Blood Ties

23. Scattered

Quinn was wasting time talking to a good friend from high school. She’d thought Adam would be home sooner, and she was starting to get anxious. Having no clue as to why, she checked the time and figured that her friend, Emily, would be out of class by now.

Em was an old friend whom Quinn had known since childhood. They’d gone to different middle schools when they were kids, but since Emily’s parents, the Sanchezes, worked on the Swain’s fields and helped tend the horses, they’d played together as children more than any of her classmates.

‘In Los Angeles?’ Emily whined. ‘Jesus, Q, why all the way out there? It was bad enough you were already a few hundred miles away. I feel like I’m never going to see you again.’

Quinn sighed, missing her friend terribly. “I know, but I felt I needed a change. I’m glad, actually. Things weren’t going all that well with Marc, and you know he’d hover if I stayed there. Plus, UCLA has a great drama program, almost as good as NYU.” Out of all her friends, she wished that Emily could know about this. She trusted her the most out of anyone, and only wished they were able to chat more often.

While Quinn had gone off to New York to study drama, Emily had stayed around Virginia, opting for a 2-year course in automotive services. While her parents had worked the Swain’s farm, she’d been more interested in the farm equipment and had spent some of her free time with Quinn, crawling under tractors and getting a good look at some of the older automobiles that were tucked away in rotting barns and next to silos on the Swain’s property. Animals were cute, but smelly and a ton of work because they had personalities just like people. Machines didn’t work that way. Yes, they were a pain sometimes to take apart or rebuild, but they always made sense and didn’t talk back to you. Once you knew what you were doing, changing out a battery or messing with an intake manifold was second nature.

Emily had wanted to climb beneath oily undercarriages while Quinn had to milk the cows, so she’d stuck around Virginia and decided on a very different career path from her friend. Art, in any form, was open to interpretation, while being a wrench was the furthest thing from that. There was no manual that told you how to learn acting; it was all guesswork and opinion. Yes, there were certain things that needed studying—music, accents, dance, but everything else was up a person’s individual take on the content. And no two people ever worked the same.

Closing her eyes, Quinn tried to come up with some reassurance that she’d see her friend eventually. She knew that explaining her current situation would be near-impossible, because she’d barely accepted her circumstances as fact herself. One day, Emily would be gone from this world, and they’d have long since parted ways. Emily was her best friend, even to this day, but she didn’t believe she would ever understand why her friend never seemed to age. She would look like she was 35 even at 70 years old.

She came up with the next best thing and explained that seeing each other—at least for now—wasn’t going to be a big deal. “I…well, I’m sort of seeing someone right now. An L.A. native, and I can guarantee it won’t be a problem coming to visit you whenever I get the chance, though probably not as much until after I graduate. I…it’s an odd situation.”

‘How so? He have a private jet or own Amtrak or something?’

It was so on-point that Quinn flinched. “Yes to the first, and no to the second. I don’t know who owns Amtrak, nor do I care. And besides, it would take days to get to you by train. I looked it up once for Marc when he had to go to Chicago for some seminars. It takes about a day to get to Chicago, and then another 2 days from Chicago to the West Coast.” She shrugged as she sat back in the couch and curled up. “I was curious about the latter.”

‘And now you’re living in the lap of luxury. Is it with the boyfriend? What’s his name? Is he a celebrity? God, please tell me it’s Anderson Telmer. If there was anyone it could be, that’s who I’d drop everything for. Yum!’

Quinn rolled her eyes and bit back a laugh. “Christ, Ems, it’s not him. And it’s not just me that can visit you. You’re more than welcome to come out here. I’m sure I can wrangle a plane ticket from Mr. Moneybags. Oh, and Mr. Moneybags name is Adam, by the way. He’s not a celebrity. He’s the money behind the movies—or at least certain ones. You ever hear of Payne Media Management?”

‘No, but that don’t mean much. I’m lucky I know Lion’s Gate from MDX. And holy s**t about the fact I even remember two production companies at all. Acting and s**t’s your bag, not mine, lovely.’

“I don’t want to be in the movies,” she reminded her friend. “I want the opportunity to put on a play every night, live through the characters. I guess it’s nice that people can read and perform from a script just once, but all the cut and action and waiting around for the lighting to be perfect seems boring. I’d rather perform every night and not just once and forget it. I suppose if you have a name and can get the kind of money that you can be choosey with what you perform, then more power to you. It’s just not what I want. I want to dance and sing and perform on a stage, become close with my fellow performers and then move along to the next show when I feel a little wanderlust.”

‘I get that, Q. Christ, you’re like the opposite of me. I basically will be doing the same s**t every day for the rest of my career or until I get old and arthritic and can’t get a grip on an axel or drop all my ball bearings. Sounds like a euphemism for something, don’t it?’

“Yup, but one that isn’t very clear. How are your parents, by the way? I haven’t seen them in ages. Still good? How’s your dad’s gout in his knee? Any better?”

‘CBD oil is a f*****g marvel, Q. It took forever for him to be down with it. I swear he thought it was going to get him high, but then Nena started to use it for her arthritis, and he rubbed some onto his knee on the sly. It’s not perfect, but it’s about 75% better when it’s acting up. So glad for him. Hated to see him limping around and trying to hide it. That, along with a diet change, really helped.’

“Wonderful, Em. I’m happy for him. I know how miserable he was when it was really bad. Give both your parents a hug and a kiss from me.” It had been a couple years since she’d seen Ana and Javier, but they were like a second set of parents, they’d been around the farm so much. If her mom wasn’t around, she’d gone to Ana. In fact, the first time she’d gotten her period, Lana Swain had been at a townhall meeting, and Ana was the only woman around, one Quinn knew she could trust. Ana had shown her where her mother had stored pads and helped explain how to insert a tampon correctly.

They spent the next half hour on the phone, just chatting about school and Quinn’s life in L.A. From what they both could gather, things were going great on opposite ends of the country, and they soon were signing off and promising to talk again soon.

Once Quinn had sat back down after plugging her nearly-depleted cell phone into the charger, she snuggled under the blanket. Even though Southern California was always warm, the inside of the mansion Adam lived in was relatively cool. Climate control worked wonders, as did the solar panels on the roof, but a vampire’s temperature was always a bit chilly, though she didn’t mind. She was used to dressing up in warm clothing like sweats in the wintertime, and she was content enough to cuddle in a blanket and watch TV or read a script.

Not that she could read a script now. Everything she owned was still in New York, though Adam was making arrangements to pay off the rest of her lease and get someone to move her things from inside her landlord’s apartment. That gave the old woman plenty of time to find a new tenant in a few months when the lease ran out.

She sighed, changing the channel to a late-night game show she’d gotten used to watching over the past week before hearing the electronic lock on the front door engaging. There was a slight whir and a click, and then the door was opening. It was dark out, so the only extra light that filtered in through the front was from the porchlight, and that was minimal at best.

“Hey, baby.” He sounded tired, and Quinn immediately looked over at him, brow creasing in concern. He usually had a little more pep in his step, but then again, she’d never seen him drink anything other than blood, and she knew he’d had a few stiff drinks at a bar on the way home. Since the effects of alcohol faded quickly in a vampire, he was no danger on the roads, which was definitely something that had concerned her when she’d finally reached out to him after waiting a little while after contacting his parents first. She didn’t want to seem clingy.

Speaking of that, she was never a clingy person before, and she wondered if the forming bond had something to do with it. Where she would have maybe reached out once or twice to Marcus in a situation such as this, she now had this unbendable need to be in constant contact. If they mated, she hoped that the anxious feeling faded with time.

“Everything good?” She struggled not to say too much. There was something in his demeanor that worried her, and he glanced up at her before hanging his light jacket on the antique coat hanger in the foyer. It was just in sight of where she was sitting in the living room, which was actually why she’d curled up there in the first place.

“Yeah, got my paperwork and a few scripts I’m going to need to go over, then went to the bar and had a few drinks. Met an interesting guy there and had a good conversation. Damn familiar he was too. I could’ve sworn his voice rang a bell.” He shook his head, obviously still irritated that he couldn’t place the gentleman by his full name. He hadn’t wanted to pry, though.

“Oh? Maybe you met an aging celebrity that has since shunned the spotlight. Is he living here?”

“Yep, but he says he was born back east. Once you’re trapped by the limelight, it’s hard to get out of it. Fuckton of trappings goes along with the lifestyle. You can tell he was a good-lookin’ gent back in the day, and he was personable enough. Kind fellow. Bought me a drink that, as always, was way overpriced. You don’t only pay for the drinks at Dardenelle’s; you pay for the speedy service as well.”

“Dardenelle’s?” She’d never heard of it, not that that was any surprise. She’d only gone out on the town with Adam the one time, though he’d told her he’d planned more dates and even take her on outings, one to his parents’ cabin northeast of Lake Arrowhead. It was picturesque, but wouldn’t be much fun to visit in the wintertime. Half the draw was in the tourism in the area, along with the many trails and Aztec Falls.

“One of the nicer pubs downtown. Not too far from my office in the Financial District. I go there on occasion, though I’m not a big drinker—or at least not recently. Mostly hit that place to meet with clients or sign contracts when I wanted to sweeten the pot or shake that stick the writer had out of their ass. I’ve had a few that gave their scripts to several entities, even though that practice is looked down upon. No one wants to haggle for a deal, especially when you’re doing them a favor just by giving them a chance. It goes the same with publishers for books. Most won’t take an manuscript that’s got a few publishers ears c****d. It’s not real estate. You don’t get to barter. This is why it takes so goddamn long to sign on the dotted line. There’s really no way to tell if the script has been returned to a writer or not, so sometimes it’s best to let it slide.”

Adam sighed and started to tug off his shirt. Quinn didn’t know what to say to all that, because she had very little knowledge of his business and how it worked. She was aware of the audition and management process because she’d taken a few classes on that at NYU, but this was a different ballgame altogether.

Before she could respond, Adam was walking into the hallway on his way to the bedroom.

“I think I’m going to lay down early. I’m tired. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He disappeared down the hallway, leaving Quinn confused and wondering why he was acting so cold. Maybe it was just the day had been too long or affects from the alcohol, but something didn’t feel right, and she was hard-pressed to figure out how to make sense of it all.