Or, and a wicked smile tugged at my lips, perhaps both? I had sampled the food available, most of which was bland enough be completely tasteless to me. Subtle shadings and hints of flavor don’t do it for the vampiric palate. We don’t taste much. Lots of salt, pepper, spices are what get us interested. Want to spot the vampires at your local food court? They’re the anemic looking ones smothering jalapeno nachos with hot salsa. If I can be forgiven a terrible pun, we need bite in our human type food. My steak was rare and the wine had a crisp fruity tang I could enjoy. Even better, the bartender had some good smoky Irish whiskey with the taste of the peat and the bogs in it. Lovely. He was pretty cute too, stirring memories of T’Shombe and long regretted missed opportunities. However I could tell a woman sitting at the bar had already staked her claim. Late again, Bridget. Late that night I had returned to my cabin, buzzing pleasantly from the alcohol and the entertainment. And not. At least she would say more than two words when he called now. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to piss her off, but he was sure that she would tell him. He guessed it had something to do with him being inconsiderate of something. Sometimes, it was easy to forget she had feelings. She rarely showed them. He didn’t feel like things were going so well between them at the moment. However, something about Cat made him unwilling to give up. It had only been a month, but they connected deeply. She was a spicy little thing and she warmed up the cold spot in his soul like no one else ever had. He drug himself off the bed and into the next room and sat at his keyboard staring at the sheet music he had been working on. Some of Cat’s sketch paper and pencils were still at the drawing table by the window. He hoped that was a sign she didn’t intend to stay gone too much longer. His dream a few years ago was to become a musician. He hadn’t quite given up. There was an amateur night at a club.
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