Nice Girls Don't Date Dead Men

by Молли Харпер

  “Your lack of guile upsets me,” I said, watching as Jason approached a more receptivelooking Lonely One. I shook my head.

  As another whey-faced youth approached with beseeching eyes, I held up a hand and told him “No.” I took a long sip of my drink and closed my eyes.

  Sensing female distress, the bartender, a tall brunet with heavily lined brown eyes and a gold ankh stud in his ear, replaced my drink with a flourish and winked at me. “So, what brings you here tonight, besides karaoke?”

  Dick cleared his throat, drawing the barkeep’s unsettling attention from me. “We’re looking for Jay.”

  “He still owe you money?” the brunet asked. “I don’t want any trouble, not with this crowd in here.”

  “Yeah, but I gave up on collecting it a while ago,” Dick said. “Jay’s got more sob stories than an Oprah episode.”

  “In that case, he’s right behind you, warming up for his Pat Benatar medley,” the bartender said, grinning at me. “Get a couple of drinks in them, and every vampire thinks he’s Celine Dion.”

  I laughed as Dick turned and spotted a tall, towheaded vampire by the karaoke machine.

  Jay almost smiled, then realized who he was looking at and bolted.

  “Go to the back exit,” Dick said before dashing after him through the crowd. “Cut him off if he circles back.”

  “What is this, Cagney and Lacey?” I asked. “I am not Tyne Daly.”

  The barkeep shrugged. “Just take it outside, please.”

  Dick had caught up with Jay before he reached the front door, making my “circling back” unnecessary.

  Jay had the face of an angel but apparently no spine. Strong chin, Roman nose, full pouting lips, the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. And because of the parallels to Adam, I took a bit of an instant dislike to him. His eyes darted wildly as I approached. “Is this is about that cash I owe you? Because I didn’t know where to find you after your trailer burned down. My phone got cut off because of a mix-up with the billing. My dog got sick.

  Who is she? Is this your enforcer? What’s she going to do? Is she going to cut off my nose? I told you, man, not necessary. I’ll get the money to you—”

  “No, Jay, I kissed that money good-bye a long time ago,” Dick said, looking up to me.

  “Jay has a fixation on someone cutting off his nose.”

  “To spite his face?” I chirped. Both Jay and Dick gave me blank looks. “Nobody gets me!”

  “Jane, this handsome reprobate is Jay,” he said, standing Jay up and dusting off his shoulders. “Jay, this is my friend Jane.”

  “Hey there, how you doing?” he said, grinning with the relief of an unexpected reprieve.

  “Dick’s told me all about you. Don’t even try,” I lied, my tone a little snottier than I usually used in an introduction. I would not be charmed by a pretty face, I swore. I would not be charmed by a pretty face.

  “Just because I’m not collecting doesn’t mean I won’t let her kick you in the goods,” Dick warned him. “She’s got a lot of repressed anger.”

  “If it’s not about the money, why are you after me?” Jay whined.

  Dick nodded to me, which apparently meant I was in charge of questioning. I guess I was Tyne Daly.

  “A few years ago, you were working at Sunnyside Retirement Village—”

  “Yeah, they fired me over a few missing watches. Can you believe that?” he huffed, indignant.

  “I really can’t. In fact, I think it might have had a little more to do with you turning one of the patients into a vampire.”

  “What?” Jay cried. “Why would I do that? They were half-dead anyway.”

  “So you have no idea how Wilbur Goosen is still walking around?”

  Jay gave me an innocent look that I’m sure many girls have lost their wallets and/or undergarments to. “Not really, no.”

  Dick flicked Jay’s ear. “Talk to her, Jay.”

  “Why do you keep doing that?” I asked when Jay yowled.

  Dick paused flicking. “Because it bothers him. A lot.”

  “OK, OK, so I turned the old guy. Nothing wrong with that,” Jay insisted. “He even paid me, a thousand dollars. He was going to rat me out, man. I needed that job. Do you know how many night-nurse positions there are for men out there? Not a lot. People seem to think that we can’t be trusted around the patients or something.”

  “I can’t imagine,” I commented, my voice as dry as dust.

  “I didn’t even give him the full dose. Just enough to make him wake up in three days. Sort of a halfsie.”

  “So you did turn him into a ghoul? Dang it, Jay,” Dick growled. “You know we’re not supposed to do that.”

  “What’s the big deal?” Jay whined. “It’s not like he would have been very strong anyway.”

  I flicked Jay’s ear myself. “Yeah, no big deal. He’s just been bumping off human wives for about fifteen years, but what’s a few old ladies? I mean, you got a thousand dollars out of the deal, right?”

  “What’s it to you?” Jay whined. “I’ve heard about you. You’ve had your share of run-ins with the council.”

  “I’m going to be his step-granddaughter,” I said, flicking his ear again. “Ass!”

  “Ow!” Jay cried. “Stop with the ears. Look, I was supposed to get Wilbur out of the home before the coroner got there. That was part of the deal. He wasn’t supposed to be declared dead or leave a paper trail. I mean, this was before the Coming Out. Nobody knew we existed. But I’d never made another vampire before. I didn’t know how tired it made you. I went to my trunk to lie down, and by the time I woke up, it was already daylight, and the body had been moved. So I went to the funeral home—”

  “Because you were hoping he’d been embalmed and wouldn’t rise.”

  “How was I supposed to know his family wouldn’t pay for a full funeral?” He snorted.

  “Cheap bastards.”

  “Some people.” Dick shook his head piteously as we departed for his car.

  “So, we’re square, right?” Jay called. “I don’t owe you, and you’re not going to call council? Right? Dick?”

  Exhausted and confused, I slumped through the front door at River Oaks and passed the living-room door only to skid to a stop and backtrack. No, the eyes don’t lie. Mr.

  Wainwright and Aunt Jettie. Kissing.

  “What the?” They jumped apart. “What is going on? Were you two making out?”

  “No!” Aunt Jettie cried.

  “Yes!” Mr. Wainwright admitted.

  “Oh, come on. Dating Grandpa Fred wasn’t enough, now you’ve moved on to my surrogate grandpa? Wait, what about Grandpa Fred? Does he know?”

  “Yes,” Aunt Jettie said, the slightest hint of color slipping into her translucent cheeks. “He was very upset about it. He and all of your other step-grandpas are refusing to speak to me. It’s cut me off from almost half the dead people in town.”

  I glared at her. “So, you were sneaking off to be together.”

  “We didn’t want to upset you or make you worry,” Mr. Wainwright said.

  “We’re in love.”

  “Oh, yuck. I mean, I’m happy for you, but this is just a lot to absorb. We’ll deal with this later, OK? After I’ve had some sleep. I love you guys, both of you. But for the love of all that’s good and decent, make yourselves invisible or something when you do that.”

  19

  While were clans place special emphasis on male leadership, it’s important to remember to show proper respect to the packs’ older women. They don’t lose their teeth until well into their 90s.

  —Mating Rituals and Love Customs of the Were

  I didn’t know if or how I was going to approach Grandma Ruthie with Jay’s information about Wilbur. Fortunately, that decision was taken out of my hands when I woke a few nights later to find her in my living room. With Wilbur. And my parents. And my sister.

  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. No matter how many times I changed the locks, Grand
ma Ruthie always managed to get in. River Oaks being her ancestral home, she felt she has the right to come and go whenever she wants. I considered an electric fence, but Jettie said it would ruin the aesthetics of the property.

  “What are you guys doing here?” I asked.

  “Well, I thought that since you haven’t been able to make it to dinner lately, we would bring dinner to you. I’ll just pop this into the oven to keep it warm.” Mama clapped her hands in her excitement over “roast on the go.” She does love to take her food on tour. “I wanted to give you and your sister time to talk,” Mama stage whispered as she hustled me into the kitchen. “I think she’s ready to apologize to you.”

  “Couldn’t have stopped her, huh?” I muttered to my dad.

  He shook his head sadly. “I tried. I really tried.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be able to come see my own granddaughter?” Grandma Ruthie sniffed, stroking a china shepherdess that Jettie had loved. “Besides, I grew up in this house. The doors of River Oaks are never closed to an Early.”

  Aunt Jettie, who appeared behind Grandma Ruthie, rolled her eyes.

  “They will be if I get that electric fence,” I muttered.

  Grandma’s watery blue eyes narrowed at me. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing, Grandma,” I said, forcing myself to sit without any petulant flopping.

  “Well, I think it’s nice to see a big family getting together like this,” Wilbur said, making himself comfortable on the couch and grabbing the remote control. “Do you get the Weather Channel, Janie?”

  “You are losing control of your own home, pumpkin,” Aunt Jettie said.

  “I know.”

  “Well, are you going to offer us something to drink, or do you normally let guests die of thirst?” Grandma Ruthie demanded in a tone that had me jumping back to my feet. Man, she was good at that.

  “Would you like some iced tea?” I asked.

  “Sweet, please,” she said.

  Jettie appeared at my elbow as I emptied the tea jug. To be honest, I only kept it around for Zeb and Jolene, and I had no idea when it had been brewed. “Lace it with Ex-Lax. It will do her some good.”

  “Don’t start,” I warned her quietly. “Let’s just get everybody out of here as quickly as possible.”

  “What was that, honey?” Mama asked as she puttered around my cabinets looking for dishes that had been washed up to her standards.

  “Nothing,” I said, pouring the tea into a proper glass, with lemon. No laxative enhancements. I turned to find Jenny standing behind me, arms crossed, jaw set.

  “Yes?”

  Jenny threw up her hands. “Well?”

  “Well what?”

  “Well, Mama said you had something to say to me,” Jenny ground out. “She said you were ready to apologize.”

  I shot Mama a scathing look. “Well, that’s funny, because Mama said you were ready to apologize to me.”

  “Why would I apologize to you?” Jenny demanded.

  “I don’t know, for suing me? And by the way, I don’t think my lawyer would appreciate your being here right now.”

  “Now, girls,” Mama sighed.

  “I’m suing you to get what I deserve!” Jenny cried.

  “Trust me, you don’t want what you deserve,” I shot back.

  “This was obviously pointless.” Jenny groaned. “Enjoy your dinner, Mama.”

  “No, Jenny, don’t go,” Mama wheedled as Jenny stomped out. “You just have to stay and talk this through.”

  Grandma Ruthie must have cut Jenny off at the living room, because she and Wilbur were marching my sister back into the kitchen.

  “You don’t have to go, Jenny. You have every right to be here,” Grandma told her.

  “You’re staying.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure there are way more insulting things you can say to me in my own house.”

  I grabbed a bottle of Faux Type O out of the fridge because I knew it would bother Jenny that much more.

  “It’s not your home,” Grandma Ruthie sniffed. “It belongs to all Earlies.”

  “Well, that’s a handy piece of information. I’ll keep you guys in mind the next time I’m writing out the property-tax check. Or the check for the new boiler. Or the next time I have to make roof repairs.”

  Jenny huffed, indignant. “If it’s such a burden—”

  “It’s not a burden. I’m just tired of you and Grandma Ruthie talking as if I fell into this nomaintenance pile of clover. It takes time, hard work, and money to maintain this house.

  And frankly, I’m better prepared to do that than either of you.”

  “Because you’re a vampire,” Grandma asked snidely.

  “Yeah, because I’m a vampire. And you know, that’s the first time you’ve actually said the v-word. So thank you.”

  “I don’t want to go through this business again,” Grandma sighed, waving my concerns away like buzzing insects.

  “I don’t think we went though this business the first time,” I said. “You’ve mostly ignored me and any mention of my being a vampire.”

  “You know, when I was a young woman, people stayed dead.”

  “Sorry. This must be a real inconvenience for you.”

  “Don’t you sass me!” she screeched.

  Wilbur wagged his finger at me. “Young lady, you need to learn some respect for your elders.”

  “Wilbur, I don’t think you want to get involved in this,” I told him.

  “Let’s all calm down and talk about this like rational people,” Daddy said.

  “Jane, Jenny, stop it. You’re upsetting your father,” Mama said, wringing one of my dishtowels into knots.

  “Sherry, hush. Jenny and Jane have been due for this conversation for a long time. I think we need to let them have it.” Daddy tried to pull Mama and Grandma out the door, toward the living room, but Grandma wouldn’t budge.

  “No, there are things that Jane needs to hear,” Grandma Ruthie insisted. “You all have coddled her for way too long and let her get away with saying or doing whatever she wants. It’s time she heard the truth about how this family feels about her letting herself get turned into a vampire. We’re ashamed, Jane. We’re embarrassed. What you’ve let yourself become reflects badly on us all.”

  Daddy’s face flushed, and he actually raised his voice to yell, “Don’t you put words into my mouth, Ruthie—”

  “And Jenny was only trying to show you what you’re facing when you go out among decent people.” Grandma sniffed. “Decent people don’t want a vampire living in their neighborhood. You’re just making things harder for yourself. I really think the best thing for you to do is to deed the house over to Jenny. She can sell her house and give you some of the proceeds to start fresh.”

  “She’s finally lost her mind,” Jettie whispered. “Somebody slap her. Hell, slap her just to entertain me.”

  “Now, Mama, you’re not making any sense!” Mama exclaimed. “You need to sit down and rest. You’re not yourself right now.”

  “Start fresh where, exactly?” I asked Grandma Ruthie, the icy calm in my voice making the color drain from Mama’s cheeks.

  “A big city, like New York or San Francisco, where you’d find more of your kind,” she said, patting my hand for about a millisecond before drawing back.

  “In other words, a big city that’s thousands of miles away from you or anyone you know,” I said in the calmest tone I could manage.

  “Well, yes.” She preened, pleased that I was seeing things her way at last. Wilbur smiled broadly, the slightest edge of his canines peeking out over his lips, as he wrapped an arm around my grandmother. He looked so damn smug that the following just sort of slipped out:

  “You know what, I wasn’t going to do this. But since you brought up the whole undeadshame thing, I think you should know that your husband-to-be is not quite fully living himself.”

  “Jane, what are you talking about?” Mama asked.

  “She’s just being dramatic,” Grandm
a Ruthie huffed. “You know how she is.”

  “Yes, I just make random stuff up, like, for instance, that I saw Wilbur walking out of a vampire bar at four A.M. And also I did a little research on Wilbur’s special macrobiotic health shakes that you so lovingly cart around for him, the key ingredient of which is Sus scrofa domestica. Common domestic pig. You’ve been hauling around pig’s blood in your precious Aigner bag.”

  Wilbur didn’t respond. He merely stared bullet holes through me with those rheumy brown eyes. Grandma, however, turned four different shades of pissed off and seemed to be struck mute. It was too good to last.

  “You may have gone too far there,” Aunt Jettie murmured.

  “What a horrible thing to say! Why? Why would you say that?” Grandma Ruthie cried.

  “You’re always so sarcastic and hurtful when it comes to your step-grandfathers. So hurtful, so judgmental. You think I don’t hear your little comments, but I do. Can you tell me why you don’t think I deserve a little bit of happiness, a little comfort, in my last years?”

  “You’ve been having your last years since I was in middle school!” I cried. “And I think you’ve had more than your share of happiness and comfort in your last years.”

  “Why don’t you like Wilbur?” Grandma whined.

  “It’s not that I don’t like Wilbur. I don’t know him well enough to dislike him. No offense, Wilbur. But there are things in his background that don’t add up, things I think you should know about before you launch yourself down the aisle again. For instance, do you know how many times he’s been married?”

  “Just once, to his high-school sweetheart,” Grandma said, dismissing me.

  “Six times,” I corrected her, and nodded to her engagement ring. “You might want to ask yourself how many women have worn that tasteful solitaire over the years.”

  “You told me—you—you told me once!” Grandma Ruthie exclaimed, staring at Wilbur and her left hand in alternating horror.

  “I don’t think you can afford to throw stones here, Ruthie,” Daddy said.

  “John!” Mama cried.

  “That’s all I’m saying!” Daddy said, throwing up his arms.