Page 3 of A Little Red
Scarlet hadn’t realized when Liam had said “the upstairs bar” that what he’d meant wasthe private club that treats me like a king. And even if she had known that, she’d never have expected to be treated like a queen. She hadn’t ever been to any place quite so decadent and she found that she did indeed like it. Of course, she liked everything right at the moment. She liked the dim, romantic lighting, the expensive cocktails. She liked the way the waitresses all had their faces painted incalaveramake-up, like Day of the Dead sugar skulls, and the band, playing sultry jazz, were dressed in the tattered finery of voodoo. But most of all she liked the way Liam Grayson’s knee was rubbing up against hers and the way his arm draped over the back of the booth and almost around her shoulders.
She had the feeling that she shouldn’t have said yes to his invitation. But co-workers were allowed to go out for drinks, weren’t they? It wasn’t her fault that Liam, who had always been rather brusque at the office, was turning out to be charming and easy to talk to. Scarlet had to admit that she was finding it harder and harder not to betooopen with him. She probably shouldn’t have let him order her the third cocktail.
She’d had a little bit of a crush on handsome, dark-haired Liam Grayson since the first time she’d seen him—he was so vibrantlymorethan everyone else at the office in a way she couldn’t put her finger on, but that she found instantly attractive. That was why she’d volunteered to be his secretary. The other girls in the pool didn’t like him. They all agreed he was hot, but they said he was demanding and unfriendly. And one girl said he creeped her out and she didn’t like going into his office. But Scarlet didn’t find him creepy, weird or demanding. Liam didn’t seem to ask for anything unusual at work. He just wanted things done right and so far, Scarlet hadn’t had any problems delivering. And now, after work, he was funny and warm and had a growly rough tone to his voice and eyes the color of whiskey and all of that made Scarlet rather breathless.
Scarlet excused herself and went to the restroom. Coming out of the stall, she was startled to see herself in the mirror. She hadn’t worn her hair in braids in years and the effect was to make her look like her teenage self while the tight dress elevated her breasts to a ridiculous degree and the short skirt, which was something she would never have worn at any point in her life, made her look like one of those pin-up cartoons of Little Red Riding Hood. She stared at herself, uncertain what to think, ambivalent about her own overt sexuality.
Scarlet wondered what her sister would say if she saw Scarlet’s costume. Azure was always, first and foremost, herself. She never understood wanting to dress up as anyone else. Her brother Ochre would probably just roll his eyes. With two sisters, he had a tendency to describe anything he didn’t want to think about asgirly stuffand move on. But Liam had thought it was sexy. So had several others in the bar. She pivoted, her skirt ruffling around the pale skin of her thighs. She felt a little dirty in the costume and, although she wasn’t sure why, she liked that. She pictured Liam doing what Sam had done and she bit her lip. Liam’s hands would not have been unwelcome.
Abruptly she stopped smiling and went to wash her hands. She needed to stop. Liam Grayson was strictly off limits. He was probably just being nice anyway. Taking pity on the lowly secretary who’d had a bad night.
A dark-haired woman came in, slamming through the door, a little unstable in her leopard print heels and skin tight satin dress.
“Woah,” she said taking in Scarlet. “You are so fucking hot.”
Scarlet was surprised into letting out a laugh.
“No, seriously. Who are you taking home and can I come watch?”
“My boss. No. Maybe. And, no! You can’t watch.”
The woman laughed. “Bummer. But what’s with the indecision?”
“He’s my boss,” wailed Scarlet, giving in to the sacrosanct holiness of the bathroom confessional. “I feel so bad, but I want himsomuch.”
The woman laughed again, her dress seams creaking a little against the assault. “But honey,” she said, “you didn’t wear that outfit to be good.”
Scarlet looked at herself in the mirror. “I wore it because I wanted to be… cool. Like all the TV show versions of Halloween. Only it turns out, I still feel like me.”
“Yeah,” said the woman, also looking at their reflections. “I used to feel that way. And then I realized one thing.”
“What was that?” asked Scarlet, copying the arrogant tilt of the woman’s head.
“I’m a fucking tiger.”
“Sometimes, when no one is looking, I’m a badass motherfucker,” said Scarlet. “But I don’t know how to do it when someone’s looking.”
The tiger woman laughed again. “Oh my God, I love you and you smell so good. Now go out there, stick your tongue down his throat and let nature take care of the rest.”
“I envy your confidence,” said Scarlet. “But I worry about Monday morning.”
“Fuck Monday morning.”
“I will keep that in mind,” said Scarlet. She smiled as she left, but the second the bathroom door swung shut her confidence wavered.
She went back out to the restaurant, hesitating by the dance floor, looking for an open path across to their table. What she really ought to do was go over and thank Liam for the lovely evening and then pour herself into a cab she couldn’t really afford and head for home. But standing there on the edge of everything, she kept catching glimpses of him through the moving bodies. And every time she saw him, it was a little snapshot of something Scarlet wanted desperately. She wanted to feel the way he made her feel all the time—dangerously burning hot and perfectly safe all at the same time. And if she couldn’t have it all the time would it really be so bad to have it just for one night?
“Hey there, Red,” said an angular fellow, pulling away from his table full of rowdy friends to plant himself in front of her. “Come on over to our table. We’ll show you a good time.”
Scarlet stared into his hard, dark eyes and felt the brittle, metallic taste in her mouth that told her that he was not safe for her to be around. Her grandmother would not approve of Scarlet frequenting a place that served his kind of person, but there were a lot ofothersin the city. Scarlet thought it was speciesist to exclude certain types just because their eating habits were… predatory.
“No thanks,” she said, smiling politely. “I’m with someone.”
“Come on,” he said stepping closer, filling her view. She refused to back up, trying hard to control the flutter of nerves in her stomach. She found her open-minded attitude not as easy to maintain in practice as it was in theory, and she wished she hadn’t left her long, straight, wooden hair pin in her basket at the table. She didn’t want to have to do anything overt here in front of everyone, but she would.
“Just one drink. Your date won’t mind.”
Then he smiled at her and Scarlet saw all of his teeth. All. Of. His. Teeth. Part of her was shocked that he would dare be so blatant in public. The other half felt pinned in place like a butterfly to a display board. She knew it was the vampire glamour that made their gaze hypnotic and that she’d made a mistake looking into those deadly eyes in the first place. But now that she was here, knowing what the mistake was didn’t actually help her.
