Okay, like I was already dead so it didn’t really count. But it’s the principle of the thing, right?
“Are you one of them floozies Vinnie’s always bringing home?” She swept the beam from my pink-tipped toes peeking through the tips of my Jimmy Choos, clear up to the fab highlights I’d had done just last week. “You look like a floozy to me.”
First off, nobody said floozy anymore.
Second, floozies didn’t drop a small fortune for sea-salt facials and Swedish massages at Christine Chin once a month. Unless they were filthy rich floozies, which would make them escorts. We’re talking an entirely different tax bracket.
And third…why the hell was I kissing the fly’s ass when I should be doing a search and rescue for Vinnie?
Oh, yeah. Skulking in the dark. Low profile. Preservation of the entire BV race.
“I love your hair,” I blurted. “Is it natural?”
“Smartass.” She snorted. The red beam shifted. Wood groaned. The hair disappeared.
I listened to the clop-clop of her shoes and waited for the screech of the screen door. Turning, I picked my way through the thick bushes a few feet until I reached the nearest window.
A basement ran along the bottom of the house and pushed the first floor several feet above ground level. Even with five-inch stilettos, I wasn’t tall enough. I pulled good old levitation out of my bag of vamp tricks, floated up a few inches, and peered inside.
The living room was packed with people.
Some sat on the overstuffed sofa and chairs, others milled around a massive dining room table decked out with every sort of pasta known to mankind—ravioli, manicotti, lasagna, angel hair. A huge platter of meatballs—make that seven platters—dominated the center of the table, while the bowls of pasta edged the perimeter. The coffee table overflowed with gifts. A banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY MA! hung from one corner of the room to the next.
My gaze swept the sea of faces until I spied Carmen. She sat on the sofa next to a short, gray-haired woman with plump cheeks, a wide smile, and a flower-print dress.
Teresa Balducci.
I knew it even before I noticed the miniature black Yorkie that sat on her lap. Or the large crucifix that dangled around her neck, along with a St. Benedict medal and a few others I didn’t recognize.
The doorbell rang. The old woman handed the dog to Carmen and pushed to her feet. She waddled to the front door, much to the objection of everyone else, including Father Paul. The old priest urged her to sit down and save her energy for emptying bedpans at the senior center the following morning.
“Nonsense. I don’t even think of that as work. It’s a pleasure just to help out those less fortunate.”
Yikes, the woman was a saint.
Mama Balducci pulled open the door to an elderly couple. The man carried a large gift-wrapped box that contained an in-home spa treatment for bunions and a doggie toy for the Yorkie.
FYI—I’m not Superman, folks (blue and red and yellow? So not my best color combo). It’s just that the old man had wanted to keep the spa treatment and the truth flashed in his eyes when he handed over the gift.
As soon as he got home, he was ordering his own off the QVC—regardless of what that podiatrist had said. Why, that old doc didn’t know his bunions from his plantar’s warts.
Uh, ewwwwwww.
I shifted my attention to Mrs. Bunions. She carried a suitcase-size white patent leather purse and a platter of—wouldn’t you know it?—meatballs.
“They’re my special recipe,” the old woman said. “I know how much you and Marlon like them.” Marlon being the Yorkie. She hugged and kissed Teresa on both cheeks before grabbing her husband and dragging him toward the food table. “Oh, look, Walter! Eileen Stanover brought her cannolis!”
I took a quick peek in the rest of the windows but I couldn’t find Vinnie. Either he’d left, or gone into hiding. Since Vinnie was a devout man (in the sense that his mother had him scared shitless and convinced he was going to hell should he defy her wishes), I knew he wouldn’t just leave.
Okay. Think. Let’s see…
Nervous.
Anxious.
Semi-drunk on wine and antacids.
Where do you go?
I headed into the backyard and searched for the nearest pool house.
But there was no pool, much less a house. Just a flower garden, a small barbecue pit, three plastic lawn chairs, and a toolshed—bingo!
A few steps and I found Vinnie crouched inside on a red Husky toolbox. He sat crammed between a weed whacker and several bags of fertilizer.
“Nice party.” I swept a glance around. “I’m sure you and the lawn mower will be very happy.”
“Very funny.” His glasses reflected the light off the back patio as he shook his head. “I don’t feel so good.”
“It’s the waxing. It’ll sting for a few days.”
“It’s not the stinging. It’s…” He shook his head again. “I don’t really know her.”
“Sure you do. Catholic. Good-looking. Wants a big family. You know all the important stuff.”
“But what if she’s putting up a front like me? What if she isn’t all of those things?”
“She is.”
“How do you know?” I gave him a get-outta-here look and he shrugged. “Okay, so you’re a bloodsucking fiend and you know.”
Talk about harsh. “I prefer fantabulously dressed creature of darkness.”
“Like I care.”
If my afterlife hadn’t been on the line, I would so have taken my chances and punched this guy in the teeth. “Sensitivity, remember?”
“But that’s the point. I ain’t sensitive. I don’t want to be sensitive.”
“What about your mother? I’m sure she would love to see the sensitive side of you. I bet she would cry tears of joy if you were to drop to one knee, pour out your black heart to Carmen, and ask her to marry you.”
“And then when she realizes I’m an SOB?”
I shrugged. “By that time she’ll have seen the kinder side of you”—sort of—“and she’ll be more forgiving. She might even like the macho streak once she gets used to it.”
“Ya think?”
“Anything’s possible. But you’ll never know if you stay out here. Give her the ring and get it over with already.”
“We could make it a long engagement. My ma never said anything about praying for me to get married. She wanted me engaged.”
“Voilà. Prayer answered.”
“That’s right.” He pushed to his feet. “We don’t even have to set a date yet. We’ll just get to know each other. I’ll get a chance to make sure her tits are real and she’ll get to know who I am, and she’ll come around. Provided, of course, that the tits are real.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Course I won’t be able to just lay it all out right away. I’ll have to keep the trunk free and clear at first. And the glove compartment. I’ll take things slow and ease her into it gradually. Before you know it, she’ll be holding the flashlight while I pull out the fangs.”
“That’s the spirit.” What was I saying?
What you have to say. No engagement, no deal. No deal, no more afterlife.
“I’ll do it.” He pushed to his feet and reached for my hand. “Come on.”
“Oh, no. This is a moment strictly for friends and family. I wouldn’t want to impose—”
“You’ll impose, all right.” He nailed me with his Ray-Bans. “Just in case she says no. If that happens, I’ve got a stake with your name written all over it.”
A few seconds later, I stood off to the side and watched Vinnie approach Carmen. He did the ring bit, much to Carmen’s surprise, and she burst into tears. Happy tears, thankfully. Vinnie slid the ring onto her finger and an arm around her waist, and a few seconds later they were being toasted by a tearful Mama Balducci.
“I don’t think I know you,” Mama said when I stepped forward to offer my congratulations once things had settled do
wn. Her gaze collided with mine and recognition sparked in the dark brown depths of her eyes.
“A friend of a friend of a friend,” Vinnie jumped in before I could open my mouth. “She’s Martin Morelli’s sister’s husband’s cousin. We go way back. I saw her down at the deli and invited her over for cake. Really, Ma,” he added when she stared at him as if he’d just told her the dog had eaten his report card.
“Italian Crème,” I murmured. “My all-time favorite.”
But Teresa wasn’t convinced. Something wasn’t sitting well with her about me. She had the distinct feeling that I was someone very different from what Vinnie had told her.
“Where’s that cake?” I whirled, breaking the connection into her thoughts, and glanced frantically around. “I’m diabetic, and if my blood sugar goes too low I’m dead meat.”
She couldn’t…
No way did she realize I was a…
“I don’t mind vampires around here,” I heard her whisper to Vinnie. “Just so long as she keeps her fangs to herself.”
I did a double take, but Teresa had already shifted her attention to another well-wisher.
“Did you tell her?” I asked Vinnie as he shoved a cake plate in my hand and propelled me toward an empty seat on the far side of the room.
“Not me. The woman’s got a direct link to the Big Guy Upstairs. She knows everything.”
I was starting to believe it.
I spent the next forty-five minutes nursing a glass of champagne, pretending to eat cake, and trying not to feel so crappy.
Moment of triumph, I reminded myself. I’d done it. I’d saved my fangs and written myself onto the top of the SOB’s Hands-Off list. I should be over the moon right now.
But as I watched Vinnie and Carmen—or at least Carmen, because the big V looked as if he might throw up at any moment—my thoughts shifted to Ty and the kiss.
What was that about?
Obviously it meant goodbye.
But goodbye as in: I never want to see you again you two-timing born-vamp bitch?
Or goodbye as in: I don’t care if I ever see you again but I’m so narcissistic that I want you to think about what you’re missing every day of your afterlife?
Or goodbye as in: I’m kissing you right now because I don’t know what else to do to convince you to please, please, please give me a second chance?
Yeah. Like that last one was even in the realm of possibility. He couldn’t and I couldn’t and, well, never.
But when his lips had touched mine, I’d actually started to think that if I wanted it bad enough and he wanted it bad enough, then maybe it could happen. If.
“Vinnie told me about you.” The deep voice echoed in my ear and yanked me back from never-land a split second before the couch dipped next to me and I found myself sitting next to three hundred and fifty pounds of Italian attitude.
His name was Crusher, and he was Vinnie’s younger bro. He wore the same black suit and Ray-Bans. His hair was greased back à la Vinnie and he wore the same collection of bling around his neck. But instead of looking at me as if he wanted to stake first and talk later, he eyed me as if I were the last pepperoni sub in the deli case.
Panic bubbled inside me and my heart started to pound. “Vinnie’s engaged,” I blurted. “I’m off the hook. That means DO NOT TOUCH in SOB language.”
“I don’t want to touch.” He smiled for a split second before his expression grew serious. “I want to see if you can hook me up. I don’t need a fiancée or anything like that—Vinnie’s the oldest so Ma’s riding him, not me, when it comes to settling down—but I do need a date for the yearly SOB Christmas party. It’s in Atlantic City this year.”
“Christmas is over six months away.”
He shrugged. “I like to plan ahead.” One black brow inched up over the Ray-Bans. “So you think you can hook me up?”
“Or else?”
“Or else what?”
“Or else you’re going to rip out my fangs and turn me into a popsicle, right?”
“Nah. You’re in Vinnie’s territory. Besides, your brother Rob keeps the office fully stocked with everything from copy paper to binder clips, and I got a business to run. That shit don’t come cheap.”
“Neither do I.” I summoned my courage. Even though I couldn’t read his thoughts through the glasses, I didn’t get the same threatening feel from him. “I don’t work for free.”
He reached for his wallet. “You take Visa?”
I smiled. “Do born vampires fudge on their tax returns?”
Twenty-five
Instead of heading back to the office to get some work done after I left Mama Balducci’s, I mapped a flight plan for my apartment to check on Evie.
She was exactly the way I’d left her—hovering on the ceiling, her eyes rolled back into her head, her hair tangled and matted, her skin pasty white. The walls looked as if someone had paintballed the room in slime green, and there was a nice big pile of gunk in the middle of my bed.
My chest hitched and my eyes started to sting. Seeing Evie like that…Seeing my sheets like that…
I blinked frantically and sniffled.
Easy. You can handle this. You’ve got guts. You’ve got optimism. You’ve got renter’s insurance.
“Good news,” I announced on the off chance that maybe, just maybe Evie—the real Evie beneath the layers of vomit and really bad skin (can you say sea-salt facial?)—could hear me. “I found someone to do an exorcism.”
“So?” The deep guttural voice slid into my ears and I glanced up to see a pair of blazing yellow eyes staring back at me. “You won’t save her.”
I ignored the tiny voice that whispered “He’s right. Ugly, but right.” I straightened my shoulders and nailed the demon with my most confident stare. “I will save her.”
Cold, chilling laughter bounced off the walls. “You can’t do anything. You’re weak. Just like your friend here. She’s a whiny, pathetic, insecure bitch. No wonder she can’t keep a boyfriend.”
Okay. I could put up with a lot of things—the sliming and the smell and the ruined wardrobe and even the soiled sheets. But I wasn’t about to stand here and let some serial-killing demon talk smack about one of my BFFs. “I am so going to kick your ass.”
“You and what army?”
“No army.” I held up my bottle of holy water. “Just me and my spritzer.”
That was enough to cause a loud hissssss and send the eyes rolling back into the head again.
“I thought so,” I said.
The mouth opened and a wave of projectile vomit shot straight at me.
I summoned my BV speed and in a split second I stood outside in the living room, my new outfit still immaculate, while slime glazed the walls of the bedroom. There were definitely some perks to being a bloodsucker.
Unfortunately, lying wasn’t one of them.
“For the last time, I don’t know anything about your demon,” I told Ash when he called just after I picked up Killer from my neighbor’s apartment.
“That’s odd, because we happen to know that he’s possessing your assistant.”
“Oh, really?” I feigned ignorance as I opened a can of cat food. “Who would that be?”
“You only have one.”
“Oh, you mean Evie. I thought you meant her cousin Word. He works for me every once in a while. I should have known something was up. He’s got really bad skin and a fetish for small animals, and he’s addicted to heavy metal goth.”
“That doesn’t say demon. It says horny adolescent. Besides, I already checked him out. Caught him doing it with some woman with a bunch of tattoos earlier tonight.”
“Her name’s Mia.” I tossed the empty can into the trash and reached for some imported sardines to top off the cat food. “Was she smiling?”
“She was beating the shit out of him for being too quick.”
“Poor thing.”
“He seemed to like it.”
“I was talking about Mia.” I made a mental n
ote to send her something to keep her spirits up, maybe some flowers or a spa basket or a new high-powered vibrator.
“Where is Evie?” Ash demanded. When I didn’t say anything, he added, “Come on, Lil. There are a lot of lives at stake. You don’t want their blood on your hands.”
“I love blood on my hands. I’m a vampire.”
“Yeah, right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you’re soft.”
“I may not be as hardcore as most, but I am most definitely not soft.” I forked the sardines into Killer’s bowl and set it on the floor for him.
“You’re a marshmallow,” Ash said. “You’re too nice.”
“I am not.” Killer sniffed and blinked at me and I realized I’d forgotten a few sprinkles of Tuna Sparkle. I grabbed the seasoning, topped off his dinner, and he started to eat. “I’m as mean as Brad Pitt is sexy.”
I could picture his smile as he said, “Just calling ’em like I see ’em.”
“You can’t see me right now.” I glanced around my kitchen, my senses instantly alert. “Can you?” While I’d learned a little about the various Others out there (particularly werewolves, who had great taste and liked to hump during the full moon), I was still learning as far as demons went. “What am I wearing?”
“Let’s see…outfit, shoes, thong.”
“What color is the thong?”
“Pink.”
Panic bolted through me followed by a rush of nahhhhh. “How do you know that?”
“Lucky guess.”
A girl could only hope.
Even so, I pulled my shoulders back and did my sexiest walk as I headed for the living room and my overstuffed sofa. “Maybe the demon body hopped after Evie, which would mean she’s no longer possessed and you’re looking for the wrong person.”
“Then where is she?”
“Good question.” One I wasn’t about to answer.
“If you know something, you have to tell me,” Ash said as if reading my thoughts.
I tamped down my nerves and chose my words carefully. “Well, I know she hasn’t shown up to work in the past few days.” It wasn’t a lie. She hadn’t shown up for work. My overflowing answering machine could testify to that. “I’ve called her at home, but she’s not there.” Because she was here. “Maybe she skipped town. That’s what I would do if I were possessed by a demon.” Unless I was confined by holy water in my fantabulously dressed employer’s bedroom. “I’d take the first plane and head for Cancún.”
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