"Merrill, this isn't making me feel any better," I said rubbing my forehead.
"I know. I am only trying to make you understand." He scooted up beside me and placed an arm around my shoulders, kissing my temple affectionately. "Feel better now?"
"Sure, dad," I sighed. He laughed.
* * *
"We are going to Paris," Merrill announced a week later. "We must find a dress for you to wear."
"You're joking? There isn't anything here in London?" I stared at my surrogate sire in dismay. Merrill gave me the patient expression I'd come to recognize; the one that said he was dealing with my ignorance.
It was the middle of September and the only things that had changed for me was the fact that I had more knowledge of the vampire race because of my lessons and I was now the proud owner of a nice Mac laptop. I know—Gavin has one too. We had high speed, wireless internet at Merrill's manor. Franklin bought a laptop for himself after seeing mine and became addicted to solitaire. I sometimes sent him emails, just for fun. The other thing that was different was Franklin's lover from New York had come to visit. His name was Greg and he'd voluntarily submitted to Merrill's compulsion. He also didn't live with Franklin and hadn't ever. Franklin went to stay nights with him occasionally in New York on his days off and they'd been together for nearly twenty-five years.
"I almost had a heart attack when Merrill called and said Frank had surgery." Greg was a little more demonstrative than Franklin but not overly so. I liked him; he was warm, witty and treated Franklin very well. Franklin introduced us when I'd come downstairs on the first night of Greg's visit.
"Be careful, she'll have you drinking berry smoothies and taking vitamins and flaxseed oil," Franklin put an arm around Greg.
"Well, it's good for you," I chastised Franklin.
"Honey, are you sure you're a vampire?" Greg asked.
"Honey, that's not the first time somebody asked me that," I put my hands on my hips.
"I like her," Greg declared and that was that.
Franklin and Greg went with us to Paris. Merrill has his own private jet (go figure). We stayed for nearly a week. Merrill took us out each evening while Greg and Frank offered advice on ball gowns. I got a closer look at some of the landmarks, too. Merrill told me that he'd once climbed the Eiffel Tower, scaling up the sides when it was really dark one night. I almost laughed out loud, that was so unlike him.
I was also the only one in the party who didn't speak French like a native. I suppose I should learn. I suppose. The word I spoke the most, and even the designers and the sales assistants understood, was no.
"Merrill, this all looks like it was patterned after men's pajamas," I said, after viewing a very big name designer's current collection. I was doing my best not to gag. We weren't asking any prices but I had the notion that most of what I was looking at would cost more than I made in a year's time at the courthouse in Oklahoma. Some of it much more.
"Little one, we are running out of time," Merrill murmured against my ear. Franklin and Greg weren't saying anything but I was beginning to feel pressured. Was I supposed to wear something I hated with a capital H, just because it had a name attached to it? "Come," Merrill said wearily and we walked out of the showroom. Greg and Franklin stopped to get coffee at a little café before we walked farther down the street.
"Now see, why can't I wear something like that," I pointed at a dress displayed in a window. The gown was a midnight blue silk with a sweetheart neckline. Thin straps crossed over the back, holding the dress up on the mannequin. The dress was simple, hugging the body around the br**sts and waist, and then falling to a flared skirt that might float around the ankles.
"Let us look at this," Merrill was taking in the dress along with a few other things in the window.
Franklin interpreted what the sales assistant was telling Merrill when we stepped inside the shop. "She says this is an up and coming designer, who is only beginning to make a name for herself," he whispered.
"I want to try on that one," I said, pointing to the midnight blue ball gown. I got my wish.
"I think this is nice," Greg said. Turning this way and that in the mirror, I agreed with him. A pair of shoes were brought out—Jimmy Choos. This would be my first pair. They were silver, a heeled sandal in a watersnake pattern—at least that's what I was told, with crossover straps at the toes. I tried them on and the dress was like a dream, no longer dragging the floor. The assistant went into raptures over how I should do my hair, I think, according to her gestures.
"We'll take it," Merrill said, and also bought a couple of other things there in the shop, including a white dress that he liked very much when I tried it on and one in black as well that had a deep V-neck and a very low back. I almost felt naked in it. We bought three more pairs of shoes, too. Merrill spent a truckload of money that night. I hoped he was taking it out of what I now had.
The ball was scheduled for the first Saturday in October, beginning around nine with dancing and the whole bit. The meeting would occur on Sunday and I wouldn't be going to that, thank goodness. Franklin and Greg taught me how to dance. Not up close dancing, I could do that well enough. They taught me ballroom dancing, but only the waltz and foxtrot. I was good on the waltz, a little shaky on the other.
"No rumba or any of that other stuff," I explained my dancing lessons to Merrill, who took me a couple of turns afterward. My first dance at the ball was to be with him.
"You'll be fine," he insisted. I wasn't so sure.
"Do you think I'll be the only one who has ever attended the werewolf meeting and the vampire meeting?" I asked as he whisked me around the floor.
"Quite possibly," he nodded, turning me several times. Trying to trip me up, I'm sure.
"What does one talk about while one is dancing?" I was being sarcastic but Merrill either ignored it or it went right past him. He never batted an eyelash, either way.
"The female allows her partner to set the conversation," he said.
"Great. Lots of nice weather we're having, then," I said, not even pointing out that the male got to direct traffic, both in the dance and the dialogue.
"What would you prefer they talk about?" Merrill's eyebrow quirked a little.
"Well, they could tell me if their Springer Spaniel had puppies or about their argument with Louis XIV or what they like to read." I put emphasis on the word read.
"And if they prefer Voltaire or Baudelaire?"