his loyalty. "No, Robert, it is I who am to blame. I did not delegate responsibility. I abdicated it. Even with quality people such as yourself, the circumstances as I allowed them begged for a disaster to happen. Perhaps there is a bit of Judeo-Christian in me still, but I must work as a wage earner, not merely because I in fact need to earn a wage, but because I need to teach myself a lesson. I need to relearn the most basic lesson one learns in this world that one must be able to tend their own garden. Better than anyone, I should have known that. Certainly, that has been the key component in my survival over the years. To have forgotten that and still be intact is the absolute height of good fortune, but all good fortune comes with a price, and I think this is mine."
"Ain't no such thing as a free lunch." Bob drew my checkbook from his breast pocket, placed it gently on the table and pushed it toward me. "Guess I should hand this over then."
The moment we both expected had arrived, yet having worked so closely for fifteen years, it seemed hard to believe our association would end so abruptly. I pushed the checkbook toward him. "I do have one last job for you."
"Name it." He smiled broadly.
"Leave a thousand dollars in my account and write yourself a check for the rest."
"Too generous, Al." His voice was firm.
"I am quite serious. With my rent paid a year in advance, I think a thousand dollars should prove sufficient for my short term needs. And certainly you do have severance pay coming. You deserve every farthing. Your work has been exemplary. I just regret that I cannot pay you more."
Without another word, Bob wrote himself the check and gave me the checkbook. For a long moment, we just stared at each other in awkward silence. Finally, I said, "Perhaps, in a few months, we might find Jenkins, get my money back and I can rehire you."
Bob nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe. Twenty mil makes it pretty easy to disappear. I'll see what I can do, but resources are limited."
"Any effort is appreciated. So, what do you think you will do?"
"There's this old friend who runs a finance house. They've got a large group of mutual funds. About a year ago, he offered me a job as fund manager for their European fund. I'll give him a call and see if the offer still stands."
"Ah!" I slapped the table top. "An excellent prospect. You will keep me abreast of any interesting investment opportunities."
"Of course. If I can still get the job."
Bob had one more cocktail before we bade our final farewell. I left the lounge knowing it might be a long time before the world of satin and solid rosewood would be mine once again. Perhaps Jenkins would be found and my fortune restored. Perhaps, I would work for ten years and save enough money to, as the Americans might say, fight the good fight financially.
A cold gust of wind hit me as I exited the hotel. A yellow cab sat idling in the cab stand, the driver reading a newspaper. A block ahead, the traffic light flashed yellow. Below, blinking letters of white and reflected yellow read "State Street." The gusting winds carried voices, wafting to my ears from that malled street, imploring me to come and join them. My feet soon carried me there, knowing - my entire being knowing - thatState Street had more to do with my destiny than the gilded, lace-latticed, satin-covered world I had known.
Chapter 3
Hired
But wait a sec. Any job you apply at, you gotta go during business hours. I thought vampires can't go out in the sun.
Sunlight. It seems you mortals seems to always wonder about that.Hollywood again, but at least this is one facet of our existence whose accuracy is not butchered by they of the silver screen.
Bob once asked me if the application of sunscreen would allow me to endure sunlight. I replied, quite nebulously, that sunlight affects vampires in a more spiritual way, and therefore, sunscreen would have no discernible effect. However, over the years, I have become less vulnerable, my body seemingly becoming 'harder' and more impervious to such things; when forced to flee Spain during the Inquisition and having no choice but to leave before nightfall, my flesh actually blistered beneath my clothing. Now, it merely stings. Even after 1,000 years, sunrise still