Diaries of an Urban Panther (15 page)

The box was covered in dust and enough hair to look like four people lived there, and maybe a few animals. I blew the dust off the top and set the box on my bed.

Undoing the purple ribbon, I lifted the lid carefully. It was given to my mother by the hospital staff where I was born, which should have told the logic part of my brain that there were several people out there with little violet boxes, but as I pulled away the tissue, I got a tingle in my palm that told me that maybe there was something else in that little violet box that I just hadn’t been able to pick up on before.

There were five things in my little box. I pulled out the scroll with my first story on it, a ghost story about a ghost who fell in love with a boy and made a deal with Hades to have a body for one night just to tell him that she loved him and then she would be a reaper for the rest of eternity.

Yeah, I know, Little Violet needed therapy.

The second thing was my dad’s business pen, a golden Cartier with his initials on the clip. I was fascinated by the way he’d have to refill the ink cartridges and I used to sit in his desk chair spinning as I twisted the point up and down.

I picked up the coffee mug next. I’d made it for my mom when we went to this paint your own pottery shop. It was purple with red flowers on one side and had “Mother” written on it with a crown painted on the M. It was the ugliest thing but she used it every morning after that weekend.

Folded in tissue paper, there was
the
picture frame. It was a silver ivy picture frame that currently held the last picture of my mother and me. My eyes watered immediately as any thought of a mystical scavenger hunt disappeared from my head. My mother was gorgeous. Long legs, long dark smooth hair, and the clearest light-green eyes. She deserved to be on the cover of magazines, not kneeling next to a thirteen-year-old me who was thirty pounds overweight with zits and Coke bottle-bottom glasses.

An echo of her laugh brushed across my memory. It was clear like bells and would make anyone who heard it smile as well. And my father would make her laugh to hard she couldn’t breathe some times.

We were happy.

And then one day in October, she left me with my Aunt Glory and never came back.

But there was more to the task at hand instead of just a painful trip through memory lane. I flipped the picture frame over in my hand. Nothing special. No inscriptions. I opened the back and nothing mysterious fell out. No secret note from an ancestor saying that
Sure enough,
Violet Jordan Junior was the chosen one
.

With a heavy sigh, I put the frame back together and was just about to put the picture frame back when it hit the last thing in the box. It was a small black velvet box. With a shaky hand, I picked up the rectangular hinged box. I sucked in a deep breath as I flipped open the lid.

Three rings waited patiently inside. A man’s silver band, a woman’s silver band, and the most perfect little quarter carat diamond solitaire. Now there was a story.

Without trying them on like usually did, I snapped the box closed and sucked in a deep breath. I didn’t know that I had stopped breathing.

Leaving the picture frame out, I packed up all the other contents of the box and shoved it under the bed again to be protected by the evil dust bunnies that protected it.

Shivering at the thought of bunnies under my bed, I grabbed the photo frame and headed downstairs. This was my past, I thought. And that’s a part of me. And if I can accept that I’m going to turn into a panther once a month, maybe twice, then I’m grown up enough to keep a picture of my own mother on the mantle.

She looked a little out of place all by herself in the undecorated room. But a smile like that was an accoutrement to any décor.

Chapter Fifteen

C
haz caught me at an odd moment. I was talking on my house phone to Sera discussing the script changes and the new story web thing Drew decided we were going with, brewing my first pot of coffee for the day, and trying to find where I had put that script she had faxed me yesterday.

“Hold on Sera, I have a call on my cell.”

“Sure, hon.”

I had to search under every piece of paper on my dining room table before I found the stupid chiming thing under my morning paper and flipped it open.

“Hello?” I answered, balancing the little cell phone on my left shoulder as I grabbed the paper to bring it in to the kitchen.

“Violet?”

“Chaz?” I questioned back as I still held the cell phone with my shoulder, held the cordless with my right hand, and sifted through the morning paper for my script. “It’s a little early for my daily parole call.”

“Who’s Chaz?” I heard Sera question from the other phone.

I shook my head and ignored her question as I continued to search. I had just seen the stupid script. Was I losing my marbles?

“I was wondering what your plans were for tonight,” he asked, kind of rushed.

“Why? Still got a week till the full moon or do you just miss me?”

“Maybe,” he answered honestly.

My cheeks grew hot for no reason. “I’ve got some work to finish up but nothing exciting. Why?”

“Thought I could join you instead of skulking around.”

“What exactly do you have in mind?” I asked suspiciously. I had never taken the time to consider what a man like Chaz might do in his spare time; besides his one movie outing, I hadn’t really heard him talk of anything else but work. And most men don’t say the word
skulk
.

“How about dinner, maybe a movie?”

I froze. It was so normal, so within the box. I froze until my coffee pot began to steam wildly, hissing and spewing out hot water and coffee grounds all over my counter. I dropped the cordless phone on the ground and reached for the paper towels to mop up the mess.

“Violet?” he questioned. “Are you there?”

“Okay,” I said quickly, throwing away the soppy paper towels only to find the script I had been looking for on the top of my trash, now covered in coffee grounds.

“Around eight then?”

“Okay,” I sighed, anything to just get him off the phone at this point.

“See you then.”

“Okay.” And I heard a click from his line.

Unbelieving, I slowly closed my phone and set it on the kitchen counter, like it might bite me or rain down some more confusion in my life.

“Violet, Violet!” I heard coming from the phone on the floor. I quickly snatched it up.

“Yeah, I’m here,” I said as I still distracted watched the cell phone on my counter.

“Who’s Chaz?” Sera asked with a devilish lilt to her tone.

“No one.”

“A no one who you have a date with tonight.”

“It’s not a date,” I said defensively, still wiping down my counter before the coffee stained the grout.

“Chaz is a male, I’m presuming, who just asked you out for an evening away from home. That’s a date,” Sera defined for me.

I sighed and looked at the phone. How was I going to explain this to her without explaining it to her? “You know Adderall?”

“The loner from
White Heat
?”

God that was a horrible movie. Can’t believe my name was attached to it. “Chaz is an Adderall only with model good looks.”

Sera paused for a moment, rerunning through the scripts that we had written together when I was still in LA. “But hot?” she clarified thoughtfully.

“As in red.”

“So what if a semi-psycho, massively armed, demon hunter asked you out? It’s a date. With a boy. You haven’t had one of those in ages.”

“You should be really glad I’m half way across the country,” I threatened.

“Love you too, Vi. Now go get ready for your date.”

“It’s not a . . .” but I couldn’t finish my sentence before she hung up.

I
really wasn’t sure what to expect when I opened the door that evening. I had changed three times trying to find something fitting for the occasion. But what do you wear to go out with a guy who’s already seen you naked?

I settled on a little black dress. That was noncommittal enough. Didn’t say
hey we might as well be bowling
but it didn’t scream
take me, I’m yours
. I’d already decided on the light cashmere coat I’d picked up last year that still had the tags. The shoes were the real outfit: red Stuart Weitzman peep-toe pumps I had never worn before, except walking around in my living room. Chaz probably wouldn’t even notice.

But as I opened my door, I really, really didn’t expect to see a fashion photo from
GQ
standing on my porch. The moon silhouetted his charcoal gray suit and crisp white shirt. And I thought there actually might be gel in his hair.

His golden eyes started at my flat ironed hair and progressed down to the shoes. “Hey,” he finally greeted, jamming his hands into his tailored pockets.

“Hi,” I finally mustered. I must have looked like a framed picture, completely frozen in my doorway.

“Ready?” he asked as he scratched the back of his head and looked down at my feet.

“Sure.” It came out sounding smooth enough, despite the pulse pounding in my throat coaxed by the scent of his cologne and the starch from the new shirt on the breeze.

I quickly grabbed my little black purse from the foyer table and stepped outside to be met with another surprise.

A new car. It was black and shiny and was surely going to be the envy of everyone we drove passed this evening. The long line of the two-door sports car gleamed under the waxing moonlight.

I locked my front door and thought as we walked down the sidewalk towards his car, that this was a beautiful night. I paused and took a deep breath of crisp cold air and looked up at the twinkling stars.

“You alright?” he asked looking back at me.

“I really wish people would stop asking me that,” I smiled as I continued down the walk.

He opened the door and I slid perfectly into the leather seats that reeked of novelty. As he walked around the front of the car, I peeked at the odometer. Twenty miles. He’s just bought this. Like this afternoon.

I watched amused as he got in. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he turned the key in the ignition and drove slowly away from my house.

Awkward silence does not begin to articulate the car ride to the restaurant. In fact my hands began to twitch nervously because I didn’t know where we were going or what I was supposed to say to him. Shop talk didn’t seem appropriate in this attire.

When we suddenly stopped in a downtown parking lot, I swallowed because I didn’t see any restaurants around here.

He paid the attendant the fifty bucks and gestured I should follow him. I knew we were somewhere downtown and it’s easy to get your bearings once you can see the skyline but I was still a little confused as I had to trot to keep up with his pace.

“Slow down. Three-inch heels back here,” I said when I finally caught up with him at a stoplight.

“I don’t want to forfeit our reservation,” he said as he began to cross the street.

I paused on the corner for a moment. Reservations?

H
e opened up the front door to Nine Steakhouse and I just looked at him. This place had valet and I had just hiked a half mile in heels.

“I could have sprung for valet,” I whispered bitterly as I passed.

“And have some punk drive my new baby? Never.” He stepped around me and to the hostess podium.

The hostess’s eyes dilated and her pulse warmed her cheeks as she looked up at him, pink lips slightly parted for a moment before she shook her head and looked down at her reservation list. Chaz smiled patiently and waited, unaffected by the girl’s obvious attraction.

I looked away from the scene.
Don’t think about his tapered waist and how the cut of the suit perfectly outlined his frame. Focus on the interior.
I read about this place in the Dallas guides and listened to Jessa talk about how some of her boys took her here. But never had I imagined coming here. With him.

We were seated at our reserved table when he finally said something of worth over his menu. It jolted me out of my study of the place. You never know when you might need a small piece of information for writing and I was getting a volume from the décor and the people here, especially the women who were watching Chaz with a sharp eye.

“So what exactly do you do again? Besides drink coffee.”

It was the third question of friendship, paired with a joke. I could do jokes. “I’m a writer for Cloak and Dagger Productions.”

“What’s that?”

“We specialize in cheap horror movies.”

He smiled. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Those things are so wrong about everything,” he said as he looked down at the menu and smiled.

“Well, maybe I can change that.”

“What? Write the truth? People couldn’t handle the truth.”

I eyed him over the menu. “Okay, Jack. But you did just give me a guide to living furry in the big city.”

The waiter came over and Chaz left me speechless. Again. “The lady and I will have the ten-ounce top sirloin cooked medium well for me and medium rare for her. Two potatoes and Caesar salad with the house Shiraz and water,” he ordered flawlessly.

“Yes, sir,” the waiter said with smile and a nod as he took the menus.

I waited to speak until he was gone. “Okay. Spill. You and Iris are all
evil is everywhere
so I’ve been cooped up in the house for three weeks. But the second you get the munchies, I get a hall pass?”

“Wow.” He smiled.

“I’m serious. I want answers. Like is the suit new or just the shirt?” I asked.

He looked down at the table with a small smile. “How’d you catch me?”

I tapped my nose. “Can’t miss that new shirt smell.”

Chaz shook his head. “That’s incredible.”

“Not really. Jessa swears that she can smell the difference between real Fendi and fake.”

Chaz laughed. “So how did you and Jessa meet? You two don’t look like you even belong in the same room together.”

“Thanks,” I said with mocked offense.

“You know what I mean.”

I did. Looking at the little pixie next to the wookie always made me scratch my head too. But it was a funny story. And being funny was what Violet did best.

“Fine, but I’m not forgetting you owe me an answer. I was still living in LA and her company flew her out there for a fashion thing and we both ended up at a party. I was standing next to the bar and she gave me her drink order because I was dressed like the waitresses.

“When I explained to her that I didn’t work here, she apologized and we started talking. But this jerk she’d come with walked up to us and said he was ready to go home. It was obvious she didn’t want to go, especially with him, so I kinda stepped in and made him go away.”

“What did you do?” Chaz asked leaning across the table, an amused look on his face.

“I threw two drinks at him in rapid succession and yelled something like ‘
No we will not have a threesome with you’
and grabbed Jessa’s hand and stormed out of the room.”

“Seriously?” he laughed.

A real laugh. It made my skin hum. It was warm and golden but it faded like a sun slipping beyond the horizon, quickly and leaving me cool.

I nodded as I studied him. “Turned out that this guy was some bigwig at his company and he ended up getting fired soon afterwards. Apparently, he actually
had
propositioned someone at the party and she went to the top and reported him for sexual harassment.”

Chaz just shook his head with laughter. “You’re fearless.”

“Just not smart enough to know better,” I shrugged.

He leaned back in his chair as the waiter came with our wine, water, and salads.

“So how did you get to Dallas?”

I looked down at my salad and knew that my cheeks were turning red just thinking about what had actually caused me to flee across the country. Even though it happened a little under a year ago, it was still a touchy subject.

“Oh,” Chaz said, putting the napkin on his lap, something I couldn’t imagine him doing with his bagged burgers and fries. “I know that look.”

“Pretty trite, I know.”

“Boyfriend or husband?”

“Fiancé. You’d think that since I’m so creative, my life wouldn’t be so predictable. First, my fiancé cheats on me and I catch him. Then I get attacked in a dark alley under a full moon. I’m kinda expecting to get on a bus one day with a bomb under it.”