From: Susan Garrett I owed Sharon H. a Nick and Nat story for posting Kind Soul. And I needed to prove that I write something that can be posted in one part. ************************************************************** Vampires Anonymous by Susan M. Garrett The message on her answering machine had been frantic--or as near to frantic as she knew Nick would get. Her calls to his loft had gone unanswered, but something told her he was home, long before she spotted the Caddy parked in the street outside. All he'd said was that he needed her help and to get to the loft as soon as she could. Medical bag in one hand, Natalie fussed and fidgeted, waiting for the elevator to deliver her to the loft. She had no idea what could be wrong--he'd seemed perfectly fine night before last and he wasn't on duty tonight. Of course, you could never tell just what might set Nick off. The elevator door opened to quiet--no television or music. The loft lights were on and the shutters open to the early evening sky, both of which were good signs--she got scared when he sat alone in the dark and brooded, considering that unhealthy. Natalie stepped into the loft cautiously and looked around. Not in the kitchen, or the living room, or-- Nick was sitting on the stair landing for the upper floor, still dressed in his pajamas and robe, an empty bottle beside him. "Hi," he offered, in a dispirited tone of voice. That was a definite 'Uh-oh.' Deciding that the 'tough love' approach was called for, Natalie dropped her bag to the floor and waved at the room surrounding them. "Where's the fire?" He seemed more embarrassed than depressed. "Look, Nat, I'm sorry I called. It's really . . . it's just stupid, that's all. I guess I panicked a little--" "You panicked a ," countered Natalie, folding her arms. She stood her ground, waiting, as he walked down the stairs, bottle in hand. "What did you panic about?" "My phone bill." "Your . . . phone bill." Nick managed a sheepish smile and stalked past her, to his answering machine. Putting the bottle on the table, he picked up a stack of paper and handed it to her. It took her a moment to realize what it was--the itemization of his phone bill. After giving him a questioning look--to which he simply nodded and then walked away, as if disheartened--she glanced at the total amount listed on the last page . . . . If she'd been wearing dentures, her teeth would have fallen out of her mouth. As it was, three crowns threatened to go and she felt a few fillings loosen of their own volition. "That's only last month," said Nick, as she looked up in amazement. He'd positioned himself by the window and was staring out, into the darkness. Managing to get her jaw to closed took a bit of concentration, but it was worth the effort. Natalie flipped aside the first few pages of the bill and noted the local calls- -nothing spectacular there. The long distance sheet was a bit more impressive, with a few place names she didn't exactly recognize and some pretty hefty per-minute charges, but even the hefty total at the end of the long distance itemization wasn't anywhere near that mind- numbingly large number on the last page. There was a wad of paper in between the long distance and the final total and Natalie flipped through those pages quietly, noting that they were all one number. A 900 number. "I think I've found the problem," she announced. When he glanced over his shoulder at her, she waved the first page of the 900 number listing at him. He grimaced, then looked back at the street. "That's it." A quick glance at the list told the tale--he'd been calling the number three, four, even five times a day, the calls ranging from two hours at the minimum to a whopping . . . was that hours? Something in Natalie went cold and she stared at his back. The number wasn't familiar to her. "Nick--what is this? What are you calling?" He waved his hand dismissively. "Go ahead--dial it." Natalie paused, then dropped the bill to the table and picked up the phone. She was about to punch in the numbers when Nick said, "It's on autodial." "Autodial," she echoed, still not certain that she believed the situation. She glanced at the several buttons that indicated autodial, saw a 900 number listed, and hit it. Holding the receiver to her ear, she waited as it rang, still watching Nick. "Hello there," said a sultry voice on the other end of the line. "This is Bambi. My, it's hot tonight. What are wearing?" Natalie punched the disconnect and dropped the receiver in the cradle as if stung. When Nick turned, an eyebrow raised, she asked sharply, "?" He frowned and walked over to her, picking up the phone and indicating another autodial setting. "Not that one, one." "Bambi?" repeated Natalie, not bothering to hide the edge in her voice. His shrug slightly apologetic, Nick walked back to the window again. "Schanke gave me the number." He shrugged again when he reached the window, his fingers grasping the sill. "Go ahead--dial it." After making certain she was dialing the number--Natalie wasn't certain she could handle another chat with Bambi--she held her breath. The phone rang once, twice, three times. "Hello. You have reached VIN. Please wait while we confirm your identity." Natalie stared at the phone. "Identity?" "They trace the number of the call, just to make sure it's authorized and someone hasn't reached a wrong number." "And why would anyone have to be auth--" "The Vampire Information Network thanks you for holding--" said the recording. Nick half-turned, smiling. " why." Vampire Information Network. Natalie shook her head, then realized that she hadn't been paying attention to the message on the phone. "If you've just been brought across and need transition assistance, please press one, now." The recording paused. "If you've recently relocated to a new area and would like to contact other local vampires or blood suppliers, please press two, now." Natalie stared at Nick across the room, listening to the message in amazement. "When did this happen?" "Janette says they started up about three months ago. She gave me the number last month." The message continued in her ear. "--Witness of an incident who has proof of our existence and you wish to contact the Enforcers, please press five, now. If you need assistance in transferring large amounts of gold or jewelry or have questions about vampire-friendly financial institutions, please press six, now." "And is a 900 number?" asked Natalie. "With all these options, no wonder you have a phone bill from hell!" "Five dollars a minute," explained Nick, as her eyes widened. He walked back to the couch and sat down on it, shifting sideways to watch her. "It doubles after two hours." "You can listen to options for hours?" Looking away, he swallowed. "Well . . . no." The phone message was going. "--Walk into the sun and would like advice as how your affairs should be handled, please press nine, now." "They handle suicides?" she asked. "They're pretty thorough." Nick leaned his arm on the back of the couch and met her eyes. "It's a gold mine if you think about it. I'm just surprised somebody hadn't come up with it before this." "Well, it's not like most of you guys don't have money to burn." "Becoming a vampire doesn't mean you have an instant bank account," said Nick sharply. "That's why most new vampires stay with their masters as long as they do." Natalie was about to respond, but something in the phone message caught her attention. "--Please stay on the line. One of our volunteers will be with you shortly." Her heart jumped into her throat. "Volunteers?" Nick looked away again. "It's someone to talk to." Before she could get any further into kettle of fish, the message continued. "You have now reached the Vampire Information Network's Assistance Line. If you have a touch tone phone, please type in your age, rounded up or down to the nearest century." Without thinking, Natalie automatically typed in '800.' "Thank you. If you have no preference in volunteers, please press one, now. If you wish to speak to a female vampire, please press two, now. If you'd like--" "This is nuts!" declared Natalie, staring down at Nick. "--Please press three, now." The voice changed, a new message obviously pasted in. "If this is Nick, please press four, now." "Hold the phone!" cried Natalie, as Nick rose from the couch in surprise. "That's new," he said, leaning over the back of the couch and trying to take the receiver from her. But Natalie stepped back, held the phone from her ear and pressed '4' on the handset, saying, "You can hear perfectly well from where you are, just hang on a minute." "Thank you," replied the message. "Popular boy, aren't you?" asked Nat, as he pushed himself up and tried to grab the phone from her again. She backed out of reach just as the message started up again. "Nick, we're sorry about this, but we're going to have to ask you not to call any more. Since you've started calling to talk about this going back across to mortality business . . . well, our people can't handle it. We just had our second volunteer walk out into the sun yesterday." She froze, her eyes meeting his, the glee suddenly gone from her as she watched Nick slump back against the arm of the couch. "Your number will no longer be provided access to the assistance end of the service. We ask that you don't try to reach us on another number or action be taken. You will be permitted access to our automated VIN service. Thank you for calling." The call clicked off and the dial tone sounded in her ear. Natalie replaced the receiver in the cradle quietly. "I guess that solves my problem," said Nick, rubbing his chin thoughtfully with his hand. "They've cut me off on their own." "You could always have gotten a 900 block put on the phone," said Natalie helpfully. "But that would have blocked out--" "Your ability to make 900 calls? Absolutely." She folded her arms and shuddered, remembering Bambi's voice. "That might not be such a bad idea, in the long run." He managed a half-hearted smile at her joke. "Would it surprise you to know that Bambi's one of us?" "You mean . . . a vampire?" Natalie sat down on the arm of the couch and he moved over to accommodate her. This time he smile. "No, I mean a . She's undercover, Vice. We're running a combined operation on a murder--our suspect owns a half dozen of those phone-sex sweat shops." "Oh." "Oh," he echoed, giving her a look of righteous indignation. In response, Natalie reached over and mussed up his hair. "You can't blame me for thinking--you have it on , for heaven's sake." "I'm her contact. We work in code--she passes on information through different scripts. I got the job because- -" "Myra would kill Schanke if she found that number on the phone bill?" "Because I memorized all the scripts." He grinned up at her. "And . . . Myra kill Schanke if she found the number on their phone bill." "At least you don't have problem." "Living alone has it advantages." His arm had slipped around her waist, as it did when he was lost in thought and she was nearby. Natalie shook her head slightly at the ease of it, how he barely seemed to think about it. "What did you talk about?" "Hmn?' Nick looked up at her, puzzled. "What-- the scripts? I dunno . . . it seemed pretty standard. We wanted to make sure her cover wouldn't be blown, so we didn't change more than a word here and--" "I mean . . . on the vampire line. What did you talk about?" He didn't answer at first--she wasn't certain that he was going to. But Nick moved his hand from her waist and rose to his feet, walking to the fireplace. "Things." "What kind of things?" "Things people talk about." It wasn't much of an answer, but Natalie nodded, translating aloud, "Things talk about?" That was it. He gave her a look, like a drowning man who'd sudden been thrown a life preserver. "Yeah." "You know," she clasped her hands together and stared down at them, "you can talk to me. About anything." "I know." When she looked up, his smile was grim. "And . . . I can't." "Because you want to 'protect' me?" She wasn't able to keep the edge of annoyance from her voice, but that only set his smile more firmly in place. "That. And the fact that you don't have a frame of reference. A lot of it wouldn't make sense to you." "Because I'm not a vampire?" "Because you haven't lived for more than a hundred years." He shook his head, as if despairing of finding an answer to his dilemma. "Janette . . .well, she doesn't want to hear it anymore. There's no one else I know in the community I could talk to--would to talk to. But this was different. No emotional baggage, no history, no commitment. They just . . . listened." "And . . . you talked." "And . . . I talked." He grinned again, this time in embarrassment as he gestured toward the phone bill on the table. "Maybe I got carried away, but it's been a long time. I thought maybe you could help me get out of it, back down a little, to where I could handle it. But to be cut off from it like this . . . ." Natalie watched him as he spoke, saw the loneliness in him, the need for communication that she hadn't really thought about before. Yes, they talked. Often. Sometimes superficially, other times about personal things, but they talk. She'd never really thought about the fact that there were things Nick might need to talk about, but that he couldn't--or wouldn't--tell her to her face. What he needed was a listener without an identity, an anonymous ear, who could hear his words without judging or condemning, scolding or patronizing. Ideally, nothing more than someone at the other end of a phone who was generally sympathetica but also generally disinterested. The question was . . . could she be that? Or, more to the point, could she afford to listen to what he needed to say? After a moment, Natalie rose from the couch and walked over to him. She touched his shoulder lightly. "I've got to go." He glanced at her, one of those doomed looks, then back at the windows again. "Thanks for coming by. I'm sorry I dragged you over here. Hope I didn't make you late for your shift." "Actually, it's my night off." As she walked away from him, Natalie headed for her medical bag. "I'm going home. I'll be there all night. Yep. Home." Leaning down, she picked up the bag, knowing that his eyes were on her. "Just me. And the phone. In case somebody happens to call. Me and the phone. I guess I'm just in a listening kind of mood tonight." She made it to the elevator before she turned to look at him. Nick hadn't moved from the window. Staring at her, he opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. "I like listening," Natalie said. "Just a pair of ears. Could be anybody." A slow smile started on Nick's face. He folded his arms and leaned back against the window. "Even Bambi?" "Even Bambi." She raised her finger and shook it solemnly. "But if else asks me what I'm wearing, I'm hanging up." "I already know what you're wearing." Nick walked toward the elevator door, then leaned his arm against the wall. "Maybe you do. Or maybe you just you do." She smiled brightly. "Guess I'd better get home. That phone could ring any time now." "Yeah. I guess it could." As the elevator door opened, he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks, Nat." She didn't answer, but she didn't really need to. Natalie slipped into the elevator and let the door close behind her. Fifteen minutes and she'd be home. She hoped he'd have sense enough to wait until then. She didn't expect it to be easy--listening never was. And listening to someone you cared for without yielding to that all-so-natural desire to interject solutions or suggestions or comments, was going to be damned difficult. But she'd give it a try. The worst case scenario was that it wouldn't work and that she'd have to find another solution. But she took comfort in knowing that her number, at least, was a local call. The End SusanG2522@aol.com