know." I refrained from yelling, "He started it!" like some irate queen, even though that's how I felt. "Sorry, Bruce. Won't happen again." Kurt, huffing and puffing, shoved a finger in my face.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, bitch !" And with that, he spun on his heel, and swept out.
" Dude. " Bruce's eyes were wide with shock as he looked at me. "What did you do to him?"
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"Stole his boyfriend," I said, picking up my towel. I left Bruce, and the other trainer, staring at each other, heterosexual disbelief all over their faces.
* * * *
The sounds of discord invaded my sleeping mind and caused me to become alert, although it was yet some time before I could rise. Kurt. He had found Roger and baited him, provoking him to anger.
I should have foreseen this and taken steps to prevent it. I was careless, and my carelessness had resulted in Roger being threatened by a stranger. He would, no doubt, have many questions for me when we met tonight.
Kurt just might present us with a problem that I could have avoided, had I taken care of him earlier. That young man could not be trusted to keep silent. I'd have to make certain he could not interfere again.
* * * *
Now, don't get me wrong. I wasn't happy about this confrontation with Kurt the Curt, but it wasn't going to deter me from meeting Marcus at Joe's Café at six o'clock sharp. In fact, I was eager to tell him what had happened and to hear his explanation. I only hoped that it didn't sound too shallow. You know, "Well I thought I loved Kurt, then I saw you..." That kind of thing.
Still, although Kurt had proven himself to be a first class asshole, I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him. To think 55
My Vampire and I
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you've struck gold in finding someone as fantastic as Marcus, to have the promise of eternal life and love within your grasp, then to suddenly get the old heave ho. That just can't have made his day. Well, I couldn't wait to hear Marcus's version of it all. The evening promised to be most interesting.
When I got home, I showered, buffed and fluffed for close to an hour, then I stood for a good fifteen minutes, gazing into my closet, wondering what I could wear. Something cool and summery, I decided, taking a pale blue polo shirt from its hanger. It might have been the first of November, but in Los Angeles, it's always summer.
Pale blue flatters the eyes, don't you know. Blue jeans and flip-flops—well, it was only Joe's Café, not the Ritz. Thus attired, I set off to meet the man I hoped was going to change my life forever—if he didn't dump me mid-change!
He was already sitting at the bar when I arrived, and I took a moment to drink in the sight of his noble profile. Was there any part of him that didn't achieve perfection?
He wore a dark red short-sleeved silk shirt, black jeans, and cowboy boots. He was nursing a glass of red wine, staring into the liquid with a moody gaze. I thought he looked more like a poet than a vampire. A gorgeous poet. One that would make Lord Byron look more like Richard Simmons. As I watched him, a young guy sauntered near him and leaned on the bar, posing for what he supposed, was great effect. Marcus turned and looked at him.
I seethed.
The guy smiled at Marcus. He smiled back.
I stood, fists clenched.
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The guy said something. Marcus answered.
The guy frowned, then walked away.
I allowed myself a smug smile.
He turned—of course, he knew I was there—and there was that smile, except, this time, tinged with some sadness.
Obviously, Kurt had gotten to him before me and told him what a violent and unbalanced queen I was, unfit for vampire-hood. He beckoned me over, patting the seat of the barstool next to him. "Hello, Roger." His voice was deliciously deep and husky. "I'm glad you came." "Did you doubt it?" I asked, matching his sombre mood.
"I sensed some apprehension on your part this afternoon."
"You did?"
The