Second Night

Garrett awoke the next morning alone. This was probably a good thing, since a ray of sunlight was peeking through the curtain onto the bed. He got up and began gathering up his clothes. The memories of the night before were still very fresh in his mind, bombarding him with moral dilemma and satisfaction at the same time.

He got dressed and walked out. Until he got to the first floor, he didn't see a soul. He was momentarily startled by a 20 something woman who pointed to the door, grinning all the while. He stepped out into the sunlight and rode back to his hotel.

After a shower and a change of clothes, Garrett went down to the lobby for a quick bite to eat. Once again, he picked up a copy of the local paper. The headline wasn't surprising.

Another girl abducted from home

Police unable to find leads, suspects

Garrett didn't bother reading the article. It was the eighth disappearance in eight days. They had struck again at a random location and once again nobody saw or heard anything. He was going to have to try to get to the bottom of this, but he had no idea where to start.

For now, he needed to call his agent.

"Garrett, what can I do you for? What do you think about the talent show?" Tony asked.

"It's in the bag. I'll have a record deal by the end of the night. No sweat."

"Well, break a leg tonight and you and me will be rolling in the money in no time. No more hole-in-the-wall bars … it's all concert halls and stadiums for you, my friend."

The hours went by uneventfully and the sun started to sink toward the horizon. He hopped on his bike and headed to the club for the second round. This was going to be cake.

He arrived just as the line began to form. He parked and walked over to the end. The bouncer working the door saw him, talked into a microphone clipped to his shirt collar, and waved him in.

The club was a little more populated tonight, at least the first floor was. He hadn't seen this many people on the ground floor before. That could be because it was a Friday night.

He went to the elevator and punched in the code that had been provided to him the first day. When the got to the third floor, he found he was alone … well, almost alone. The sound of a violin solo crept into the atmosphere, sending out a beautiful current of sound. He stepped onto the main floor and looked toward the stage. Lillian stood there alone, with what appeared to be a Stradivarius in her hands. Her hands worked the instrument effortlessly as she played a concerto possibly by Bach … he couldn't be sure. He stood there motionless, mesmerized by the music.

She knew full well he was there, but didn't acknowledge him at first. She merely went on playing, as absorbed in the tune as Garrett was. When she finished, she slowly lowered the instrument and exhaled. She opened her eyes, looked at Garrett and smiled.

"You're not the only one who can captivate with music," she said jokingly. Garrett couldn't think clearly enough at the moment to make a reply. He only stood there with a funny looking smile on his face.

Garrett laughed for a moment. "I never said I was the only one."

She set the violin in a velvet lined case and made her way over to him. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.

"Can I expect a repeat of last night tonight?" she asked, eyeing him longingly.

Apparently he made an impression or she was just a really good actress. It was too early to tell.

"Are you talking about my performance on stage or later on?" he replied with an eyebrow raised.

"Hmmm, let me think for a second," she bared her teeth in a mischievous grin, "… both."

At this point, Garrett had censored his voice of reason. It no longer spoke to him about the possible dangers that could be lurking around the corner by forming a personal relationship with a vampire. Unless danger was imminent, that is …

At that moment, the elevator doors opened and a man in a business suit walked through. Lillian looked over at him, appearing visibly annoyed. There was no doubt, he too was kindred, probably a Ventrue.

"What do you want, Dante?" she asked, releasing Garrett from her embrace.

"A moment of your time," he said. "We have some things to discuss."

She voiced her displeasure with a labored sigh and turned to Garrett. "Excuse us for a moment," she said as she walked to a table and sat down. Dante followed suit. Garrett walked over to the bar and waited. They talked in hushed voices Garrett could barely hear, but not make out. She did not appear to be very happy. After a few minutes, Dante stood and excused himself. He shot a quick glance over at Garrett, one of contempt, and walked back to the elevator.

Lillian got up from the table just as the first guests poured out of the elevator. She came over to Garrett; her demeanor had shifted to business.

"You understand that if I were seen with you in a position that wasn't strictly professional, it could be construed as favoritism and look very bad, right?" she asked, her tone nothing but serious. Garrett nodded. She smiled briefly, nodded back and walked over to meet and greet with the guests.

A moment later, the bartender arrived for his shift and Garrett ordered a drink. He walked backstage to see if anyone had put his guitar back … sure enough, they had. He pulled it out and checked the tuning. Everything sounded good, so he put it back up and waited.

Eventually, the remaining performers funneled into the backstage area. There was no sign of Snifter. Garrett didn't give it much thought until a man came around with a hat and told people to draw numbers. He wondered what was keeping him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a red flag popped up. He ignored it for the time being and drew his number. Damnit … anything but first. Oh well, he would just have to impress the judges that much more. If only he knew which people in the crowd actually were the judges.

The emcee announced his name and Garrett took the stage. He adjusted the microphones quickly, just as he had done the night before and began. He played an up-tempo song about life on the road and stuck it perfectly. He could tell the audience was getting into it. He tried to put as much energy and determination into it as he possibly could and finished out to a standing ovation. Nothing short of blackmail or bribery was going to stand between him and a record deal now.

He left the backstage area in favor of the bar and a pre-celebratory drink. He watched the other performers from atop a barstool and didn't see any real competition. He sipped his beer, lit a cigarette and patiently waited.

Finally, the last performance was over and the emcee called everyone to the stage. He introduced a representative from Vision Records before announcing the winner.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for," he said, opening an envelope. Garrett prepared himself for an acceptance speech. "The winner is … Keith Stimburg!"

The audience applauded as the lucky winner stepped forward and accepted his award. Garrett was absolutely floored. How in Gaia's name did this hack manage to beat him out? He saw Lillian in the crowd, smiling and applauding. Her gaze met Garrett's and she winked at him. It didn't make him feel any better, but he congratulated the winner all the same and played the good sport.

Garrett made his way back to the bar and ordered another beer. He was devastated, confused, pissed off and curious at the same time. Why did she wink at him? Was she just flirting or was it something more? He didn't know and for the moment, didn't give a shit. His beer was his only concern for the moment. Wait a minute … Snifter never showed up. Where the hell was he? Now he was a little worried.

He finished his beer and went down to the rave club. As soon as he got there, he made his way to the bar and continued to drink. No sign of the Shatters down here either. What is going on, I wonder?

He spotted Thornn across the room, looking bored as usual. Garrett figured she didn't have fun unless she was disemboweling someone with her bare hands. He walked over to see if she had any idea where they were.

"Why would I know where they are?" she asked, suddenly defensive. "I'm not their babysitter."

That figures. He didn't expect much more out of her, but thought maybe she would know something. Oh well, so much for that, back to the bar.

An hour passed and he was starting to get a buzz. He wasn't paying attention when a hand touched his shoulder and caressed his neck. He turned around and saw Lillian, naturally.

"Would you like to get some fresh air?" she asked. "I heard you have a motorcycle and I want to take a ride."

Garrett looked at her and looked down at his beer. He laid some cash on the bar and led her outside. Thornn cast them an apathetic glance as they ascended the stairs.

It felt good to feel the wind in his face as they rode along the streets of Pittsburgh. It felt better to have a female body pressed tight against him, her arms wrapped firmly around his midsection.

She directed him up this street, down that street … a left turn here, a right turn there. They came to an intersection and stopped at a red light. She leaned forward and spoke directly in his ear.

"My house is four blocks up the road," she said. "If you can make it there in less than a minute, you can stay the night."

"And if I don't make it?"

"Then you can't stay the night."

The light turned green and he punched the gas. The tires squealed for half a second before finding traction and they were off like a bat out of hell. It was a good thing there were no cops patrolling this road, because he would have a hard time explaining why he was doing more than 70 miles per hour in a 35 mph zone.

This was going to be easy. Or was it? She tapped him on the shoulder as he zoomed past the second block. A bra landed in his lap and was quickly swept away in the wind. Now he was rattled. Her hands ran down his torso and up his legs. If he didn't slow down now, he was going to wreck. Damn, she got him.

They arrived at her house precisely one minute and eight seconds after she made the wager. He parked the bike and let it idle.

"I'll tell you what," she said as she got off the bike. "Two nights from now, at eight o'clock sharp, I want you to come to the third floor of the Barbarosa. I want you to pick out your ten best songs and play them for me. Call it a private concert."

Garrett was confused but excited. "What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Don't be late," she said as she leaned down and kissed him.

"Well I guess I'll see you later then," he said, not showing his growing disappointment.

"What do you mean" she asked, trying to feign innocence. "When I said you couldn't stay the night, it didn't mean you couldn't come in … for a drink, perhaps?"

He began to get the feeling that he never had a chance to win that bet.

Three hours later, he came back out and got on his bike. He had forgotten all about the talent show and no longer cared about the shortcoming. Maybe it was for the best. This proposition she had laid out in front of him smelled like an audition for something, but he dared not hope for a recording contract. That would be too good to be true.

He rode around Pittsburgh with no particular destination in mind. He felt good and it was nice to just drive. He drove past the Barbarosa, which had just begun to close. He thought about stopping, and then he thought better of it. He went another mile down the road toward the hotel before someone jumped out in front of him, their arms waving wildly.

It was Snifter. He was bleeding from a laceration on his scalp. He looked scared … really scared.

"Garrett! Oh shit, Garrett … you have to help us!"