With Raoul gone, Delia was lax with the rules. Sometimes she enforced them, but mostly she just left them alone.
Kerri was having the time of her life; she was attending all of plays and salons and art exhibits, with her father's permission, in the name of finding a husband. Sometimes Patrick went with her when he could find a baby sitter. She even snuck out with Erik, and they went for evening walks, sometimes staying out until almost down, exploring the city. Erik showed her the parts he knew, and Kerri took him on a tour of Monmatre. He was shocked that she'd ever been in such a desolate late part of town, but she argued that this was the center of all bohemian. Apparently, she had quite a few friends in this neighborhood.
"If you know all of this already then why are you so shocked that I've been here?" Kerri asked after the fourth or fifth 'I've been there' when ever she pointed out a tavern or bar.
"Because I've spent my life in the cellars of the world."
"So have I." She added, stealing his fedora off of his head. She'd bought it for him in one of the side shops, along with a black trench coat.
"Oh! Come in here for a moment, I want you to meet a friend." She pulled him into a bar, dark and smelling of warm alcohol and stale bread.
Kerri strode straight up to the bartender, who was obviously drunk.
"I thought you were getting help?" She asked him leaning on the bar.
"I have help." He pointed down. She leaned over farther, and her eyes wide. There was a very pretty boy, younger than her, attached to the mans crotch.
"He's working overtime." The man nodded, taking a swig of a bottle filled with green liquid.
"I see that." She laughed, "I want you to meet someone." She motioned for Erik to come over; he was still standing by the door.
"Jean-Luc, this is Erik. Erik, this is my good friend Jean-Luc."
The men shook hands.
"He's gorgeous! Where'd you find him?"
"The Opera House."
"Oh!" Jean Luc looked at Erik. "If you ever get tired of this board, give me a ring."
"Sorry, I already got it." She held out her hand. The man nearly dropped his bottle.
"Good God woman! What'd you do for a rock like that?"
"Save my life." Erik said. The other man looked confused.
"That's it?"
Kerri laughed, taking in Erik's positively shocked expression.
"Jean-Luc is a firm believer in free love." She said.
"And truth, and beauty, and freedom!" He raised the bottle in a toast. The rest of the bar cheered.
"And in honor of your love, this found is on me." He placed three shot glasses on the counter, and poured the green liquid from his bottle into them! When they were nearly brimming, he pulled out a box of matches, lighting the liquid on fire.
"To love!" He shouted, downing the drink in one gulp.
"Never accept anything from Jean-Luc except compliments." She warned, throwing the drink on the floor when he wasn't looking. Erik eyed the last glass, then Kerri.
"What harm could one drink do?" He shrugged.
"How do you feel?" Kerri was sitting in a chair next to Erik, who was under four layers of blankets in bed with cold cloth on his forehead.
"What happened?" He attempted to sit up, but a wave of nausea kept him down.
"You and Jean Luc hit it off really well. He guesses you were an alcoholic or just stupid."
"What made him say that?" Erik was sure he was going to die. He hadn't felt this horrible in years.
"You had seven shots of absinthe. Most people go down after about three."
"I was only supposed to have the one." He moaned.
"You forgot about the golden rule…"
"Don't let it touch your tongue." He finished, extremely embarrassed. He had hoped Kerri would never have to know that about his past. For years after he realized all women would hate him, he'd indulged in alcohol and opium. Antoinette Giry and Nadir finally had to lock him in Nadirs apartment for a week, where he went cold turkey and recovered.
"Is that why you don't drink?" Erik asked.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry you had to see me like that." She smiled.
"On the contrary, you were quite entertaining."
Erik couldn't even begin to think of what he'd said and done.
"How did I get here?"
"We hailed a cab, and Delia helped me after you passed out."
She held out a glass of some odd- colored liquid.
"Drink it. If it tastes like gravy, you're going too fast."
He had no idea what she was talking about; it tasted terrible.
"Are you going anywhere today?"
"No. And neither are you."
He chuckled, but stopped after his head started pounding.
"Go back to sleep; you'll feel better when you wake up."
That was actually a very good idea. He rolled over, moving the cloth to the back of his neck and placing a pillow over his head to block out any light or sound, even though the room was dark and all he could hear was Kerri's breathing. He fell into an inconsistent sleep, shifting between peaceful dreams and fitful nightmares.
When he awoke again, Delia was sitting next to him, sewing.
"Do you feel better?"
"Yes…" He sat up, and everything came back. "…no." He moaned.
"Where's Kerri?"
"She went out to dinner. But that was an hour ago."
"I thought she said she wasn't going anywhere."
"I made her. She wanted to stay here with you."
"Why? Did you make her go, I mean."
"She has freedom, Erik. No matter how brief it may be, she's got it. She was going to tell her parents about you right away, but I told her to wait, and take advantage of the fact that her father can sometimes be a trusting idiot."
"That wasn't for you to decide." Erik got up, catching himself on the bedpost when he stumbled.
"And it wasn't or you to decide, either." Delia sighed.
"Erik, she adores you. She'll have plenty of time to be a doting wife after this is all done, and you'll have plenty of time to be with her."
Erik splashed his face with water. It wasn't that he didn't trust Kerri, because he did. He didn't trust her friends, or that fop Patrick. He was better than Raoul had been, and not nearly as nosy, but he was still a vampire of a man. Was Erik jealous? A little bit.
"Erik! You're up!" Kerri was flushed, and smiling.
"For the moment."
"Did you have a nice time?" Delia prompted.
Kerri nodded.
"Giles made a perfect lemon tart. And then we all went to Yvette's apartment to hear her new manuscript…"
Erik choked on a glass of water as Kerri removed her dress.
"What the hell is that?" He coughed.
"What's what?"
"That!" He pushed on Kerri's left shoulder blade, where a tattoo of a rose resided. It was still red around the edges.
"Ow! Don't touch it!" She winced. "It's a tattoo."
"I know very well what it is, but why do you have one?"
"Marianne had some ink…..everyone got one."
"Well if everyone went and jumped of a bridge to see if they could fly, would you do it too?"
"What are you getting upset over? It's not like I have someone else's name scrolled all over me. It's a flower."
"Kerri, do you know how dangerous these things are? It could get infected, or you could get ink poisoning!"
"You're over reacting."
"No I'm not! People die all of the time from botched tattoos!"
"People die all of the time from lesser things, Erik. Excuse me for taking a risk, having a little fun."
"There are risks, and then there is recklessness."
"Look who's talking! 'What's one drink', you ask? Six shots later, you're stumbling out of the bar and making an ass of yourself! You want to talk about recklessness? How about the fact that you were a recovering alcoholic, and you drank so much that even a distillery worker would have died of alcohol poisoning?"
"That was a mistake, Kerri. I thought I had it under control." All of this yelling was making his headache worse.
"Kerri, I don't want to fight with you. But you have to think about things before you do them."
"I was thinking. I knew it would hurt like hell, and that my mother would strangle me if she ever saw it. But it was fun."
Erik did not understand that concept. Of course, he'd always been the calculating type, not doing anything without thinking it through. At least, until he'd met Kerri.
"You do realize now that your hair will have to be down all of the time, right?" Delia asked calmly. In all of their fervor, they'd forgotten she was there.
"A small price, I guess." She shrugged.
Or one of many.