Biting Serendipity: April Fools For Love (Biting Love Short Bites Book 4)

by Mary Hughes

  Then Thor clapped his hands and everyone blinked and seemed to wake. Camille handed me a tray and said briskly, “Back to work.”

  “Yes, boss.” I grabbed my tray, anchored the edge against my waist, and started filling it with beer.

  “Sera!” Jenny sailed up next to me, grabbed her tray, tucked it against her waist in the same manner, and plopped a pitcher on it. “Want to walk home together tonight?”

  I sighed. “Sure.” If only to keep her out of more trouble.

  Her smile went fifty watts brighter.

  At two-fifteen a.m., I got my coat from behind the bar and put it on. “Ready, Jenny? Time to go.”

  Granny had already gone home. She had her own little place, good because she had an on-again, off-again thing with a retired champion yodeler that was currently on. They got kinda loud.

  Jenny and I were the only employees who didn’t live here. When Camille had taken over, she’d converted the upstairs and basement into “apartments.” As in, every once in a while when one of the vampires or residents, including Buddy, slipped and call it a “household,” they’d immediately cover with a quick, “I meant apartments.” My roommates and I, after a heated discussion, had decided the term household must mean a group of vampires and humans living together cooperatively.

  Jenny followed me out the bar’s front door. As I gingerly picked my way through the heads, hearts, and other assorted body parts on the sidewalk, I waited for her to say something about them. She didn’t. Strange, but none of the departing customers had said anything either. As if they hadn’t noticed. That vampire compulsion must be pretty strong.

  “Chilly tonight,” she said.

  “Not bad for the end of March. Look out.” I stopped her from stepping on a hand. Also strange, but the parts appeared to be fewer…and larger. Almost as if bodies were joining back together. My skin crawled, not all of it goose bumps from the cold. Hairs tried to leap off the goose bumps when I saw the dumped vampire hearts were now in chest cavities instead of scattered on the sidewalk. Rebecca’s healing had been miraculous, but at least she’d been in one piece. This was creepily Terminator-like, where globs of mercury automatically rolled back together, rose, and started attacking. I urged Jenny faster along the sidewalk.

  Despite the hour, we walked. We always walked, everywhere. A typical small town, Meiers Corners was as safe as bubble-wrapped cotton balls. Well, except for the occasional rampaging group of monsters.

  I saw my co-worker to her street, waved goodbye, then trotted a bit faster the rest of the way to my apartment on 8th and Eisenhower. On the lookout for more attacking rogues, I was never so grateful as when I opened my own front door.

  A hulk jumped out at me, clamping me in bear-trap arms. “Sera!”

  Adrenaline hit my system. I shrieked and began to struggle, but it was useless. The arms around me were strong, and I couldn’t punch or kick or…

  Shock had made me stupid. I recognized that voice. I’d walked through the valley of vampires only to be ambushed, ironically, by my friend.

  “Gabriella, hi,” I said weakly.

  “Tell us everything.” She released me. She was a tall goddess of a woman with streaked hair the color of M&Ms and hoops running like Slinkys up both arms and ears. She was a few years older than me and an artist. Talk about coloring outside the lines. Her entire life had been spent drawing curves and curls in stick-straight Meiers Corners—and being told she was wrong. Now, she taught Art Survey and hated every minute, and was getting out of Meiers Corners as soon as she found a job that would pay for her living in or near New York.

  “You kissed Thor?” Abigail grabbed my hands and pulled me toward the couch. My other roommate was a limber brunette as agile as the fold-up computer tablet she used to plan her history lessons or note her research. “Tell us all.”

  “How’d you know about that?”

  “We heard it from Ms. Gruen, who got it from her daughter, who heard it from Jenny.” Gabriella popped a beer and pressed the can into my hands.

  “Jenny’s a blabbermouth.”

  “Your loss, our gain. Dish. All the juicy details. Now.”

  I took a swig of amber goodness—I’d need the anodyne to the pain they were going to inflict, because both women were diligent when it came to their jobs and relentless when it came to gossip. “I’m giving her such a tongue-lashing next time I see her.” I set the half-empty can on the end table.

  “Her dream come true.” Abigail picked up the can and set a coaster under it.

  “What?” I said, startled. “What do you mean by that?”

  Gabriella smirked. “Oh, you know the poor thing has a woman-crush on you.”

  “Woman-crush?” I gave her a hairy eyeball. “Is that even a word?”

  “It’s as legit as bromance. Now stop avoiding. Start dishing.”

  “Yes, dish. Thor.” Abigail grabbed her tablet and looked at me, fingers poised. “Sexy vampire. Kiss. Does this mean the Curse of the Fangtastic Flat has returned?”

  Abigail was writing a history of vampires in Meiers Corners. Our flat figured prominently in the last decade.

  She swept back a few pages. “Eight years ago, when Elena O’Rourke lived here, she met master vampire Bo. Then Nixie lived here—where she met vampire lawyer extraordinaire Julian. Liese met Logan, Rocky met Dragan, and—”

  “Yes, I know.” My friend, Nixie, had christened the place the Fangtastic Flat and the name stuck, even though there’d been nothing for five years. “But that was years ago.”

  “A few years is nothing to a vampire.” Gabriella flopped down next to me and reached past to try to grab my beer from its coaster.

  I slapped her hand away. “Mine.”

  “So, after a few fallow years, has the curse returned?” Abigail raised her eyebrows and typing finger suggestively.

  I rolled my eyes. “What do you think?”

  “I think you have the motivation.” Gabriella got to her feet and headed toward the kitchen, pausing in the doorway. “Since you haven’t gotten laid in months.”

  Friends. Gotta love ’em—’cause they have too much blackmail on you.

  “The reason I haven’t gotten any is the same reason I’m absolutely certain the Fangtastic curse hasn’t returned—I have roommates.”

  She returned, popping her own can. “You certainly do.”

  “Nixie and the rest didn’t. All the motivation in the world doesn’t matter diddly without opportunity.” Since the downsizing economy had swirlied us all, everyone had roommates, mine being coworkers at Meiers Corners Technical College. This being Meiers Corners, they were nosy roommates. Even a sex-machine vampire like Thor would have a hard time getting his romance on with the constant threat of instant phone video and 4G wireless uploads to Y’allTube. “Besides, we’re not absolutely sure they’re vampires.”

  Given the night’s events, I knew that was a big fat hairy fib, but I said it to distract them from the interrogation, and it worked.

  “We decided that’s because they’re pretending to be human, remember?” Abigail swept on her tablet, cleared her throat, and began to read. “The first couple vampires passed without notice. If apartment-super Bo Strongwell was a little too good looking or gaunt undertaker Solomon Stark was a little too stereotypical, nobody said anything.”

  “Thank you, Ms. History,” Gabriella said. “Y’know, if this was Game of Thrones at least we’d have some naked people while we got the exposition. Or sex. Sex is good.”

  “Sexy And Fun,” I muttered.

  “Fine.” Abigail’s glare was pointy. “Seven years ago, Camille, a preternaturally sexy female—”

  “An oversexed vampirella,” I said.

  “Yes, that’s good.” Abigail tapped out a few words and tapped in the new phrase.

  “See, there’s some sex,” I said to Gabriella.

  “But it’s all the women,” she said. “Abbie should throw in a sexy naked guy. Luke, or better yet Thor—”

  “Camille,” Abi
gail said, and this time I was glad for her interruption, “tried to open a den of sin. Later that year, a rampaging fanged monster ran through our streets. Well, didn’t that let the cat out of the bag?”

  “Cat out of the bag,” Gabriella repeated. “I still say that’s cliché.”

  Abigail glared. “Who’s writing this? When you do the work, you’ll get a say in phrasing.”

  “Yeah, but Sera came up with oversexed vampirella—”

  “Sera doesn’t mouth off. As I was saying, cat out of the bag. They pretended nothing happened but those of us paying attention knew.”

  “And we are definitely paying attention now.” Gabriella set her can down, leaned over to snatch mine, and pressed it into my hands. “Spill. How was Thor? I bet he was awesome. I bet he was like instant sex. Did he bite you?”

  “No! No. It was just a kiss.” The idea of Thor’s mouth on my neck, biting me, gave me a sudden, heady flush. I covered with a swig of beer.

  “Just a kiss?” She waggled her eyebrows, a trick she had.

  “Damn.” I hate the eyebrows of truth. “Fine, he was a great kisser. It was downright thrilling.”

  “And…?” More eyebrow waggling.

  My only defense was pretending ignorance. “And what?” I managed to make innocence sound suspicious as hell.

  Naturally, Gabriella saw right through it. “How far did you get? First base, second, third…?”

  Abigail set down her tablet computer, closed her eyes and crossed all her fingers. “Please be fourth, please be fourth.”

  “Sorry to disappoint. We only got to first before Jenny interrupted us.” I didn’t say out loud that we probably would’ve gone around all the bases, and maybe a couple times, but my face must’ve shown every mental home run because Abigail groaned and Gabriella wiggled a bit in her seat.

  “You must be peeved.”

  “No, I’m glad. You both know why I try to be a good example. It would be all kinds of awful if I’d screwed that up now.”

  Gabriella snorted. “Because what you really need is more structure in your life.”

  “I’m all about structure,” Abigail said. “But I have to admit, I’m with Gabriella on this. You should cut your wild child a little slack every so often.”

  “What about the April Fools’ Day competition?” Gabriella said.

  “What about it?”

  “That’s fun.”

  “We heard you’re entering,” Abigail added brightly.

  I scowled at her. “Jenny is getting her mouth washed out with anesthetic the next time I see her. Yeah, Camille decided yours truly was the epitome of Sexy And Fun, and the perfect person to represent Nieman’s in the contest. Somehow, I have to come up with a responsible prank to play on April first.”

  “‘Responsible’ and ‘prank,’ do not go together,” Abigail said. “Unless you’re also in the habit of combining things like radical Buddhist and government intelligence.”

  “Ha. You know what I mean. Look, I have to come up with a prank, play it on April first, and capture it on video for the judging at eleven p.m., or I’ll be out of a job.”

  Silence. They knew what that meant.

  Sure, I had enough money to pay for day-to-day living expenses from my teaching job at MCTC. The problem was Granny.

  She didn’t go through her midlife crisis until late, but she made up for it by stampeding through it in a spectacular way. Surprising as it may seem, stripping at seventy was the least of it. Each time she cut loose, it was more dangerous and did more damage—to her. I was worried she had a death wish.

  Except for the ballroom dancing.

  She’d been talking about taking lessons for a while now, but hadn’t done anything because her meager savings barely paid for her retirement apartment, and the fees for the full year program were eye-bleedingly expensive, as in, I’d seen them and my brain had exploded. Unless I wanted her to get a part-time job—and the one she wanted was at Cox World, our local adult toy store; with the trouble she got into with simple foundation garments, I could just imagine what she’d do with gadgets that both fit in orifices and took batteries—I had to come up with the scratch myself.

  My second job wasn’t only so I could keep an eye on Granny. During St. Patrick’s Day season, aka March, we barmaids made spectacular tips. And because there’d been no assurance the job would continue after April first, my boss had promised a bonus if we stuck with the job for the whole month. That bonus alone would cover the joining fee and at least the first three months of dance lessons.

  Problem was, I didn’t have the money, Camille did. All of it. If I’d had cash in hand, I wouldn’t have worried so much about getting fired. But my boss scooped everyone’s tips into a kitty, promising to divvy them at the beginning of April and add the bonus on top.

  I just had to last until then. A few more days.

  “So, you have to do the contest,” Abigail said finally.

  “Yes. Moreover, I have to come up with something spontaneous and fun enough to win. For me, that’ll be hard.”

  “For you, Ms. Wet Blanket, impossible.” Gabriella shook her head. “Too bad she didn’t ask me.”

  “You don’t work at Nieman’s,” I said sourly.

  “Yeah. I could’ve come up with a great gag.”

  I sighed. “I wish you could help…” I snapped my fingers. “You can. Both of you.”

  “Not me.” Abigail waved her palms. “Camille told you to do this, and I’m not interfering with any orders of hers. Frankly, she scares me.”

  “Strictly speaking, she said Thor and I have to do it, but—”

  “Together?” They both shrieked it, their jaws practically hitting the floor. It would’ve been funny if I hadn’t been the one on the hook.

  “Yes, me and Thor, but we’ve already decided we can’t work together. We’re too different.”

  They exchanged a glance. It was obvious they thought I protested too much.

  As if words could steamroller the fact they were probably right, I kept talking. “Besides, with two of us doing this separately, we double our chances. It’s only logical.”

  “Logical?” Abigail started tapping and swiping on her tablet computer. “I do not think that word means what you think it means.”

  “Let me get this straight,” Gabriella interjected. “You have the opportunity to work with Mr. All-the-Right Stuff, and you’d rather work with us?” Both eyebrows were up.

  “Y-es? No.” Stupid eyebrows-of-truth. “Doesn’t matter. I just need one of you to run the camera.”

  “You can run your own camera, if you do this prank.” Abigail flipped her tablet around to show me the screen.

  An open refrigerator door filled it—and on one shelf in a pickle jar, was a truly scary monster head.

  “Yikes.” Vampire heads, chopped off at Nieman’s… I forced my heart back down my throat. “Where will I get a monster mask that realistic?”

  “With an inkjet printer,” Abigail said.

  Now my jaw dropped.

  “You print out a life-size color picture—matte paper—waterproof it, roll it into a jar so the picture is flush with the glass, and fill it with liquid.”

  “It looks so real,” I said.

  Abigail nodded. “Real, yet responsible. It’s not a prank that stains anyone’s teeth or ruins their clothes.”

  “Or forever scars them via plastic wrap on a toilet bowl.” Gabriella grinned. That was her favorite trick.

  “No, I’m only frightening the crap out of them.” I swigged the rest of my beer and crushed the can. “Best of a bad lot. Let’s do it.”

  Chapter Three

  That night I brought a ruler to work, to measure the shelf height of the refrigerator behind the bar for the monster jar, and maybe to play naughty school teacher with Thor… No, to plan. Tonight I’d measure, tomorrow I’d do a test run, and the next day I’d play the prank.

  Maybe overkill on the planning, but I’d learned the hard way, when a high-school Jenny showe
d up where she wasn’t supposed to because I was doing something I wasn’t supposed to, that winging it led to disaster.

  Gabriella talked me into doing the actual prank at Good Shepherd’s bell choir rehearsal. I’d tuck the monster jar under the big low C bell. Most of the ringers were members of the Lutheran Ladies Auxiliary Mothers Association. Nothing funnier than a bunch of proper LLAMA ladies running helter-skelter, arms waving wildly—except those same ladies wildly waving bells.

  But first, I needed to do a test run. I decided Nieman’s was perfect.

  I approached the bar cautiously, wondering if there’d still be body parts on the sidewalk, even though I hadn’t heard anything about it on the Volka Polka radio station or read about it in the Zeitung, our newspaper.

  Someone had cleaned up. The window was replaced and the sidewalk was pristine except a scorch mark or two. I knew it wasn’t Camille—she wouldn’t clean unless the thing was so moldy it stood up and moaned “brains.”

  I wondered how this would go in Abigail’s history. The body parts all Terminatored into vampires and walked away. Or maybe, The legends are true, and the vampires were incinerated by the sun. Solar combustion would explain why I’d never seen any vampires outside during the day—or at least, never too long. Maybe a combo of the two, the rogues had walked away and their spilled blood had incinerated.

  The bar door opened to Thor’s usual disapproving glare. I grinned and pretended I was my usual well-behaved self as I trotted past him and stopped to let my eyes adjust—and what was the world coming to when his glare would’ve disappeared if he knew what I was really up to?

  Once I could see, I stashed my coat behind the bar, casually removing the ruler, and glanced around for sexy glares. Thor was chatting with Granny, who’d gotten here before me. Normally I’d worry what havoc she’d gotten into, but this time I pumped air and mouthed a silent, Yes. Distracted, neither would walk up on me mid-measure.