I deleted the messages and left a quick “Hey, how’s the date going?” on Mia’s voice mail.
After two glasses of blood and a Tums (between my thoughts of eBay, Evie, and ma mère, I was this close to tossing) I headed downstairs to pick up Killer.
He was thrilled to see me, as usual.
What are you trying to do? Starve me to death? I haven’t eaten a thing since you dropped me off on account of I just spent the past ten hours with two schnauzers, a shih tzu and three snotty French poodles. With their big asses in the way, I couldn’t even see the food bowl, much less get a bite to eat.
“Nice to see you, too,” I told him as we headed back to my apartment. “I missed your jovial personality.”
Bite me.
I flashed him some fang and his eyes widened. “Don’t tempt me.”
He sniffed. Geez, you don’t have to be so touchy. It was just a joke. Lighten up.
I tried.
Really, I did.
I fed Killer and tidied up what was left of my wardrobe, and I even called Nina One to tell her how happy I was that she and Rob had finally found each other. But no matter how I tried to distract myself and relax, I couldn’t stop thinking about Evie and the exorcism and the fact that Max still hadn’t called me back.
Or the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t call at all.
Twenty-two
I was just about to lick salt off Ty’s nipples when the Pussycat Dolls started singing.
Whoa. Wait a second.
There were no Pussycat Dolls on this particular stretch of secluded beach. Just palm trees and lots of sand and a bare-chested bartender named Raoul who’d appeared to replenish my margarita and offer to rub coconut oil on my back. Since Ty had appeared at the same time, I’d given him the job and Raoul had faded into the shimmering white sand.
I paused, salt on my tongue and Ty’s strong body slick and solid beneath me, and glanced around. The sand stretched for miles. The palm trees swayed. The water lapped at the shore. No, definitely no Pussycat Dolls.
I dipped my head and lapped at one male nipple. The nub tightened against the rasp of my tongue. Ty groaned and my own nipples throbbed and—
“…loosen up my buttons, baybeee…”
The song blared, shattering the sun-drenched fantasy. Ty faded, along with the beach and my margarita. Everything went pitch-black except for a tiny sliver of light just to my right.
Like a mad woman, I picked my way toward it. A few seconds later, I scrambled and shoved about a dozen throw pillows off my head. I rolled over to find myself flat on my back on the floor. I was wedged between the coffee table and couch, one hip numb from the shoe that was trapped beneath it.
Killer peered over the edge of the leather sofa and stared down at me. He blinked.
What? It’s not my fault that you toss and turn when you sleep. It’s not like I pushed you off.
I glanced at the tiny red claw marks that were rapidly healing on my upper right arm.
He blinked again. Purely circumstantial.
The song blared again and stopped me from reaching out to strangle my sorry excuse for a pet. I freed the trapped shoe, hauled myself to a sitting position, and groped for my cell, which had rolled a few feet away.
“What took you so long?” I blurted the minute I hit TALK. “It’s five o’clock in the afternoon. What happened to a few hours? You didn’t find an exorcist, did you?”
“Lil,” Max’s voice floated over the line, but I was on a roll.
Panic welled inside me and I was stuck riding the Freak-Out Express all the way to the first stop. “Please tell me you found one, otherwise with the way my life sucks, I’m just going to stake myself now and get it over with—”
“Lil,” he cut in again.
“What?”
“Chill, would you?”
“Easy for you to say. It’s not your afterlife on the line here.”
“It’s not yours either.”
Oh, yeah.
I held tight to the knowledge and tried to calm my pounding heart. It didn’t work. Sure, it wasn’t me. But we’re talking the next best thing to me. Evie was my right hand. My peep. Part of my posse. My friend.
“I’m so screwed,” I choked out, my throat suddenly tight.
“No, you’re not. The secretary knows the secretary of one of the bishops who knows the personal assistant for one of the parish priests who happens to do black-market exorcisms.” Hope fired to life even before he added, “You’re meeting him tonight at ten p.m., at St. Anthony’s in Newark.”
“Are you nuts? I can’t go to church.” Unless I wanted to end up looking like a walking strawberry.
“Not the church. There’s a coffee shop across the street. He’ll meet you there and you can tell him what you need. And he isn’t cheap. He does the exorcisms because he wants to rid the world of demons, but ridding the world costs money. He funds a lot of charities and so he’ll expect you to ante up.”
“No problem. Money is no object.”
“You don’t have any, do you?”
“Technically, yes. Theoretically, no.”
“Meaning?”
“My closet had a knock-down, drag-out with Evie, and guess who won?”
“Here it comes. First you blackmail me into finding an exorcist and now you’re going to extort money.”
“I prefer to think of it as a loan.”
“Are you going to pay it back?”
“No.”
“Then it’s extortion.” He sighed. “Tell him to call Moe’s and I’ll write him a check.”
“Have I told you that you’re my favorite brother?”
“Just make sure you keep your mouth shut about Viola.”
“Viola who?”
I hung up the phone, dragged myself to my feet, and headed for the bedroom. I took a quick peek in at Evie, who lay on the bed in the now frigid room. A layer of cold surrounded her. Wheezing and gasping echoed off the walls and sent a ripple of fear down my spine.
Tonight. Ten p.m.
I held tight to the hope and headed for the bathroom. My head throbbed and I felt as if someone had driven a stake right between my eyes. I stepped under the scalding spray of the shower and let the water drip-drop over me and wash away my troubles. My headache eased and my panic subsided. Unfortunately, said troubles waited on the other side of the shower curtain.
Other than what I’d slept in and a few trashed pieces, I was wardrobe-less.
The thought renewed the ache between my eyes as I put on my makeup and flat-ironed my hair. I added an extra coat of mascara to make myself feel better and glossed my lips with my favorite MAC juicy cherry. There. I felt a little better. At least I had something, I reminded myself as I pulled on the clothes I’d slept in last night. I could be going shopping au naturel.
Shopping.
The word was like a bright light waiting for me at the end of an otherwise dark smelly alley, and I hauled ass toward it. A half hour later, I was cruising one of my favorite boutiques.
Fifteen minutes after that, I’d found two perfect outfits, complete with shoes and accessories, and I was starting to think that things would actually work out.
I left the store in my fave of the two, a white off-the-shoulder peasant dress complete with some rocking silver Jimmy Choo stiletto slingbacks, and headed to work.
There were ninety-eight messages waiting, complete with a stack of mail and one irritated client who’d had an appointment that morning.
Geez, I missed Evie.
I spent fifteen minutes calming the client and promising a free prospect for the mix-up. I glanced at the mail and made it through four messages (all from my mother) before I finally gave up. I was too stressed and worried and this whole receptionist thing was hard.
I set everything aside and punched in Vinnie’s phone number.
“So?” I asked the second he picked up. “How was it?”
“Not so good.”
“She still didn’t like yo
u.”
“Oh, she liked me, all right. She loved me. Even asked to see my chest when I told her I’d waxed. I had to turn her down ’cause it’s still pretty irritated and I don’t want to get an infection. I held the door open just like you said and smiled at the waiter even though he spilled my water and nearly decapitated me with a freakin’ drink tray.”
“I’m sure it was an accident.”
“That’s what Carmen said.”
“And what did you say?”
“I said she was probably right and I tipped the guy anyway.”
“Atta boy. It takes a real man to turn the other cheek.”
“Are you kidding me? I felt like a pussy. It was the worst date of my life. Even worse than that time I hooked up with these redheaded twins—Heather and Leather. At least I thought they were twins. Turns out they were husband and wife and looking for a third in their little dress-up party. While I got nothing against a nice thong, I draw the line at a latex scrotum sac.”
“Little too much info there, Vinnie. If you tell me Carm asked you to wear a latex scrotum sack, I think I’ll stab myself with my letter opener.”
“The only thing she asked me was to go out with her again.”
“Cool.”
“Yeah.
“She must really like you.”
“My mama, too. Turns out her mother actually knows my mother. They volunteer at St. Anthony’s every Saturday morning for the weekly bake sale. Carmen’s even met my mother twice already and thinks she’s great. Who would’ve known Jersey was such a small world?”
I did a mental hand-slide into the air.
“So my fangs are safe, then?”
“Maybe.”
Okay, so where was the “Gee, Lil, of course your fangs are safe, in fact I’m naming my firstborn after you”?
“Vinnie, is something wrong?” Something other than the fact that he was going to have to wax, pluck, and coif for the rest of his life.
“This whole thing isn’t going exactly like I planned.”
“How’s that? You wanted the perfect woman. You met Carmen. You wanted her to like you and now she does. You wanted your mother to like her, and she does. I’d say it’s going exactly as planned.”
“Yeah, but my back hurts like hell.”
“The soreness will go away in a few days.”
“And the skin? How long will that take to actually grow back?”
“Maybe a week.” Or two. “The point is, it’ll grow and the waxing will get easier. Sort of. And you’ll forget you ever had unsightly body hair.” When he didn’t say anything, I prodded, “What?”
“Some kid stepped on my foot when I was picking up sausage at Machiavelli’s Deli this morning and I didn’t whack the little bastard. I told him not to sweat it. I even bought him a Yoo-hoo. Christ, I was nice.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It is. I’m an SOB, dammit. We piss fire and shit pain.”
And I thought “where love is only a credit card away” was lame. “You guys don’t actually print that on hats, do you?”
“Koozies. We got this guy in Newark that does it for less than five cents each if you order bulk.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have his number?”
“I had it in the glove box, but you made me clean that out. The only thing in there now is a pack of wipes and a CD of Michael Bolton’s greatest hits. What the fuck is happening to me?”
“You want the perfect woman and in order to get her, you have to become the perfect man. It’s a small trade-off.”
“That’s what I thought. But we’re talking greatest hits, as in two friggin’ CDs. I swear if I hear another love song I’m gonna puke. This ain’t me. I don’t like all that soft, fluffy shit. I’m the kind of guy who likes Metallica.”
“No, you’re not. We peeled that layer away, along with everything crude, lewd, and obnoxious. You’re now a guy who likes Michael Bolton.”
“A pansy, right?” I could practically hear him shaking his head. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being a friggin’ wuss. I want to be able to burp and fart and rough up the newspaper guy if he throws my Times into the azalea bushes. Is that too much to ask?”
Uh, yeah. “Listen to me, Vinnie. You have to stop focusing on the past and think about the future. Your wedded future. Does your mother like Carmen?”
“I mentioned her when I dropped off the sausage and she went nuts. Said she couldn’t wait to see her tonight and then she rushed to get ready for church. Said she was going to light a candle and pray to St. Benedict himself for us to name our first child after my father. Said I’d better snatch Carmen up right now if I know what’s good for me.”
“Then propose to the girl and make your mother happy.” And give me my Get-Out-of-Death-Free card.
“I should.”
“You would be a fool not to.”
“That’s true.”
“It isn’t every day that the perfect woman comes along. Stop worrying and embrace the new you. A little change never hurt anyone.”
“Tell that to my back.”
My next phone call was to Mia.
“How did it go?”
“Not so good.”
“No sex?”
“We only did it twice.”
“The impotent bastard.” Twice? In three hours? That was more action than I’d seen during the entire Clinton administration. By my own choice, I reminded myself. I’d already decided to give up meaningless sex and find my one and only.
An image of Ty appeared, and my brain went cha-ching!
I really needed to get more sleep.
“I was going to play the sex down a little,” Mia went on. “And just act like twice was okay. But I shouldn’t have to put up a front just to please some guy. I want a man who likes me for who I am. I shouldn’t have to pretend I’m something I’m not, should I?”
“No, no, pretending isn’t good. At the same time, a little change never hurt anyone,” I heard myself say for the second time that night.
“So who’s next?” she demanded.
I pulled up my list of prospects, which consisted of last night’s dud and Evie’s cousin, Word.
“I do have this one guy. I wouldn’t call him the most experienced lover on the block. He’s a little quick on the draw, but he definitely gets an A for effort.”
“Bring him on.”
“There’s just one thing.” I thought of Word and his rabbit fetish. “How do you feel about small, furry animals?”
“I love ’em. So does Pooky my python. He’s always up for a good snack.”
“I’ll set it up.”
Twenty-three
I was at the coffee shop at a quarter to ten. I sat in a booth and stared at the church that towered across the street. It was an old stone building with lots of stained glass and a bell tower. Lights gleamed from inside, casting colorful patterns on the concrete steps. The place radiated an old-world charm that reminded me of rolling French countryside and a certain stable boy named Andre.
He’d been my first crush—a young, strapping human—at a time when I’d been intent on rejecting my inner vampere and pissing off my folks.
Oh, wait…I was still rejecting my inner vampere and pissing off my folks. Only now it wasn’t intentional. Really. I wanted to embrace my born-vamp heritage. To do my duty and populate the species and give my mother a wallet full of grandkid photographs to pass around at her monthly huntress club meetings.
I just wanted to do it with someone I actually loved.
Like Ty.
I nixed the thought as soon as it struck.
I so didn’t love him. For all the obvious reasons, of course. And even more because he was a selfish jerk. That was the only explanation for The Kiss. If he’d had even an ounce of feeling for me, he would have wished me luck with my life and said adios. But nooooooo. He’d had to kiss me and remind me exactly how fiercely the chemistry burned between us.
We’re talking a full
-blown nuclear reaction, as opposed to the tiny flicker I felt whenever I was around Remy.
Which had been his intention.
The rat bastard.
Fergie started singing, indicating my new ring tone, and I whipped out my cellphone. For a split second, I thought maybe Ty had smartened up and decided to apologize. I glanced at the caller ID.
Make that a stubborn rat bastard.
“Why are you calling me when you should be proposing to the perfect woman?” I asked Vinnie.
“I’m getting to it. I’m just waiting until everyone finishes eating. Then right before they bring out the cake, I’m going to pull Carmen off to the side and ask her.”
“Does your mother like her?”
“She let her stir the spaghetti sauce.”
“She likes her.” I smiled. “Sounds like you’re all set.”
“Yeah. Shouldn’t I be more excited about this? I mean, if she really is the perfect woman, this ought to be easy?”
“Think of it like a Band-Aid. You’re dreading it, but once you work up the courage and just rip, it’ll be over and done with.”
“A Band-Aid,” he said. “I can do that.”
I hung up, slid the phone back into my purse, and went back to staring out the window. And trying not to think about Ty.
I pictured tomorrow’s outfit and I went over my list of questions for the black market exorcist Father Duke. But then ten o’clock rolled around, and then ten fifteen, and then ten thirty, and, hey, a girl could only think so much about one measly outfit and an exorcism. My only saving grace was another phone call from Vinnie.
“I think I should wait until after the cake,” he told me. “I wouldn’t want to upstage Italian Crème.”
“You’re stalling.”
“I’m just waiting for the right time. And for the Rolaids to kick in. And the wine. Then I’m gonna do it.”
“Swear?”
“Fuckin’ A.”
I hung up and my thoughts shifted to the scarred tabletop, then the checkerboard curtains. I stared at the menu and glanced at the ancient Coke sign that hung above the cash register.
The Coke bottle made me think of how thirsty I was, which made me think of the great big bottle of O positive sitting in my fridge, which made me think about warming said blood in my microwave. Warm blood reminded me of Ty and just like that, I was thinking about him and his kiss and—whew, was it hot in here, or was it just me?
Just One Bite Page 17
