Sucker for Love: The Dead-End Dating Novel

by Kimberly Raye

  “I always wear Chanel in the hot tub, myself,” offered Brigitte Gaston, who sat nearby, her tips being refilled by an overenthusiastic twenty-something (did I mention the forty percent gratuity?).

  “Me, too,” offered another vamp.

  “I prefer Contessa or Bill Blass, myself.”

  “I didn’t know Blass did swimsuits …”

  “Did he really stuff a body in your crawl space?” The question came from a very pale-looking Mandy. She sat in the far corner, getting her feet pumiced.

  The entire room murmured agreement and Mandy turned an even lighter shade.

  I gave her a wink and an encouraging smile and she seemed to relax a little.

  “You want appliqués?” DoraLee drew my attention as she finished pushing back the cuticles on my pinky. “I’ve got cowboy hats. Flowers. Or if you’re a sports fan, I could do you up with some Dallas Cowboys stars. Or these little spurs.”

  “Just a clear coat of polish and I’ll be good to go.” It was ten P.M. and I was late for my nightly stakeout at the Quick Pick.

  For lack of a better lead (I’d talked to everybody old enough to remember the sorcerer, namely one ancient-looking biology teacher who’d informed me that the only place he remembered seeing Mordred was in high school detention), I’d been keeping an eye on the convenience store.

  Obviously, he wasn’t a chain smoker because he hadn’t been back. I was counting on the fact that he wanted to keep a low profile (he hadn’t aged a day, which wouldn’t have been the easiest thing to explain to the few people who remembered him), so I’d ruled out him stopping off for cigarettes during the day.

  He’d be back, and when he showed up, I would be there.

  And I wouldn’t get ambushed this time.

  I finished drying my nails and pushed to my feet. I whispered a quick “They’re all a bunch of crazy vampires” to Mandy and a “Remember the Chanel booties and the Rebecca Taylor Onesies” to Nina, who was getting a little freaked herself what with all the talk of serial vampires and dead maids and ungrateful daughters who refused to settle down and procreate the species. Guess who? I spared a quick glance at DeWalt, who was having his first threesome (pull your mind out of the gutter, already) with Veronique talking one ear off and Brigitte gabbing in the other, and then am-scrayed on the pretense of making a beverage run.

  A few minutes later, I flapped my way into a tree across the street from the Quick Pick and perched on a small branch. My infrared vision did a sweep of the area and came up with zilch. I tamped down my disappointment and settled in to watch.

  Two hours crept by and my wings started to get tired. What? I’d been at it five nights straight. I soared to the ground, closed my eyes, focused on my heartbeat and did a quick shift back to megalicious vampire.

  I stretched my legs and did a little shake and shimmy to get the kinks out. Much better. I walked a few paces back and forth and was just about to go back undercover when I heard the familiar voice.

  “I told you that was her.” The comment came from the driver of a navy blue Ford Taurus parked midway up the street.

  My ultra-night vision zeroed in on Cheap, who sat behind the wheel, a pair of binoculars glued to his eyes.

  “How was I supposed to know?” Cheaper sat in the passenger seat and munched a bag of pretzels. “It could have been any bat.”

  “How many pink bats do you see flying around here?” Cheap set the binoculars aside, grabbed a small case sitting on the dash and climbed out of the car. His partner followed.

  I could morph and get the hell out of there. Now. But the store was closing in less than ten minutes and my ma would kill me if I came back empty-handed.

  Making a beeline for the front glass door, I zoomed across the street. They barely made two steps before I reached the store. Inside, I grabbed a six-pack of Red Bull, a few bags of Doritos for Mandy and several boxes of wine.

  No, really. An actual box.

  I dumped everything on the counter, signed my Visa slip (complete with a tip to cover the toothbrush I’d swiped during the Mordred sighting) and grabbed my bags. I was just walking out of the store when Merlin’s henchmen finally caught up to me.

  “Stand down, vampire.” The carrying case on the dash turned out to house a sedative gun. “I knew you wouldn’t heed Merlin’s warning.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That you’re here looking for Mordred.”

  “Mordred who?”

  “Call Merlin,” Cheap told Cheaper. “Tell him she’s back and she’s interfering again.”

  “I’m doing no such thing,” I told the man as he reached for his cell. I held up my bags. “We’re having a little soiree at the nail salon.” When he didn’t look convinced, I flashed him my newly painted tips.

  “That doesn’t prove you’re not here for Mordred.”

  “If I’ve got my hands full of Red Bull and Doritos,” I pointed out, “how am I supposed to follow a demented sorcerer? Pu-lease. We’re out in the middle of BFE and I’m wearing three-inch patent leather sling-backs. I’d definitely need a car.”

  “Not really. It’s not that far—” Whack! Cheap’s hand clamped over Cheaper’s mouth and the rest came out like “mumhumwhamumwhemamum.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Cheap hissed. “You almost told her the location.”

  “I didn’t tell her he’s at—” Whack!

  “Jesus, Mary and Joseph. You almost did it again. Just keep your mouth shut.”

  “Listen, fellas, I’d love to stand around and watch you guys play slap and tickle, but I’ve got a party waiting.” I sidestepped them and headed across the street, all the while conscious of the two men behind me.

  I strained my ears for the cock of a gun or the slap of footsteps. They’d gotten the jump on me before, but only because I’d been distracted.

  That wasn’t going to happen again.

  “Should we stop her?” Cheaper asked.

  “From doing what? Merlin said to take her in if she interferes. So far, we haven’t caught her doing anything but spending money.”

  That’s right, boys.

  But as pleased as I was to have avoided a massive headache and Merlin’s deadly finger, I was doubly upset because Cheaper was right—I hadn’t been doing anything but shopping.

  Certainly not finding or saving Esther.

  And her time was running out.

  I dropped off the supplies at the nail salon—Nina was getting rhinestone tips and Mandy was seriously considering retiring her uterus early. Particularly since my mom had decided to break her vow of silence when it came to her precious boys and share a very vivid description of the twenty-nine hours of hell—aka labor—she’d endured to give birth to Jack.

  She’d spilled it about the water retention and the fat ankles and the constant craving for pomegranate juice mixed with deer urine and gypsy blood.

  When I got back to NYC, my bro was so not living that one down.

  “Where have you been?” my mother demanded. “You left hours ago.”

  “I got lost.”

  “You’ve got vampire instincts, dear. That’s better than a GPS.”

  “They were out of wine at the first store, so I had to keep looking until I found some.”

  “A box?” My mother eyeballed the Zinfandel I’d set on a nearby table.

  I grinned. “You wanted to try new things.”

  “I was thinking more a cucumber face mask as opposed to my usual cinnamon and honey. Speaking of face masks”—she pinned DoraLee with a stare—“have you had any luck with the tomato and dill recipe that I downloaded off the Internet?” She smiled at Mandy. “I just know you’ll love it. It’s wonderful for your pores.”

  “But I’m allergic.”

  “Nonsense.” My mother waved her newly done nails. “It only causes a reaction if you consume it. This is an external beauty treatment. It’s totally safe.”

  I listened to my mom cite a few convincing testimonials from various Disc
overy Health episodes she’d watched on the subject, while the rest of her fellow Hunt Club sisters provided the occasional, “I saw that, too,” and “Oh, that’s so true.”

  “I’ve got a wine cellar,” DeWalt announced after tasting the boxed Zinfandel. He held up his glass. “If any of you ladies are interested in something a little more palatable than this cardboard.”

  Go DeWalt.

  A collective murmur went through the place and five minutes later, almost everyone had cleared out.

  Did I mention that BVs went for a good Chardonnay as fiercely as a tasty O+?

  The only ones left behind were Nina, yours truly and Mandy, who’d promised to stay and try out the new tomato and dill concoction. My excuse? Somebody had to stay and make sure Mandy followed through.

  “You’re not really going to put that on your face?” I asked her once the place had emptied.

  “You aren’t really going to make me, are you?” She flashed me a knowing grin before weariness crept across her expression. “I’m actually kind of tired. With my days and nights so mixed up now that I’m off my normal routine, I’ve been feeling a little out of sorts. And your mom’s been running me ragged. Don’t get me wrong. I like spending time with her. I think it’s good for us to get to know each other so well, but I’m dying to call it a night.”

  “I’ll join you,” Nina said.

  “No more crying over Rob,” I reminded her.

  “Rob who?”

  “Attagirl.”

  “You want to try the facial?” DoraLee held up a small plastic mixing bowl filled with red paste.

  “I’ll take a raincheck. But can I interest you in a suave, sophisticated single who enjoys Bingo and the occasional copy of Reader’s Digest?”

  “I’m not going out with Elmer.”

  What? I promised him I’d try.

  “But my ma might,” DoraLee added. “She’s in her eighties now. Still has all her teeth and hates tapioca. Likes Bingo.”

  I smiled. “It’s a date.”

  I parted ways with Nina and Mandy and headed for the Bigby place. Yeah, yeah—been there, done that. But I was out of options since the Quick Pick had closed for the night.

  An hour ticked by as I walked the perimeter of the property and kept my eyes peeled for anything unusual. He had to be keeping her somewhere nearby. It was all about power and since he’d spent most of his time here, it only made sense that this would be the site for the ritual.

  He’d probably offered up toads and cut the heads off a zillion chickens right there in the living room.

  I was just about to peek through the window where the current residents were watching an episode of Trick My Truck when my cell phone started singing. I snatched it up, noted my home number and punched the ON button.

  Play it cool, I told myself. Drop a few subtle hints about Nina and her condition and let Rob come to the conclusion on his own.

  “Stop being a shit,” I told Rob. What? I’d been thinking about Ty constantly since we’d called it quits. I was entitled to a little venting.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I know you love Nina. Why can’t you just tell her?”

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “I mean it. What is it with male vampires? You feel something, you should say so. We’re not friggin’ mind readers. It’s four letters, for Damien’s sake.”

  “Nina and I split. It’s over. I’m going my way and she’s going hers.”

  “So one of you changes direction.”

  “What if she doesn’t want me?”

  “What if she does?”

  He grew silent for a long moment. “If you called to bitch me out, you can forget it.”

  “I didn’t call you. You called me.”

  “Oh, yeah. I need clean sheets.”

  “Why do you need clean sheets? You sleep on the couch.”

  “Not tonight. I’ve got a date with the Tanner triplets.” I could practically see him rubbing his hands together in anticipation. I could also see the whiskey bottles he’d emptied to build up his courage.

  “I figure it’s time I moved on and got Nina out of my system completely,” he said, his words slurring just enough to confirm my suspicions.

  “You’re drunk.”

  “I am not drunk.” Which sounded more like drrrrrunkkk. “I’m perfectly capable of making a coherent decision”—make that dee-si-jun—“and I’ve decided I want to have sex.”

  “Rebound sex.”

  “One is rebound sex. Three is empowering sex.”

  More like greedy bitch sex. Rob being the greedy bitch, of course.

  “The couch won’t be nearly big enough for everyone,” Rob went on. “We have to use the bedroom.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t. Listen to me and get this through your fogged brain, if you lay one finger on my bed, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

  “How’s that? You’re not exactly into bloodshed.”

  “I’ll tell Dad that you loaned his chainsaw to Viola.”

  “That was you.”

  Oh, yeah. “It’s your word against mine. He might believe me and he might not, but he’s sure to get really pissed just contemplating the possibility. And you know what that means.”

  When my dad got mad, he became impossible to work for. He scaled back paychecks and vacation days and generally gave his managers hell.

  And Rob would be in his direct line of fire.

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Are you really willing to chance it? Unless, of course, you don’t need the fourteen days—all expenses paid—in Hawaii that he’s planning on throwing in as part of his managers’ compensation package next month.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Mom’s here and we’re now BFFs.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “See how easy it is for me?”

  “Fine, then. I’ll just go to a hotel. But it’s your loss.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’d have the honor of owning the bed that witnessed a triple conquest. Who knows, it might bring you a little luck in the sack.”

  “You really are a shit.” I hit the OFF button and called my oldest brother, Max. After a brief explanation and a “Get over there right now and I’ll owe you for the rest of my afterlife,” I hung up and fumed.

  Rob was a dog. A total player. An inconsiderate one, at that. He wanted to deflower three women at once to prove his inebriated prowess and I was supposed to feel privileged that he chose my bed for the action?

  Forget it. He could conquer triplets somewhere else.

  Like, say, Miller’s Creek.

  The thought struck as I sat in the motel room just after midnight. Nina and Mandy had already crashed and my mom had yet to return from the wine fest at DeWalt’s, so I had the bathroom to myself. I stared at the digital list on my phone of all the things I knew about Mordred.

  He’d lived at the Bigby place.

  He’d spent a lot of time in detention.

  He’d dated the Homecoming Queen.

  He’d deflowered the Homecoming Queen.

  He’d deflowered the Homecoming Queen’s sister.

  He’d done them both in the backseat of his Chevy Impala while parked at Miller’s Creek.

  Shit.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I bolted to my feet, snatched up my purse and headed for the lobby to talk to Elmer.

  “Cain’t you read?” Elmer grumbled when I rang the bell for the tenth time and he finally emerged from the back room. “It says to come back later. That means after I finish watching Tyra Banks. I DVR’d her earlier today. Talk about a pretty gal.”

  “Sorry, Elmer, but it’s an emergency.”

  “You hurt?” I shook my head and he grumbled, “Then it can wait till my show’s over.” He started to turn.

  “I found you a date.”

  He stopped in his tracks and a gleam lit his eyes. “DoraLee?”

  “Her mother.”

  He seemed
to weigh the news. “Ah, hell, that’s close enough. What can I do you for?”

  “I need to know how to get to Miller’s Creek.”

  “Ain’t much of a creek now on account of the drought a few years back. Kids even stopped going up there to park and started hanging out at the drive-in.” He grinned. “Took my own missus up there way back when. That creek has seen it’s fair share of excitement over the years, let me tell you. It was the luckiest spot in town for half the young men around here. Many a boy became king out there.” Elmer winked. “If you know what I mean.”

  My heartbeat shifted into overdrive and desperation swamped me. “That’s what I’m counting on.”

  This can’t be right.

  I stared at the directions Elmer had written down for me and then back at the barren stretch of earth flanked by a dense forest on three sides. The fourth was a thick wall of rock that shot up at least twenty feet to a flat stretch of land above. I drank in my surroundings once, twice, my senses absorbing everything, from the buzz of crickets to the musty smell of the trees.

  According to the paper, I was standing on the bank of Miller’s Creek. The top date spot, according to the Lonely Fork Gazette.

  Maybe ten years ago.

  I stretched my imagination and struggled to picture a crystal clear flow of running water, a moonlit sky, a picturesque waterfall trickling over the towering cliff.

  Make that fifty years.

  I couldn’t imagine this shroud of trees and dried-up patch of dirt luring any girl out of her panties, much less two girls at the very same time.

  Still …

  Leaves and twigs crackled beneath my feet as I started to walk. I made several passes around the area, looking for any place where a body might be stashed. A cave. An abandoned well. A freshly dug hole in the ground.

  Nothing.

  I ran my hand over the rock wall, searching for a hidden lever that might crack it open and reveal a secret room.

  While I didn’t watch much TV, I’d seen every Batman episode. For obvious reasons.

  I’d just floated up a few feet to tug on a tree branch when I heard the desperate “Lil?”

  My concentration broke and I almost crashed to the ground. My feet hit hard and I leaned over as pain bolted through me.