping onto her face.
“I’m joking! He told me a story once that when him and Matteo were little, Matteo couldn’t say Horatio, so he called him Horsey. As they got older it sounded weird, so he shortened it to Horse. He hasn’t called him that in years, but once I heard it I thought it was cute and brought it back. No one else is allowed to call him that except me and Matteo, though.”
Sammy popped up from the couch and fetched another two beers, both girls sipping on them this time. Willow picked at the label on the bottle, knowing that Sammy was staring at her and waiting for her to bring up Waldo.
Willow took a deep breath, planning where to start. She recounted what had happened when Waldo first entered her shop, how he’d saved her from the rouge vampire, and how he’d been eerily calm and collected during their last encounter. With each disclosure, Sammy’s face turned more and more serious until she was almost frowning.
“It sounds like he thought you were dumb enough to join him like Venice. He really said she’s at the bottom of the ocean?”
“Yeah, do you think I should tell Gage that part?”
Sammy squinted off into the distance like she was using all of her focus on that question. “Probably. It could be the closure he needs, and then he can be totally committed to you. I’m not saying he’s still in love with her or anything, but he’s still angry with her. Knowing she’s dead could help him let that go.”
“Wow, that was pretty wise.”
A flash of hurt briefly fluttered across Sammy’s face. “Yeah, I’m not a total drunk dumbass. My Granny is pretty wise herself, and I spent a lot of time with her growing up, so I like to think some of that rubbed off on me.”
“Where is your family?”
“They’re back in Louisiana. I don’t really like to talk about them. My childhood wasn’t so great.”
“Does anyone have a perfect, happy past?”
“Marla seems to,” Sammy grumbled under her breath.
“You don’t get along well with her, do you? She’s one of my best friends and I really wish you would give her a chance to see how sweet she is.”
“Trust me, I see enough of her here with Matteo to see how sweet she can be. It’s gross, and I’m tired of them groping each other in public all day long. I don’t know why they can’t go into Matteo’s bedroom.” She glanced at Willow. “Sorry, I needed to vent for a second.”
Willow was growing uncomfortable with where the topic was going. She wanted to stand up for her friend, but didn’t want to burn the bridge with Sammy, especially if she had any hope of helping the two get along. “If you’re in the mood to talk shit, then let’s talk shit about Waldo.”
A grin broke across Sammy’s face. “Shit talkin’ is my specialty. He’s a slimy jackass who likes to manipulate people. I’ve never had the pleasure of talking with him, but the things I hear from Horse and the others are not good.”
“I can see why he’s not a popular man, there’s something off about him.”
“I think it’s the fake tan. He can’t use tanning beds or natural sun so he sprays that orange tanner on himself.” Sammy covered her mouth and let out a snort. “He’s such a douche.”
Willow pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “He’s a douche, but he’s also unpredictable and that’s terrifying to me. I want to know what he meant that his territory is three times the size of ours. That makes me so nervous.”
“I overheard Gage tell Horatio that him and Robby met some girls down in Miami who were living in some vampire-only area in Georgia. The girls didn’t bring up Waldo’s name, though, so they weren’t sure if it was connected to him.”
“What, like a whole village of only vampires?”
“More like a trailer park of vampires.” She shuddered dramatically. “That sounds like my worst nightmare. I may have grown up poor in a rough neighborhood, but I never had to live in a trailer.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Trailer trash, especially the kind that live in Louisiana, are a different breed. I can only imagine vampire trailer trash.”
“Sammy, I was raised in a RV. Calling people trailer trash is actually pretty offensive. Trailers are just another type of home, it’s no better or worse than a house.”
“Oh, well, RVs are way different from trailers.” She toyed awkwardly with the label on her beer bottle. “I guess this is why I can’t make friends, I’m a judgmental bitch. Thank God Horse likes that. He enjoys putting me in my place.” She laughed and chugged the rest of her beer.
Willow pitied her, remembering what it was like to face the world alone. “You have lots of friends. You had a whole house full when you threw that party.”
“Those weren’t my friends, they were here for the free alcohol. Hey, want to see something cool?” Sammy stood up and motioned for her to follow.
The two walked through a doorway into a large room that housed what appeared to be dusty slot machines, old posters that advertised past events at Clay’s casino, a broken-down miniature carousel, and boxes upon boxes of various decorations. It looked more like an antique store in Vegas than a vampire’s basement. In the very back, Sammy located a large plastic container and drug it back into the main room. She dug around it and pulled out a velvet maroon photo album that she handed to Willow.
“I found this when I was looking for decorations for that party. I think Clay hid this back here with this surplus storage because it’s too painful to look at. It’s got some cool pictures, though.”
Willow took the album and returned to her spot on the couch as Sammy retrieved their third beer. On the first page was a black-and-white photograph of Clay and a man who she assumed was his brother, Al. The two had their arms over each other’s shoulder and were standing in front of a small, abandoned building. Their outfits looked like styles from the 1920’s, but Clay looked the same as he did currently.
“Clay’s style clearly hasn’t changed much. The poor guy still rocks that slicked-back hairstyle, but I guess if you find something that works you keep it. It accentuates his chiseled jawline,” Sammy giggled. “ Don’t tell Horse that, I don’t need him getting all weird that I have a slight crush on Clay. He gives off daddy vibes I can’t ignore.”
Willow eyed her. “Don’t worry, your weird secret is safe with me. What’s this building they’re standing in front of?”
“I think Horse said that was where they were making moonshine during Prohibition. This photo is super old. Fun fact, that little building eventually turned into the casino! They tore down all but one room and built around it, but the manager’s office in the center of the casino is the original room! How cool is that?”
“That’s actually really cool. Who are all these random men?” Willow flipped through the first few pages but didn’t recognize anyone.
“Those were Clay’s family members.”
Silence filled the room as they both looked at the faces of all the men who were destined to die in a brutal fight. More sadness enveloped Willow when she turned the page to show a color portrait of a beautiful women with blue eyes and long, teased blonde hair that hung past her shoulders. Between the big hair and shoulder pads, it was clearly from the 1980’s. She was wearing a green shirt that stood out against her milky-white skin and had red lips that were split into a loving smile. Willow wondered if she was looking at Clay while the photo was being taken.
“That’s Gage’s mother, isn’t it? She looks just like him.” Willow traced the outline of her face before flipping the page to show another portrait of her, this time with a small, blond baby swaddled in her arms.
“Aw!” The two shrieked in unison.
“She was beautiful. I don’t know how she died, Clay doesn’t ever talk about her and Horse doesn’t want to ask.” Sammy said.
“Suicide.”
Sammy gasped but made no comment. Willow flipped through the pages and watched Gage grow up right before her eyes. He was a very small child with a smile permanently plastered on his face that matched Clay’s. She never saw a father look so openly happy and loving in pictures, but there were multiple ones of Clay kissing Gage on the cheek. Her feelings about Clay being an amazing dad doubled as she looked upon pictures of stereotypical family outings and how happy he appeared to be spending time with his wife and child. He was always holding his wife’s hand or touching her shoulder, his eyes locked onto either her or Gage, never distracted by the things around him. It was obvious his whole world was made up of them. Her heart broke at how in love he looked, only to have it end.
As the pictures got newer and Gage grew older, his mother’s smile began to disappear until only the corner of her lips were curved upward but no joy reached her eyes. Nearing the end of the album, Gage had his growth spurt and was rocking a blond mullet. Willow made a mental note to harass him later about it.
She turned the last page and her breath caught in her throat. The final picture was of his mother’s gravestone covered in a blanket of red roses.
Willow closed the album and finished off her beer. The alcohol had made her feel warm and the depressing final photo had her ready to curl up in bed.
“Thanks for showing me this, it’s always fascinating to see photos from the past. It’s interesting to see Clay with his former family. It makes me ten times angrier with Waldo for destroying that. I know he technically wasn’t there to kill them, but he put everything in motion by killing innocents on the beach. So screw him.”
“Oh, I like this spicey version of you. Angry Willow is kind of badass.”
“Sometimes. Sometimes she can be dangerous, too.” She stood up and stretched her arms above her head.
“I think the beers have done me in, I’m ready for bed. Goodnight, Sammy.”
“Sweet dreams, Willow. Thanks for hanging out with me.” She whispered her last sentence and Willow almost didn’t catch it as she trudged her way upstairs.
Gage
Sometime in the Middle of the Day
Gage woke up to a warm lump pressed into his back. For a split second, he assumed it was Buffy until he realized the lump was six times bigger than his beloved cat. Buffy was also not the type to snuggle against him—she would rather smother his face.
Curiosity overrode his panic and he cautiously rolled over without disturbing the sleeping creature that had taken over his bed. To his surprise, Buffy was there, but she was not alone. Curled up underneath the purring, white ball of fur was Willow. She looked blissfully unaware that she was about to suffocate underneath the feline.
“Where the hell did she come from?” He whispered to his cat.
Buffy gave him a slow blink, then tucked her pink nose into the fluff of her tail.
Sleep was still lingering and he tried his best to rub it from his eyes to check the time on the grandfather clock looming in the corner of his bedroom. It told him it was only three p.m. There was no way he was getting up this early.
He slowly slid his arm underneath her pillow and wrapped his other arm over her waist. He was careful not to disrupt Buffy as he molded the bend of his arm around her. A tranquil feeling overcame him as both Buffy and Willow seemed to sigh in unison and melt into him. It wasn’t long before he fell back into a peaceful sleep.