Читать книгу Born of Darkness - Rita Vetere - Страница 13

Chapter 7

Jasmine leaned in close to the gold-framed mirror over the dressing table and applied Baby Love lip gloss to her full, well-delineated lips. Then she stepped back to assess the overall effect. Not bad. Silky folds of crimson fabric fell to the top of her slender thighs and the halter-style top of the dress criss-crossed her bosom, revealing the swell of her small, perfect breasts. The soft fabric bounced against her legs as she turned around to admire the cut, which left her lightly-tanned back exposed right down to the waist. Jasmine’s hair, freshly washed, fell in shiny golden waves over her smooth shoulders and halfway down her back, partially obscuring the tiny tattoo of a winged demon on her right shoulder. Aunt Dora had been appalled by the tattoo when she’d gotten it last year. Jasmine really didn’t know why she’d selected the image of the winged devil, except she’d felt drawn to it. She chose to wear no jewelry, save for the silver infinity ring Aunt Dora had given her for her sixteenth birthday, and which had belonged to Jasmine’s mother. Aunt Dora had the twin of that ring; her mother and aunt had purchased them during a trip to New York back in the early seventies.

Twenty-one! She could barely believe it. Carla and some of her friends from the Blue Flame had arranged something special at Raven’s, the trendiest new club in the city. A tiny frown crossed her brow when she realized T.K. would probably show up tonight as well, but she banished the thought immediately. She’d deal with it. Nothing was going to spoil her special night.

Jasmine glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Ten-thirty. She wasn’t due at Raven’s until eleven, but she called for a taxi and then went downstairs, intending to spend a few moments with Aunt Dora before leaving. Earlier, her aunt had gone to the trouble of preparing a special birthday dinner, and Jasmine appreciated the gesture, especially given the fact that they’d spoken little over the past couple of days as result of what Aunt Dora termed her carousing. She found her aunt in the kitchen, tidying up.

Aunt Dora smiled at her as she entered the room, a smile that turned her normally worried expression into one of sweetness.

“Let me look at you. Absolutely gorgeous.”

Jasmine was relieved Aunt Dora wasn’t mad anymore. Perhaps she had intuited that Jasmine’s careless demeanor was just her way of masking the isolation she felt. She also noticed that, for once, Aunt Dora had refrained from commenting that her outfit might attract the wrong kind of attention.

After a slight hesitation, her aunt said, “I have something for you. Something I’ve been keeping for you.”

Jasmine’s face lit up. “Sounds mysterious. What is it?” She followed her aunt to the foot of the stairs.

“Wait here,” said Dora. “I’ll be right down.”

A moment later, Aunt Dora came back downstairs, carrying two parcels wrapped in red paper and bound together with gold satin ribbon. She handed them to Jasmine.

“These belonged to your mother,” Dora said. “I thought today might be a good day for you to have them.”

Jasmine, who adored opening gifts, became doubly excited to learn her present had come, indirectly at least, from the mother she had never known. She was beginning to develop a real soft spot for Aunt Dora, despite their constant arguments.

“Open the small one first,” instructed her aunt, as they moved to the living room and sat down next to each other on the sofa.

“I’ve never seen this picture before. Where was it taken?” asked Jasmine. The photo showed her father and mother with their arms around one another.

“During their last trip, at the marketplace in Marrakesh.”

Jasmine said nothing at first as she studied the picture, trying to imagine what her parents had been thinking at the precise moment the snapshot had captured them. They looked so happy and in love. “Thank you, Aunt Dora. This means a lot to me,” she said.

“I’m glad. Now open the other one.”

Jasmine gasped. The exotic silver pendant looked to be very old. Fashioned more or less in the shape of an elongated cone, about three inches long, the bottom was rounded and two tiny, ancient-looking coins dangled from it. The top of the piece was worked in a lacy pattern with openings. The antique silver gleamed against the black velvet bed of the jewelry case. She lifted it out of the box carefully, surprised by the weight of it.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed.

A strange sensation of déjà vu fell over her as she held the necklace in her hand, a feeling of familiarity that seemed to vanish as quickly as it had arrived. Wasting no time, she slipped the pendant around her neck, liking the heavy feel of it against her bosom. She marveled to think her mother had once worn this very same necklace.

“Thank you, Aunt Dora,” she said, hugging her aunt tightly. For one of the few times in her life, Jasmine actually felt loved and safe. Maybe there was hope for the two of them after all.

“It’s the same one your mother’s wearing in the photograph, see?”

“Oh, Aunt Dora, this is so special,” she said, looking at the photo again and seeing that it was, in fact, identical to the pendant her mother sported in the picture. Perhaps that was the reason the necklace seemed familiar to her. Maybe she’d seen the picture as a child.

“It looks lovely on you. Happy birthday, Jasmine.”

Jasmine smiled at her aunt, grateful for what she had just done. “Thank you so much for this. It’s… well, it’s almost like...”

“Like your mother is here,” Dora finished for her.

“Yes.”

Just then, the beep-beep of the taxi horn sounded outside.

“I’d better be off. My taxi’s here. I’ll be late I’m sure, so no need to wait up, okay?”

“Have a good time tonight, but please remember to take a taxi home,” Dora said emphatically.

“I promise,” Jasmine assured her, bussing her aunt’s cheek and then hurrying out the front door.

* * * *

Loud, pounding music spilled out onto the street as the door opened to allow a few patrons inside the club; the lineup outside stretched halfway down the block when Jasmine stepped out of the cab in front of Raven’s.

“Jasmine. Jazzy, over here!”

Jasmine spotted Carla and the others milling around out front, awaiting her arrival before going in. As she began to weave her way through the crowd, men and women alike turned to take a second look as she passed by.

“Wow!” said Carla. “Look at you! Happy birthday, Jazz,” she said, hugging her when she got close enough. “That dress looks amazing on you!”

Jasmine returned her friend’s hug. “Thanks, Carla, you look pretty awesome yourself.” Jasmine thought Carla’s jet-black hair, olive complexion and eyes like black pearls gave her a sexy, earthy beauty all her own.

Jasmine accepted birthday hugs from Jenna and Anne, her co-workers at the Blue Flame, where she worked part-time waiting tables, and from Mike and Emma, her friends from the university. Then she spotted T.K. making his way toward her.

“Hey. Happy birthday,” he said awkwardly when he reached her.

She saw he was about to embrace her in a hug and quickly proffered her cheek. He took the hint and kissed her lightly on the cheek, but remained standing a bit too close.

Noticing the look of disappointment on T.K.’s face, and finding herself suddenly uncomfortable in his presence, Jasmine said, “Damn. I forgot to stop for cigarettes. I’m out. There’s a place around the corner. I’ll be right back.”

Before T.K. had a chance to stop her, she left, walking as quickly as her three-inch high heels would allow to the end of the block. Once she turned the corner, relieved she was out of sight, she slowed her pace a little.

* * * *

Carla watched Jasmine sashay down the street until the flash of her red dress disappeared around the corner. As usual, everyone turned to gawk at her as she passed. Her best friend was a hard act to follow, that was for sure. It wasn’t that Carla didn’t think herself attractive. She had her share of admirers. But the minute Jasmine showed up, all eyes immediately gravitated to her. Jasmine’s peculiar thought-projection ability aside, there was something about her that caused people, men in particular, to swarm to her like bees to nectar. Jasmine just oozed sex appeal. Carla had spent most of her life emulating her best friend. She copied the way she talked and walked and dressed. Yet, no matter how hard Carla tried to define and duplicate that special quality Jasmine possessed, she never quite managed it. Never one to be jealous, and despite the fact that her best friend had always been a bit of an enigma, Carla loved Jasmine like a sister. After Carla’s parents passed away three years ago, it was Jasmine with whom she shared her grief and the sense of isolation that had ensued. Jasmine had understood better than anyone else what she’d gone through, and their friendship had only deepened after that.

Carla sighed and turned back to the group. She smiled brightly at T.K. She had a feeling Jasmine was no longer interested in him and, as far as leftovers went, T.K. would do nicely.

* * * *

Don’t sweat it. Jasmine walked to the convenience store. Once they got inside the club, things would be more relaxed. A couple of drinks and she’d be back in party mode and on the dance floor.

She entered the shop, asked the clerk for a pack of Lights, paid with her last ten, then decided she better stop at the ATM inside the store to get money for a cab, and whatever else she might need. She intended to keep her promise to Aunt Dora. In fact, she had decided to do everything in her power to improve their relationship, starting tonight.

As she stepped out of the store onto the street, she spotted a man standing across the intersection, dressed all in black and leaning against a lamp post. He was staring directly at her. Just looking at him sent a chill up her spine and, despite the heat, her bare arms broke into gooseflesh. For some reason, the sight of him filled her with absolute dread.

She didn’t move, unable to tear her eyes from him. He was tall, six-three or four, maybe. His ebony hair glistened under the streetlight, falling to his broad shoulders in waves. Even from across the crowded intersection, she could see the incredibly arrogant look on his handsome face. She couldn’t be sure because of the distance between them, but she got the distinct impression that his eyes were black. Flawlessly attired in a formal black suit and dress shirt, he managed to appear magnificent, and at the same time, terrifying. The man remained motionless and continued to stare at her, as if he knew something she did not. Something Jasmine felt sure she did not want to know.

They stood staring at each other across the street for what seemed like minutes, until her instincts screamed at her to leave before something awful happened. She turned away from him, in a hurry to get back to her friends and safety. Before rounding the corner, she allowed herself a backward glance. The man, she noticed with alarm, was making his way across the street toward her, moving quickly and with deliberation. Jasmine just knew something horrible would happen if he caught up with her, and she had to exercise all of her self-control to keep from running.

In her rush to get away, she ran headlong into a middle-aged, bespectacled man, dressed in blue jeans and t-shirt.

“Oh. Sorry,” she blurted out.

The man placed his hand lightly on her shoulder to steady her. The moment he touched her, Jasmine felt calmer.

The stranger gave her a reassuring look. “Don’t worry,” he told her, “you’re all right.”

Jasmine turned to see if the man in black was still following her, only to find he had stopped in the middle of the intersection. The light had changed and, incredibly, with traffic whizzing by him in both directions, he remained stationary in the middle of the street, staring at the two of them. Jasmine turned back to the stranger. He was looking directly at the man in black. The two of them appeared to be engaged in a stand-off of some kind, each trying to stare the other down. Finally, the man in black sneered, then looked away, retreating back across the street.

Jasmine looked the stranger, who smiled kindly at her and patted her shoulder once more. He waited until the man in black disappeared from sight.

“Thank you,” said Jasmine.

“No trouble. My name’s Tom,” he said, offering his hand.

“Mine’s Jasmine,” she said, taking the man’s hand. “Well. Thank you again, Tom. I’d better get back to my friends.”

The man nodded and continued on his way. Jasmine satisfied herself that the man in black was gone and then hurried down the street to get back to her friends. What had just happened? Trembling all over, she felt as if she’d just averted a terrible accident.

Her friends were getting ready to enter the club when she caught up with them.

“Jazzy, did your friend find you?” Carla asked.

“What friend?”

“A guy stopped us to ask if we knew where you’d gone, an older fellow. He said he was a friend of yours.”

“What did he look like?” she asked, frowning. Her heart sped up again at the thought of the man in black.

“Oh, fiftyish maybe, salt-and-pepper hair, glasses. He didn’t give his name, but he looked harmless enough, so I told him.”

Her heart lurched. Carla had just described Tom, the man who had helped her moments ago. “Was he wearing jeans and t-shirt?”

“Yeah.”

The strange encounter left her feeling oddly vulnerable and more than a little creeped out.

“Everything okay?”

She considered telling Carla what had happened and decided not to. The whole thing sounded crazy, even to her. “Sure,” she said. “Let’s go inside. Time to celebrate, right?”