LIPSTICK AND LIES AND DEADLY GOODBYES

by Jodi Vaughn

  His eyes narrowed. “It’s not as simple as that. But, yes, we do require blood—human blood—to keep us strong.”

  “I don’t drink blood, and I don’t intend to start. Unless you can make me a vampire who survives on wine, then we have nothing to discuss.”

  “You don’t understand,” he hissed as he leaned down, obviously frustrated. “You don’t have a choice about drinking blood. You’ll long for it, have cravings stronger than anything you’ve ever experienced. You’ll want blood more than anything, even sex.”

  My eyes widened with the ferocity of his words, and I was suddenly acutely aware of how little I was wearing. I’d slipped on booty shorts and a tight cami before I went to bed.

  A tingle swept up the back of my neck, and heat crept across my face as I crossed my arms to glare at him.

  “You may try to resist at first. Seeing how hard-headed you are,”—his gaze slid down my body before meeting my eyes—“you probably will. In the end, stubbornness won’t matter. At first, you will feel weak and lethargic, but then it will get worse. You’ll have the worst cramps you’ve ever had. It’s your body’s way of demanding you feed it blood.”

  I shook my head. “Nope.” I pursed my lips together. “No way, no how.”

  “We’ll see.” He dangled a set of keys under my nose. “Your Volvo is in the driveway. There was a dent in the front fender that I straightened out. Hardly noticeable.”

  “You brought my car back?” I took the keys and blinked. “Why would you do that?”

  He ignored my question and continued glaring at me.

  “You need to wake up. You’re a spoiled housewife who wouldn’t survive a minute alone in the real world. You’re going to need my help whether you like it or not.” He turned on his heel and strode out into the street without looking back.

  He was the second man in a twelve-hour period that had walked out on me.

  Chapter 10

  I rested my face against the cold, dining-room window. Dawn spread across the sky, illuminating the blindingly bright white blanket of snow that stretched across every lawn and rooftop in my neighborhood. Every tree limb was heavily frosted, while yellow daffodils sagged toward the ground. It was only a little after eight, but the neighborhood kids were already bundled up in bright jackets and hats, dragging their sleds behind them as dogs tiptoed carefully through the unfamiliar white stuff. I wondered how many moms had set out bowls in the backyard to catch some clean snow for snow ice cream.

  In the South, when it snowed, we took advantage of it: from sledding and snowmen to snow ice cream.

  My heart cramped. I wished my girls were home so we could play in the snow together. The last time it had snowed, I hadn’t been a very good sport about it. I hadn’t put on the right kind of socks, and the wet snow had seeped into my boots. I’d tried sledding, but Scooby came barreling toward me and knocked me off the sled. I’d face-planted right in the snow. The kids and Miles had thought it was funny, but that was it for me. I’d gone inside and made hot chocolate while they played.

  Scooby raced across my yard, barking at the neighborhood kids and marring my perfect blanket of snow with his paw prints.

  The girls always wanted a dog, but Miles didn’t want an animal in the house. I was secretly relieved when he told them no. With my obsessive-compulsive nature, I think I would have gone crazy trying to sweep up the dog fur.

  I had no idea how long I was standing at the window, but it was long enough for my feet to ache.

  I dragged a chair over to the glass and sat down, placing my cell phone in my lap and checking to make sure I had the ringer on.

  I told myself that I was just enjoying watching the kids play in the snow. I was just checking to make sure the girls hadn’t called. I was a strong woman. No matter what happened, everything would be all right.

  But the lies I told myself burned away like paper in a fire.

  I was sitting there, watching for Miles’ familiar Tesla to turn down our road and come home.

  I was waiting on a miracle.

  When noon hit, I gave up and dragged myself back to the guest bed. I was emotionally and mentally exhausted. The adrenaline had finally worn off, and it was all I could do to make it to the bedroom. I squinted and used my hand to shield my eyes from the sunlight coming through the slats in the blinds. I tugged the heavy curtains closed to block out the light.

  I needed sleep. Once I woke, I would shower and dress. I would put on makeup and do my hair. I would be ready for Miles when he came home. Because I knew, in my heart of hearts, that he would come back.

  Chapter 11

  I woke up shrouded in darkness. I sat up in the bed and glanced at the window. The outdoor lights were on.

  Damn. I’d slept the entire day away.

  The doorbell chimed, and I scrambled out of bed.

  I glanced at my reflection and stopped in my tracks.

  Despite not having any makeup on, my skin looked fabulous, and my eyes sparkled. My eyes were still red from crying, otherwise I looked pretty damn good. I threw on some yoga pants and a white, long-sleeved shirt.

  I hurried to the front door and caught myself before rounding the corner. I stopped and took a deep breath.

  Maybe Miles was back to say how sorry he was with a bouquet of roses and tears in his eyes. Perhaps he was utterly and truly apologetic and hated himself more than he could say. He didn’t want to lose our family. He didn’t want to lose me.

  I forced myself to walk slowly to the door. He needed to wait as much as I needed to see his face. He needed to wait on me.

  I tried looking through the glass but couldn’t see clearly. I’d forgotten to turn on the front lights, and the shadowy figure was impossible to make out. I grabbed the doorknob, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

  “Rachel, thank God. I was beginning to think you weren’t going to answer.” Liz Thomas, my neighbor and the head of the neighborhood book club stood in a long, red wool coat and brown boots. She held up two bottles of wine and pushed her way inside before I could stop her. Liz’s husband Michael was an anesthesiologist that worked at the hospital with Miles.

  Holy shit. It was book club night. The one night a month where the ladies in our neighborhood gathered with wine to discuss the book we’d read.

  The book discussion usually only took ten minutes. The wine drinking took two hours. Basically, it was a wine club disguised as a book club. Calling it a book club looked better to the Baptists in the neighborhood, though.

  “Liz…I completely forgot about book club.” I stood like a deer in headlights.

  “I figured you did. With this freak snowstorm in the middle of March, you probably thought no one would show up.” She grinned, showing a set of perfect, white teeth. “Don’t worry. I called the other girls, and they are on their way. Everyone has to walk over since they can’t get their cars out of the driveway.” Liz narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Rachel, are you feeling okay? Your eyes are all red.”

  “I…I have a cold.” My brain kicked in, and I answered quickly. If they thought I was sick, then maybe they would go home.

  Liz was a free spirit, a stay-at-home wife who loved to paint abstract art and practice yoga. She usually dressed in boho chic fashion, the only woman I knew who could pull that look off. Paired with her short, jet-black hair and large, blue eyes, the style totally worked for her.

  The doorbell rang again. Liz shoved the wine bottles at me and pulled off her coat to reveal a flowing, floral-print dress paired with tights. She turned and opened the door.

  “Thank God, book club is back on.” Meredith Groves sauntered in, wearing a knit hat with an oversized camouflage jacket. She’d pulled her blond hair up into a ponytail and had forgone any makeup. She pulled off her coat, revealing a sweatshirt and jeans. She had tucked her jeans into polka-dot rain boots. Meredith’s husband, Allen, was a drug rep.

  “If I had to spend ten more minutes with my kids, I was going to lose my mind.” Meredith didn’t smile as sh
e spoke. She had three children all under the age of five. She was one of the few moms in the neighborhood that didn’t dress to impress. She hated Pinterest, freely spoke her mind, and didn’t give a rat’s ass who she offended. I secretly wished I could be more like her and not try to please everyone.

  “Why isn’t the wine open?” Meredith shot me a death stare. I didn’t mind. At least she hadn’t commented on my appearance, unlike Liz, who noticed everything.

  “I’m not feeling well. I think I’m getting a cold.” The quicker they left, the better.

  “Perfect. If you get sick, then I get sick. Bobby will be forced to take a day off and take care of the kids,” Meredith said dryly. “Pour the wine, and I’ll drink after you to make sure I catch whatever you have.”

  Liz cringed and gave Meredith a serious side-eye. Meredith didn’t notice because she was already making her way into my kitchen to the cabinet where I kept my wine glasses.

  “I was telling Meredith that I forgot about book club tonight. I’m sorry.” I coughed for good measure. “Plus, I’m not feeling well.”

  “Here, just sit over there.” Meredith pointed to my barstool. “I’ll fix you a glass of wine. You’ll feel better after that. Or, you’ll throw up. Not sure which.”

  Before I could say another word, the doorbell rang again. Female voices and laughter filled the house.

  Judith Beckett, Michelle Adams, and Gina Randle walked into the kitchen, all bundled up in their winter coats and laughing at something Gina had said.

  “Rachel, I brought my famous sugar cookies. You know the ones with the decorative icing.” Judith smiled and opened the lid on her box as she waited on compliments from the other women. Judith was married to John, who was the President of the bank. Judith was a housewife who made Martha Stewart look like a slacker. Everything she did was perfection.

  I could only stare at the cookies. They were gorgeous, something one might only see in a famous French bakery. They looked like Victorian embroidery with tiny flowers and snowflakes. It must have taken her days to decorate them. They were too pretty to eat.

  “How many calories do these have? Are they gluten-free?” Gina picked up an intricately decorated snowflake with white and pale blue icing and studied it carefully. Gina pulled off her coat, revealing black yoga pants and a matching zip-up top with thumb holes in the sleeves. Gina was the athlete of our book club. She had shoulder-length, blond hair, soft brown eyes, and an incredibly slim body, which she achieved from miles of running and taking a spin class every day. She counted every calorie and fat gram in everything she put into her mouth. Gina was married to Harvey who was an investment manager.

  “I don’t know how you do it.” Michelle shook her head. “I barely have time to get a shower every day. I’d never have time to make cookies as beautiful as those.”

  Michelle’s light brown hair hung in loose waves over her shoulder. She’d worn a pretty red blouse that flowed with each movement, and black jeans tucked into tall boots. Michelle always looked stylish, but she was also on the run all the time, hurrying from one child’s activity to the next, so she kept things basic and rarely accessorized. She had twin boys in second grade. She was married to Stanley who own the local furniture store in Charming.

  “I got the idea off Pinterest.” Judith placed the box of cookies down on my kitchen counter and turned to me with a frown. “Rachel, are you feeling okay? You look a bit pale.”

  Out of all the housewives, Judith was my least favorite. It wasn’t because she always showed up looking picture-perfect with her beautiful, long, brown hair and professional makeup, and her designer jeans, heels, and strand of pearls. It wasn’t the fact that, unlike the majority of us, she worked outside the house as an interior decorator. Even with that, she managed to keep her home neat as a pin, and her two girls dressed like they were going to Sunday brunch. It wasn’t even the fact that her husband doted on her like she was a queen. The reason I resented Judith was because she was always so full of energy. It both annoyed and drained me at the same time.

  But, right now, in my moment of desperation with my world falling apart, I loved Judith. I knew that, out of all these women, Judith would do the right thing and send me to bed and make everyone leave. Judith would do the perfect thing because that’s what she was. Perfect.

  “Actually, I’m not feeling well. I think I got whatever’s going around.” I knew I could be vague about my illness. There was always something going around school when you had kids.

  Michelle frowned and took a step back.

  I liked Michelle because she made no bones about not being the perfect mom. If she managed to feed her kids without someone going into a meltdown or gluing the dog’s tail to the floor, she counted it as a win. Michelle’s husband wasn’t much for helping around the house, especially when it came to cleaning up. In truth, Michelle was raising and taking care of three kids instead of two.

  Gina shook her head and took the glass of wine that Meredith shoved into her hand.

  “This should make you feel better.” Meredith handed me a glass and poured a liberal amount of red wine into it. “Alcohol will kill anything. Trust me.” Meredith frowned and then looked at me. “Wait, we’re missing Nikki.”

  “She’s not coming tonight,” I managed to speak. That bitch would never be allowed inside my house ever again.

  “Too bad. Let’s move into the dining room and get started, shall we?” Judith smiled and waved everyone into the room like it was her home. Usually, I was a much better hostess, but after the last twenty-four hours and with my life now in shambles, I figured I was doing well just to have avoided a nervous breakdown in front of the group. If that happened, my secret would be out, and everyone would know that my perfect husband had cheated on me.

  “So, our book this month is Karen Marie Moning’s DARK FEVER.” Meredith held up the book on her Kindle. “Did everyone read it?” She narrowed her eyes and looked around the room.

  Everyone’s head was down.

  It was a well-known fact that a lot of our group lied. I looked at Michelle and already knew that bitch hadn’t even opened the first page. She was looking intently at her wine glass instead of making eye contact. Half the time, she didn’t even show up for book club, or when she did, it usually came out that she really hadn’t read the book. She needed book club more than most of us, though, as it was a couple of hours away from the mayhem that was her life.

  Judith took a tiny bite of her cookie and gave Meredith her full attention. Judith read the book. I knew because Judith was a perfectionist. She wouldn’t just read the book, she’d write a review online about it and listen to the audio version, as well. Judith was an overachiever. And probably secretly hated by the rest of the women because none of us measured up to her lofty standards.

  I looked at Gina. Gina was hard to figure out. But because she was so disciplined, I figured she probably read the whole book. Or at least enough to know what the hell the plot was about.

  I looked at Meredith. She pulled some paper out of her purse. I arched my brow. She had questions written up. I was surprised. Meredith wasn’t usually this prepared. I craned my neck and noticed that she’d pulled the list from the internet.

  A smile played on my lips. I knew then that Meredith hadn’t read the book. She’d probably just read the blurb to get an idea of what it was about. That’s why she had the questions from the internet: to distract us.

  “Rachel, what did you think about the book?” Meredith looked directly at me.

  “I loved it. I’ve read her entire series. I know that we don’t usually read paranormal, so that’s why I picked this book.” I looked at the other women. For just a moment, talking about books and being forced to interact with these ladies made me forget my problems.

  “I love Karen Marie Moning. I’ll read anything by her,” I added. I meant it, too. Right then, I wished I had some powerful magic of my own to make the nightmare of my life go away.

  “What about you, Michelle?” Mere
dith looked at her and took a sip of wine.

  Michelle went wide-eyed and then blinked several times. I kind of felt bad for her.

  “I loved the heroine. Very unique.” She grabbed a decorative sugar cookie and shoved the whole thing into her mouth.

  “What about the character did you like?” Meredith cocked her head.

  Michelle pointed to her mouth and held up a finger as she slowly chewed the cookie.

  “Well, I loved the book,” Judith spoke up and set her glass of wine down on my dining room table. She stood so everyone could focus their attention on her.

  “I found the plot intriguing and interesting. And the hero, very sexy. She tells the story in a way that is magical. The way she pulls you into the story and makes you want more is the touch of a true artist.” She grew serious and nodded at the rest of us. “You know, in that respect, I find I have a lot in common with Karen Marie.”

  “You do?” Gina frowned.

  “I truly do.” Judith placed her hand over her heart. “You see, we are both creative artists. We just work in different mediums. She crafts the perfectly honed word, while I, well. I use…”

  “Dough?” Meredith snorted.

  Judith’s smile faltered, but she quickly recovered. “You see, an artist’s way is different for different people. While Karen Marie touches people with her words and worlds, I touch people with my time-consuming crafts that bring a smile to everyone’s face.”

  “Why the hell is she referring to the author as ‘Karen Marie?’” Gina leaned over and whispered to me. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t know her personally.”

  I bit my lip. I felt a chuckle growing deep in my gut and knew what would happen if it just rolled out. For the first time in twenty-four hours, ever since my life had gone to hell in a handbasket, I was on the verge of laughing. Not just laughing but laughing my ass off until I hurt.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure what you just described is wine. Wine brings a smile to everyone’s face.” Meredith snorted.