Gerry Bartlett - Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs

by Gerry Bartlett

  “What’s with the manicure?” I couldn’t help noticing that each nail wore a slightly different color. I lifted her finger to examine the dress under it. It was cute. Actually might work on my size-twelve figure if there was elastic involved. Forget puff sleeves. Make my arms look fat. But Jerry liked me in purple. And loved a plunging neckline. I had visions of him seeing me walk down the aisle and . . .

  “Glory! I said I’m trying out colors for my wedding day.” Flo held out her hand. “Which one do you like?”

  I focused. Okay. The differences would probably not be apparent to the casual observer, but Flo and I compared the colors to the fabric swatch from her wedding dress until we finally settled on “Blush.”

  “Perfetto! Grazie, Glory.” She hugged me again. “I knew you would help me. Now I have another favor. Did you see this?” She pulled a local newspaper out from under her magazine.

  “What is it?” I glanced down and recognized the picture. “Ray? He’s coming to town too?” Ray a.k.a. Israel Caine. The other man I’d left in L.A. Okay, I admit it. My heart, which barely beats anyway, gave a little jig of happiness. Both my guys, hot vampires who I loved and had decided I should give up, were coming to town. Would either of them want to see me after the way I’d given them the brush-off?

  Well, Jerry wouldn’t have a choice, would he? And Ray? I grabbed the paper. He was singing at a venue at the South by Southwest Music Festival. The festival was held every spring in Austin to give music producers a chance to hear new talent. The article claimed that Ray was coming with the owner of his record label, another vampire, believe it or not. Maybe Ray would drop by the shop. I’d been his mentor, and it had only been a few weeks since Ray had claimed he loved me. But then I’d dumped him. Not an action guaranteed to keep his love light burning.

  “Glory? Look at me.” Flo fiddled with a bottle of nail-polish remover. “That favor?”

  “What is it, Flo?” I threw down the paper. How pathetic. I’d been on my own for less than a month, and I was already imagining scenarios where both men in my life were begging for me to come back to them. And then there’d been Rafe’s interesting behavior. I’d looked like hell. Surely he’d been playing me, hadn’t really meant that he—

  “Glory, would you quit ignoring me? And blocking your thoughts?” Flo frowned at me and shook my arm. “This is serious, mia amica.”

  I hid my smile. Didn’t everything to do with my friend’s wedding rank right up there with the desire for world peace and half-price sales? “Okay, Flo, I’m riveted. What’s up?”

  “Ray. Israel Caine. He’ll be in Austin right before my wedding, sì?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t like the calculating look on Flo’s face. She was blocking her thoughts too. But then, she always blocked her thoughts. Not that I usually tried to pry into them anyway. But this was an emergency. “What do you want, Flo?”

  “I want Israel Caine to sing at my wedding, Glory. You must ask him for me. Please. He’ll do it for you. You saved his life. Sì?”

  “He’s done a lot for me too, Flo. We’re even.” I frowned down at that purple dress. Six to eight weeks for delivery. But Flo would figure out a way around that minor technicality, probably by throwing money at it.

  The major issue? Ray and Jerry at Flo’s wedding. Sounded like a recipe for disaster to me. The two men hated each other. Because I loved both of them. And Rafe would be there, of course. I’d ask him to be my date. He’d love to jump into a brawl with my name on it. I smiled. The future looked positively Glory-ous. (Sorry. Couldn’t resist.)