Keeping it in the Family, Part I...
It was about 11 pm, a Thursday night, quiet as all hell. I had exactly five days to figure out what I was going to do with the family's directive, or have the decision made for me. I couldn't put it off any longer. I had been going to call earlier. I was going to call a week ago. Then I was going to call three days ago. Or a day ago. I'd never gotten the courage. Wilson White, third cousin. Crassus by blood, but his mother married a respectable outsider from another ghoul family and so he had another name while still being considered family. Still an acceptable choice.
Still a choice I hadn't seen in almost twenty years. Sure, running around Europe as teenagers had been a terrific spin. I'd considered him one of my best friends, one of my closes cousins. But that was what felt like a life time ago. Would he even remember me? Would he even care? I downed my third glass of wine and picked up the number I'd gotten off the family's secretary. It was now or never.
He answered after two and a half rings. He always answers after two and a half rings. " 'Alo?"
My voice was probably still recognizable. Years of smoking made it huskier, but I'd never lost that familiar accent, inflection of years of different boarding schools and tutors. And that sardonic humor, of course, that came with being a forward bitch. "...Wil?"
"Kate? Is that you?" I couldn't believe I was hearing his voice. It was like two decades were bridged. Like some sort of weight had been pulled from my chest. I laughed, faint and relieved. Hopeful.
."If it aint me then I'm really worried about whose body I've stolen."
"Well, this is unexpected. It's been...how long?"
"God... feels like...20 years. Hell... " I exhaled my cigarette, thinking it through. "It might have been. Wow. We're old."
"Yeah. Was it Florence? Or Marseilles when I last saw you? I can never remember what order they go in." He laughed. Even his chuckle was the same. Devil may care, a little bit rebellious. All confidence.
"Manchester, actually...I think. The Christmas party... in the farm house. We were all making fun of those cousins for being so poor. We were...cruel. But damn... that was one of the nicest Christmases.."
That laugh again. I could have wrapped myself up in it, to be as care-free as he was. But then, that's why I called. I knew he could make the best of a bad situation, right? "Too cold for my tastes, but yeah. It was pretty good. Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I... Where... are you, right now? I don't suppose you can come to New York? I.... I have a favour to ask. But it's not something to ask over the phone. I can cover your plane ticket."
"Nah, no need. I'm just out on the Island. I can be there in an hour, or you can come out here. Whatever works for you." The Island? Long Island? How long had he been there? So damn close, an hour within my reach and I'd been completely oblivious. Maybe it had been wrong for me to damn my family for so long. It wasn't just my sisters. There were others I loved, even in the misery. Wil included. Especially will. And here he was barely a breath away. I could have almost cried. Instead, I laughed in disbelief.
"What?...Really? What the hell? How... how long have you been there??"
"Three months, maybe? I'm working for someone in the city, but you know me. I need a little distance between home and office."
"Yeah... yeah. I moved here... well, back in September. Life is strange. You... wanna come to my place? Or I can drive out there. I don't want to be an inconvenience."
"I'll come to you. Give me an address and I'll be there in an hour." He sounded worried, protective. Did I sound that drunk? Granted, I had a few, but the fear was probably overriding any buzz in my voice. Either way, he remained the gentleman, offering to come to me instead of making me drive. My white knight riding to my rescue. If only he knew...
"It's the Upper East Side... " I rambled off my address. A half decent part of town. Not the Crassus millionaire's row, but I did alright for myself. "Buzzer 221. You still drink jaeger, or did you grow out of that filthy habit?" I teased. Better memories. Better times.
"Haven't been able to touch the stuff since that one night - I had to throw away that shirt, you know."
I laughed at the thought, half relaxing. He knew just what to say to break the tension. He always knew. "...I'm more scared you didn't have to throw away the pants. Anyway... a decent bottle of red, then. I'll be waiting. We... we'll need to drink for this."
"A-alright. An hour, then."
"Ciao." And I hung up. Just an hour of waiting. I had waited weeks now. Another hour wouldn't kill me. Unless it did. I pulled out another bottle of wine from the rack.
*********************************************
I lived on the second floor of an elegant Upper East Side Highrise, tan bricks on the outside, marble lobby. It cost me a pretty penny, every bit of my Detective's salary and then some of the family money, but it was worth it. I buzzed him up and was there to open the door, waiting, nervous. My apartment was nice. Lush, dark carpet, black, plush leather furniture. Floor to ceiling windows that look over Manhattan. A small wet bar. A marble counter top between living area and kitchen. It smelled like vanilla, feminine sweat, and menthol cigarettes. Home sweet home. I had a bottle of wine decanting on the glass dining table.
He arrived in just under an hour, dressed in a sharp, dark suit with a red shirt and an open collar. If he wasn't my cousin, I might have wanted to put him on his back right there. But he was my cousin. Always more of a brother than a lover, even if the tension had been there since we were teenagers. Of course it was. We met ages ago, in the middle of puberty, raging with hormones and on a whirlwind tour of private European boarding schools. It was a miracle we'd never done worse together but look out for each other, get blind drunk many nights, and be there for each other as only the closest of cousins could.
He was already carrying a bottle of red wine and two glasses. I laughed as he lifted them, as though putting them on display. "Just in case this is a two bottle conversation..."
I knew what I looked like to him. Different. Far more grown. My once long, curling brown hair dyed a fierce black and bobbed into that practical, blunt cut curled just beneath my ears. I screamed cop. My suit was the same I wore every day -- off the rack gray herringbone from some cheap store down town. No designer. No tailor. Just like every other plain clothes on the streets of NYC. Yes, I looked older, but not 20 years older. The blood helped with that. For all my cop fierceness, I smiled. It was good to see him. After a moment of quiet shock, I leaned over, tugging him into a grateful, quiet hug. I whispered into his neck. "Ever resourceful... Fuck... it's good to see you..." I remembered him sneaking us booze and cigarettes to the private school as a kid. Rum runner, we called him. And here he held that previous alcohol again, though perfectly legal now.
He chuckled and wrapped me up into a too strong, warm hug. "Good to see you, kid." He let the hug linger as long as it needed, until I started to ease, then he pulled back, looking me over with eyes that just screamed worry. He was already protective again, the sweet bastard. It was like nothing had changed. "Now, pour me a drink and tell me why you're scaring the hell out of me."
"Scaring you? Oh, god... Sorry, Wil. I..." I looked for words. How the hell did I bring this up after twenty years. Hey! It's good to see you! Do you want to have a baby? It just didn't really come out easily. I sighed and shook my head, moving to pour the decanted wine. We'd finish that bottle first. "It is good to see you... don't be scared, hm?"
"Fair. Got anything other than menthols? Those things'll kill you, you know."
"Cubans? though they'll kill you faster... They use knives." I teased, heading over toward the oak desk in the corner. Opulent and expensive, it was such a Crassus piece. I scooped up the humidor and offered the box to him "Take your choice."
He looked over the selection for a long moment before choosing something with a moderate gauge but a little length. "Still got the Cohibas, I see. Nicely done."
"Only thing dad ever taught me..." I admitted with a half sigh, pulling out a Romeo y Julietta l for myself and clipping the end. "... So... tell me how you've been? It... it really has been ages. I can't believe you're an hour away." I hoped my avoidance of the subject wasn't too obvious.
"I've been good. Busy. Lots going on, but nothing interesting. You know, the usual. Still getting settled, all that. And you?" He seemed happy to let me avoid until he had some Pinot Noir in him. A safe area for both of us.
The wine was a Robert Mondavi private reserve. Not the best wine, but not horrible. Cop's salary wine. I poured two glasses to go along with the cigars and finally settled into her big fluffy leather couch. My stockinged feet curl up beneath me, the way I used to sit as a child... some of that girl still left in me. Especially when I was nervous. Especially around him who brought flooded memories of teenage years past with his very presence. "Mostly settled in with the NYPD. I miss LA but... can't ever really escape the family, you know? I guess I was lucky to have ten years." I knew he heard about my running. There was no way he missed it. The family was livid. I had shamed them.
"Yeah, that was ballsy, Kate. I gotta say." He winced a bit at the wine, but hid it well. He had clearly been indulging, though he was not quite spoiled. Yet. At least he was complimenting my ballsyness in leaving the family while he was damning my taste in wine.
I lit my cigar slowly, trying to relax, puffing multiple times over the medium sized roll of tobacco..."Had to do it... do some good in the world... not just make money, you know?"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night." He said it genuinely. "If you had to do it, you had to do it." He was so damned nice. Such a gentleman already. Understanding, rock steady and yet entirely, impossibly laid back. He hadn't changed in twenty years and I loved him all the more for it. He was the Wilson I had always known. My Wil.
"Yeah... Audra's been damn good to me. Letting me carry on with work... and still give back to the family." I slowly exhaled some sweet smoke through my nose, trying to relax.
White leaned his head back and made a feeble attempt at smoke rings before emptying and refilling his glass. "Good stuff. I've been making some inroads throughout New York. Trying to get connected, y'know? Working for a guy named Angelo. He's good people."
I nodded in slow approval, even if the small talk was a bit maddening. It was strangely necessary I took another sip of wine, watching him drain his glass like a pro... "...good. Glad you... got someone good..." I sighed again, shaking my head. "Fuck. I didn't ask you over to chat about the weather..."
He shrugged, head leaning back again and blowing smoke towards the ceiling. "I got nothing but time. We can talk about the weather all night, if it's what you want."
I sadly smiled once more, sipping at my wine. My eyes dropped from his eyes to stare into my wine glass instead. It was safer looking there, instead of at his handsome, too caring face. "...I do want to hear more... twenty years. I... I'm certain there are stories.. I'm certain you've changed."
"Nothing worth telling, honest. I was here, I was there. I got some time away from the family. Though, I got permission to go, first." He quirked a joking brow in my direction.
I stared back up at him, wirly smirking..."Touche`." I shook my head, trying to shake the amusement off just a bit. I had a problem. I couldn't dance around it any longer. "I... have... a problem, Wil. The family is... there's... A punishment... because I left for so long. -without- permission."
He sat up suddenly straight, staring at me, serious. He went from laid back and careless to protective work mode in but the split of a heartbeat. "Okay, you can handle it, whatever it is. How can I help?"
I kept my eyes on him now. I couldn't look away for this question. He deserved to have my whole gaze, my whole attention. So I kept those blue greens of mine up and stared straight at him, open, honest, and terrified. Quiet, I admitted. "...The... the family wants to -breed-... me."
(To be continued...)