Chapter 7

7- Without further ado…

I wore Wal-mart flip flops with my Oscar de la Renta.  I figured Eric would get a kick out of it.  I knew I did.

When I answered the door, my heart was in my throat and my tongue was useless.  Eric in tails was enough to have all those aforementioned geriatric nuns running laps for repeat views of his backside.  He was just as quiet, standing there the other half of a two-way stare fest.

“Well,” I said eventually.  “I guess we both approve.”

Eric reached immediately for my hand and lifted it to his cool lips.

“You make me forget my English,” he breathed against my pulse, and I shivered.

“Well, you’ve made me forget mine too, and seeing as it’s my first and only, I’ve got you beat.”

His eyes were deep for the moment, but they took on a gentle gleam as he pulled me forward.

“Is this to be a competition then, Miss Stackhouse?” he murmured consideringly.

“Only for the wit, my dear Mr. Northman.”

“So I hear, my dear Miss Stackhouse.  You look absolutely stunning, by the by,” he said in old world courtly tones.

He lifted my hand again and pressed a courteously chaste kiss to my knuckles.

“As do you, by the by,” I said, more than willing to play along.  His blue eyes twinkled merrily.

“Well, enough of that then,” he teased, wrapping a possessive arm around my waist.  “The limo is waiting.”

“I forgot my wrap,” I said, dashing back inside for it at the last second.  I would be giving Mr. Northman no extra excuses to touch me if I could possibly allow it.  A date earned was a date earned, but I was on shaky ground here.  This was the first time I had ever gone on a date where I couldn’t predict my date’s actions based on his thoughts, and Eric’s were bound to be deliciously nefarious.  I mean nefarious.  Yeah.  Totally and absolutely nefarious and in no way delicious.

Who was I kidding?  I was Sookie toast from the get go.

Eric led me down to the limo with a courtly possessive grace that had my pulse rate sky rocketing even without skin to skin contact.  And if I’d expected Eric to sit next to me, I was in for a surprise.  Instead, he took the seat directly across from me.

“We’ll go for drinks first,” he said when we were on our way.

I glanced down at the champagne that he’d poured me on entering the limo, then back up at him with some confusion.

“Okay,” I said on a shrug.  Then, “Hey!  We match,” I said, raising my feet and wiggling them at him playfully.  He was wearing flip flops with his suit as well.

“I haven’t made it that far down yet.”

His eyes were politely hot, and I could feel the strain he was putting on for my sake.  It made me feel all the friendlier.

“I’d rather have happy feet than haughty ones,” I cheered.

“I as well.”

“Sushi Sam’s?” I demanded once we pulled up back outside my old place of employment.  “Are you trying to torture me?”

“I want a bit of karaoke to start off the night.”

“And I want a bit a tequila,” I muttered seemingly under my breath as I knocked back my champagne.

“I wouldn’t recommend mixing the two.  Besides, there’s a bottle inside waiting for us on ice.”

I smirked at him prettily.

“I’ll just bet there is.”

We slid out of the limo together to the crush of downtown traffic.  The stares alone were enough to have my teeth on edge, but Eric seemed immune to the busily nosy nightlife.  He took my elbow and guided me through the crowd like silk through water, directing us as if no one else were even present.

“This is insane,” I muttered as we pushed through to Sushi Sam’s.  The stares alone were enough to have my stomach rioting, and without Eric’s touch, I didn’t even want to contemplate the curious mental voices.

“All in the business,” he said neutrally.

“If you say so.  I prefer being more discreet.”

“There’s no such thing in this business, Sookie,” he said with all seriousness.  He stopped us in the crowd and took in my stressed face.

“We can leave,” he offered gallantly.  His blue eyes were deadly determined, and I found it was easy to push back all the voices with his hand touching my elbow.

“It’s okay,” I said softly.  “I’m not going to renege,” I said, proudly using my word of the day.

He smiled beautifully, and I thought that if he kept looking at me so happily I would have promised him the moon.  I swallowed hard and let him lead me inside.

Much to my dismay, Eric ended up singing Adam Lambert’s “If I had you,” to the roar of an over-pleased crowd.  Much to my disappointment, he didn’t kiss me again after, but poured me a third glass of champagne.  I sipped at it gingerly, not wanting to risk encouraging the voices anymore than necessary.

“Your ex-boss is looking pleased,” he said, sounding more than a little pleased himself.

I shrugged haphazardly and smiled.

“Well, the fame bug is visiting her little establishment.  She’d probably have fired me herself to get such publicity.”

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you look this evening?” he asked as he took my spare hand.  I smiled all the more happily as he again kissed my knuckles.

“A girl can never hear it enough.”

We left after Eric’s heart stopping rendition of Blue October’s Ugly Side, to which I gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“That was nice,” I told him, and he grinned so brightly I felt my heart trip.

“Only nice?” he teased.

“Very nice,” I noted seriously as he sorted out the bill.  I watched his eyes darken, and he looked like he was seconds away from saying something irreversible.

“Sookie…” he began, at which point our waiter thankfully intervened.  Eric handed her the check with a gentle thank you, and blessedly didn’t start up again.  I wondered somewhat desperately what he had been about to say, but quickly chided myself for the curiosity.

I didn’t really want Eric Northman bewitched and bothered, did I?

“We’ll walk,” he told the driver as he held the door, and I nodded as I felt the cool air on my flushed cheeks like a tactile miracle.  Eric’s hand on my elbow seemed to becoming a familiar presence as the evening progressed.

“Where are we?” I asked curiously when we stopped.

“Ansel House,” he said, and I looked out at the Antebellum mansion with inquisitive eyes.  Ivy crawled up the foundation and across the lawn with tender fingers, and the veranda was a whiteout dream.  I smiled at Eric gratefully.

“It’s lovely,” I told him.

“Not as lovely as you,” he said again, and I smiled daftly.  It seemed to be a theme of the evening.

The maître d was a dark haired man long in the tooth, and Eric seemed to know him intimately.

“Cam,” he said easily, clasping the man’s forearm.  The vampire was a glowing masterpiece with a delicious gap between his front teeth that matched my own.  I grinned at him merrily and he grinned back.

“So this is the infamous Miss Stackhouse.  I haven’t seen your nemesis Mr. Mott around lately.”

My smile dropped to darkness and Eric instinctively wrapped an arm around my waist.

“Nor will you,” he said coolly.

“So that’s the way of it, is it?”

“It is.”

Eric was looking a little evil around the edges, and Cam was looking at me with a newfound respect.  I shifted uncomfortably under his intense stare and tried to pick up my smile.  I didn’t want to think about my dark experience in the alley, or Eric’s intervening heroics.  I had a gut deep feeling that Cam already suspected, and I didn’t know what to make of that.

“This way to your table,” he eventually said.

The dinner was delicious, a prime cut of beef with a Portobello mushroom sauce and tender, tiny garden vegetables on the side.  Eric sipped on a True Blood as I dined, watching me with deep blue eyes as I dove into the steak.

“Delicious,” I sighed as I tasted the sauce.

“Isn’t it just?” he murmured with no little mystery.  I ignored the intensity and tried to enjoy my dinner.

Our waiter was a slender man with blond hair and Coke bottle green eyes that were discreetly watchful from the corner.  I noticed his green gaze and circumspectly curious expression with some humor, and Eric seemed to notice as well.  Not that that was so surprising.  Eric seemed to notice everything, I’d noted some time ago.

“He is wicked envious,” I whispered on smothering a snicker.

Eric studied him with some good humor as he sipped at his glass.  He was looking near on ruddy from his third True Blood.

“Yes, he does seem to be eyeballing you rather intensely,” he observed dispassionately.

This time I wasn’t so successful in smothering the snicker.

“The dress, not what’s in it.”

Eric gave him another glance over.

“You’re certain of this?”

“Yup.  He’s got both feet planted solid in the rainbow camp.”

Eric considered this a moment.

“I disagree.”

“Oh, I’m willing to take bets on it.”

His eyes went to gleaming on that.

“What kind of bet?”

I slid my eyes over him slyly.

“Why, any kind you’d like, Mr. Northman.”  I batted my eyelashes prettily as I sipped at my fourth glass of champagne.

“I wish to stay the night,” he told me immediately.

“Fine,” I replied immediately in return, since I knew there was no chance I’d lose.  “I want my own car.”

“Your own car?”

“Mmm hmm,” I smiled.  “And you have to pay for it, not the company.”

“Fine,” he agreed immediately, and I leaned forward and dropped my voice to a whisper.

“Here’s what we’ll do.  One of the key grips- Charlie Roberts you know?”

“The short one with the oddly pointed sideburns?”

“No, that’s Andrew.  Charlie’s the whippet thin one with curly blond hair.  Looks kinda like an emaciated surfer?”

“Ah yes,” he murmured.

“Anyhoo, Charlie, he’s a newly minted single and a sweetie at that.  I say we drop the bait and place bets on the take.”

“Alright,” he agreed amicably before smiling darkly.  I smiled his darkness back at him, and for the first time had the pleasure of seeing him look uncertain.

“Jeff, isn’t it?” I asked sweetly as the waiter brought me my desert.

“Yes,” he smiled.

“I have a friend, Charlie, that would be just your sort.  Works at the studio.  Stud muffin, if I do say so myself.  Are you single by chance?”

“No,” he admitted reluctantly.  “My boyfriend and I just had our three months.”

“Too bad,” I said with ill-concealed glee.  “I think you two would suit.”

“Well, it’s been a rough couple of months,” he said after a considering pause.  I knew from his thoughts that he was literally a foot away from single, so I didn’t feel so bad.  “Maybe you could pass on my number.”

“I’d be happy to,” I said successfully as he scribbled his digits out on a piece of paper.  Eric was looking like I’d just murdered his first born son, and I smiled at him wickedly as Jeff left.

“Told you,” I gloated as I toasted him with my champagne.  “Knew it from the first ten seconds.  I was thinking Toyota.  Gas mileage,” I added evilly.

“Consider it done.”  He paused, then pushed on.  “You got all of this from under a minute of conversation?”

“I see things most others can’t.”

He was studying me now with an intensity that under more sober circumstances would have scared me to death.

“An interesting word.  Can’t.”

“Isn’t it just?” I smiled at him sweetly as I sipped on my fifth glass of champagne.

As we were finishing, I watched the man in what was surely a thousand dollar suit get up and pay his credit card bill, and caught him leaving a resounding zero for tip off the edge of his thoughts.

“Wastrel!” I shouted drunkenly at the no-tipper.  “You wastrel bastard!”

Eric caught me one armed around the waist and hauled me backward.  I could feel his chest rumbling against my back with suppressed laughter.  The other guests were staring at me with invasively humorous eyes, but at the moment I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“He made me waste a word of the day,” I muttered mutinously as Eric began to lead me outside.

“Word of the day?”

“Yup.  I got a yearly calendar.  You just pull the pages and viola!  A brand spanking new word!”

“I had no idea vocabulary could be so very… exciting.”

“Would you stop that puh-lease, Mr. North Man?”

“Stop what?” he inquired innocently.

“You know.”  I swatted largely at his blurry arm.  “Being all overly playful an’ provocative an’ the like.  Like a puppy provocateur!”

I stopped suddenly in the middle of the aisle and gave him a glamorous glare.

“You got me drunk,” I accused on a powerhouse pout.

“I certainly didn’t stop you,” he agreed as he started us up again.

I watched him discreetly slip a 50 onto the table in passing.

“You really are a decent sort under all that fang and glam, aren’t cha?”

“When I can afford to be.”

I got the sense we really weren’t talking about money.

The crowds outside were an overwhelming crush bumping into my mostly bare shoulders, voices blaring loudly at my alcohol loosened brained.  I couldn’t stop them, and my only hope lay in the touch of Eric Northman’s white-out flesh.

“Eric,” I whispered desperately.

“Yes, Sookie?”

“Will you please hold my hand?”

The second his skin made contact with mine, the voices slipped to a dull murmur.  The relief was so great I nearly relaxed into a coma.

“Oh, thank you,” I said fervently.

“What just happened?”

“The voices dimmed,” I said sleepily.

“The voices?” he asked with great humor.

“Mmm hmm.  I’m a telepath.”

Drunk or not, it hadn’t escaped my attention that he’d gone all lifeless on me on that not-so-little confession.

“Godric knows this?” he asked carefully.  I had to snort at his tender-worded care.

“O’ course he does.  Turns out you vamps are the antidote.  I had to meet up with some dead dudes to finally get a life.  How ironic is that, huh?”

“It is the very definition of irony,” he agreed amicably as he helped me into the limo.

Without further ado, I flopped myself down into his lap.  I nestled my head on his thigh and blew out my breath in a long winded sigh.

“You don’t mind bein’ my corpse pillow?”

“Not in the least,” he murmured.  I could feel his fingers combing gently through my hair, and I nuzzled into the touch.

“I’m gonna hate you in the mornin,’ you know.”

“Only superficially.”

“Well duh.”

I slid into sleep to him laughing softly.