Thank you all so much for the long reviews - Sephora I wish I could reply to yours! They were all very much appreciated. And now, the morning after...


Scattered Pearls


Jolted awake by a sense of imminent disaster, I sat bolt upright in bed and gasped.

Ouch. I scrunched my eyes shut. After a moment of soothing darkness, I tried again. Still too bright. Shading my eyes with my hand, I blinked rapidly until the sun-flooded room came into focus.

I was on my bed, on top of the quilt, wearing the dress I picked out for Blue.

What the hell? Had I fallen asleep, missed the whole thing?

The sour taste in my mouth said otherwise. As did my purse and shoes, dropped haphazardly on the chair in the corner. All the signs indicated I'd made it to the nightclub, including my throbbing head. Nonetheless, my mind, fuzzy with sleep and pain, had misplaced the previous evening.

The alarm from my bladder grew insistent. Stumbling to the bathroom I dealt with that, and – with my eyes half-shut, Lord it was bright – grabbed a towel to dry my hands. A dirty towel. I stared groggily at the black smudges on it, blinking in confusion. Then I looked in the mirror.

Oh.

Mascara. Raccoon-eyed Sookie.

I wasn't firing on all cylinders, that was for damn sure. And I was thirsty.

Grabbing the glass I kept on the nightstand, I noticed my cell was blinking, but that could wait. I took two painkillers, gorged myself on cold water, scrubbed my teeth and removed the ruins of my make-up.

Taking the empty glass back, I picked up my cell and found a text from Pam.

Your drink was spiked at Blue, probably liquid E. It wore off quickly. Should be no lasting effects. Will come tonight.

I sank onto the bed, and reread it.

Spiked.

Shit. No wonder I couldn't remember.

I shuddered. The thought of being woozy and helpless, a stranger's hands, an unwelcome touch...

I looked down. My dress was grubby. Soiled.

I shot into the bathroom, stripped off and jumped under the shower while it was still cold. Gasping, I scrubbed at my skin with generous handfuls of body wash, the fresh scent of citrus engulfing me.

As the water warmed, my panic dulled. Pam knew. I had guards; they'd intervened. I was safe, intact. I took my time lathering my hair and washing my body again. As my hands worked a comforting rhythm, I closed my eyes. Bright pearls of memory flashed in the dark.

Standing in the bathroom, a tap running and a towel pressed to my face. When I got home, I guessed.

A car window, cool against my face, a dark landscape sliding past. My car. I wasn't driving. Someone had driven me home. Thalia?

Leanne and Melissa laughing round a table, music throbbing. The nightclub.

The fragments came out of order, out of context, pearls scattered from a broken necklace. I threaded them together.

Meeting up with the girls. Dancing, having fun. A round of shots. Dragging a frat boy up to dance with me. Lord, what I was I thinking? I wasn't, the alcohol was thinking for me. I was higher than a Georgia pine.

Melissa left with a guy, her guy. Jo? John? I couldn't remember. That bitch Jody upset Leanne. I saw Leanne to her car, madder than a wet hen. I was going to beat Jody at her little game, I was gonna–

Oh shit.

Find a guy.

I hadn't, had I? I froze, checking myself over. I had all the symptoms of a hangover, but no soreness where things shouldn't be sore. Thank goodness for–

I gasped.

Eric.

Oh hell.

Eric was there.

I got a few more pearls. Dancing with a guy, tall and dark. Him grabbing me, being creepy. Me stumbling back into Eric. Things got hazy then. Eric's arms around me. His smell. My voice, drawling that he had no competition.

Oh dear Lord, I'd flirted with him. Surely I hadn't said that cheesy line aloud? Just kill me now. And what the hell happened next?

Try as I might nothing more came. However hard I wrung out my tired and abused brain, that was where the string snapped. No more pearls. In despair, I pressed my forehead against the cool tiles.

Eventually the water cooled. I got out, towelling myself roughly, angry with myself.

I'd been beyond foolish. Let my guard down just because I'd missed out on partying when I was younger, thanks to my telepathy. I was damn lucky I'd gotten away unscathed. It could have been so much worse.

Pulling on some shorts and a tank, I figured any memory that hadn't been eaten by the drug could be coaxed out by that age-old trick: blithely going about my business until it popped up unasked.

...

I felt human again after coffee, strong and black. Toast, dry and white, settled my stomach. I had a lot to do before everybody arrived. I got busy marinating meat and fixing side-dishes, glad I'd picked up groceries earlier in the week.

That done, I grabbed my sunglasses and headed outside to survey the backyard. It was a glorious day. The grass was a little long, but I didn't have time to cut it. At least the flowerbeds were tidy. Setting out the lawn chairs without Sam was a painful reminder I was single.

Hot and tired, I went inside to dress for company. I splashed cold water on my face at the sink and reached for a towel. Pressing it to my face, the feel of it and the smell of mascara catapulted me into a memory.

Standing in the dark bathroom, I was sniffling, pressing the towel to my face, trying to stem tears of humiliation. Why, oh why had I tried to kiss him? The way he leapt up before I could even touch him, like my lips were silver. The cold look on his face, the distant way he spoke to me…

I pulled the towel away, surprised to see daylight.

The fragment was hazy, but the feeling that had me crying, the utter mortification – that came through keenly. Swallowing hard, I bit back a cuss word that would have had Gran picking out a switch.

I'd obviously made a fool of myself. I just didn't know how complete a fool.

With Eric of all people.

I winced, mentally apologising to Gran for planning, even for a second, even drunk as a skunk, to jump into bed with a random stranger. I respected myself more than that. Gran taught me better than that. She would be mortified.

She needn't bother. I was plenty mortified for us both.

Not least because Eric was no stranger. Sheppard of Judea, a stranger would've been a heck of lot less complicated.

And what was with the pathetic Weeping Willa act? Must've been the damn drug. I was a grown-ass woman, not some angst-ridden teenager, easily crushed by rejection. If I offered a guy a night of passion, and the guy turned me down, so what?

It hadn't meant anything. It wasn't a big deal.

Stomping into the bedroom, I yanked open my closet and rooted through the clothes for the pretty pink sundress I wanted to wear. I tossed it on the bed.

Time to put last night behind me. I had a birthday to celebrate.

...

The cookout was in full swing.

Jason and Hoyt, beers in hand, were manning the grill. Over by the woods, JB and Cody were supervising Jay-Jay and Tara's twins, their game of catch degenerating into a chase amid loud shrieks of laughter. Danny, Kennedy and Tara were fetching side-dishes from the kitchen, having banished me to sit in the shade. I was chatting to Holly and Penny. Her guy, Ryan, had barely said two words to anyone, and was clinging to Penny's hand for dear life. I wondered waspishly if he'd let go if she needed to pee.

Rubbing my forehead, I realised my irritability stemmed from my returning headache. This morning's painkillers had worn off. Suppressing a sigh, I excused myself.

Michele was singing a lullaby to Marie Adele as I passed the spare room, and I sighed for real.

I dawdled in my room, needing a break from playing hostess. When I came out, Michele was in the hall, baby monitor in her hand. She hushed me with a finger on her lips, and motioned me forwards. I peeked into the spare room. My niece was fast asleep in the travel cot Jason had set up in there. Michele pulled the door gently shut, and we snuck away to the kitchen.

"Want some iced tea?" I offered.

"Please." She yawned.

I glanced over my shoulder from the fridge. "She sleeping any better?"

"A little. Only woke us twice last night."

"Jason helping out enough?"

"Yeah. Got an hour to myself in the tub yesterday." She smiled. "Put that pamper kit to good use. Thanks for that."

I smiled back and handed her drink to her. "Any time, Michele."

We leant against the counter companionably, sipping our drinks. She cast a few glances my way before she asked, "How did last night go?" I grimaced immediately, and she chuckled. "A little hung-over today, honey?"

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"Oh, hush. I'm jealous. It'll be a good while before I can paint the town red." She was grinning at my misfortune all the same. "So, any juicy gossip about the girls from Minden? I've got to get my kicks where I can."

I snorted. "Well, Jody is a complete bitch, but that's not headline news. She was real mean to Leanne, who wouldn't say boo to a goose. Poor kid. Melissa's got guy trouble but you'll have to wait until Monday to find out what happened there."

"But you had a good night?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Mostly, I guess." I looked down into my glass, swirling the tea and making the ice clink soothingly.

"Something bugging you?"

Yes. Definitely. But I didn't want to get into it. I shrugged.

She nudged me with her hip. "Trouble halved."

We eyed each other. I sighed. I could tell her some, but it was no use getting her, or God forbid Jason if she told him, all riled up over a spiked drink when nothing came of it. "I had too much to drink. Made a fool of myself."

"In front of the girls from work?"

I shook my head.

Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "A guy?"

I felt myself flushing. "Maybe."

"Did you–"

"No, no." I flushed even more. "He, um..." Turned me down flat. "He wasn't interested."

"Oh. That's all?"

I gave her a look that said: Wasn't that enough?

"You likely to see him again?"

"Nope." Not unless I moved to Indiana. That was a point. Why on earth was Eric there last night? I had a vague idea it had something to do with Pam. I should ask her to warn me next time he was in town.

Michele shrugged. "Getting drunk and making a pass at some guy in a bar you're never going to see again ain't so bad. If you knew some of the stupid shit I did after my divorce…" She tapped her head pointedly. "Guess you haven't caught any of that."

"No. I try not to pry, you know that."

"Well, I'm not real proud of some of it, but I got over it. No need to beat yourself up about one night, Sook. Everybody's entitled to cut loose now and again."

That philosophy explained how she accepted Jason, womanising past and all.

She patted my arm, and switched her empty glass for the baby monitor on the counter. "Best get out there before the menfolk start chowing down without us."

Painkillers and food chased away the last of my hangover, and I began to enjoy my company.

The men talked about baseball, Jason making grand plans for Jay-Jay's Little League career. The womenfolk complimented each other's dishes, swapping recipes and gossip. Even Michele and Tara. They'd buried the hatchet a week earlier when Tara finally got up the nerve to apologise to Jason. By the time the air was cooling and the shadows had lengthened, Ryan had even let go of Penny and was talking to Danny about video games.

I was laughing at one of Holly's mother-in-law jokes – she had a bunch of them, it was the only way not to strangle Maxine, she said – when a car horn sounded from the front of the house.

Jason, over by the tree-line fetching a ball, saw who it was. He jogged back over, scowling straight at me, and announced grimly, just as I read it from his head, "It's Sam."

Conversation stopped abruptly. I calmly put down my plate and wiped my face with my napkin. "No biggie, Jason. I'll see what he wants."

Tara and Jason exchanged a look, both ready to volunteer as my bodyguard.

"Oh no. You guys are staying right here," I said firmly. "I can handle this."

I glared at them until Tara muttered, "Fine."

"The rest of you carry on," I said, and walked away to see what my ex-husband wanted.

Sam smiled tentatively at me from his truck, arm resting on the open window. He waited until I got closer and asked, "Mind if I get out? I won't keep you long. I know you have folks over."

I frowned, puzzled by his behaviour. "Sure, Sam. What's up?"

He switched off the engine and jumped down. "Sorry to interrupt, but I wanted to get this to you today."

"No problem."

He headed to the back of his truck and dropped the tailgate. I followed, curious. In the truck bed was a bag of compost, a shovel and an odd shape bundled up in an old blanket.

"What's all this?" I asked.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck. "I ordered this last year, as a late Christmas present. Forgot all about it until the nursery called me a few months back. Had them keep hold of it as you were away. Figured I'd give you it now, for your birthday. I know it's the wrong season and all, but–"

"Sam," I interrupted softly, "you got me a rose bush?" He knew how upset I was when one of Gran's died last summer.

"Yeah." He swung himself up onto the truck bed and pulled the bundle over, unwrapping it carefully. The rose was covered with soft pink flowers.

I smiled up at him, touched. "It's gorgeous. Thank you."

Sam smiled a little, and side-eyed me. "It's called Fairy. Seemed appropriate. Want me to plant it for you?"

"Sure." He'd come prepared and I wasn't too proud to turn down the offer. I choose a good position, close to the front steps, and left him to it.

Jason was waiting just around the corner of the house. I shooed him away and headed round to the kitchen to grab a container. I wasn't ready to hang out with Sam just yet, but I wouldn't send the man home empty-handed. Not after such a thoughtful gift.

Everybody stopped talking when I got back to the table. I rolled my eyes at them. "He brought me a rose bush. I'm fixing him some food to take home. Y'all never saw a civilised divorce?"

Tara and Jason glowered. Penny and the rest of the menfolk looked uncomfortable. Michele and Holly looked at each other in surprise, but Kennedy just grinned at me. I took my time picking food Sam liked. Everybody was talking again by the time I snapped the container closed. I snagged a beer from the cooler, and headed round the house.

I turned the corner and froze.

Sam's t-shirt was thrown over the handrail by the steps. He was gently stamping down the soil around the rose, the muscles in his back rippling in the sunlight. It was a wonderful sight.

I must have made a noise, because he glanced round. Wiping his hands quickly on his jeans, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, making more delicious ripples. Thankfully I recovered myself while the shirt was over his face and walked over as if nothing had happened. I was not ogling my ex. No sirree. Seeing him shirtless just caught me off guard.

I handed him the beer.

"Thanks." He took a long swig and wiped his mouth. We turned to look at the rose together. "Just water it well for the next couple weeks."

"Sure will. It looks great Sam. Thank you." I leant over and kissed his cheek lightly. When I did, I got a glimpse into his head and gasped. "You did the weeding while I was gone."

"Yep," he said with a satisfied grin. "I know how much you hate doing it."

"Sure do. Thanks for that too." I smiled, pleased things were easier between us. Then Sam ruined it.

"Spending time here… It helped me come to terms with letting you go."

"Oh." Awkward. Very.

He looked down and scuffed the grass with his boot. "So… I heard you got a job."

"Yes. Over in Minden. Office work."

"That's great."

"Yeah. It's nice to be working nine-to-five." Realising that sounded like a criticism of Merlotte's, I rushed to add, "But it means more mileage on the car."

"Uh, yeah." He glanced over at my car, parked beyond his.

My car, parked in the wrong place, out the front, by whoever drove me home. Most likely a vamp. Thalia, knowing my luck. Her scent would be all over it.

I did not want Sam asking why that was.

Attempting to deflect his attention, I rambled on in a bright perky voice. "The girls in the office are real welcoming. Nice girls. Leanne is just lovely, got me cupcakes on Thursday for my birthday. Melissa is great, real spunky and smart too. Real friendly. Wanted me to go clubbing with them..."

Why in the heck had I blurted that out? We'd been divorced less than three weeks. Sam didn't need to hear I'd been out partying, much less that I'd been ready to jump into bed with the first guy who came along. That I tried to kiss Eric.

That was the last thing Sam deserved.

I looked at the rose, the beautiful rose he'd given me. A hot flush of shame welled up my chest and throat, heating my face.

Looking puzzled, Sam opened his mouth to ask a question I sure didn't want to answer, but a ball bounced into view, closely followed by Jason. He bent to pick it up and glared at Sam before he threw it back. Jason, my brother, subtle as a brick. But I was real glad of the distraction.

Sam sifted uneasily. "I'd best be going."

"Sure." I handed him the food. "Thanks for the rose, Sam."

"You're welcome. Thanks for the food. See you around."

Once it got dark, Jason and Hoyt let off a few fireworks, much to Cody and Jay-Jay's delight. Thankfully Marie Adele slept through them and no-one got singed, just one of the trees. That had Michele rolling her eyes, muttering that some guys never grew up.

Everyone headed home after that. I put the last few dishes away, keeping an ear out for Pam. I didn't hear her car, but I did feel two voids approaching from the woods. I went to the back door, expecting Thalia to be with her.

The vampire behind Pam was not much taller than me, tanned but paled by his condition, with black hair and dark eyes. He was wearing plaid and denim, in contrast to Pam's smart pant suit and heels. Her work clothes. She was carrying a large purse.

"Hey, Pam."

"Sookie," she said, "meet Gerard, your new guard. He was watching you last night."

I nodded at him, trying to look disinterested. Lord only knew what he thought of me.

Bowing, he said with a strong French accent, "Gerard LeFèvre at your service. My apologies for last night. I followed you out to ze lot and did not see le bâtard who tampered with your drink."

I couldn't help responding to his politeness, and maybe that cute accent of his too. "Oh, don't worry about it. No harm done." Only to my dignity.

"You are very kind." He bowed again. Geez, he was mighty polite for a vamp. Pam gave him a nod of dismissal and he left.

I waved Pam inside. She declined my offer of bottled blood and we settled ourselves at the kitchen table, like old times. She asked, "You are well?"

I shrugged. "I guess. I lost a chunk of last night. Did Gerard drive me back here?"

Pam blinked. "No." She hesitated. "That was Eric."

Oh, wonderful. I groaned, dropped my face into my hands to cover my blush, and muttered some French myself.

"I see you remember something, then."

Every word oozed with amusement. I peered through my fingers at her. Yep, her mouth was twitching. She must've had a front row seat for the drunken Sookie show.

"Would you like me to fill in some gaps?" she offered, eyes twinkling.

"No!" I half-yelled. I really did not want to know. I lifted my face – who was I kidding? She knew I was beet red – and added more calmly, "No. I'm sure anything important will come back to me."

She smirked openly. "Oh, I'm sure. Eric brought you to Fangtasia and watched over you while you were … intoxicated. If you are concerned about that, suffice it to say you know Eric. He is a gentleman."

I snorted. That was barefaced lie. Eric was the exact opposite of a gentleman, so being turned down last night was a sad reflection on the power of my feminine charms. Or his indifference to them, anyway.

"Thanks. That's real comforting," I said, hiding the sting of rejection behind sarcasm. "Did you come out here just to tease the heck out of me or was there something else?"

Pam dropped the smirk. "Liquid E acts quickly. It was probably in your last drink."

I inhaled sharply. "Jody." That bitch. "She got the last round."

"But it was busy," Pam cautioned. "We can't be sure it was her. I will have Gerard glamour the truth out of her, and make sure she leaves you alone."

"No." Jody's ass was mine. I would deal with her. "I'll do a little digging in her head. Find out what happened for sure."

Pam nodded. "Let me know what you find." She stood, brushed off her suit, and pulled a beautifully wrapped gift out of her purse. "For your birthday, breather."

"Pam, you shouldn't have." She really shouldn't have bothered to wrap it so carefully. I had the paper shredded in seconds. I opened the box inside to reveal an LSU assignment diary, a couple of personalised data sticks, and a gift card for the campus bookstore.

"Pam, it's perfect. Thank you." I got up and hugged her, laughing at the face she pulled.

"Sookie. You're creasing my suit."

"Oh, you love it. Wait, did you come in a car tonight?"

"Yes. I parked at the cemetery."

"Stay right there." I fetched a box from my room. "A souvenir from England. I meant to give you it to you that first night, but it wasn't wrapped."

She opened the box, carefully undid the bubble-wrap parcel inside, to reveal an art deco figurine I'd found in an antique shop. I remembered the lamps in her lounge as soon as I saw it and thought she'd like the style. The graceful, and naked, female form was bound to be a hit. Still, I held my breath while she ran her fingers over it.

She broke into a smile. "It's lovely. Thank you, my friend."

I grinned. "I'm glad you like it."

The glow of giving and receiving warmed me until my head hit the pillow.

...

I went to church next morning, in penance for my wild Friday night.

And what a penance it was. The sermon, which railed against the temptations of the flesh, seemed spoken to me alone. I hid my face while the Reverend gave it, my ears burning, very glad I'd sat at the back again.

After the service, gossip centred on a Mrs Lockwood, who was scandalously divorcing her poor, poor husband to chase after a younger man. Translation: her husband came home drunk and smelling of cheap perfume one too many times, and the 'younger' man was a sprightly mid-forties to her early-fifties.

Maxine, who always crowed the loudest when she was first in the know, was talking about a girl at Bon Temps High giving birth unexpectedly. "A bright girl for sure, but no better than her raisin'. I could tell you some stories about her mother that would scare your hair white."

I hurried past her gaggle of eager listeners, missing Holly. Tara and JB weren't there either. The twins didn't do well after a late night and they hadn't left mine until after nine, so that was no shock. Halleigh gave me a warm smile, but she was stuck talking to the particularly overprotective mother of one of her students.

I stood off to one side all alone, consoling myself that being ignored was a step up from being gossiped over. At least no-one was thinking I'd ditched Sam for a vamp this week. Thank goodness that was dying a death. I was beginning to think that damn wish had rippled out wider than I thought.

Oh shit.

Eric drove me home. I offered up a fervent prayer that no-one in Bon Temps had spotted him. That was all I needed, rumours about a large pale blond driving me home in the small hours. A good dollop of guilt hit me when I imagined what that would do to Sam. Cheese and rice, I'd be ashamed to look him in the eye. We'd never make it back to the friendship I wanted to regain.

I was truly relieved nothing had happened between me and Eric. It would only complicate things.

I looked around. Halleigh wasn't going to be free for a while. There was no-one else I had a burning desire to catch up with. Might as well go home and do laundry.

I was lounging in the sun that afternoon, making the most of my free weekend, when the house phone rang. I hightailed it into the kitchen and answered breathlessly, "Stackhouse residence."

"Hi, Sookie."

"Amelia." We hadn't spoken since right after the divorce. That conversation had been stilted, and interrupted several times by Felix. I asked warmly, "How are you?"

"Oh, fine," she said in that way people do when they want you to move on and not question it. "You? Doing anything for Independence Day today?"

"Oh, just chilling. Folks are going over to Monroe or Ruston, but I'm all for staying in and getting an early night." If she assumed I wasn't planning on standing in a crowd watching fireworks because of my telepathy, not my disastrous night clubbing, then I wasn't going to correct her.

"How was your birthday?"

"Just grand. We missed you at the cookout yesterday. Thank you for the gift basket."

"I'm sorry it wasn't anything more, but I'm not really up to shopping."

"Is the morning sickness still bad?" I hopped up on the stool and toyed with the notepad and pen I kept next to the phone, in memory of Gran. Something tickled at my awareness, teasingly out of reach, but Amelia's heavy sigh pulled my attention back to our conversation.

"Yeah. And I'm so much more exhausted this time, dealing with Felix on my own."

"On your own?" I sat up, still holding the pen but focused on her.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Bob moved out."

"Oh no," I said softly. "How are you holding up?"

"Not great." Her voice wavered. "In fact, it's been a really shitty week. The coven … Bob's very popular and a few of the women … I guess you know how people love to take sides."

"Sure do." Tara, for instance.

"How are you coping without Merlotte's? I can't even imagine you working anywhere else."

"Oh. I, er, got an office job over in Minden." It felt wrong to brag on it when she sounded so unhappy. "Nothing major, just filing, making coffee and answering phones. It's a small place so it's not too noisy for me."

"You sound like you found your feet already."

"Yeah, I think so." Just a little problem called Jody to straighten out.

There was a pause, a sniff, and she said, "Everything's such a mess. Poor Felix is so miserable."

"Oh, Ames. You'll get through it." Whatever it was. I couldn't imagine what would make Bob move out.

"I hope so." She tried to laugh, but it sounded painful. "It just sucks when you're in the middle of it."

"Yeah, it sure does. Sam and me …" I turned the pen over in my hand trying to find the right words to comfort her. That mental itch started up again, but I ignored it. "Last November was rough. Things went to hell in a hand-basket real fast. Wanna talk about it?"

"No. No, I'll be fine." Her voice was shaky, like she was about to burst into tears.

I frowned. This was more personal than we'd gotten in a long time, and no easy thing to talk about over the phone. She needed a shoulder to cry on. My heart went out to her and, wanting our friendship to improve, I decided to reach out. "Ames… Do you want me to come down there?"

"Oh. But you just started a new job."

I played with the pen, the phone tucked into my shoulder. "I could come for a weekend."

"Oh. Um … in a fortnight?"

She sure wasn't her usual confident self. Sounding cheerful enough for both of us I said, "Sure, I'd love to Ames."

"Okay. It's a date." she said, sounding happier.

Now I was anxious, worrying about driving in New Orleans, trying to remember where she lived and if there was parking, turning the pen in my hands over nervously. The pen–

"Let me call round," she added, "find someone to cover the store. I'll call to confirm later this week."

"Sure. Y'all look after yourself, Ames."

"You too, Sookie."

She hung up and I stared at the cheap ballpoint in my hand, seeing something else entirely: a silver pen catching the light, mesmerising me as large pale hands turned it over and over.

The vision vanished like mist. I put the phone down.

Was that a memory? It didn't make sense. I was pretty sure those were Eric's hands, but the pen was silver and he wasn't burning … Oh. Maybe it was brushed steel, like the sign outside Fangtasia.

Fangtasia. Pam said he'd watched over me at Fangtasia. It was a memory.

I closed my eyes, barely breathing. A silver pen. Eric's hands. I kept those things in the back of my mind and relaxed, not focusing on them, keeping my centre of attention empty. It was difficult, like trying to see those 3-D pictures you can only see if you cross your eyes six ways to Sunday.

Eric sitting behind Pam's desk, his face blank and still. His hands, turning and turning the pen. Me, sitting in front of him, fidgeting in the hot seat.

My eyes flew open. Hot seat?

Damn. Lost it. I tried again, willing myself not to react, imagining the scene happening to someone else so as not to interrupt the flow. All I got was a few fragments of a conversation, distorted and hazy, but enough to get the gist of it.

I waited for a second to make sure there was no more.

Then, launched by a hot coil of anger in my belly, I leapt up from the stool.

That jerk! He had the cheek to make me feel guilty about an innocent peck on the lips. How dare he even suggest that I'd been unfaithful after what he did with that were-bitch. The nerve of that asshole! Sticking his nose where it didn't belong, prying into my marriage, asking about things that were private, things that should stay between me and Sam.

And he asked me all that while I wasn't in my right mind, no doubt expecting I wouldn't remember a word of it. Manipulative, high-handed son of a bitch!

I stomped back and forth, banging cabinet doors at random, until I slammed one so hard the crockery inside rattled.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in a snit, muttering darkly that Indiana wasn't far enough and sharpening imaginary stakes every time I caught sight of the trees outside. I was still simmering an hour after sunset and in no mood to be charitable to early evening visitors.

Especially not to presumptuous ones. Especially not ones with fangs.

My unwanted caller arrived while I was sitting at the kitchen table, with the back door open to catch the breeze. He didn't toot a horn to announce his arrival, like a considerate ex who appreciated his visit might not be welcome. Oh no, not like Sam at all.

This one came right on up like he owned the place and knocked on the back porch bold as brass. I tilted my chair back, craned my neck and checked the void was who I expected it to be.

Yep. There Bill was on the other side of the screen door, smiling and holding a gift.

Clearly, he reckoned two visits to the front door a month ago entitled him to knock at the back, a level of intimacy reserved for close friends and family, despite the fact we'd barely spoken in the last few years. That assumption irritated me no end.

I stood, crossed the room at a leisurely pace, and leaned against the inner doorway, making no move to cross the porch and open the screen.

"Bill," I said, my tone conveying I was none too happy to be disturbed.

He ignored that and gestured with the gift. "Good evening, Sookie. It's a little late, but I brought you a birthday present."

"Uh-huh. I was about to turn in," I lied, in no mood to spare his feelings. "Just set it on the step there."

Two small creases appeared between his eyebrows. He hesitated, and then said carefully, "I apologise for my absence. I've been away, on business, so I was unable to call on you until tonight. I thought perhaps a walk in the woods to view the town fireworks? We should be able to see them over by my house."

"That's great, but you're plum out of luck. I've had a busy day and I'm not about to go tramping through the woods." I was taking my anger out on the wrong vamp, but I didn't particularly care. The right vamp was four states away and this one was handy.

As rudely as I could, I took a drink of my iced tea, my eyes on him. I noticed his hair, brushed the way I liked it, and the smart-casual clothes he'd chosen, identical to the ones he wore when he courted me for the first time.

Goddammit, Kennedy just might have been right.

He blinked at my bad manners. "You're sure you don't want to come?"

"Yep." I popped the p, too. Bill hated that.

He chewed on my flat refusal for a second before he replied. "Of course. I will leave you in peace, then. May I call on you again?"

Oh and to complete the set, there were the old-fashioned manners he used to court me too!

Anyone would think his king had sent him to seduce me. Maybe de Castro had, now I wasn't Sam's, now no supe could call me 'theirs'. How stupid did they all think I was? Bill had barely said two words to me while I was married, and here he was, as soon as I was divorced, putting on the charm. Ugh.

I shrugged, not trusting myself to answer him civilly.

He looked at me for a moment, unblinking. Like a snake. Then he said, "Goodnight, Sookie."

His voice had that rich timbre, full of emotion. Seductive.

I resisted it and said sharply, "Night Bill."

I frowned after him as he melted into the darkness. Just what exactly was he up to?

His gift – a recipe book stand, useful as I'd broken my old one – made his motives no clearer. If there was a hidden meaning to it I didn't get it.


Footnote:

I read up on how liquid E effects memory. I think this is reasonably believable, given that Sookie isn't quite human. I've had a similar experience, medically induced. Scary stuff.