It's About Power
Chapter 22
I slept soundly that night, perhaps lulled to sleep by the drops of vampire blood rolling through my system, or maybe it was simply that he was there beside me. Whatever the reason, I woke up at ten thirty feeling refreshed and revitalized. I got out of bed and hopped into the shower, the same shower I'd sat in last night. That was okay though. It didn't seem to hold any bad memories at all. I dressed for the day in khakis and a pretty purple blouse. I wore my hair up in a makeshift bun, and I slapped on a little bit of makeup. I called Aaron from the room telephone and told him I was going out for the day, alone. He protested a bit, but I'd made up my mind. Sookie Stackhouse was going out on the town and she wasn't taking any prisoners along for the ride.
I had Carrie Bradshaw on my mind and I made a beeline along the edge of the park to Madison Avenue. I walked slowly, casually, enjoying the pretty March day. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky and that made the cool air seem a little warmer. I passed huge windows for small designer boutiques, most of them holding clothes and bags and shoes I couldn't afford in a million years. Heck, I'd feel like a trespasser even walking into one of those places. But at the end of the street with the cabs rolling by, I stared up at Barney's New York.
I've never been much of a shopper. I mean, I love clothes and shoes and bags as much as the next girl, but since I've never really been able to afford those sorts of things… Well, I guess I just never wanted to stare at what I couldn't have. I couldn't have these things now either, but that wasn't the point. At Barney's, in New York City, on an early spring day, I could at least pretend that I was one of the wealthy set. I could try on designer clothes with thousand dollar price tags, shoes that cost at least $250 for half the pair, and bags that cost more than I made in a year. I could pretend. And darnit, I was going to have fun doing it.
I walked in like I owned the place. If I was going to be wealthy, I was going to be confident but kind. I wasn't going to be snooty about the fact that I had gobs and gobs of cash. I decided, since I was making believe, that I was the trophy wife of a certain thousand year old Viking vampire. Eric had already proved he was wealthy. He didn't flaunt it, but the man knew how to live. So, I was going to know how to live too. I wasn't going to flaunt it. Heck, I was dressing down and everything. But I was going to show off the fact that I knew how to live, like any good trophy wife should.
I giggled. Oh, this was going to be a blast. The only bonus would've been coming here with Amelia.
I went to try on clothes first. I admit it's hard to find stuff that fits when you have a body like mine. I was blessed, maybe too blessed, in the bosom department, and I have wide hips to boot! I pulled a knitted shrug off a hanger, a white camisole, and a pair of boot cut Seven jeans. I handed the selections to an associate, and then I went to look for more stuff. I found a beautiful summer dress with a chevron print, a gorgeous printed silk dress that looked like it had popped out of the 1960s, and either a long sweater or a very short knitted dress made out of cashmere. I handed those finds to my dressing room. I wandered around in a daze of beautiful clothing, picking up an asymmetrical one-shoulder dress in vivid blue, a pretty striped toile 1950s summer dress, and a 1940s inspired scarf dress in a lovely shade of gray.
As I tried on the clothes, I looked down at the price tags and almost fainted. The most expensive item I'd picked up was the gray scarf dress, priced at a whopping $1865! I danced around in front of the mirror in it, but it just didn't suit me. I looked good in the toile dress ($1445!) and the attendant offered to take a Polaroid of me so I could make an informed decision. I nodded (trying not to squeak with glee) and posed while she took the photo. The one shoulder dress made me look weird (and it was less than $500 so that meant it had to be "cheap"), but the weird long sweater/short dress was very pretty. I glanced at the price tag. Oh gosh, $1100 for a sweater! I mean sure, it was cashmere, but those bunnies had to be pampered on hand and foot right? Right? The attendant took another picture. The pretty 1960s dress also looked divine. If I put up my hair just so, I could totally channel my mother. The attendant took another photo and I did a little puckered up pose for the camera. Then I carefully took it off because it cost $1125 and I didn't want to hurt it. The chevron dress made me look fat (sadly), but I liked the Stella McCartney shrug ($975 for a sweater that only covered me half way). It was organic, and I knew that was good. Besides, I'd actually heard of Stella. Yay! Score one for me!
As soon as I left the dress department, I went to shoes. I love shoes. What sensible girl doesn't love a great pair of shoes that look gorgeous and hurt her feet? I mean, come on! I hunted down the shoe attendant and asked him to bring the Polaroid camera out. Then I went hunting around the department picking up every pretty shoe I could find.
I handed over about ten pairs of shoes to the attendant and he came back about fifteen minutes later with boxes piled up in his arms. He set them down and sat on one of those cute stools that shoe folks sit on. He remarked on how pretty my feet were (I try!) and then helped me put on each shoe. The first was a Fendi sandal with silver medallions on it. The heel was about four inches high and I couldn't walk, even with only one on! But boy, they were pretty. The Prada python skin sandal didn't have a spike hell but it was about five inches tall. Even though I couldn't move more than an inch without falling, I had the shoe guy (Evan) take a Polaroid anyway. The Prada slingbacks which had a wingtip design in front and a wedge heel were even more beautiful. They were also about $700 but hey, I'm a trophy wife! More pictures. Evan giggled like a school girl. Aaron would have liked him immediately.
Honoring Carrie Bradshaw (since she inspired my trip), I tried on three pairs of Manolo Blahniks. The first was an intricately woven sandal with little pyramid studs on the straps. It deserved a photo. The second pair was a white peep toe shoe with chiffon pleating on the heel and the strap. They were really cute and I wanted to take them home immediately! Picture! And the last pair, oh the last pair. I'd jumped on them immediately as soon as I saw them. They were the first pair of shoes Carrie put in her brand new penthouse closet. They were blue satin with a rhinestone square on the toe. I think my eyes glazed over when I put them on. It was like I was wearing a celebrity icon!
I spent about three hours in Barney's and then stopped for lunch at their in-store restaurant, Fred's. I had the world's most overpriced shrimp salad and it was absolutely delicious. Thank God for business trips and expense accounts. I'd managed to avoid buying a single thing for myself in Barney's, but I couldn't leave without spending a bit of money. After all, I had the free Polaroids to prove that I'd been there! I'd decided to put them up on the mirror in my bathroom to remind myself that I had been fancy for a day. After lunch, I walked back down Madison Avenue toward the park. I bought, wrote, and mailed a postcard to Amelia, and I got a little Statue of Liberty figurine for Sam.
I spent another two hours at the Central Park Zoo, wandering around in front of the exhibits, snapping pictures of the animals with a little disposable camera. I checked my watch once to see that it was already getting late, approaching five o'clock. I admired Gus, the Polar Bear, a second time, and strolled down the dirt path toward the Mandarin Oriental. What did Eric have planned for us this evening? Would there be another meeting, a get together? I didn't think about Bill or running into him, but it was still lingering in the back of my mind. If he was here in New York, attending this conference thing, then he was sure to pop up again. I shrugged and let the thought go. If I put it out of my mind then it wouldn't bother me. The plan worked like a charm.
I got to our room just as the sunset dissipated and the sky darkened. I rode the elevator up thirty floors and popped my keycard into the slot on the suite door. Eric was already awake, his cellular phone pressed to his ear. He looked up at me when I walked in, put up a finger, gave me a smile, and went back to his call. To give him his privacy, I went into the bedroom and sat down on the bed. I couldn't get dressed again until he told me what we were up to, so I spread out my photos on the bedspread and laid down to look at them. I swung my bare legs back and forth in the air, admiring how pretty all those fancy clothes looked, on me no less! Eric tapped lightly on the door after a few minutes and I turned over on my side to smile at him.
"What's all that?" He smirked, cocking one eyebrow.
"Oh, nothing," I blushed, gathering up the photos into a short stack.
"It's not nothing," Eric shook his head slightly as he walked over. He took one of the photos from the pile, the pretty toile summer dress. "Ah, you went shopping."
"Window shopping!" I squeaked in mock protest. "Well, I tried stuff on, but I didn't buy anything. Guess how much that dress costs."
"I have no idea," Eric shook his head. He continued to admire the photo.
"Almost $1500!"
"Impressive," Eric nodded. He handed me the photo and sat down on the bed beside me.
"There's a briefing this evening, but we won't be in attendance. Instead, I'd like to take you out."
"Take me…?" I paused and looked at him. He wanted to take me out? What, like on a date?
"Yes. I have a whole evening planned. Aaron is on the phone now, making reservations. I suggest wearing pants, jeans if you brought them." He winked at me. He was up to mischief. I don't know how I knew that, but I just got that feeling from him. He was up to something.
I dug into my closet and pulled out a pair of nice jeans without scuffs or holes. They sat low on my waist, so I hoped that whatever he had planned didn't involve me bending over. I put on a black v-neck knit sweater over top, and I left my hair up and out of the way. I touched up my makeup, slid into a pair of black flats, and appeared in the living room. Men dress faster than women, so I wasn't surprised to see Eric ready to go. He'd worn those same black jeans I'd admired on his muscular figure before, jeans that were snug in all the right places. He'd dressed up a little with a white undershirt and a blue button-up collared shirt over top. The stubble on his chin seemed to match the casual attire. He offered me his arm and I took it just as the phone in his pocket buzzed. He nodded at me like an alarm had sounded and we were on our way.
The park was beautiful, even as nighttime set in. There were little lights along the footpaths and the boathouse on the lake was lit up with lanterns. I watched a gondola sail past with a couple snuggling under a blanket. Eric led me by the hand to the boathouse and opened the door for me. At seven thirty, the place was buzzing with guests. Still, we somehow appeared to be next in line, ahead of several other couples waiting to be seated. Aaron was talented, very talented. I would have to remember to tell him so. We sat down at a table right in front of the windows that looked out over the lake. Eric turned down a menu, of course.
"Isn't it strange, watching me eat?" I asked him after I'd made a decision and folded my menu.
"I haven't eaten human food in a thousand years, Sookie. It isn't strange. It's just how things are."
"Well, okay, but I still feel a little awkward." I frowned as I broke a piece of bread and buttered one half.
I ordered the chicken and a glass of Chardonnay. Eric had a half glass of blood and explained that he was so old now that he rarely needed to consume blood for nourishment. He mostly ate in social circumstances, or if he was with intimate company.
"That means you," he grinned. "I have not been with another woman since we met."
"But when we met, I was still… I was preoccupied."
"Yes, I remember," Eric nodded thoughtfully. He sipped blood from his glass and it made his lips and cheeks fill with rosy color.
"I don't understand why you're so kind to me," I murmured. I took another sip of wine and pushed the food around on my plate.
"Well, frankly, I don't quite understand it myself." Eric mused. "I have not shown such preference for a human in a long time, and the last one that meant anything to me? Well, she was primarily a blood donor."
"A what?" I blinked. I mean, I got the gist of it, but since he was being honest, I wanted all the details I could get.
"We had intercourse, and I fed from her. She did not feed from me. I do not usually feed humans. Few vampires do."
"So, you don't know why you're being kind to me?" I was a little confused now.
"I know that I want to, Sookie. I know that I want to be kind to you, even generous. More importantly, to me anyway, I want to take care of you. I want to shelter you from the bad things in your life, and I want to heal what cannot be undone. There are other things I want from you of course, things that go along with any relationship between two intimate people." He meant sex. I didn't mind that part. "But primarily, I want to keep you safe."
Food for thought. When the waitress came around, I ordered the sautéed plums in red wine. I finished my meal in silence, glancing up at Eric occasionally or staring out at the lake. The dark color of his eyes suggested he was as lost in his own thoughts as I was. Or maybe he just couldn't think of anything else to say.
The mood changed when we left the restaurant and crossed a portion of the park. I could hear giggling and the lilting sounds of pop music. I looked up at Eric and his eyes were full of laughter. He seemed to drop whatever he was thinking about and we ran down a short slope to come upon the ice skating rink. The season was coming to a close with only one month of real winter weather left. It occurred to me that winter sports were probably Eric's forte, being a Viking and all. They must have had some form of ice skating, even hundreds of years ago. Eric rented skates and I sat down on the bench to put mine on. I'd had to buy a pair of socks from the skate rental, but Eric didn't seem too bothered by it. I made sure my boots were nice and tight, and then I hobbled over to the edge of the rink.
Eric came up behind me and with a great laugh, he pushed me onto the ice. I screamed, more surprised than shocked or scared. I went sailing out past a dozen people and kept my knees straight so I wouldn't fall over. I should point out that I've only been ice skating a handful of times. There's a rink in Shreveport every other year, but Gran only took me a few times because Jason always managed to get hurt in some way. Once, he got his hand skated over by a bully. He almost lost a finger and Gran just about fainted. Another time, he got a concussion when he ran full speed into the wall. Me? I usually left the rink with bruises on my knees or on my butt, but nothing major.
Eric twirled me around the rink at least five times before disaster struck. We were having a ball. The Viking was skating backwards, holding onto my hands and pulling me along. I didn't even see the little boy come up behind him. Not until it was too late to do much about it. I pointed and yelled. Eric dodged. I lost my grip on his hands and I went flying off toward the middle of the rink. I wobbled out of the way to avoid one of those practicing figure skaters, overshot, lost my balance, and fell on my butt. Whack. I watched Eric go spinning off too. He also came down on his backside, the little kid on his knee. I burst into giggles. Oh so what about the big purple bruise that would surely be on my ass the next day? Eric laughed and laughed, and the little kid on his knee forgot about how shocked he was and laughed too. It was one of those perfect moments, one of those things you remember about really great vacations. I could splice this moment in and edit out the bad things. I could do it if I tried.
We left the rink and Eric flagged down a passing horse-drawn carriage. They're all over the park, especially at night. I climbed into the carriage and Eric directed the driver to our hotel. He sat down and pulled the tartan blanket the lined the seat over my lap.
"How's your butt?" He grinned, raising an eyebrow.
"Sore," I smirked. "How's yours?"
"I heal fairly quickly." Eric chuckled, giving me a sly "I'm better than you" smile.
"Cheater," I mock-pouted. I stuck out my tongue at him, and suddenly he was kissing me. It was a good kiss, and when it ended, my cheeks were hot from blushing.
His arm draped over my shoulders and we rode the rest of the way in silence. It was a calm sort of quiet, an easy thing that just happened. I nestled my cheek against his shoulder and he dipped his chin into my hair. For the first time, I realized I wanted to trust him. I wanted to believe what he said and I wanted that to be enough for me. I took his cool hand in mind and looked down into his open palm. I wanted to let go of everything I'd been holding onto and just be. The question was, could I do it?