The response to my story has been very flattering. I'm glad everyone is enjoying themselves and thank you so much! I'm afraid this will be the last 1950's segment of Mick/Coraline's story. They've been fun, but I think I've explored their past, and we're getting to the heart of the story. The JoBe section of the story shouldn't disappoint...I hope.
LA-1950's
Mick was so nervous his palms were sweating. He eyed the ring he'd just bought for what felt like the thousandth time. He was sure the diamond in the gold band was pitiful, a speck compared to some of the rocks she'd sported in her time. Maybe he should have gone for rubies. Yeah, rubies would have been better. No, wait, diamonds were good. She had so many rubies, she could practically open her own jewelry shop, and she'd once commented that diamonds were her favorite stone, her birthstone.
Man, oh, man, he really didn't want to make a monkey out of himself. He had her favorite wine poured, purposely had the lights dimmed, (bright lights gave her a headache) he had vanilla candles lit, (a scent she adored) and he had Wynonie Harris' voice in the background. He didn't bother setting the mood further, he'd just look like he was trying too hard.
"This has impending doom written all over it," he muttered glumly, shoving the ring out of sight. Why would a classy dish like Coraline ever settle for a broke veterinarian who scored the occasional music gig? If she was going to get married, it should be to some big shot CEO or lawyer, some fella who would be more her speed, could help keep her in the style she was accustomed to.
"Talking to yourself, Mick?" a teasing voice asked. "Careful, or you might find yourself locked away. I'd be more than willing to be your jailer. You'd look good in chains." He turned around to see Coraline giving him an openly wanton look. His mouth had suddenly gone very dry.
A vision in deep purple silk, those raven curls in an up-sweep, she sauntered over, her hips swaying. He swallowed hard, bewitched. Oh, boy, how was he ever going to get the proposal out? He still couldn't believe she was keeping company with him, much less consent to wear his ring, be his wife.
"See something you like, my love?" Through the mischief, he heard the tenderness in the last word, and felt his chest tighten. Maybe I do got a shot, he thought hopefully. Don't bet the farm on it, buddy, his more cynical side shot back.
"Who wouldn't like what I'm seeing? I could stare at you for hours," he countered, trying to keep his cool.
"Mmm, flattery will get you everywhere," she purred, running her hands up his chest. "I missed you yesterday." The last month, when Mick wasn't working, they'd been inseparable, spending hours making love, going for drives in the city, laughing and bantering, teaching each other new things.
Mick had taught Coraline the piano, and she showed him some of the tricks of the photography trade. She had a good ear for music, and could already play the harp and the violin, offering up angelic notes that didn't match her more devilish nature. He'd adapted well to the camera, and filled several albums with his work, with her praise. He still didn't understand why she wouldn't allow him to snap any pictures of her.
"Beauty should be captured. It allows it to live forever," he argued. She got an odd look on her face, and distracted him with wandering hands. He decided to broach the topic some other day.
Yesterday, they'd been forced to take a break. Coraline had a late night board meeting with some of the heads of the department stores carrying her designs. It had given him time to pick up the ring. He just wondered if he was better off forgetting the whole idea.
"I missed you, too. Some wine?" He offered the burgundy, feeling like it'd take a bottle of wine to take the edge off his nerves.
"Expensive." Coraline was watching him closely, quietly assessing as she accepted the wine, took a sip. "What's worrying you?"
"Not much get's past you."
"It's doesn't exactly take a detective, darling." She set her glass down, cupped his cheek. "If it's money, that's no problem. I know you're terribly stubborn about this-"
"It's not that. Things are tight, but I'm not in any danger of being tossed out on my ear. And St. John men don't sponge off women." His father would roll in his grave, then come back to haunt him, probably chase him around with a belt. The mental image made Mick smile.
"So you've told me." Good-naturedly exasperated, Coraline brought him in for a consuming kiss. When she was satisfied she had him in a proper daze, she went back to her wine. "And what's the point of a woman having money if she can't spend it on the man she loves? You're hardly a gigolo. Trust me, I've met them."
Mick had guessed there was a good chance Coraline did love him, or else he wouldn't be sticking his neck out with a proposal. Still, it was another thing to actually hear the words. Oh, sure, she'd snuck it in real casual like, but that didn't mask his joy. His climb to cloud nine almost distracted him enough not to see the gleam of worry in those luminous eyes. Almost.
It never occurred to him that Coraline was anything less than the embodiment of self-assured. It was impossible for him to grasp that she could have any doubts about his feelings. He was just a lower middle class stiff, for crying out loud.
Coraline took his silence for some kind of rejection. "I'm sorry to have upset you," she said stiffly. "I should have realized that a harlot's love is not a fashionable accessory."
"You're not a harlot. Coraline, I never thought-"
"Oh, don't delude yourself, Mick. I'm a whore, and I'm not ashamed of it. I sold my body for years. Certainly, it was only to the most exclusive of clientele, the filthy rich and unbelievably powerful." Her eyes glinted with defiant determination. She was trying to shock him, trying to see what his attachment to her was made of. "I wasn't coerced into my lot, I enjoyed the power I had over men, enjoyed the luxury my rather colorful talents afforded me. Now tell me I'm not what society would define as-"
"Don't do this, baby," he urged her lovingly, setting her wine aside, and drawing her into his arms.
"The truth isn't always pretty, Mick," she informed him bitterly.
"No, it's not. Okay, so you're a woman of the world, that didn't exactly go over my head." He would have had to fallen off the turnip truck yesterday if he'd thought she was anything close to an innocent virgin. He kissed her, keeping it mostly light and affectionate. "You'll never be a harlot to me, you're a goddess, and I want you to be my goddess." It wasn't exactly the way he'd rehearsed how he'd approach this, but the moment just overtook him, and if Coraline had thought him anything it was to go with the moment.
"Goddess, hmmm? How wonderfully pagan," she ribbed, but he could see that she was taking this seriously, was just afraid to read too much into what she was afraid was wishful thinking. And he realized, for all her sophistication and liberated sexuality, that Coraline had her hang-ups, just like anybody else. And life and love hadn't treated her very gently. That would explain all the games, the way she tried on masks like most dames tried on hats. "And what does exactly being 'yours' entail? Never say that Mick St. John is suggesting white slavery."
"Well, my mother has said that's what it was when her and the old man went a few rounds," Mick joked, trying to lighten the moment, and get up the nerve. "Coraline, will you marry me? Will you make me the happiest guy on the planet?"
Modern New York
"Care to dance?" Josef's voice was in her ear, and Beth forced herself not to jump. They'd been at the party for an hour, and she'd taken the opportunity to mix and mingle; familiarizing herself with Josef's acquaintances, knowing one of them might be the lead that could crack her latest investigation. At some point, she'd lost track of Josef, who was in the thrall of potential profit. He'd disappeared not long after they hit the scene, working the room as he'd put it. Now he had an arm draped around her waist, nuzzling her neck and whispering softly in her ear and she tried to ignore the fact that she liked it.
Geez, was she that emotionally starved? As underappreciated as he'd been in life, Beth had come to realize how good of a boyfriend Josh had been, surprising her with spontaneous bouquets of flowers at work, late night back-rubs, grabbing Chinese food when she forgot to eat, a million little things that she'd taken for granted over their year-long romance. No one had ever taken such good care of her, loved so sincerely without expecting anything in return.
But she hadn't loved him, not in the way he deserved to be loved. The last couple months, she'd been going through the motions, with Josh desperately trying to bridge the distance. Their last lovemaking session had been dismal, at least on her end. He'd seemed happy, but she just couldn't get into it. She'd convincingly faked the orgasm that wasn't, and pretended to fall asleep right after. The next morning, she'd wondered what the hell happened. When had the magic died?
Mick was a large part of it; he'd been the turning point. Oh, she wasn't in love with him, he was just a symptom of what was seriously missing with Josh. Now, as much as she cared for Mick, she knew that she'd never be able to pursue anything with him, he was too much of a reminder of her own inadequacy. Instead of having the guts to either scrap or really work on things with Josh, she'd made, as Josef put it, googley eyes at Mick, and had been nursing secret fantasies about him. She still wanted Mick's friendship, but anything deeper was impossible.
"Now, who's spacing out?" Josef challenged playfully, running a wicked hand down her side.
"You said something about dancing?" She offered her hand, allowing him to whisk her onto the dance floor. The space was almost empty, they practically had free reign. Josef was a surprisingly good dancer, and they quickly became in tune with the other, almost flowing around the few couples that were on the floor.
"What was going through that head of yours, or do I even want to know?" he asked; his good mood holding.
"You know, just love, death, regrets, stuff like that." She tried to keep her tone light, tried not to descend into melodrama.
"What, no thoughts about world peace? Good grief. What a pair you and Mick make." Then he scowled, and she wondered why.
"We make a good dynamic duo, I'd say," Beth mused. She knew Mick had serious feelings for her, and once, she could have sworn she returned them, but if that were the case, she would have broken up with Josh after the parking lot kiss…or kisses. She didn't want to hurt Mick, but anything they'd ever had would be overshadowed by her guilt and by the fact she didn't have what it took to be with someone like him. He needed someone who gave 110, who would put everything aside everything for him. Beth just wasn't that kind of gal.
"Yes, your love will go down in the annals of history," he muttered, sounding cranky.
"We're friends, Josef, and we make a good team." Why she felt the need to clarify, she didn't know, but she did all the same.
"Then you're sending out all the wrong signals," Josef said bluntly.
"You know what I mean. You kiss him-"
"He told you!" she exclaimed, eyes narrowing, jaw setting.
"Again, my ears are ringing," Josef huffed. "Keep it down, if not for my personal comfort, for the sake of privacy. We're supposed to be in the throes of divine love, not screeching like banshees. And yes, he told me. Hey, your gender doesn't have the corner market on confiding this kind of stuff. No, don't interrupt, my dear, I'm not finished. As I was saying, you kiss the man, flirt up a storm with him-"
"Okay, maybe I flirted a little, but it was harmless-"
"Not with Mick. Now me, I understand flirtation is often a social thing, or a woman's way of boosting her self-confidence. Hey, I get it. I like to play games with a beautiful woman, or man if I'm in the mood for some variety, it spices up a day." Bisexual, huh? Actually would have been more surprised if he wasn't, Beth internally reflected with a nonplused look. "Mick isn't like that. Feelings are serious business for him. He feels keenly, doesn't do anything in half measure. Plus, he's wrapped up in his guardian angel role-"
"Did he tell you that too?" This time she was careful to keep her voice down, but she was still pissed.
"Uh, that he's been watching over you since you were four, of course. I've always called it him playing guardian angel. Kind of weird that he should get the hots for you at this point, after seeing you at the bed wetting stage, but hey." Oh, so Mick hadn't related that conversation, Beth realized. "My point is that he's the kind of guy you've got to be very straight with. Once he knows the score, he'll stay in the colored lines, but you haven't actually been up front. I don't mind telling you, if it's all platonic on your side, you've been leading him around by the nose."
"Well, since my time machine's broken, what do you suggest, oh, wondrous sage?" she demanded sarcastically.
"When you go back to LA, set him straight. Don't knock him over the head with it; but lay it on the line. It might be a bitter pill to swallow, but Mick would appreciate it a lot more now than later. And if it makes you feel any better, I don't really think he's in love with you."
"And what makes you say that?" Beth questioned defensively.
"See, that's just it about you. It's not that you want Mick, but you sure like the idea of him wanting you. Hey, I like getting my ego rubbed, too. I'm just more upfront about it. As for my personal opinion about his love or lack thereof, I think he's more in love with the idea of being in love with you. You symbolize his eternal quest to redemption, or some philosophic drivel along those lines. Before you came into his life, Mick wasn't that much different than your run of the mill vamp. Blending in, covering his own ass, enjoying his meals almost as much as me." The dance over, he lead Beth off the dance floor. Seeing her look, he waved a hand. "Oh, let me set your mind at ease. As far as I know, Mick didn't kill innocents, he was just more relaxed. Then he started looking out for you, and what you see today is the end result."
"You blame me for him not being vampire enough?" He hadn't said that in so many words, but Beth had the feeling Josef was constantly on a mission to get Mick to let loose.
"You're the reason, but as you were four years old, I don't think 'blame' is an entirely accurate word. The point is you're redemption personified for him, whereas Coraline always represented what he perceived as his dark side. Personally, I saw it as his interesting side."
"Coraline." Beth's eyes shot fire. "She's gone. What does she have to do with anything?"
"If she wasn't, why would you care?" Josef countered. "If Mick does find someone else, you should be grateful. You're off the hook, no need to be the bad guy."
Feeling suddenly very uneasy about the conversation, Beth spotted a convenient reprieve. "Oh, there's someone I need to talk to," she explained, gesturing. "I'm sure you'll manage to not miss me too much, pumpkin."
"I'll count the minutes, muffin," he shot back sardonically. She just chuckled as she made her way over, approaching an aristocratic woman in a Vera Wang creation with silvered blonde hair. She had piercing green eyes that seemed to know all. No surprise, Beth decided, since she was over 600 years old.
"Vanessa Eastwood?" The woman turned, raising an eyebrow at Beth, every inch the bored vampiress. "I'm Beth Turner, Josef Kostan's-
"Josef Kostan?" Suddenly, the woman looked more approachable. "Ah, of course, you're his playmate."
"We keep company, yes," Beth affirmed. She didn't like the term, but guessed it was a step up from freshie. "I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes, if that would be-"
"I'm afraid my time is valuable, Miss Turner."
"Beth, please." Adopting her most persuasive, likeable tone, Beth knew just the right angle to play. "I'd be very grateful, and be sure to mention that to Josef." In the last hour, she'd heard that despite the illustrious Ms. Eastwood's age and power, she was perpetually broke because of lousy business sense and an addiction for the good life.
"And what, he'll cut me a check?" Beth could see the wheels turning behind those shrewd eyes.
"I doubt it, but Josef has a good memory, and can be very generous just when you need him to be." She didn't want to make any promises, but she felt fairly sure a good word to Josef would do the trick.
A meaningful pause ensued, and then Vanessa's voice was dangerously quiet. "I wouldn't advise playing with me. If you make enemies and Josef Kostan is ever done with you-"
"Don't threaten me," Beth warned her, not the least bit intimidated. Reporters couldn't afford to back down, they'd get stuck in the copy room. "It won't get you anywhere. I'll put in the good word to Josef. That's all I'm saying, but you should know that's how deals get made a lot of the time. Take it or leave it."
Vanessa's persona changed in the blink of an eye. Suddenly, she went from the vampiric embodiment of an iceberg to open and accommodating. "Shall we got out and see the gardens?"
"I'd just as soon stay close," Beth announced dryly. They walked out onto the terrace, the moonlight wrapping around both of them.
Abruptly, Vanessa stopped by a blood red rose bush. Appropriate, Beth silently acknowledged."All right, as long as we keep our voices down, we won't be overheard. What is it you want?"
Beth decided to get right to the point. "I heard you're a leading expert on vampiric allergies, specifically silver."
"I trade in silver for self-defense purposes of my kind. I'm not a doctor, little mortal, I'm an arms dealer." Beth knew that she was little more than a figure head for a company called Allied Metals. She was their ambassador in essence, given the job more for her poise, elegance and good looks than anything else, and she had almost as many connections as Josef. Beth believed her official title was something like Creative Coordinator.
"More or less," Beth agreed vaguely. "I'm not interested in the details, no offense. Have you ever heard of vampiric comas triggered by silver?"
"Officially no. You could put a stack of Bibles underneath my hand and I'd give you the same answer, and I'm known for my unique strength of faith in the vampire community." That was true. Her nickname was The Unholy Christian. "It would be your word against mine, and my ears would detect a recording device, however sophisticated."
"Fair enough." Training kept Beth's impatience in check. Some people you needed to draw out and let them dish on their own terms. "Let's go with unofficially then."
"I've heard of two cases where silver was the proven culprit. If you're looking for a cure, you won't find one." Beth felt her heart drop down to her stomach, felt like the atmosphere lost all its oxygen. "Yes, I see you were hoping for one. Sorry, sweet cakes, life's full of tough breaks."
"There could be a cure," Beth argued. Sometimes you had to push; sometimes there was a hidden clause, some loophole. "I'm telling you, the vamp in question hasn't aged a day. She's still alive. She's-"
"She's an empty shell," Vanessa countered like they were discussing the weather. "In essence, the silver killed her. Somehow, her sire managed to preserve the physical symptoms of life, that's common. The silver can act in this way, but the soul is gone. It's the vampiric version of a human vegetable. Am I getting through to you?"
"You said you've only heard of two cases," Beth pointed out, not even close to giving up. "Maybe individual cases vary. Maybe-"
"Maybe nothing," Vanessa declared drolly. "I can offer you a list of second opinions if you wish, but I'm an expert on silver and its affects to the undead. One of the top five of my race. Give me your number and I'll text you the information. A more productive use of your time would be to search for a possible replacement."
"For what?"
"Many times, when there is a deep enough love, which I suspect their might be if the sire in question is delaying the inevitable, a soul cannot rest, even in the most glorious of paradises. So, they return to this world, reincarnated." She chuckled briefly. "Of course, their minds have no memories of their whole reason for rebirth, that's what makes it interesting. Of course, such memories can be tapped into. If I were you, I'd seek a psychic or something. Maybe the soul you seek has been reborn. If not, maybe they will be in the future. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was enjoying the party." She paused, smirked. "I'll text you the names for second opinions, but I wouldn't waste your time."
"Let me the judge of what to do with my time," Beth returned evenly. She gave her a number where she could reach her, determined to hold her ground until she was in private.
"Do remember your end of the bargain." Then Vanessa was gone, and Beth sank onto a stone bench, alone with her inner turmoil.
Despair threatened to overwhelm her. Sara was dead, nothing more than a really well preserved corpse. Josef had been hanging onto nothing more than a pipe dream for over five decades. Of course, Vanessa could be wrong, but she was an expert, unless she was lying…and Beth intended to check out those second opinions, and Vanessa's own references for that matter. Now that she had an in to the vampiric community, that shouldn't be too hard.
There could be a cure, but somehow, Beth knew there wasn't. Josef's love was lost, and the best Beth could offer him was that maybe, just maybe, Sara had come back for round two, with no memories, with only a soul to link two lives. It'd be cold comfort. It was better than nothing, but it wouldn't be the time to chime in with the 'glass half empty, half full' analogy.
If there wasn't anything left of Sara, even in another body, God help Josef, and God help all of them when he found out.