Damned if my lips didn't try to break their grim parade formation to smile a little shakily. That kind of described our amorous adventures so far.
"Language," Helena murmured, as she must have reprimanded the teenage boy.
"You've heard - and said - it all, Helena," he returned. "You can't do your demure act on me like you do on the D.C. military brass when you want something, including Philip. I was a feral boy. You and I fought like chupacabras over a goat corpse in 'therapy.'"
"Always so colorful," she murmured, daring to glance at me. "It wasn't anything Annie Sullivan didn't have to put up with when she was domesticating the deaf and mute child Helen Keller."
"That rough?" I said, my voice cracking from not having spoken since shouting myself raw in that ... butcher's office.
Ric flung himself into the chair next to me. "Drink some wine, Del. It'll soothe and calm you." His lips brushed my temple, doing more than any wine could.
"I need to ask Helena some questions," I said.
"So do I," he said, glaring across the table.
Helena answered mildly. "She means alone, hijo. Girl talk."
"About today, or about then?" he asked.
Helena shook her head gently from side to side, meaning "Yes, and this and that."
"About ... us?" he asked, his voice hardening with a touch of ... dread.
She nodded. "I'm a head shrink, not a medical doctor, Ric. I need to determine the degree of damage and how Delilah's doing with her current life issues."
"He told you," I said. "I'm fucking flawless."
"Ouch. Your chica's claws are in fine condition," she told Ric with a gleam of humor. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle. I know you were."
I watched his dusky face flare dull red.
Wow. I'd never seen anyone or anything make ex-FBI man Ricardo Montoya, the Cadaver Kid, blush.
"Where am I supposed to go, what am I supposed to do," Ric asked. "When am I supposed to come back?"
"You've got a cell phone," Helena said. "You do know how to use it? Just pick it up when it ring-tones and put it to your ear and talk. Try the bar, Ric. It's guy country at this hotel."
He had no idea he was being given the Lauren Bacall brush-off to Humphrey Bogart, in paraphrase, but he left.
"The hotel provided me with this insanely overstocked room bar," Helena told me, pointing to a pair of louvered doors. "Whip me up a new drink before we settle down to talk. Your Vampire Sunrise is the party circuit hit of Alexandria, Virginia."
"Really?"
"Ric's right. You're a very talented girl."
"Virginia, huh?" I walked over and swept the double doors open on a mirrored wall of liquor bottles and glasses. "No minibar for Helena Troy. You figure keeping me busy will ease the angst?"
"Generally, it does. And I figure we need something stronger than this sissy wine Ric ordered. Men think we women are made of glass."
"Just bar glass," I said, pulling down a few bottles and setting up two martini glasses. "I wish there'd been more glass in that consulting room to smash."
"Do you have any questions?" she asked.
"Let me try something mind-bending here first."
I mixed some flavors in a set of three shot glasses, sipped and remixed, sipped more. My mind and mouth were working in concert again, as she'd intended. I wondered what poor Ric was downing in that main floor bar in the noisy, echoing atrium.
"There you are, Counselor," I said, placing something dark, tall, and bloodred before her.
"Why are you calling me that?"
"You got your client off the hot seat and into the driver's seat."
Her eyes closed a moment in relief.
"What are you calling this?" she then asked, sipping the drink and closing her eyes again, this time in relaxation. "Delish, Delilah."
"It's named in honor of my biggest Darkside Bar fan from the party state of Virginia."
"Yes?"
I sipped from my own glass. "It's a Virtual Virgin."
"I take it you're ready to talk," Helena said.
"Way too overdue. Do you like my cocktail?"
"Love it. A Virtual Virgin, wouldn't that be fun to dabble in again?"
Of course my dead-white skin flushed like Mrs. Haliburton's chagrined face. Helena didn't truly understand how recently that condition had been mine.
"What's in it?" she asked.
"Chilled Coca-Cola, or you could use Dr Pepper, for starters. Some black cherry vodka and then citrus mixes to cut the edge."
"Black cherry vodka," Helena mused over our tall, footed glasses.