She shrugged. “You said to make it good.”
“That meant a little smiling and flirting with Jack. It didn’t mean a lap dance for Rob.”
“I wasn’t giving him a lap dance. My skirt got stuck on his zipper.”
“Because you were shaking your moneymaker right on top of his Mr. Happy.”
“Your father swung his club and I had to dodge. It was either Rob’s lap or the floor.”
“There was a rug to cushion the fall.”
“Get over it. The night’s still young. I’ll give it another shot during dinner.” She glanced at the diamond Cartier bracelet encircling her slim wrist. “How much longer do you think they’ll be?” Her fangs peeked past her full lips. “I’m starved.”
My father was it. In addition to being the head of the Marchette clan, he was also the grumpiest loser. “It could take awhile.”
We spent the next hour dishing on the latest spring line and discussing our sex lives.
Okay, so we discussed Nina’s sex life and my lack of one since Ty had dropped off the face of the earth.
“I hate to perpetuate the snob thing, but there’s a reason the ancients turn their noses up at the whole vampire-making thing.”
“Maybe they’re just a bunch of old geezers who are set in their ways.”
“And maybe they know something we don’t.” She gave me The Look. “All I’m saying is, I would forget all about this Ty person if I were you. There are plenty of other vamps out there—”
The shrill sound of a whistle drowned the rest of her warning.
I pushed to my feet. Thankfully, it was over. The hunt and the lecture.
“Awesome, Dad,” I told my father when I reached the patio to find him looking sullen. Rob wore a victorious smile and held up the whistle he’d ripped from my father’s neck. (Quick update: The it person wore a whistle around his or her neck and the first vamp to get close enough to rip it free and blow took home the coveted vacation days.) “You held out longer than anyone ever.”
“Way to go.” Nina smiled and added her congratulations. “For an aging vamp, you’ve totally got it going on.”
My father’s gaze turned red and I seriously debated ducking beneath a nearby chaise longue.
“Why, thank you,” my mother blurted, stepping between Nina and my dad’s piercing glare. “Such a nice compliment, darling, don’t you think?” she asked my father, placing a hand on his arm. “Even the younger vampires are impressed with your wisdom and cunning.”
In addition to being an overbearing mother, Jacqueline Marchette had also perfected her ass-kissing skills. At least where my father was concerned.
She smoothed the collar of his golf shirt. Pucker up. “Have I told you how fast you were this evening?”
My father drank in her praise like a thirsty construction worker. His chest puffed out and he pushed his shoulders back. “I was fast, wasn’t I?”
“The fastest.” She smiled. “And so elusive. Why, I felt certain the children would never find you.”
“I could have outlasted them all night, you know. But the point of all this is to hone their hunting skills. If they never actually get the prize, they’ll get frustrated and that would defeat the purpose.”
“Such a wise vampire.”
Such a load of baloney.
“Come,” she told him, turning to lead him into the house. “You must be ravenous after such a spectacular demonstration of skill and endurance. Children,” she called over her shoulder. “In.”
Max high-fived Rob. Jack kissed Mandy. And I grabbed Nina’s hand and started after my mother. The sooner the evening ended, the better. Maybe if we hurried, I could down a glass and Nina could do something flirty with Jack, and we could scram before Remy showed up—
“Uh, hi,” I mumbled as I came up hard against the muscular frame that suddenly appeared in the doorway. I stepped backward and tried to control the sudden pounding of my heart.
Remy was tall and blond. He had green eyes and a smile that made my tummy tingle. Worse, unlike the other BVs, Remy had no scent, which ruled out my NOT liking him because I smelled like cotton candy and he smelled like something that totally did NOT go with the light, fluffy stuff. Like bananas Foster or chocolate cake or Oreo cookie brownies. I’d broken off many a relationship because a scent was too rich or too fruity or too something. My soul mate would be the perfect complement to me, his scent an enhancement of my own.
Remy spent his nights catching Fairfield’s most wanted and so he took a special pill that had been developed by a top secret tactical weapons manufacturer. It suppressed his smell, which gave him an edge over all those criminal vamps and one megalicious matchmaker. They couldn’t smell him coming and I had nothing to complain about to my mother.
Remy really was the perfect born vampire for me.
If I could get past the whole knickers thing, which, of course, I couldn’t.
At least that’s what I told myself.
Remy touched a strong hand to my shoulder and heat spiraled to my nipples. Bad nipples. “Slow down, Ace, or I’ll have to arrest you for speeding.”
Bring on the handcuffs, buddy.
I drop-kicked the ridiculous, outrageous, never gonna happen thought right out of my head and pasted on an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I’m just really hungry.”
His gaze collided with mine and something sparked in the deep green depths. “That makes two of us.”
I swallowed and yanked Nina up beside me. “Um, have you met Nina?”
“We grew up together, remember?”
“Good, then you’ll have lots to talk about.” I dodged him and headed for the sideboard. I poured myself a glass, my hands trembling so badly that I almost said to hell with it and chugged straight from the bottle.
Um, yeah. That’s really going to happen.
I touched the crystal to my lips. Blood slid down my throat and sent a rush of ahhhh through me. My hunger eased and relief swept from my head to my toes. I wasn’t really attracted to Remy. I was just hungry.
“I thought you wanted me to talk to Jack,” Nina said when she sought me out after fifteen minutes with Remy.
I sipped my third glass. “Change of plans. You’re doing just great.” I held up my glass in salute to Remy, who stood across the room. “Just get back over there and keep him from coming over here.”
“What about your brother?”
I eyed Mandy and Jack, who sat side by side while my mother glared at them from across an antique cherry coffee table. “I think it’s time my mother heard the truth.”
Sixteen
“He really has some sort of bad infection?” My mother asked a few minutes after I hauled her into a corner and started to confess.
“The worst.” I nodded. “Extremely red and very itchy and totally nasty.” Was I the adverb queen or what? I made a face. “Total yuck.”
“Lilliana,” my mother nailed me with a stare, “that is the most absurd thing I have ever heard.”
You and me both. I shrugged. “I didn’t believe it myself, but Jack showed me.”
The disbelief morphed to concern. “Really?”
“I saw it with my own two eyes.” I made a face. “And I smelled it, too.” I stuck out my tongue. “All I can say is, I know what I’m getting Jack for his next birthday. A great, big Ralph Lauren gift set.”
“An infection?”
“With a capital I.”
“But he’s immune to any and all germs.”
“Any and all known germs. This is something else. Something brand-new and ultimately powerful.” I lowered my voice to emphasize dire importance. “A strain of bacteria that specifically targets vampires.”
My mother gasped and I tried to look appropriately horrified.
“Once they annihilate all vamps, they’ll go after weres and Others and, ultimately, humans.”
“So this bacteria targets the most powerful first?”
I nodded. “And the best dressed.”
My mother look
ed as if her brain were spinning ninety to nothing before she finally shook her head. “I just cannot believe it.”
“Believe it.” Please, please, please believe it.
“I can’t imagine anything that powerful,” my mother persisted. “Vampires are so superior.”
“And highly sensitive. Which means that when a vamp is infected, the symptoms are magnified. Whereas the average human can just slather on some cream and get off with a little scratching and maybe a few weird stares from the people on the subway, a vampire has to undergo intravenous drug treatment and risk being shunned by all of the born vamp nation.” I knew I was laying it on a little thick, but we’re talking my mother. When it came to sniffing out a lie, the woman was Columbo, Sam Spade, and the entire CSI: Miami team all rolled into one.
“This is terrible.”
“That’s why Jack needs Mandy.” I kept slathering it on. “She’s a doctor.”
“She’s a forensic pathologist.”
“Yeah, well, she’s had a recent run-in with corpses who’ve kicked the bucket because of this nasty stuff. She’s become an expert.”
“Is that right?”
“She’s done a ton of research and she’s even responsible for developing the antibiotic.”
“What would a forensic pathologist know about drug development?”
I eyed my mother. “Are you forgetting that her great-aunt something-or-other was burned at the stake for mixing up potions?”
“So she is working a spell on him. I knew it. I told your father that she was cooking up something, but he just refused to listen.”
“She’s contributing to science, Mom, not boiling horny toads and sprigs of witch hazel. This isn’t witchcraft. I’m just saying that she is a descendant, which makes her better at this sort of thing than your average run-of-the-mill forensic pathologist.” Hey, it sounded good. “Anyhow, she’s perfected the injection on humans, but Jack is her first vampire.”
My mom watched as Jack bent down to retrieve a napkin that Mandy had dropped—no, really. My brother.
“Poor Jack,” my mother crooned. “No wonder he isn’t acting like himself.”
“So you see,” I went on, “Jack needs Mandy. She has to watch him closely, extremely closely, for all changes in his condition until he fully recovers.”
“But he will, right? Make a full recovery?”
“Of course. But not before the wedding,” I blurted. “Or the honeymoon. Also, with the antibiotic so new to his system—he just now started the treatments—he really shouldn’t be getting overly excited or upset.”
“Maybe we should forget the matchmaking prospects for now.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Which means you’ll be giving me my money back, of course.”
“Absolutely.” I nodded. “Minus one-third, that is.” Hey, I had shown up with Nina.
“Oh, well.” My mother, like the proper born vampire she was, shrugged off her worry. “I’ll just have to resign myself to the situation, I suppose.”
Yes!
She looked hesitant for all of five seconds before her expression seemed to relax. “My, but Remy’s looking very handsome tonight.” She shifted her full attention to—uh, oh—me. “And virile, don’t you think?”
And just like that, I was back to being the center of my mother’s attention.
I fought down a wave of panic and did the only thing I could do in such a situation. I nodded and mumbled “Um, yeah.” Then I traded the O positive for a shot of tequila and I started to drink.
Heavily.
“I think I’m turning into an alcoholic,” I told Evie on Monday evening when I walked into the office early. My head pounded and I felt even worse than I had the day after the bridal fitting.
Of course, some of my bad mood could be attributed to the fact that Mandy had left a message telling me to meet her at Wedding Wonderland in less than two hours for another try-on session. That, and my lack of sleep. It had been forty-eight hours since I’d heard from Ty. My feet had healed, but the images still lingered, making me nervous and anxious and totally uncomfortable despite the fact that I was wearing my favorite pair of Circle of Seven jeans and the cutest Rock & Republic corset top.
I’d rehashed the scene, searching for more clues, but other than the mustard and diesel smell, I’d come up with a big fat nada. Ash was still running prints and I was still sleeping with Killer.
“Are we talking voluntary drinking?” she asked me, handing me two new client files. “Or drinking to escape neurotic relatives? Because I’ve been there and done that, and it doesn’t count when your sanity’s at stake.”
“It was definitely an escape mechanism.” I perched on the corner of her desk, flipped through the files—a pharmacist named Tania and a kindergarten teacher named Beckie—and gave her the low-down on Sunday evening (minus the hunting and blood drinking, of course). “But I also did Jell-O shots at Wedding Wonderland,” I added once I’d finished, “and my mother wasn’t even in the same state.”
“How many Jell-O shots?”
“I lost count.”
“How many shots at your folks’ place?”
“Two. Three if you count the one that I threw at Nina when she brought Remy over to talk to me.”
“Two shots hardly makes you an alcoholic. As for Wedding Wonderland…Come on, I’d drink, too, in that situation.” She shivered. “We’re talking off-the-rack dresses.”
She had a point. “So no Betty Ford?”
Evie shook her head and handed me today’s mail. “You’ll have to find someplace else to hide out from your mother.” Her eyes lit with excitement. “Some-place like, say, a cruise ship.”
“Excuse me?”
She held up a message slip and waved it in the air. “You made the final cut,” she blurted. “You’re dinner cruising on the Hudson tomorrow night.” When I didn’t seem anymore clued in, she squealed, “You’re going on a group date with Mr. Weather!”
After calming an overly excited Evie (can you say too much caffeine?) and promising to bring back an autograph from Mr. Whoever—I walked into my office, pulled out John Schumacker’s card, and punched in his number.
“Schumacker, here. What can I do for you?”
“Tell me you got cut.”
“I’m dusting off the old life jacket right now.”
My ego deflated—the only thing I’d had going for me since I’d rolled out of bed and stepped in Killer’s latest surprise. “Are you sleeping with someone at the television station or what?”
“Don’t I wish,” he told me. “You?”
I thought of Ty. “Don’t I wish.” I stiffened against a wave of crappiness and tried to look on the bright side. Another date, another chance to mix and mingle and promote my business. That, and I could give John a nice little shove toward his own happily-ever-after with Rosie.
I’d called and fished for information at his insurance agency and discovered that her last name was Wheaton. She was single, had never been married, and had no kids. She liked sports, in particular basketball and baseball. She could bowl a perfect strike and she made a mean gelatin salad for the company picnic. She’d also been named insurance adjuster of the year three times running and—and this was huge—she liked John. I’d talked to three people—all males subject to my vampy wiles—and they’d confirmed that she’d mentioned him around the office.
I perked up. “What about your case?” I asked him. “Did she make it?”
“You bet your ass she did.” I could practically hear him rubbing his hands together. “She’s about to slip up. I can just feel it.”
“Sounds like this is really turning out to be your stepping-stone up the insurance fraud adjuster’s ladder.” Talk about a mouthful. “Why don’t you go out and celebrate?”
“No time. I need to check my camera and my video cam. And one of my boobs is leaking. I’m going to swing by La Perla and pick up a new one.”
“Just a quickie celebration. Maybe you and Rosi
e and a couple of beers?”
“Nah. I’ll wait until I actually crack the case open. Then I’ll do it up right.”
“A steak dinner and candlelight?”
“A keg and a disc jockey. I’m going to have a party. You’re invited.”
“Great.” Not.
I said goodbye to John and turned my attention to my computer. I spent the next half hour searching my ever-growing database for a few possibilities for my newest clients—both of which were courtesy of Manhattan’s Most Wanted—and dodging phone calls.
First call? My mother, who wanted to know if I’d heard of Dr. Pierre Mancuso, a born vampire and leader in viral research.
Second? Nina One, who wanted her jacket back.
Third? My mother, who wanted to remind me about the dinner party and inform me that she’d also invited Remy.
Fourth? My mother, who wanted to remind me about the dinner party again, and inform me that she’d also invited Remy’s mother.
Because, of course, one born vampire mother obsessed with grandchildren wasn’t enough. We needed two.
The Fifth call? A frantic Mandy.
“…forgot all about Claude. He’s the groomsman from Paris,” came her frantic voice. “He e-mailed Jack his tuxedo measurements last night and I was supposed to bring them with me today to give to Shirley because she has to order them right away or we run the risk of not getting the exact ones we want, but I’m already here and I forgot and Jack isn’t picking up the phone and I really, really need you to stop by our place on the way over here and pick up—”
“Consider it done,” I said, snatching up the phone.
“Oh, good. You’re there. I was going to try your cell next, but I was hoping you would be at the office instead, but just in case—”
“Mandy,” I cut in, closing out my computer file.
“What?”
“Breathe.” I clicked on shutdown and listened as she inhaled and exhaled. “Good girl,” I crooned. “I’ll stop by your place.” I closed the files and grabbed my purse. “Just relax. Everything is going to be okay.”
“Says you. Shirley managed to get her hands on an additional three dozen dresses.”
Your Coffin or Mine? Page 10