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car
    door behind them.

CHAPTER THREE
    As usual Vin was packed; even late at night, a crowd
    thronged the bar. They were informed there would be a wait for
    a table, but Donte turned on the full power of his charm and
    the electrified host sat them at a lovely, private table
    immediately. Adin noticed others staring hard in their direction,
    no doubt wondering who they were that they got the star
    treatment. Adin shrugged his shoulders, and Donte took it as
    his personal due, nodding regally at those who gazed at him.
    “Noblesse oblige?” asked Adin.
    “It never hurts to be kind, Adin.”
    “Said the aristocrat vampire pornographer.” They sat in
    silence until it was time to order wine.
    “Hartford Court Pinot Noir 2005,” Donte told the
    sommelier. “If you have it.”
    “We do,” the man said. “A good choice.”
    Donte returned his attention to Adin. “He’s thinking, ‘not
    an excellent choice,’ and wondering why I would order a small California wine here, in a restaurant famous for its cellar.”
    “So, you read minds?”
    “No, I read faces. And to be honest, they are all beginning
    to look remarkably similar. It puts me in rather a quandary. For
    instance, how much of my attraction to you is because of you,
    and how much is because you remind me of a certain French
    portrait artist named Gilbert who completely rocked my world
    during la Terreur ?”
    “I can see the dilemma.”
    “Can you? Do I remind you of anyone?” Donte asked idly.
    “No, Donte,” Adin admitted. “You are like no one I’ve ever
    known in my life.”
    28 Z.A. Maxfield
    The wine arrived, and the sommelier enacted the wine
    drama that never failed to make Adin wish he’d just ordered a
    Bushmills. Donte didn’t play along much, refusing the cork,
    then simply breathing in the aroma of the wine in the glass.
    “Fine.” He smiled. “Thank you.” The sommelier retreated.
    “This wine is delicious, but to be honest, I picked it because it
    goes very well with—and I hope you won’t take this wrong—
    you.”
    “Ah.” Adin was almost speechless. “Well. I was going to
    order the roast pork.”
    “Oh, that has a cherry sauce. You’ll find that dish goes with
    the wine as well, as there’s a complex cherry-berry note that
    comes right through. Taste it if you want. You’ll notice it right
    away.” Adin lifted his glass and took a small sip. Donte was
    right. In its dry elegance, it had a definite undertone of cherry,
    and something indefinable and sweet, like winter food.
    “It tastes like Christmas.”
    “Ah, that’s the allspice. You noticed? You have a good
    palate.”
    “Not really,” Adin murmured, absurdly pleased.
    “So, you wonder about the garlic, which is a myth, by the
    way. And you hope daylight will prevent me from taking what’s
    mine.”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, in theory, it would. But I am sorry to tell you that a
    number of things make it easier, including modern
    pharmacology, which I believe is your sister’s purview, is it not?
    Well, it makes the world a safer place for me. Better living, as
    they say, through chemistry.”
    “So you use sunscreen?”
    “Yes, and hats and gloves. Oh, it’s a tedious process, and far
    too hot in Los Angeles, but in the end, I can go where I like,
    whenever I like. Even if I look like Michael Jackson while I’m
    doing it. Still, there are few, if any, things I choose to do during the day, especially now that baseball is played at night, with
    lights, even at Wrigley Field.”
    NOTTURNO 29
    “You like sports?”
    “No.” Donte took a sip of his wine. “I don’t like sports
    much at all. I like baseball , which is not a sport. I thought you were a literature professor. Baseball is a metaphor for
    innocence.”
    “I see. And the current controversy over performance-
    enhancing drugs?”
    “Once again, man bites the apple. It’s the oldest metaphor in
    the book, literally. Now the sons and daughters of God are
    again thrown from Eden.” He lifted