"Dating? Is that what you call it?"

His attitude was really detracting from my enjoyment of his belly button and my happiness about Daisy. "Yeah, dating and scorching, depraved, bloodsucking sex." I came close to him and looked him straight in the eyes. "Would you like me to Previous describe it? What he did to my body?" I said huskily. "How incredible it was when he..."

My effort to taunt Oswald only succeeded in getting myself all worked up. We stood but a few inches apart and it was as if we were playing a game of chicken.

I flinched first and broke eye contact. "Damn it, Oswald, you have never apologized for what you did to me."

"Wanted to, couldn't," he said, and stepped back.

"You couldn't? You lack the power of human speech?"

"I couldn't. Sam told me not to."

My particular method of processing this information consisted of my rapidly spitting out, "What? What? What?"

"Apologizing admits liability."

"You are liable for what happened. Sam knows that."

Oswald walked into the bedroom and came out with a shirt. "He's a lawyer. More important, he's one of my lawyers."

I struggled to compose myself. "Oswald," I said in as calm a voice as I could manage, "lawyers give advice. You don't have to take it."

"You're right. I'm sorry, Milagro. Are we square then?"

I considered telling him that we should seal our truce by licking each other all over. Instead I said, "Yes, we're square."

We both jumped at the sound of footsteps. "Oswald," Winnie called. She came into the room and saw us standing there.

I didn't want her to know that we'd been squabbling again. "Hi, Winnie. I was looking for Daisy, and she was here."

"Daisy again," she said skeptically. This time the dog in question was in clear view.

"Okay, I'm taking her back to the house."

Winnie's stare turned clinical. "Milagro, do you have a tan?"

"It's possible," I said.

Both of them said, "Hmmm," in that ominous doctor way. "I'd like you to have another exam tomorrow," Winnie said.

I felt fine and didn't want another exam, but I wasn't going to argue with her now.

Walking back with Daisy, I thought about how I always misinterpreted every interaction with men as sexual. Sure, it was a fun thing to do when you were drinking gimlets and gossiping with your gay friends. I loved my gay friends with a passion; however, even I had to admit that they were occasionally wrong. Not every stunning actor was a homosexual and not every encounter with an attractive person was sexually charged.

Just as I was missing the advice of gay friends, Gabriel's truck came down the drive. He hopped out and gave me a big hug before observing, "Girlfriend, how did you get that tan?"

"The medics have already been alerted." I hooked his arm in mine. "How are things going?""Since it's almost done, you may as well know. We've almost hacked into CACA's accounts. Then we'll have those bastards.

They've got more shady deals than a queens got attitude. But the real dirt is I hear you made a conquest of Ian Ducharme!"

"Gawd, does this family do anything but gossip?"

"Lawdy lawdy, Miz Milagro, what a sexy dark lord he is. Mad, bad, and dangerous to know."

The smile froze on my face. "Why do you say 'dark lord'?"

Gabriel shrugged too casually. "Just an expression, you know, his dark coloring and whole lord-of-the-manor way. Many have tried to capture him, but only you have succeeded. He's still in town, you know, until tonight."

"And I'm still not interested."

"I'd do him in a heartbeat."

"You're welcome to him." Laughing, we went into the house.

Gabriel had hardly said hello to everyone when Ernie brought us the news that a coop of chickens had been discovered mutilated on a property in town.

The location increased people's fear that a human would be the next victim. Helicopters began circling overhead and the media covered the animal slayings nonstop. We left the television and radios on, listening to the coverage. I thought of Cornelia when a local woman with a bad perm was interviewed about Satanic practices and instead rambled incoherently about her alien abduction.

Journalists went to Lower Sky, where one Ernest Culpepper, aka Pepper, told them that his biker companeros had long renounced devil worship and were good churchgoing men.

The moon was full that night. Winnie was locked in her room, grimly going over final wedding details, and Sam and Gabriel were working in the study. Edna was in the family room watching the news. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I decided to dangle my feet in the pool and stare at the sky.

A man was walking in the shadows from the direction of the barn. I assumed it was Ernie and said, "Hola, guapo."

Oswald stopped short and said, "Milagro, what are you doing out here?"

"I'm going to the pool." I hope he didn't know I'd just called him handsome.

"You shouldn't be by yourself." Oswald lifted his arm and I saw the glint of a bottle in his hand. He took a long pull. "I'll go with you." He held out the bottle.

It seemed rude to turn down a drink. I took the bottle and lifted it to my mouth, not knowing what it was. Rum warmed my throat. It tasted so good I drank again.

The moon shone brightly as we walked to the swimming compound. We entered the gate, and it swung shut behind us. Oswald opened the roof panels, and the night sky appeared. The lights came on, illuminating the azure pool. Small spots lit up along the compound's periphery.

Oswald took another drink and walked to the side of the pool as I trailed behind. "Are you going to swim?" I asked him.

"No, but I might consider drowning myself." He passed the bottle to me and I took a long, slow swallow. "Stay with me awhile." He sat down sideways on an oversized chaise longue.It is not easy for a lady to sit upright on cushy outdoor furniture. Especially when said lady was beginning to feel the effects of potent potables. I contemplated my dilemma as I had another swig. Perhaps the answer was in letting my feet brace me as I tried to keep my spine straight.

"Young Lady," he said, passing me the bottle again. "I'm going to be a married man very soon."

"I know, Oswald. Congratulations."

We both drank to his upcoming nuptials and then he said, "She doesn't love me."

The statement was suspended between us like a spider in a web. "I thought you two had great sex."

The sound he made was not a laugh. "Not to my knowledge."

I tried to recall what Winnie had told me. "I remember exactly. Winnie said you were very compatible in one important way."

He smiled that devastating crooked smile. "You misinterpreted. What's important to her is our fertility levels. She and I are very compatible in the probability that we will, with the help of modern medicine, eventually be able to have children."

"Oh," I said, pondering this news. "So no great sex?"

"No sex at all. Ever. She cringes when I touch her and makes excuses."

I felt great sorrow for both Oswald and Winnie. I had to lean against Oswald to think about this, and because the nature of the chaise dictated relaxation and also because Oswald and I were sharing our final espiritu de los cocteles. His body was strong and I thought that a girl could trust him to keep her upright.

It seemed that Oswald expected some comment so I said, "That is so, so, so sad, Oswald."

"Yes, it is." He cleared his throat with another drink and held the bottle up for me to take a swallow. "Why Ian?"

"Are you still stuck on that? It's not like you're available."

"No," he said. "I wish I was. How was the sex with him?"

It seemed an invasive question, highly impertinent. I would have told him so except that "impertinent" seemed too complicated to pronounce at that moment. "Physically amazing, but emotionally very confusing. Do you know what I mean?"

"No, not really. I was afraid you had fallen in love with him."

"We seem to be talking about the absence of love tonight," I observed, and thought I was being very profound.

We drank a little more and he said, "That night in the hotel, if we had, you know, what do you think it would have been like?"

Maybe it was our camaraderie, but I admitted, "Oswald, even kissing you was the most damn satisfying thing I've ever experienced. And that is why I hate you."

"Same here, except for the hate part." he said. "Why do you hate me?"

"Because I mean nothing to you. You're engaged to a very dedicated and wonderful woman who is your physical and spiritual ideal." I suddenly remembered Sam. "Do you know that Sam and I want to develop our relationship? We're like that. We share common values and respect. I need to learn how to play chess."

"You do mean something to me," Oswald said as he put down the bottle and turned to me. "And I respect every damn inch of you." His breath was warm and somehow, who knows how these things happen, it's one of those unfathomable mysteries of the universe, we were facing each other and his arms were around me.

"Milagro," he said, low and hoarse, "I wanted to stop it, but Winnie wouldn't agree. She said we have to follow through with this wedding. And I... I will never again be with a woman who wants me, a woman who takes pleasure from my touch..." As he said this, his fingers were moving down my bare arms, sending delicious tremors through me. "All I am asking for is one night with you... something I can remember."

His mouth was on mine and he had the same intoxicating effect as before. I didn't think of caution or appropriateness or morality; all I thought of was that I needed to touch Oswald and I needed him to touch me. Oswald tugged off my clothes and showed proper appreciation of my fancy undergarments. In fact, he stood me before him and ran his hands all over me, saying, "Beautiful, beautiful."

He unclasped my bra and slipped off my panties. I was acutely aware of the fact that I was naked in front of a man used to gravity-defying, synthetic breasts, liposuctioned stomachs, and surgically enhanced fannies and thighs. My hands flew up to cover my breasts.

"No, no," Oswald murmured, moving my hands away. "They're perfect, real," and his own hands covered them. The chaise was too unstable, so he threw the mattress onto the cement. Our arms tangled and fingers fumbled as we struggled to remove his clothing. When we finally succeeded, I decided that Oswald was not sort of fabulous, he was truly fabulous.

Then we were on the mattress and, oh, la, he was a man who was going off to war and I was a grateful girl who was giving him his last hurrah. I lost all perception of time as we rolled and moved together, shifted positions, and explored each other. I didn't feel like Milagro anymore, but part of whatever he was, what we were together, and this was the way we were supposed to be.

"Oswald," I said, "I had a dream about you when I was sick." I adored his crooked smile.

"It wasn't a dream," he said. "It was the only way I could think of to save you, jump-starting your immune system."

We were kissing and our lips were tender from small nips and bites. "I wish we could stay this way forever," he murmured in my ear.

"I can't believe this!" a woman shrieked.

Oswald and I both looked to see Winnie and Sam staring at us in shock.

"Oh, my God!" Winnie cried out. Sam's mouth was open and his eyes were wide.

Oswald and I sprang away from each other, grabbing desperately at our clothing. I needed to cover my nakedness, so I yanked on his shirt and pulled on his boxers. I didn't want to look at Winnie and Sam, but I did.

Oswald clutched his pants to his crotch and said, "I can explain," which was riduculous because there was no justification for our crime. I had done the worst thing possible, betrayed my friend Winnie. Ruining my chance with Sam was nothing in comparison. I hated myself.

"Really?" said Winnie. "Because I came to tell you that I'm pregnant."

Grabbing my dress, I said, "Winnie, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, oh, please, I'm so sorry." And like a coward, I ran.

Their raised voices became indistinguishable as I stumbled down the path. The sharp stones hurt my bare feet, but I deserved the pain. I crept around the house like a thief. To my great relief, the kitchen was empty. I slipped into my room and Daisy jumped off the bed and greeted me with a thumping tail. I stroked her furry head and said tearfully, "Sorry, girl, sorry." I was crying as I pulled on underwear, jeans, a sweater, and sneakers. I found a backpack in the closet and shoved whatever clothes would fit inside. In the bathroom, I grabbed the basics and crammed them into my handbag. Then there was the typewriter.

It was mine. Oswald had given it to me. I jammed my manuscript into a paper bag, slipped the backpack over one shoulder, my handbag over the other, and picked up the bag and typewriter case.

When I slinked into the kitchen, Edna was standing there as if she had been waiting for me. "What exactly is going on?"

"I have to leave, Edna. I'm... thank you for everything." I was sniffling and crying.

She looked at me sadly. "Whatever it is, we can fix it."

"We can't, Edna. I'm awful. I did something unforgivable."

She reached out to me. "Milagro," she said, but I jumped away. "It will be all right, Young Lady. Stay and we'll make sure everything works out."

"No, it won't. I'm sorry. Tell everyone I'm sorry." I couldn't bear the disappointment in her great emerald eyes.

I dashed out of the house. Fueled by rum and anguish, I couldn't drive safely. There was the old bicycle with a basket that had once been stored in the maid's room. I shoved the typewriter case into the basket and rode clumsily down the tree-lined lane.

The vampires' dossier on me had been right. I was a foolish, unreliable, irresponsible tramp. The gates opened automatically and I gracelessly departed Count Dracula's country estate, the kind friends I had betrayed, my ruined future with Sam, my dog, my chicken, and my garden.

Chapter Thirty

mi sofa es tu sofa

I leaned the bike against the wall of the Kwickie-Mart and went inside. A hefty woman with a crew cut was standing in front of the chip display. The skinny dude behind the counter looked at me with curiosity. "Can I help you?" he asked.