Chapter Seventeen: The Invitation

Rosie's Diner was a ten minute walk from the Vic & Ashley Vera residence, and so Vera's mother usually walked to work. She was the assistant manager there, but during slow shifts, that also meant she doubled as waitstaff or bartender and, outside of breaks, she didn't have a minute to spare. During high school, Verne had sometimes worked there for money... and he'd sometimes worked in Vance Motor Garage, where his father worked. Vera knew enough about auto mechanics to do common repairs (though she could barely drive) and enough about the restaurant industry that she could probably fill in at any spot other than manager or chef. For that mother, her mother Ashley could be a manager anywhere else, but she always second-guessed herself and didn't want to work outside of walking distance, beside.

Vera took the N2 and then the E5 from his place over to Rosie's, leaving Lisa asleep and angelic on the bed. Maybe angelic wasn't quite the right word – she was like some slumbering ice queen, her beauty as legendary as her cruelty. It was utterly at odds with the Lisa he knew. Or thought he knew. Lisa realized the power her beauty held, and it was a big ask to expect her to keep her ego in check. If she kept her displays of wanton vanity to an occasional thing, that was probably about the most virtue that Vera could reasonably expect. As the bus hummed along, Vera wondered whether she should be relieved that now only half of the people on the bus were taking almost-covert glances at her, or whether she should be annoyed that she was now the sole focus of that half's attention.

Vera arrived at Rosie's at eight thirty and thought she might enjoy some coffee and maybe even some food while she was still well-sated. At the end of a shift, her mother would inevitably be in the back this near the end of her shift, going over money, reviewing stock, placing orders, and so on. Not wanting to disturb her, Vera walked up to Tiffany Ross, who was the evening hostess and sometime bartender. She was Vera's age – they'd gone to the same high school and, frankly, Verne had a bit of a crush on her in high school, though they were never anything more than acquaintances. Still, they were on friendly terms.

"Hi!" Vera offered a friendly wave.

"Good evening, ma'am," Tiffany replied. Her fake smile was practiced to the point of being halfway decent. But not perfect. "Table for one?"

"No, it's me."

"Um... are you interviewing for a job or something?"

"Right," Vera said. "Right... no, I'm Ashley's daughter. Um... I was Verne. I go by Vera now." She offered her hand.

Tiffany squinted. "Uh... is this for real? You don't look anything like him... and I didn't know he was... you're a... you know..." People in Palmetto City tended to be a bit behind the wokeness curve.

"It's super complicated," Vera stated. "Look, sorry. I can just wait out in the lobby for my mom..."

"No! Oh, God, I'm not, like..." Tiffany said. "It's just... I mean, we go to the same church, but I'm not super Pastor Mooney style awful, but I haven't even heard any dirty rumors along the grapevine about anybody being trans, but it's awesome that your mom's okay with it." Maybe Tiffany was a bit woke after all.

"My dad isn't. That's kinda why we have to meet here. So... can I grab a table and help myself to some coffee?"

Vera was a bit taken aback when Tiffany hugged her. "Yeah, of course! Go on, and just let Petey B know if you want to order anything. We should catch up some time! I want to hear all about everything!"

"Um... that would be great."

Vera grabbed some coffee, ordered a Belgian Boysenberry Waffle Stack from Petey, and plopped herself down near the entryway from the back of the restaurant. She sat there for a few minutes past nine, enjoying her coffee, absolutely savoring her waffles (though she'd commandeered a plastic bag to spit the chewed-up food out into so it wouldn't pass right back out later in the evening). The people across the aisle from her were giving her sidelong glances about that – they probably assumed she was bulimic. She certainly didn't have the build of somebody who destroyed stacks of Belgian waffles with boysenberry filling, preserves between the layers, and a dollop of heavy whipping cream on top.

All the while, she could smell every odor and hear every conversation in the restaurant. She could hear the line cooks talking about the party at Avery's (whoever that was) they were going to after their shift. She could hear Petey B smoking a joint in the alleyway and talking to his boyfriend. Being a vampire, Vera realized, could very quickly turn you into a nosey gossip... or possibly an information broker... or blackmailer. Even without the miracle drug of Juvechrome, there were all sorts of nasty ways she might get social or financial advantage, and it was easy to see why vampires might accrue a reputation as cursed children of the night...

"Penny for your thoughts?" Ashley said.

Vera had been so focused on everything that she hadn't noticed her mother walking right up to her. She stood and they hugged. Then her mother held her back at arm's length and took Vera in.

"You seem to have developed a, uh... sense of style... very quickly, Verne."

She picked at the soft fabric of her tee. "None of this stuff is mine, but I'm not going to start dressing in drag or like a Menonite. I'm just going with whatever feels right... and right now, it feels right to go by Vera instead of Verne," she said, watching her mother to gauge her reaction. But Ashley was an inveterate mom and an inveterate wife to a very opinionated husband, so she was so good at playing mum that not even vampire senses could penetrate her neutrally affable smile.

"Well... the good news is that your father's already disowned you, so that ship has already sailed." A pained expression flashed across her dark eyes. "But we'll work on him, won't we? I hope you'll at least get something appropriate for church?"

"Um," Vera said. "Why don't you just get me whatever you'd like me to wear there, and I'll wear it, no complaints. And even to lunch after."

Ashley reached out and pinched Vera's cheek. "That's the spirit! See? This isn't so bad... in no time, things will be almost like they were before."

Vera very much doubted that would be the case, but she didn't say so. She was trying to establish a delicate balance in her rapport with her mother and didn't want to disturb that – and, if she managed to set expectations appropriately, she might one day be able to speak to her father again, and even go back into the Vera household without getting the creepy-crawly anxiety of being in an unwelcome place. And, thinking of that, she had some ideas about how she might deal with that, anyway. 

"You've got that faraway look again," Ashley said. She patted Vera's hand. "Is it blood?"

"What? No," Vera said. She had about five important things on her mind, and finding a source of blood was only one of them.

"I might be able to get you some from the butcher's. We get all our pork from Crestmont Farms..."

"I know. It says it right on the menu. But, no, it's not that. I appreciate the thought, but pig's blood isn't going to do it. Needless to say, though, I'm figuring out a lot. But why don't we make this a weekly thing, us meeting up like this?"

"Once a week, not including church on Sundays?"

"I can't go to church anymore," Vera said. "Maybe I'll go back some day... I'd love to do it for you. But I'm not going back to Twin Boughs without the express permission of Pastor Moody. I don't want to feel unwelcome there, and I won't go where I'm not welcome. That's a vampire rule."

Ashley frowned. "Why wouldn't Pastor Moody want you back?" Her face scrunched up in thought, the little creases of her forehead and eyes folding up like crepe paper and making her look her forty-five years. And it was so adorably naïve that Vera couldn't suppress her smile. But her mother eventually got it, her eyebrows shooting up and her hand covering her agape mouth. "Your father thinks you’re a, um... what's the word for it? I don't want to be insulting. But, well, I'll explain to him – and the pastor – that you aren't one of them."

"No," Vera said. "If they need a crazy song and dance to convince them that I'm not evil, then I want nothing to do with it. I don't want any 'there but for the grace of God go I' pity and head-shaking and whispering behind my back. If people are going to hate me because they're too bigoted to love and accept me without knowing every little nuance of my life history, I've got no time for them."

"Verne... Vera, honey," her mother said. She grasped Vera's hand and gave it a little squeeze. "You can't just expect men like that to change. You haven't been a... you haven't been a woman for long, so you don't understand what it's like..."

Vera shrugged. "I don't have to understand, and I don't expect them to change. But they're going to have to change if they want anything to do with me. And that's all there is to it."

"I sure didn't raise a pushover," Ashley eventually said. "I'm going to go and see if I can talk to your father before he falls asleep."

+++++

They walked back to the Vera residence, chatting a bit more before Ashley went inside. For her part, Vera could have done with a ride rather than take the bus back, but she decided not to push it. The less Ashley thought about her housing situation the better – if she thought Vera was shacking up with Lisa, or Hector for that matter, she was likely throw a maternal conniption. Vera's mother was more understanding than might have been expected, but there was only so much one could do to stamp out decades of churchgoing moralism.

She returned to the apartment around 11 pm, just as her blood satiation was beginning to taper. Before the cravings started to insert themselves some hours later, there wasn't much differentiating non-satiation from being sated. It was a bit like realizing your caffeine buzz had finally abated or being two pints drunk and realizing a few hours later that the warm glow had faded. Of course, if Vera ever wanted to be sure that the little glace glaze of blood-satiety was gone, she could just carry around a bag of Skittles and test whether the candies tasted like tart little fruits or colorful pellets of bitter ash. She stopped at the corner store to buy a bag of the things – as a kid, they'd always been her favorite candies – and then headed up, hoping to spend a quiet night with Lisa.

Upon arriving, though, Vera could hear voices inside. From street level, she couldn't make out the person talking with Lisa, except that it was a man. Hector, she'd assumed. But then, as she approached their fourth-floor doorway, the voice was clear enough: Erasmus Moody. And, of course, he heard her skulking in the doorway, too.

"Don't be a stranger now, Miss Verne," he drawled. "Won't you come and join our little tête-à-tête?"

It made sense, now, why there were three choppers parked across the street. Erasmus had brought enforcers with him, and they were lurking about somewhere. Nowhere in the building, though, as far as Vera could tell. After a moment's hesitation, she opened the door and strolled in, trying to decide how, exactly, to kill a Master vampire if he threatened, or even so much as implied a threat against Lisa. He'd quickly find out how far anything I want would get him. But, when Vera walked into the living room, the two of them were next to one another on the couch, with Lisa's slim form blocking the little tufted patch of bullet holes and Erasmus Moody right beside, legs crossed like an effete lord and sipping on loose-leaf jasmine tea, no cream and a few drops of agave nectar. Vera could smell the hint of cactus from all the way across the room.

"That's not bad," he said to Lisa. "But not the real stuff, is it? I'll have a box of my favorite brand sent over, all the way from Siam... or whatever nonsense they call the damn place these days."

"Why are you here?" Vera asked. She stalked across the room and planted herself in front of Erasmus.

"Why, Miss Verne, I was only exercising my due diligence – I was concerned for your safety, young lady. I texted you, oh..." he checked the time on his mother-of-pearl wristwatch. "Two hours ago, and didn't hear a peep. Imagine my worry – for naught, it would seem, as you wander in here fit as a fiddle and smelling of... coffee and blueberry pancakes?"

"Close enough... I forgot my phone," Vera said and, with a shrug and as little sincerity as she could muster: "Sorry."

The master vampire's mustache twitched, and his subsequent smile appeared so genuine that he must have spent decades working on it. "We must have gotten mixed signals, then – but no matter. I'm very glad I made my way out to your abode here – a charming little place, if you don't mind me saying, bullet holes and all – because what should I discover but another newly-minted vampire. And a lovelier example I've never seen..."

"Thanks?" Lisa said uncertainly.

"You might think it vain, but there's an aesthetic that we vampires adhere to... and in other circumstances, neither of you would be permitted anywhere near my coven's territory – and by 'my', of course, I mean myself, the other Masters, and our Lady. But I was intrigued by Miss Verne... and, I daresay, Miss Lisa, utterly captivated by you. It pleases me to advise, then..." Erasmus reached into his jacket and procured an ornate invitation on creamy card-stock, reading:

The Palmetto Nocturnal Society Invites
Ms. Verne Vera
to attend its August Invocation
11^th July, 2020, 10 pm

The Master vampire uncapped a fountain pen, deftly dipped its nib, and carefully wrote in next to Vera's (old) name: and Ms. Lisa Mulberry in the exact same calligraphy as the rest of the invitation.

"There." He placed the invitation on the coffee table. "I'll expect the both of you tomorrow night, and I won't take 'no' for an answer. But..." he glanced between Vera and Lisa. "It's a ceremony that we at the nocturnal society take seriously, so dress appropriately." He placed a credit card on top of the invitation, obsidian black with a little crimson thumbprint. "I can recommend a clothier if you like."

Lisa snatched the card from the table, eyeing its glossy surface, the promise of a top-notch wardrobe flashing across her expression. "What's the limit on the card?"

Erasmus shrugged. "Whatever's in that account. High enough, but feel free to message Charles if you need more." He stood, buttoned his suit jacket, and then checked his pocket watch. "I've got a night ahead of me ladies, so I must bid  you adieu. I'm tickled pink to have met you, Miss Lisa." He bent at the waist and took Lisa's hand in his, giving it a soft kiss. "A pleasure as always, Miss Verne."

"Miss Vera," Vera corrected.

"As you wish," Erasmus said with a solemn nod of his head, and he spun on his heels and left. A minute later, Vera could hear the choppers of his escort fire up and thunder away toward East Weeks.

OvidLemma

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