"When You Love A Woman" is written and performed by Journey and is their property. I don't own 'Three's Company' either. Special thanks to Carol for the street, and to Libby Singleton for making Screed sound like Screed. **Libratsie** Happy Birthday to Susan, who inspires us with her writing! Thanks also to my beta reader and Vaq Twin, Teresita. And away we go. . .
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By Felicia Oliver |
Javier Vachon was sitting in his church stumming his guitar when his friend Screed flew in.
"'Ey, mate o' mine! 'Ow's it bangin' n' fangin'?" Screed was animated, energy radiating from him in strong waves. He was moving quickly around the room, almost pacing, when he realized that Vachon hadn't answered him.
Vachon didn't look up. He continued playing, oblivious to Screed's presence.
Screed stopped directly in front of the Spaniard. "Yello! Mr. V-Man, knocky-the-knock-knocks, are ya h'in rez-zee-dunce? Or 'ave ya va-cated the prim-n'-proper-senses?" No reply. Screed was moving from excited to miffed. He had come here to share his great news, and Vachon didn't have the decency to pay attention. He didn't even have the decency to acknowledge him. Screed grabbed the guitar out of Vachon's hands and tossed it to a nearby chair.
"What the.... Oh, hi, Screed."
"Oh, lissen ta 'im. Hi, 'e says like this were jest 'bout inny type o' day h'in the night, eh? Hi, 'e says like ol' Screed wuz jest 'bout inny droog passin' by 'im h'on the street o' life." The carouche's frustration was nearly tangible. "I come h'all this way o'er ta 'is a-body-ment ta pass along the most geatest bit o' newz o' me life an' h'alls 'e kin cough h'up iz a 'oh, hi.'" Screed stuck his tongue out and blew a loud raspberry at Vachon. The one-time Conquistador blinked.
"I'm sorry, okay, I was off in another world. What's this about the greatest news of your life?" Vachon tried very hard not to let his amusement show.
"Maybe ya h'ain't got the time-o-day fer yar FORMER best mate? Hmph. H'ain't like I'd want ta be in-ter-ruptin' yar dreamland..."
"It's okay, Screed, really! Now, tell me your news." Vachon shook his head. Screed could be so sensitive!
"Me newz? Oh, yeah, NOW ya wants Screed-N-N 'eadline newz, duz ya? Well, if I don't got a choice ... Now brace yar knickers cuz ol' Screed's been 'it h'in the heinny-kin by Cupid's h'arrow."
"In love," Vachon made it a question.
"Ya 'eard me the foirstest time, Vachonetti, I'm h'in luv."
"Uh-huh. With a. . .?"
"Wit' a type o' wench! A fiesty one at tha'! Wha did ya think I meant? Mickey Mouse o' sump'thin?"
Vachon wisely let that one pass. "Wow, Screed. That is big news. Ummm, does she know?"
"A ripe bit o' 'eadline newz, h'ain't h'it jest?" Screed's enthusiasm returned. "But ta put h'a bit o' babble ta yar second o' twenty questions, err, nope, she don't 'xactly know."
"Who is this woman, Screed? Is she one of us?"
"No ... I wouldna say she's a vampy-h'out-wit'-the-fangs sort o' fiesty wench. She's more ... well ... loik tha' Sweet Baby Jane o' yours."
Vachon frowned. "Like Trace? She's a Homicide Detective?"
Screed sighed and rolled his eyes. For someone nearly five hundred years old, Vachon could be so dense at times. "No, she's not one o' them coppers. There's utter types o' mortals, ya know. 'Er nomiker's Patsy. She peddles victuals h'at a eatin' 'stablishment down on King Street."
"Uh-huh. And just how did you meet this, um, Patsy?" Vachon struggled to keep track of the conversation. He racked his brain, but could never recall his long-time friend ever claiming to be in love. "This is a new one," he thought.
"Well, h'it came a-bout loik this, ya see. Ol' Screed wuz rummagin' 'round the dumpster fer me din-din, then 'ere comes this vi-sine o' luverliness h'out the back ta toss the rubbage." Screed was beaming as he remembered the scene.
Vachon nodded, waiting for Screed to continue. He thought, "loveliness and rubbish in the same sentence doesn't work for me."
Screed snapped out of his reverie. "Any-who, she put 'er peepers on me mag-nif-i-cents selfishness, an' dinna h'open 'er gab-'ole ta scream o' nut'in-honey. She jest kinda glides right h'on o'er an' asked h'if she could h'assist-stance me. Na many o' folks, vampy h'or mortal-like, 'ave done tha' fer me; I donna 'ave ta voice tha' ta ya, matie."
"Well, I suppose that's true. I, um, can see why you were drawn to her." Vachon would be supportive even if this whole thing sounded crazy.
"Oh, tha' h'ain't but a fracture o' the story! I asked 'er h'if ol' Screed could meet h'up wit' 'er when she wuz gonna be 'eadin' ta 'omebase, an' she said the affirm-a-nation-tive! Inny-wayz, I've been meetin' 'er an' walkin' 'er 'ome for three weeks, Ol' Scree haz! I, uhr, wanna tell 'er wot me deepest mostest feelin' o' luvin' 'er are, but I'm a bit shakin' h'in me knickers o'er h'it."
Vachon thought, "So that's why he's been so scarce these days." He looked at Screed. In four hundred and some odd years, he had never seen this side of his friend. He liked it. "Well, Screed, there is a small problem, ya know," Vachon hated to do it, but he had to warn him.
"Prob-blem-o, mate?"
"Yeah, there is that little matter of being members of different species to contend with."
Screed frowned, looking confused. Vachon sighed. "Screed, she's a mortal, you're a vampire, see the difference?"
Screed laughed. "Oh, tha' bit o' the facts o' life. Patsy's knows wot makes me h'up ta be Screed."
Now Vachon looked confused. "She does?"
"O' course. One night, I found a bit o' a nibble jest h'az she wuz comin' h'out ta greet n' meet me. She saw h'all there wuz ta peep upon. I put an ex-cla-mation ta h'it, an' she unnerstands."
Vachon just blinked at his friend. "You explained the whole thing to her?"
"I did."
"And she's okay with it?"
"Sure, she h'iz. Even tol' me sweetie-pies I wuz doin' the city a flavorino by gettin' rid o' the squealers. Good cit-o-zin Screed."
Vachon shook his head. "This is nuts," he thought. He looked at Screed. "You do know, don't you, that you've endangered her?"
"'Ow, cow?"
Now Vachon was frustrated. "The Enforcers, Screed, the Enforcers. You've broken the code!"
"Ahhhhh, tha' lot. I'm not a-feared o' 'em. Ya've broken h'it, too, wit' tha' Sweet Baby Jane. So's Nicky-Knight-Night wit' tha' lady doc o' 'is." Screed liked Tracy, and Natalie, too, but he didn't quite trust her. Not even after she had helped the vampires during the virus outbreak. Screed still couldn't believe that doctors didn't use leeches in this century.
Vachon's eyes went wide. "Umm, wasn't that you telling me to kill Tracy when we were hiding out at your place?"
"Ah, well, ya dinna, did ya? Ya told 'er all wot ya wuz made o', bats n' cat's n' bloody cocktails, an' she 'cepted h'it. Same fer me an' me luv-o-me-loif."
"Okay, Screed. I just wanted to make sure ya knew what you were getting into. So, when can I meet her?"
"Well, I want ya to meet 'er, V-Man, I really do. But I wanna tell 'er 'ow I feel 'bout thingees foirst. I need me best mate's 'elp for tha' task."
"My help, huh? Well, you know I'll do anything for you. What have ya got in mind?"
Screed began pacing again. " Ya know I've never been much o' a romantical type o' ladies' man, roight-o-mongo? But ya've 'ad more women than ya deserve, mate. The romancin' not snackin' sort. Ya alwayz knows wot ta chat ta 'em, ya sings 'em tunes h'on tha' string machine o' yours. H'all them thingees wot they loik. Must be why Baby Jane swoons o'er ya."
Vachon couldn't help a grin from spreading across his face. "All this is true, I suppose. What can I do to help?"
"Well, I put me peepers on the boob tube once, say a bit 'bout a fella 'elpin' 'is mate woo a girl proper-loik."
Vachon's brow furrowed. "You've seen Cyrano de Bergerac?"
Screed looked puzzled. "Sear-ya-nose wot? Nah, matie. H'it wuz h'one o' them more in-tell-lick-tual programs. 'Three's Company,' me thinks. Ya know, tha' show where the bloke re-sides wit' the two birds? Innywayz, the fella, Jack, fell in luv wit' this Southern type o' sweetness, h'only 'e dinna know 'ow ta tell 'er. So 'is friend, Barry or Larry or sump'thin', 'elped 'im. Wot they dun, they went ta 'er abode. Jack, 'e stood h'outside 'er window an' 'is friend 'id h'in some trees nearby. "Jack jest h'opened 'is trap while the mate strumbed a get-tar an' sang an'..."
"Okay, okay, I remember, Screed. Are you saying that you want me to go with you to Patsy's place and play so you can pretend and she'll think it's you?
"Oh, mate-o-mine-fer etern-i-ty! Would ya really da tha' fer ol' lowly Screed? Would ya? I'd be in-tern-ally tasteful, I ould!"
Vachon saw the look on his friend's face, and knew he had to do it. "Alright, Screed, I'll help you. Have you thought about what song you want me to sing?"
"'Ow 'bout sum o' tha' Def Leppard tune 'bout sugar?"
"You don't mean 'Pour Some Sugar on Me?"
"Tha's h'it, mate!"
Vachon stifled a laugh. "Umm, Screed, that's not quite the kind of song we're looking for, here. Why don't you let me pick it?" He knew who to ask about such things.
Screed smiled. "See, I knew h'in me noggin' ya'd 'elp out a pal. Ya pick the tune; sumpthin' tha' fiesty wenches go far for. I've got ta be movin' an' grovin'... I'm late, I'm late, fer a very imp-ish date wit' Pasty-Ratsie. I'll be jammin' wit' ya h'in the morrow."
Vachon rose from the sofa. He slung an arm around his friend as he led him to the area just below the skylight. "Leave it to me, Screed. Til tomorrow."
"Tanks n' Thanks again, V-man-o-me-h'own," Screed said before launching himself into the night sky.
"I thought I'd seen everything," Vachon told the empty room. He dug out the cellular phone that Tracy had bought him and dialed her number.
"Vetter."
"Hey, Trace, whatcha doin'?"
At the precint, Tracy Vetter shook her head and smiled. She looked across the desk at her partner, Nick Knight, who was busy avoiding the paperwork on their latest case. "Just finishing up some reports."
"That partner of yours slacking off, again?"
"Who is this talking about slacking?"
"Ouch, Trace! Listen, what's your favorite romantic song?"
Javier Vachon chuckled as he hung up the phone. Tracy had questioned him incessantly for a full three minutes before giving up and telling him the name of the song. He had expected as much. Actually, he figured he had gotten off easily. Tracy could be terribly persistent when she was curious about something. It was one of his favorite things about her, even if she drove him crazy at times.
The song was "When You Love A Woman" by Journey. Vachon was unfamiliar with it, but Tracy had the disc. He flew to her apartment building and landed in the alley. After a few choice words to the doorman, he was admitted. He took the elevator up to her floor. He entered the apartment, using his special technique that she had never understood.
Vachon surveyed the room, deciding that it was just too neat. He took off his jacket and tossed over the sofa. "Better," he thought. He moved to the entertainment center and began opening cubbies until he found Tracy's CD collection. Once he found it, arranged in alphabetical order, of course, he selected the disc and put it in the player. He sat back to listen.
In my life I see where I've been I said that I'd never fall again Within myself I was wrong My searchin' ain't over... over I know that
When you love a woman You see your world inside her eyes When you love a woman You know she's standin' by your side A joy that lasts forever There's a band of gold that shines waiting Somewhere... oh yeah
If I can't believe that someone is true To fall in love is so hard to do I hope and pray tonight Somewhere you're thinking of me girl Yes I know... I know that
When you love a woman You see your world inside her eyes When you love a woman You know she's standin' by your side A joy that lasts forever There's a band of gold that shines, waiting somewhere... oh...
it's enough to make you cry. When you see her walkin' by And you look into her eyes
When you love a woman You see your world inside her eyes When you love a woman Well you know she's standin' by your side A joy that lasts forever
There's a band of gold that shines When you love a woman... When you love, love, love When you love a woman You see your world inside her eyes
Vachon was hooked after the first verse. It described him perfectly. He wondered if Tracy had caught the similarities. He decided that the song would work for what he and Screed had planned. He was trying to figure out the particulars and was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't hear Tracy come in. She looked at him from her position just inside the door, waiting for him to say something or acknowledge her. He didn't. She smiled and crept up slowly to the sofa. When she was standing directly behind him, he still hadn't moved. Tracy couldn't believe her good luck. She carefully raised both arms to both of his shoulders and quickly grabbed him, shouting, "Gotcha!"
Vachon jumped and sputtered, "Oh, my God, Trace! What are you trying to do? Geez! I just about had a heart. . ."
Tracy had dissolved completely into laughter. She was jumping around clapping. "Finally!! You don't know how long I've been waiting for that! Woo-hoo, that was worth the wait, though. You jumped, you actually jumped! Oooohhhh, that was tremendous!" Tracy was laughing so hard that tears rolled down her cheeks.
Vachon glared, but she only laughed harder. He changed tactics and put on his best puppy-dog-eye look. It had worked everytime in the past. Every time, that is, until now.
"Oh, no, ya don't, Javier! I got you good! Heck, I'd almost say we're even with that one."
"No way, Trace, I'm still way ahead of ya. Ya like laughing, huh? I'll give you something to laugh about." He rose from the couch and began to come around to her side. He had a fiendish look in his eyes.
Tracy immediately stopped laughing. "No, Javier, don't. Please? I was just having fun, ya know? Don't. . ."
But he did. Using his speed, he caught her easily, almost before she could run. He tackled her, and gently pinned her to the floor. He then tickled her mercilessly. She shrieked with laughter and begged him to stop, but he only relented when he decided enough was enough.
"Really, Javier, what will the neighbors think?"
"Well, if they'd seen what you did, they'd applaud me."
"You're a sore loser."
He kissed her nose. "You know it." He got up and offered his hand to help her. She declined. "Now who's being sore?"
"Okay, okay. So, what is all of this about a song, Javier. I let you blow me off earlier, but that was because I was at work. I want to know, now!"
He sighed and sunk into a chair beside the sofa. She sat on the sofa and waited. "Okay, Trace. I give up. Screed's in love."
"Screed's in love? With a woman?"
He just blinked and shook his head. "Ya know what? That's exactly what I said. Anyway, yes, with a woman. He told me today."
"Okay. Ummm, well, that's nice, right?" Tracy looked uncertain. "Screed in love," she thought, "well, I guess there is someone for everyone."
"Well, yes, it's nice. Could be interesting, though. The girl's mortal. He met her when she was at work at some restaurant. She was throwing out the trash, he was in the dumpster, and bang, love at first sight."
Tracy eyed him warily. "You're teasing."
Vachon's eyes widened. "Trace, I'm not, I promise. That's what he said."
Tracy laughed. "That could only happen to Screed."
"Yeah, tell me about it. Anyway, they've been seeing each other for the past three weeks. Now he wants to tell her how he feels, but he is nervous."
"That's understandable, I suppose. It's always hard to tell someone that you care." Tracy looked at Vachon meaningfully. He had never really told her anything like that, and she wasn't about to tell him first. She had tried that before with her last boyfriend, and the results had been disastrous. Even after they had been dating for five months, he had bailed when she told him how she felt. She and Vachon had known one another for eight months, and had spent a lot of time together in that time, and he was always attentive and kind, but she was gun-shy. She would wait until he actually said something, even if it killed her.
Vachon didn't miss the look, but let it pass. He sighed. He knew he loved her, and knew that she needed to hear those words from him. It had taken him several months to realize his feelings, and then a few more to accept them. He had tried to tell her a couple of times, but something always came up. He was working up his nerve again, but wanted to plan something really special. "Um, yeah, Trace, I guess so. Anyway, have you ever seen 'Cyrano de Bergerac'?"
Tracy sighed. "Well, he wormed out of that one, again," she thought. "Seen, no, but I've read it. What has that got to do with. . .wait a minute! You don't mean that you and Screed. . ."
"It was his idea, Trace. He asked and I couldn't say 'no' to him, ya know?"
"Yeah, I know. So, you're gonna sing the song I told you about? Hmmm, lucky girl."
"It'll do, I suppose. We'll, um, need to practice. Would you mind acting as our. ."
"Javier Vachon, if you dare say guinea pig, I'll never let you tickle me again!!"
He burst out laughing. "Let me, Trace? You don't let me! In fact, you couldn't stop me!"
Tracy's eyes narrowed. "Is that so?"
Tracy pulled up to the church and parked her car, 'the Bucket' as Vachon called it. She had agreed to be the audience for serenade practice with the idea that Vachon could 'owe her one'. She had formed several thoughts on just what that 'one' might be.
She hurried across the street and entered the old building. The familiar scent of candle wax wafted down from the living area as Tracy climbed the stairs. She ran her hand along the banister and it came away covered with dust. "I am gonna have to get in here with my cleaning supplies," she thought.
Vachon and Screed sat on the battered sofa, going over their plans. "Hey, Trace," Vachon called out as she reached the top of the steps.
Screed jumped up and hurried over to Tracy, ushering her into the room. "Oh, me sweetest Baby Jane wit' whipped type-o-cream h'on the top, I wants ta give ya a big thank-ya-kindly fer 'elping ol' Scree like this. So kind o' ya, really, wot to lend a 'and h'or two." He was beaming.
Tracy's face broke into a wide smile. She'd never seen the carouche so happy. "You're very welcome, Screed. I'm glad I could help." He led her to the sofa, and she sat, tossing her tote bag and jacket down beside her.
Vachon stood and said, "Okay, we've got the layout of her house down. There is a tree to the left of her front door, so that's where I'll be. I'll just stand in the corner over here for now." He moved off.
"Stand in the corner, huh," Tracy repeated. "How fitting." He looked wounded. She laughed. "I just have one question, though. Ummm, you've spent a lot of time with this girl, right Screed?"
"E'ery night o' me un-loif, Babykins Janiekins, why?"
"Well, I was just wondering, um, what about your accent and your voice?"
"H'accent? Wot she's ramblin' h'on about, V-man?" Screed's brows furrowed.
Tracy's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, come on you guys!" She turned to Vachon. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? I mean, I don't know what he's saying half of the time! In fact, I don't see how you understand it."
Vachon chuckled. "Years of practice, Trace, years of practice. Anyway, it shouldn't be a big deal. Lots of people 'lose' their accents when they sing. As for the voice, well, she's never heard him sing before, so she shouldn't think anything's strange."
Tracy shrugged. "Okay, I guess you've got everything covered." She settled back on the sofa and waited for the show to commence.
Screed stood a few feet in front of her. "Roight-o-rainy-o. I'll be a'knockin' h'on the door. She'll h'open 'er h'up an' she'll be standin' there h'in the doorway, an' I'll be h'in the yard. Ready, steady, Freddy-V?"
From the corner came, "Ready."
"Okay-dokay, Ol' Screed's gonna jammy-jam along the lines o', 'Patsy, I've been wantin' ta put ver-be-age h'on this subjec-tion fer a bit, I 'ave, but I wanted h'it ta be special-loik' an' then you 'it h'it wit' the song-ta-sing." Screed picked up a second guitar and strummed. Noise filled the church.
"Um, Screed, ya gotta promise me you won't actually try to play, okay," Vachon said through clenched teeth.
"Sorry, mate. Won't be occurin' a-gain."
"Thank goodness," Tracy put in, uncovering her ears.
"Okay! O-kay! No need ta be nasty 'bout h'it, get ya panties - if ya're wearing h'inny, tha' h'iz - h'in a wad h'up yar bum." Screed looked from one to the other and pouted.
Vachon sighed. "Alright, you wanna do this, now?"
"Yeah. Tha's the E-ticket. Jest go a'ead. I'll jest play pre-tend-loik."
Vachon began the opening chords, and Screed mimed. Tracy had to admit that it looked okay so far. Then Vachon began to sing the song, her song, and she had trouble concentrating. She kept her eyes on Screed, who did an admirable job pretending.
Her mind wandered, carried by the sound of Vachon's voice. She knew he could play, but she had not expected him to be such a good singer. In her mind, she saw the two of them alone together. She drifted. A moonlit night, down by the lake, him singing that song with that voice. The picture was so vivid that she shivered. And then his song was over, he leaned close to her and. . .
"Trace? Earth to Tracy, come in Tracy!" Vachon was standing directly in front of her, a puzzled Screed next to him. They stood watching her with interest.
"Oh! Oh, sorry!" She looked up, blushing. "I guess I'm a little out of it; long day. Long shift. I had lots of errands, ya know," she sputtered. She hoped they bought it.
"S'okay-dope-kay, Baby Jane, Ol' Screed knows 'ow buzy-az-h'a-bee ya h'are. Da ya think h'it might've trans-spired okay?" Screed's mind was too occupied to notice the blonde's discomfort.
Vachon grinned and gave her a look. He'd seen the rush of crimson in her cheeks. "Well, well, well, Trace, what were you thinking," he asked himself. He feigned sympathy. "Lots of errands, riiiiight, Trace."
Tracy silently cursed herself. "Why does he always have to know when I'm lying? What does he have, some kind of built in polygraph?" She said, "Yes Screed, it worked for me, err, it worked okay." She mentally kicked herself. "Oops," she thought, "Tracy Vetter, blithering idiot."
With her still-elevated heartbeat ringing in his ears, Vachon almost missed that last line. Almost. He nearly burst out laughing, but somehow knew Tracy wouldn't have appreciated it. He congratulated himself. He was learning.
"Great! Thanks for givin' h'us a-sissy-dance, Baby Jane. "He turned to Vachon. "In the morrow night, then, mate? Ya wanna meet an' greet 'ere, say 'bout 9 h'on the clock?"
"Sure, that's fine, Screed. I'll see you then."
Screed clutched his friend's hand. "Thanks a'gin an' a'gin an' wit' gin, mate-o'-mine. Ya're the bestest, mostest friend I've h'ever 'ad the pleasure of. See ya 'ere-n-there." With that, the carouche launched himself through the opening in the bell tower.
Tracy shook her head. No matter how many times she had seen it, the quick blur of motion always made her dizzy. She looked at Vachon as he shoved aside her belongings and sat beside her on the sofa.
"So did you pay any attention at all," he asked.
"Hmmm," she said in a sleepy voice.
"The song, Trace! Did you watch him at all? Is it really okay?" Vachon gave her a quizzical look. "Hey, are you okay?"
She smiled. "I'm fine, really. Just tired, I guess. And to answer your question, yes, I did pay attention." She didn't say what she had paid attention to; didn't tell him that his voice had had her entranced.
"Well?"
"It was good, really. The girl is in for a treat. Must be nice to have someone sing to you like that. I wouldn't know. . ." she let her voice trail off and looked the other way.
Vachon rolled his eyes, knowing that she wouldn't see. "Sheesh, Trace, tell me how you really feel," he thought. He gently turned her face towards him. "Maybe your luck will improve."
She looked into his liquid brown eyes and nearly drowned. "Here's hoping," she breathed. She looked away quickly. His eyes always got to her, even without him trying. "It's a good thing I'm a resistor," she thought. "Thank God for small favors." Vachon slid an arm around her shoulders and leaned close.
"Why won't you look at me, hmmm," Vachon whispered into her nearest ear. Was she imagining things or was the old church growing warm? She turned slowly, and he leaned back.
"I, um, wasn't trying to avoid you, Javier. I'm just kinda out if it, ya know?" He gave her a dazzling smile. She sighed. He was playing cute.
"So, how're things on the detecting front?"
Tracy was grateful for the change of topic. "Oh, alright, I guess. Too many dead bodies, as usual. I'm actually ahead of the paperwork, though, and that's a first," Tracy broke off into a long yawn.
He grinned and thought, "yeah, and no thanks to Knight, I'm sure." She yawned again, and her eyes began to droop shut. He sat still, not sure what to do. He knew she couldn't stay; knew if he woke up hungry with her in the room, he couldn't control himself. And yet he made no move to wake her. She lay back against him, sighing deeply. "Ah, Querida," he spoke softly, "you are so beautiful when you sleep." He stroked her hair with feather-like touches.
Tracy was dreaming. Vachon stood with his back in front of her, strumming his guitar and singing something in Spanish. She didn't have to understand what the words to know what they meant, but she recognized a couple of them. Something about beloved, she thought. Then he turned around, only the face on the man before her belonged to Screed. Tracy jerked awake with a muffled cry.
"Trace, hey, it's okay! You were sleeping. What happened? Nightmare?"
Tracy sat up straight and stretched. "Yeah, sorta. Look, I'm sorry that I fell asleep on you. I'm just beat. I'd better go before I'm too far gone to drive home." She rose and gathered her jacket and bag. "Good night, Javier, sleep well."
Vachon walked her to the stairs. "Good night, Trace. You too." He watched her descend the stairs with a smile on his face. "Yup, Jav, you've got it bad," he thought to himself. "Now what are you going to do about it?" He wandered to the crate where his stock was stored and selected a bottle. He took a long drink and sighed. "What indeed?"
He wandered back to the sofa and flopped down. Then he saw it. A well worn paperback book was lying on the floor. With a curious expression he picked it up and eyed the cover. On it was a picture of two lovers in a passionate embrace. It wasn't his, and Screed didn't read. That left Tracy. He realized it must have slipped from her bag when he moved it. "So, Detective Vetter, this is how you fill your free time," he thought. He opened it to one of the more creased sections of the book and read. A plot formed in his mind.
The first thing that entered Tracy's mind when she woke up the next afternoon was "I'm so glad to be off tonight." The second thing was: "I've just got to see how this serenade goes." Her mind made up, she leapt from her bed and moved to the closet. She rooted around, trying to find dark clothes to better conceal her. She selected black pants and a charcoal grey sweater and quickly headed for the shower.
Across town, Javier Vachon was also waking. He smiled when he saw Tracy's forgotten book laying on the floor next to his bed. He had thumbed through it, and was not a little surprised at what he'd found. It seemed that Trace did a good job of hiding her darker side, but he had every intention of seeing it for himself. He climbed the stairs to the living area, intent on a few moments of solitude before Screed was due to arrive.
Vachon sat, idly strumming his guitar and thinking. His head was full of things to say, things to do to show Tracy how he felt, but none of them suited him. It had to be perfect. He continued his musings in silence, but to no avail. The right time would come with the right words and method. He set aside the guitar in frustration and paced around the nave. To his relief, Screed appeared a bit early, and the two practiced their act before heading over to Patsy's house.
Being a detective at Metro Homicide had many perks, and one was that it was pretty simple to get information. Tracy called in her request, and within thirty minutes she knew the full name, the title of the restaurant, and the home address of the woman in question. She smiled. This was almost too easy.
Tracy watched from across the street. She had concealed herself behind a row of cars, and only hoped that one of the owners didn't think she was a thief. She noticed that both sides of Patsy's house were flanked with trees, and knew she had to pick a side. She remembered that Vachon had stood in the left corner when they had rehearsed in the church, so Tracy chose the right side of the house. She dashed over to the clump of trees and waited.
Soon enough, Vachon and Screed appeared. Literally. It would have seemed odd to anyone else, but Tracy realized that they must have flown over and landed behind the trees on the other side. "Well, so far, so good. I picked the correct side," she thought. She shrank back slightly, hoping that they would not see her.
The moment they landed, he knew she was near. He could hear her heartbeat and smell her essence. He sniffed the air. "Apricots. Oh, Trace, what were you thinking," Vachon muttered. Screed looked a question at him, but Vachon motioned for him to go on. "It's alright. I think she just wanted to watch." Screed shrugged and moved up the walk to Patsy's door. Vachon, now nearly lost in the familiar scent continued to gripe to himself. "She catches me off guard one time and now she's 'The Shadow' or something? What is that woman. . ." He was on such a roll that he missed his cue, and it was only when Screed cleared his throat a bit too loudly that he snapped out of it and began the song.
Tracy watched as the door opened and a small woman with dark brown hair and hazel eyes stood on the porch. "Why, she suits him perfectly," she thought as Screed took Patsy's hand and told her his feelings. The moment was so sweet that she almost didn't notice that something was amiss. There was a slight pause when the music was supposed to begin, and then finally, the chord came. The charade came off despite that small flaw, and Tracy couldn't help feeling a bit envious of Screed's love. "At least he's not afraid of his feelings," she said softly as the song came to an end. She saw the two embrace, and finally withdraw into the house. Tracy paused, waiting for the door to shut before she turned to leave. "I never thought I'd say this, but I wish Vachon were more like Screed," she whispered.
"I never thought you'd say that either," Vachon said into her ear.
She let out a cry and glared at him. "How long have you been here," she asked.
"I wasn't here," he said indicating their position. "I was over there. But I could hear you from the moment we arrived."
"Hear me how? I was silent," she protested.
He reached up and placed one hand above her heart. "I know your heart, Trace. I could pick you out of a crowd easily. Besides, the air was full of you, your scent. I knew you were here." He slung the his guitar around his shoulders and shifted it so it hung across his back.
Tracy blushed. "Oh," was all she could think of to say. She looked at the vampire before her. She was suddenly nervous. She tried to change the subject. "So, what happened? You were late with the song."
He knew what she was doing, but he decided that he wasn't going to let her this time. "I was thinking about you," he said, watching her intently. She blushed again. "Come with me, Trace, I want to talk to you," he told her. She nodded, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Don't be afraid, I promise I won't let anything happen to you," he said as he lifted them off the ground and into the night sky.
Tracy had always wanted to experience flying with him, though she imagined that she'd be scared. She had been unconscious the last time and didn't remember anything until she had awakened in Screed's sewer-home. Now as they glided through the air, she realized that she wasn't afraid. Vachon's strong arm around her reassured her, and she enjoyed the view of her hometown from above. It ended too soon as he landed on Cherry Beach near the lake. Vachon led her to a bench, and they sat. He removed the instrument and set it down beside them on the bench.
"So," she said, "what is it that you wanted to say?" Vachon knew that the time to tell her had come despite the lack of ambiance. He took her hand and frowned slightly, trying to summon up his nerve. Tracy misinterpreted the look and stood suddenly, sliding her hand out of his. "Look, I think I know what's happening." She gave a humorless laugh. "This is the big brush off, isn't it? The big adios! That's it, isn't it?"
"No," he said softly.
She turned to face him. "No?"
Vachon rose and walked over to Tracy. "No," he repeated firmly. He shook his head. "Tracy, you've got it all wrong."
"So tell me," she demanded.
He let out an exasperated sigh. "It's not that easy." She started to turn away, but he touched her shoulder. "Wait, please, I'm willing to try." Vachon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Tracy, I found your book," he began.
"Book? What book?"
He shrugged. "I don't remember the title, but it's the one with all of the. . .beach scenes."
Tracy blushed again. "You found that? How did. . ."
"It must have fallen out of your bag at the church. Look, Trace, I know that's what you want, what you deserve." He gestured at the lake. "Tracy. This is the only beach I can give you. I don't know how to be one of those guys. I do love you, but I. . ."
"Oh, Vachon. Javier!" She paused, and then said, "What an idiot."
Vachon jerked back as if she'd slapped him.
Tracy realized her mistake. "No, not you! Me. I'm an idiot. This isn't easy, is it?" He shook his head. She reached out to him, and he caught her hand. "I don't want one of those men from my books, Javier. I want you. I have since I met you. And I'm not interested in the things you can't give me. All I care about is what we can have together."
Vachon smiled and pressed her hand to his lips. Tracy shivered at the touch; lightening moving through her. "Are you cold," he asked.
"Oh, no," she said. "It's more like I'm too warm," she added silently. Vachon pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "I love you, Javier," she whispered.
He pulled away slightly so he could look at her. "I love you, too, Trace." He leaned in to kiss her, and she met him halfway. The embrace was gentle, yet full of the passion that had been building for months. They glided backwards towards the bench and collapsed, gasping for breath.
Tracy caressed one scruffy cheek. "That was, um, wow."
Vachon smirked. "Wow, huh? You believe me now?"
She nodded. "So, Javier, when do I get it?"
His eyes widened, and he let out a laugh. "It, Trace? Moving a little fast, aren't you?"
She cuffed him on the shoulder. "No! That's not what I meant, although. . . " She gave him a look that would have made him blush if it were possible. "I meant my song, Javier. When are you going to sing for me?"
He shook his head in amazement. "Tracy Vetter, you are too much! I was thinking of you when I sang this the first time, but I suppose it's only fair for you to hear it again." He picked up the guitar and thought briefly. Vachon quickly checked to make sure that it was still in tune, and began the Journey song once again.
She smiled and snuggled closer to him on the bench. At that moment, all thoughts of envy towards Patsy melted away.