Hearts & Spades

New Year’s Eve.
Los Angeles, California.
Thirsty’s Bar
1999/2000

I look around from my comfortable position in the corner, the heavy bass music pounding around me. Bryony has already picked her meal for the night: a twenty-something with an Ivy League degree who thinks he’s bigger than he ever could be. Beccy is still trying to decide between a brown-eyed surfer boy, or a blonde partier who has obviously been hitting the tequila bottle tonight.
All three boys are too full of booze and questionable substances to realize that the girls have pitch black eyes, black eyes from thirst of course. It’s been about a week since our last hunt, and although I will admit that chasing a terrified criminal through the Chicago streets is fun, it’s even more enjoyable to “seduce” a guy who clearly thinks with his balls.
What can I say? Men are predictable.
My gaze sweeps the packed bar again, and my eye catches with a black-haired teenager in a red hoodie, clutching a red plastic cup, and trying his best to look 21. I smile shyly at him and a crooked grin grows on his face. By my guess… he’s 19. Quite possibly a runaway or a dropout.
I run my hand through my hair, messing with the already sloppy waves and slip through the crowd.
“Hey,” he smiles. “Do I know you?”
I carefully read his face. “Depends. Who’d you get your ID from?”
He glances around. “Mitch. You?”
“Same here,” I smile. “First time buyer.”
“Good choice,” he nods. “I’m Jonathan by the way,” he says, holding out his hand.
“Ivory,” I take his hand gently. “Real age 18.”
“Real age 19,” Jonathan smiles. "That's a pretty name, Ivory. Musical parents?"
"Something like that, yeah," I nod, leaning against the bar.
"Free shots for the pretty lady," the bartender crows in a heavy Mexican accent, pushing two clear glasses towards us, filled with honey-colored liquor, tequila by the smell of it.
"Hey, thanks," I smile as he bustles off to the other customers.
"Cheers," Jonathan winks, clinking his class with mine as I pour the alcohol down my throat. The burn is nothing to me but Jonathan visibly winces.
"Johnny boy!" a guy yells, momentarily distracting Jonathan and Beccy appears besides me.
"He's got a girlfriend," she whispers only loud enough for me to hear. "The usual?"
I nod. "Give me an hour."
"Have fun, 'little sister,'" she grins, tossing her dark blonde hair over her shoulder and returning to the crowd as Jonathan turns back around.
"Sorry about that," he apologizes, his shaggy hair flopping in front of his face. “Hey, you wanna get out of here? It’s too crowded for me.”Your girlfriend would love to see what you're doing, I think, but the smile widens on my face and I nod. “Same here.”
I follow him through the tightly packed group of people, exchanging quick glances with Bryony and Beccy.
“Remember clean-up!” Bryony mouths and I laugh to myself, stumbling out the door close behind Jonathan. The Los Angeles streets are full of partiers, counting down the minutes to midnight. There’s a song in that sentence somewhere.
“So do you live in L.A. or are you just visiting?” he asks, his hand dangling casually by his side, occasionally bumping into mine.
“Just visiting,” I nod. “What about you?”
“I took off from home a few years ago,” Jonathan shrugs, looking up at the clear nighttime sky. “Crazy religious family and I wanted to be a tattoo artist.”
I frown and lace my fingers with his. “Well I think that’s brave of you for leaving.”
He looks down at our hands and a smile returns to his face. “I guess so.”
‘You have any tattoos yet?” I ask casually, running my finger down his arm.
Silence fills the air between us before he answers. “If you know someplace private… Then I would love to show you,” he grins, one side of his mouth rising higher than the other.
“My sisters won’t be back at our hotel suite until next year,” I grin, “so, yeah, I do know a place.”
“Where are you staying?”
“The Biltmore,” I shrug, pulling him along.
“The Biltmore? Are you guys loaded or something?” he asks, astonished.
“Our great-aunt or something was.” I shake my head. “Come on, we’ll discuss this later,” I smile as we walk into the lobby, heading for the first empty elevator we see.
As soon as the doors close, his hands are firmly on my waist and our mouths connect, my hands tangling in his hair. I reach out to press the floor button, Jonathan’s mouth trailing down my neck.
The elevator ‘dings’ and I practically drag him down the hall, opening the room and pushing him back onto the bed. He’s too far in to realize that not only did I push him back several feet, but he’s about to die.
“Close your eyes,” I whisper, straddling him.
He grins and shuts his eyes. I trace my finger along his neck, venom building in my mouth.
“Five!”
I lunge for his neck, my teeth digging into his veins and the hot thick blood flowing into my mouth.
“Four!”
He briefly cries out in pain but I cover his mouth with my hand and continue drinking as the burn in my throat lessens with every swallow.
“Three!”
Eventually his struggles slow down and completely disappear as I wipe the last few drops from my mouth.
“Two!”
I sit up and pull my hair back, examining his face.
“One!”
“Happy New Year, Jonathan,” I murmur quietly to myself, opening the curtains as bright flashes of color fill the sky and the entire city of Los Angeles cheers.
“It’s just another year.”

~~~~~~

Cullen residence.
Forks, Washington.
2008.

“Ivory!” Esme’s voice floats upstairs, above the opera music and cooking instructions coming from the TV. “Come downstairs, they’ll be here any minute!”
“But Mom!” I frown, leaning over the banister. “Can I at least finish this track?”
“How much more?” she asks, looking up.
“Like… a minute of guitar and then I’ll do the rest later.” I smile innocently. “Please?”
“Go ahead,” she nods. “But a minute, and I’m counting, young lady.”
Emmett snickers and I stick my tongue out, resisting the urge to flip him off as I return to my simple black and white room.
I wave the mouse on my Mac, waking up the screen as I bring up my recording.
“A minute and she’s counting…” I grumble. “I get no creative freedom around here…”
“I heard that!”
I laugh to myself and plug in the acoustic guitar. There’s been the verse that keeps escaping from me, the final piece of the puzzle that I can’t seem to decode.
“Maybe I know… Maybe it shows… You’re taking it slow…” I scribble on my notepad, a stream of curses escaping my lips as I hear the front door open.
"Ivory!" Carlisle calls.
"Coming!" I say softly, but they can hear anyway. I click save and push myself away from the sleek steel desk.

Italian food. Wonderful.