by Молли Харпер
“It was so confusing when we all joined at once. We didn’t want to call each other ‘Courtney H,’
‘Courtney B,’ ‘Courtney G.’ This isn’t second grade, you know?” I smiled and nodded, because there was no derailing this chick’s train of thought. “So, we tried nicknames, ‘Short Courtney,’
‘Blond Courtney,’ ‘Cankles Courtney.’ But some of the girls’ feelings were hurt, so we ended up having to use Courtney H, Courtney B, Courtney G anyway. We still use Cankles Courtney, but only behind her back.”
“Hmm.”
“Oh, I know that sounds mean,” Courtney conceded. “But trust me, you’ll know her when you see her.”
OK, itwasmean, but I did recognize Cankles Courtney right away. Sadly lacking in lowerquadrant definition, she was cowering before the formidable Courtney Herndon and receiving a stern talking-to regarding the chamber newsletter’s font style. Apparently, Cankles’ version of Curlz wasn’t curly enough.
“Courtney Herndon is the head Courtney,” Courtney Barrow whispered. “She’s been the chamber president for the last four years.”
Did she just say “head Courtney”? There was a Courtney hierarchy?
“Courtney!” my guide exclaimed. Several women throughout the room turned to us, realized we were referring to someone else, and went back to their wine. Courtney Herndon gave me an appraising look and a thin smile.
“This is Jane. She runs a bookstore where the porn shop used to be!” Courtney Barrow squealed.
“Isn’t that interesting?”
“Super,” Courtney Herndon said, though her voice gave the distinct impression that she couldn’t give a rat’s ass.
“Are you from the Hollow originally, or are you a transplant like us?” Courtney Barrow asked.
“I’m a native,” I said. “What do you mean, ‘transplant’?”
“Oh, well, we all married boys from the Hollow.” Courtney Herndon snorted derisively, as though she did not appreciate being uprooted.
Courtney Barrow smiled fondly, ignoring Courtney Herndon, as she said, “My husband, Gary, told me he couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, so I just followed him home. Same with all of the Courtneys. None of us really has to work, but we’re self-starters. Except for Lisa over there.”
Courtney lowered her voice and nodded toward a strawberry blonde in a suit even more conservative than mine. “She runs her family’s accounting firm.”
“Well, that explains why I’ve never met most of you.” I turned to Courtney Herndon. “Courtney, what do you do?”
Courtney Herndon stroked back a stray blond curl. “I do home demonstrations for women interested in cosmetic products. I do home parties, makeovers, special kits.”
I nodded. “So, it’s like Mary Kay?”
Courtney H’s jaw twitched as she hissed out, “No, it’s nothing like MaryKay!” She turned on her ice-pick heels and stomped toward the wine table.
“All right, then.”
“Mary Kay asked Courtney H to resign because her sales tactics were too aggressive,” Courtney Barrow whispered, a conspiratorial grin tilting her lips. “She would point out a flaw and then recommend a product to fix it. Only, Courtney can be really, really … honest sometimes. And some customers complained. So, Courtney sent the customers letters to tell them why they were wrong … and then Mary Kay’s corporate offices filed the restraining order.”
I stifled a laugh. “Who’s she working for now?”
“She says she’s an independent contractor.”
“So she’s mixing up her own makeup in her basement? Given the restraining order, that can’t be—” Courtney Barrow lowered her voice even more. Even with vampire hearing, I’m sort of surprised I could hear her. “She’s still selling the Mary Kay stuff. She had loads of it when she quit. You know, your upline always tells you that you can’t sell from an empty wagon? Well, she took it seriously. She has enough lip plumper to sink a cruise ship. She just takes off all the packaging and replaces it with her own stickers she prints at home.”
“That is both brilliant and deranged,” I whispered back. Courtney Barrow giggled again, which was becoming less annoying.
She nodded to a tense blonde in the corner, who seemed to be scanning the room over and over, searching for some sort of infraction. “That’s Courtney Ahern, the one who’s crazy about the carpet. This house used to belong to one of her in-laws, but she persuaded her husband to give the tenants the boot and renovate the place for our headquarters. But now she’s paranoid one of us will do something to ruin the house’s potential resale value.”
“What does Courtney A do?” I asked. “Sell something that’s nothing like Amway?”
Courtney Barrow guffawed. “I’m going to like you!”
“Oh … good.”
Courtney Herndon stood, cleared her throat, and silenced the room. The various Courtneys filed into the meeting room, where we were directed to cozy tea chairs instead of the usual folding monstrosities. I sat through the approval of the minutes, the agenda, and the pledge. I came up with my own identification system for the Courtneys as they debated the proper color scheme for the annual business directory. Courtney Barrow, the only one who’d bothered to be friendly, was
“Nice Courtney.” Courtney Herndon was “Head Courtney.” Courtney Gordon, who appeared to be some sort of sycophant/enforcer, was “Toady Courtney.” Courtney Ahern was “Coaster Courtney.” I couldn’t come up with a better-fitting nickname for Cankles Courtney and felt a little bad about it. I moved on to picking which chamber member I would eat first if we were stuck on a desert island. I settled on Courtney Jensen, or “Fitness Courtney,” because it was obvious that woman hadn’t even seen a carb in years, and high-protein diets give blood a rich, oaky finish. I’d almost nodded off when I heard my name being called.
“What?” I almost shouted, bolting upright in my fancy laced chair.
“It is Jane, right?” Head Courtney demanded. “You’re the new member?”
“Er …”
Head Courtney’s smile tightened as the other ladies tittered. “We were just discussing the Fall Festival charity for the animal shelter.”
This was so much worse than being caught sleeping in math class. I nodded and slapped on my
“pleasant face.” On my right, Nice Courtney sat frozen in her chair, a Stepford smile pasted on.
“Now, Jane, I think it would be a great idea if you gathered together the prizes for the games?
Normally, we solicit donated items from businesses in the community. And since you’re new, you probably have all kinds of contacts that we haven’t even thought of yet!”
Well, I could ask Dick about that trunkload of piratedKnight RiderDVDs I gave him the year before …
“So, we’ll just put you down to head the prize committee.”
“It’s just my first meeting,” I said. “I don’t know if I’m qualified—” Head Courtney’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no better way to get to know us better than just to throw yourself into the work. Really, it’s the best way to make friends here at the chamber, showing what a team player you can be. You do want us to think you’re a team player, don’t you?”
Why wasn’t my sister in this club? Seriously?
“I’m willing to help with—”
“Great!” Head Courtney cried, interrupting my attempt at shirking the games in favor of decorations or something less “commitment-y.” “Lisa will give you all of the information from last year.”
From across the room, Lisa rolled her eyes and shared a commiserating look with me. This was followed by a report from the jack-o’-lantern committee and the treat committee, who lamented the lack of volunteers for making gluten-free snacks. I had never so earnestly wished that I could die of natural causes. Boredom was a natural cause, right? After the game committee and the inflatable committee, I wondered whether there was anyone in the room who was not on a committee.
“Now, the planning committee has come up with a list of ac
ceptable costumes. I know some of you older members like to get started on your kids’ costumes early.”
The oldest member in the room looked to be about thirty-five. And she did not look as if she took that as a compliment.
I raised my hand. “So, wait, this is a Halloween party?”
“No, if we call it a Halloween party, some families won’t come. So it’s a Fall Festival.”
“But we’re going to have pumpkins … and costumes … and candy.”
Head Courtney glared down at me. “Is there going to be a problem, Jane?”
There could be a problem. Believe it or not, vampires tend to hole up on All Hallows Eve and refuse to come out until the last trick-or-treater has been dragged home kicking and screaming.
You’d stay home, too, if you were confronted with a holiday that parades around the worst cultural stereotypes pertaining to your particular species—bluish pallor, black capes, stupid accents exaggerated by clownish fangs—and presents it as “all in good fun.”
“Right, sorry,” I said. “It’s just that … is the chamber really supposed to hold fund-raisers?” I asked. “I thought the Chamber of Commerce was about community building and economic development, bringing in new employers—”
“Well, this is the waywerun the Chamber of Commerce,” Head Courtney said through gritted teeth. “The Half-Moon Hollow Animal Shelter is a cause we’ve supported for years. Why, just last year, we collected five thousand dollars in cash donations.”
“People will just give you cash for the shelter? Without a carnival?”
Head Courtney’s disapproving sneer was now an all-out death glare.
“Right. Sorry,” I mumbled, staring down into my lap as a sign of submission.
For the rest of the meeting, I sat still and silent, just praying to get out alive. And I was incredibly angry with myself. Why the hell was I afraid of these women? If I wanted to, I could beat them all senseless, take their fancy foufou designer wallets, and make them forget I ever did it.
Not that I would ever do that.
4 The best way to show that you’re independent is actually to be independent. Develop outside interests, attend cultural events, anything to show your wayward vampire mate that you’re not sitting at home pining away.
—Love Bites: A Female Vampire’s Guide to Less Destructive Relationships I slunk up my front-porch steps, exhausted and in serious need of sedatives and/or lobotomy instruments. Andrea, on the other hand, looked cool and collected, stretched out onmyporch swing, scratchingmydog behind the ears, and sipping a tall icy beverage that I promptly stole from her.
“Hey!” she cried. “I used your best liquor to make that! And there wasn’t much to choose from.”
“It’s an emergency,” I told her between swigs of what I think was a daiquiri. Because of my sordid history with the demon alcohol and the inevitably humiliating results, I don’t usually imbibe. But tonight I was making an exception. I slumped onto the swing with Andrea and sighed. “Not that you’re not welcome here at River Oaks, but has it occurred to you that making yourself frosty cocktails while I’m not home is breaking and entering?”
“Yes, it did. But I was thirsty, and you left me your key ring to close up.”
“I’m way too trusting. Am I going to come home one night and find you taking a bath in my tub and wearing my clothes?” She arched her eyebrow, looking from her own stylishly cut silk blouse and slacks to my suit—which had been purchased by my mother. “Never mind.”
“I’m not going to go all single white female on you. But I do love this place. I still have a hard time believing you own a home with a name.”
“Well, for all of this, my sister is willing to sue me, steal from me, and have me audited. So, you might want to reconsider your whole romantic image of gentility.”
Andrea sighed heavily. “Why must you destroy my illusions? How was your networking?” she asked as I tried to beckon my dog. Fitz sniffed and rested his head on his paws.
“I’m not trying to say anything about sisterhood or women in power, but what a bunch of bitches.”
Andrea laughed and pulled a pitcher of daiquiris from behind the porch swing. She poured herself another drink, grinning as she said, “I thought you might feel that way. My boss at the gift shop used to complain about the meetings.”
“You knew?” I cried, chucking a cushion at her. “You knew, and you let me walk into that den of iniquity unprepared?”
“Hey, hey! If you can’t respect the daiquiri, at least respect the shirt,” she griped, swiping at the liquor I’d made her spill on her celery-colored blouse. “I know better than to ask you to respect me.”
I blew her a kiss and poured more daiquiri as Andrea began her tale in an ominous tone. “Margie said it happened slowly. One cold October night, a Courtney attended her first meeting, then another and another. It was as if the chamber was a hive being invaded by really perky Africanized bees. And pretty soon, they were proposing extra events and creating committees to run those events, and they built a power base. They elected themselves as officers, moved the headquarters, rewrote the bylaws, and made life miserable for the old-school members. One by one, the charter members all left. Margie quit after they gave her a demerit for wearing brown shoes with a black suit. To Margie, that translated to: You’re over forty, get out.”
“What happened to all the men?”
Andrea shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess they just quit, or they got too many demerits …”
“I think the Courtneys ate them,” I countered.
“Your guess is there’s some supernatural reason for the pink chamber seal?”
I nodded. “My guess: coven of succubi.”
“Well, you should fit in well, being a vampire and all.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You did tell them that you’re a vampire, right?”
I sipped my drink to avoid answering.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to live in the coffin anymore!” Andrea cried.
“I’m not living in the coffin. I’m just not volunteering any information that wouldn’t come up in an introductory conversation. Do you walk up to people and say, ‘Hi, I’m Andrea. I’m a natural redhead.”
“I’m not a natural redhead.”
“I knew it!”
“Don’t deflect the question. So, I guess you’re not going back, huh?”
“I have to,” I mumbled. “I’m in charge of the prizes for the charity carnival.”
Andrea hooted. “They’ve pulled you in!”
“They did not!”
“They made you their prize bitch! And not in the dog-show way. You might as well have given them all your milk money and then done their homework for them.”
“I told you, they’re scary. And blond. We’ve established that I don’t do well with scary blond people. And you’re starting to talk like me the more time we spend together. I think we can both agree that having one person in the world who talks like me is too many.”
“Jane, maybe you could see this as an opportunity to grow as a person, to face your fears, to be a little less wracked by insecurity.”
“I am not wracked by fear and insecurity. I have completely normal fears: failure, clowns, spiders. What’s weird about that?” I groaned. “Oh, who am I kidding? It’s all gone pear-shaped.”
Andrea patted my head. “No moreKitchen Nightmaresfor you.”
“It’s Gordon Ramsay. I can’t help myself. All the yelling and the cursing … it’s so forceful. And he takes off his shirt at least once every episode to change into his chef’s uniform.”
She snorted. “Freak.”
“Look, I’m going to stick it out. I have to. Joining the chamber is good for the shop … it’s going to be good for the shop. Please, God, let it be good for the shop. And at least we know that they’ll let you quit if it’s not the place for you … or you exceed the maximum weight allowances.”
Andrea snickered. “You know, maybe you’d be a little more confident if you jaz
zed up your wardrobe a bit.”
I smirked. “You’re just looking for an excuse to take me on another humiliating shopping excursion.”
“Keep it up, and I’ll put you in a stylish poncho,” she said, giving me a mock evil glare.
I shuddered. “Vampires should not wear ponchos.” I made kissing noises and beckoned my dog.
“Come here, Fitz.”
Fitz yawned and scooched even further under the porch swing, nuzzling his head into Andrea’s hand.
“Traitor,” I muttered.
“Oh, you got a shipment at the shop. I put it on your hall table,” she said, rising and dislodging Fitz’s head from her knee.
“Why didn’t you just leave it at the shop?” I asked, following her through the front door, pitcher in hand.
“Well, I thought maybe you’d want these for yourself,” she said, smirking, handing me the opened box. About a dozen books with blazing neon titles winked out at me.
“Forbidden Thirst. Blood Lust. Penetrating Fangs. The Misadventures of Millie,” I read, thumbing through the slick paperbacks. This went way beyond the cover of your average bodiceripper. Let’s just say more was being inserted than fangs. “I didn’t order this! This is … porn!
Vampire porn, but porn all the same.”
“I think the publishers prefer the term ‘erotica.’” I shot Andrea my best withering glare. She shrugged, all wide, innocent eyes betrayed by her madly twitching lips. “Well, you said you were going to be lacking in sexual companionship. I thought maybe you decided to expand your horizons.”
“Your perception of me is disturbing.” I shuddered. “Is there a packing slip?”