17
Never leave a vampire social gathering without thanking your host. A faux pas like this can lead to feuds lasting hundreds of years.
—From The Guide for the Newly Undead
It took another hour and fourteen outfits before I could get everyone out the door and get ready for the party. I’d decided to actually attend, since (a) it would get Missy off my back, and (b) Mama was likely to swing back by the house to see if I really left or not.
I knew that Ophelia had told me to stay home, keep a low profile, but if nothing else, attending the party would prevent further “Oh, come on, shug!” calls from Missy. Also, I kind of wanted to see what the gossipy Undead would say about me to my face.
Besides, Jenny and Grandma had a wonderful time “helping me,” perched on my bed, picking each and every outfit apart. The pink dress made my ankles look chunky. The yellow sweater made me look sallow. The green jacket made my shoulders look like a linebacker’s.
I finally agreed to Mama’s chosen outfit—a navy-blue dress I’d had since high school, complete with a white sailor’s collar—just to get them out of the house. And then I ran back upstairs to put on black slacks and a soft blue cashmere sweater that Aunt Jettie had bought for me on my last birthday. Touched by the gesture, Jettie agreed to stick around the house that night, just in case Jenny and Grandma returned to help themselves to the silver.
Missy lived in a brand-new subdivision called Deer Haven, in an unassuming little two-story ranch house that looked exactly like the twenty-seven unassuming little two-story ranch houses on the same street, most of which were empty. It was easy to find the party, as Missy’s place was surrounded by cars. From the front door, I could hear smooth jazz piano and people chattering and laughing. Before I died, my idea of a good party had involved an ice cream cake. Somehow, I doubted that would be offered at this soiree.
Before I could register someone coming to the door, Missy had it open and was squealing in greeting. “Jane, I’m so glad you could make it!”
I just said, “Here I am.”
I’d brought a bottle of merlot that a library patron had given me for Christmas as a hostess gift, because I figured Missy would be into that sort of thing. Fortunately, I’d remembered to remove the gift tag. As I handed it over, Missy cooed, “Oh, shug, you didn’t need to do that. Come on in.”
Missy hooked her arm through mine and steered me into the foyer. The walls were sponged a subtle beige. There was a maple table with a bowl full of business cards and a votive of roses. Beyond the living room was a huge, airy, and empty kitchen decorated in a rustic Tuscan motif. It was obvious the kitchen was never used and, given Missy’s dietary habits, never would be. About thirty vampires were circulating pleasantly in the living room, admiring Missy’s collection of blown-glass sculptures, all of which looked vaguely anatomical to me.
These were definitely newer vampires. There was no mystery here, no mystique. They were all cheerful and shiny and clean-cut. Some of the guys were wearing polo shirts, for goodness sake. They still seemed remotely human, as if they were clinging to remnants of their former lives. I kind of liked them.
“Now, y’all know the rules!” Missy lectured in a preschool teacher’s tone, dragging me through the crowd. I bumped into several people, sloshing their drinks. Missy seemed oblivious to this. “A few minutes of chat, exchange business cards, and move on! We want to meet as many people as possible, don’t we?”
Missy handed me a frosty cocktail glass, glittering with ice and mint, led me around the room, and forced me into several introductions. Everyone else was prefaced by their profession—Joan the vampire party planner or Ben the vampire tax attorney—or the brilliant things they were doing with radio advertising or blood brokering. I was introduced as “Jane Jameson, she used to be a librarian.” Or “You must know Jane, she’s Gabriel Nightengale’s childe.” It felt like the time Mama dragged me around the Girl Scout campout, determined that I would have the most signatures in my friendship book. The words “Stay sweet, have a great summer” still make my stomach turn.
And much as at that third-grade campout, I was not a hit at the cocktail party. At first, the undead movers and shakers were thrilled to meet me, but as soon as my name was mentioned, their lips twisted into snide little grins. They’d smirk and ask me about the price of a Grand Slam or tell me they’d heard the tombs over at St. Joseph’s offered great leverage. As soon as Missy pulled me away from one group, they’d snicker and bend their heads together to talk about me as if I couldn’t hear them. Some of the female vampires seemed downright hostile when Missy told them who I was.
I could only guess that they were former “acquaintances” of Dick’s and had heard the Denny’s bathroom story.
If Missy noticed the insults, she certainly didn’t show it. That bright “success” smile stayed plastered on her face, even as one particularly snarky vampire HR manager told me he was surprised to see me socializing with Missy, since he’d heard I didn’t get along very well with Dick Cheney.
“No, we’re actually good friends. I really like Dick.”
“Yes, dear, I’m sure you do—like dick.” He snickered.
“Well, I walked right into that one, didn’t I?” I muttered as Missy gave a tinkling laugh and introduced me to her good friend, the vampire dental hygienist.
And so it continued for almost an hour. I got past the point of embarrassment or even irritation and merely thanked the stars that Ophelia wasn’t there to do an “I told you so” dance. It was clear that I would not be welcome in polite vampire society—or even this vampire society—for some time. And from what I had seen tonight, I wasn’t missing much. I just wanted to go home, take off my uncomfortable shoes, and burn the business cards that had been stuffed into my hand.
By the time I met a sharply dressed antiques dealer named Hadley Wexler, I had prepared myself for the worst, when Missy said, “You must get to know Jane Jameson. She lives in River Oaks, that fabulous house out off County Line Road.”
“Oh, really?” Hadley smiled, showing perfect, even white fangs in a smile that was actually friendly. “I’d love to get a look inside that place. I’ve always thought it’s a shame it’s not on the historical tour. Anytime you’re interested in selling some of the family dust collectors, you just let me know.”
“I’ll keep it in mind,” I promised, thinking of the hair ball Jenny would cough up if I sold so much as a thimble from our great-great-aunt’s sewing basket. It might be worth it.
Hadley and I chatted pleasantly for a minute on the difficulties of sorting through old family collections. Then she sipped her mojito and spluttered a little. “Wait, Jane Jameson? Oh, yes, I’ve heard of you.” Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere striking matches?”
I gave an awkward little laugh. “Excuse me?”
“You know, creatures like you give vampires a bad name. Some of us are just trying to live our unlives here. But then you go and start killing your own kind because you think, ‘Oh, I’m a vampire, I guess I have to do something evil today.’”
Missy giggled gaily and quickly led me away. “You have to watch Hadley. She gets a bit snippy when her iron gets low.”
“I think I just need to go, Missy. It was really nice of you to invite me, but between the Walter thing and the Dick stories, I’m just not going to be able to connect in the way I think you want me to. By the way, Dick and I are just friends.”
“Oh, honey, don’t say another word.” She clucked, holding both of my arms in a sisterly clench. She shot me a sympathetic look and shook her head. “And don’t worry, I don’t believe a word of it. I mean, you’re hardly his type.”
It took me a second to realize I’d been insulted.
“It’s just going to take a little longer to fit in with the new crowd, that’s all,” she assured me. “You know, it might help if you were a little more closely connected to the community. I have a lot of places here in Deer Haven still available. It’s a very vamp-friendly neighborhood, close to the shopping district. I’d be happy to show you something in your price range. A lot of the vampires here tonight are going to be moving in soon, so you’d already know some of your neighbors. Besides, it must be awfully lonely rattling around that old house by yourself. We don’t want you to become some undead cliché, now, do we, honey?”
I surveyed the room in all of its prefab splendor and realized I’d rather set myself on fire than live near any of these vampires. And the house creeped me out. It was sterile, artificial, like silk flowers on a grave. Missy had technically never “lived” there, and it showed. River Oaks might have the occasional roof leak and mold issues, but at least I was comfortable there. I knew the history of every room. I had memories there, a legacy. I couldn’t just give it up to live in a perfectly decorated little box.
“Wow, you can take the Realtor to a party—”
“But she’ll still be a Realtor.” Missy giggled and took another sip of her drink. She gave a cheery little wave to a guest who passed by.
“I’m really happy at River Oaks. It’s sort of a family-responsibility thing. I couldn’t just give it up. But thanks.”
She gave an apologetic little shrug. “Well, you can’t blame me for trying. Your aunt Jettie felt the same way. But if you ever change your mind, you let me know, OK? I could find a really nice place for you, something more suited to your needs. Now, I should probably see to some of the other guests. Just stay a little while longer, please? I want to see you mixing and mingling, all right? Good girl.”
Missy wandered into the crowd and left me staring at an orange glass sculpture that looked like a foot. God, I hoped it was a foot. Without the social buffer Missy provided, I was left standing in the middle of the room, looking at other vampires’ backs. I wandered into the kitchen and appreciated the enormous decorative bottles of vegetables preserved in olive oil. I finished off my drink and calculated the amount of time I had to stay before I could politely catapult myself out the front door.
Through the sliding glass door, on the back deck, I saw a tall, lanky vampire in blue jeans and a plaid cowboy shirt leaning against the railing. Dick looked terminally bored. Whom Missy thought he was going to “network with” at this shindig, I had no idea. The fact that he was probably enjoying himself less than I was was some consolation, considering it was possible that he was telling people he’d done dirty bendy things to me. Since no one was paying any attention to me, I didn’t think it would hurt my reputation further if I talked to him.
Dick turned away from the moonlit, perfectly manicured lawn and took a long pull from his beer bottle as I slid the glass door open. “Hey there, Stretch.”
“Do you mind telling me why there are stories circulating about you and me committing indecent acts in the photo booth at the mall?”
Dick snickered. “That’s funny. I heard it was the bathroom at Denny’s.”
“You knew?” I smacked his arm, using the closed-fist “frogging” technique Jenny used to use on me.
“Ow!” he yelled. “Yes, I knew. Missy told me she’s heard it from a bunch of people! And then some ass-hat tax attorney in there asked if it was true that you had ‘exotic piercings.’” As my face contorted in alternate waves of disbelief and nausea, he assured me, “I told him no!”
“You knew people were saying those things about me, and you didn’t do anything?” I cried. “You couldn’t have told me that your girlfriend knew?”
“They were saying those things about me, too!” he exclaimed, laughing as he halfheartedly fended off my blows. “You don’t hear me complaining.”
“People say those things about you all the time.” I grunted, hitting him again.
“Well, yes, but I’m used to getting credit for the bad things I’ve actually done, not just things I’ve thought about.”
“Do you have any idea who would say stuff like this?”
“You mean, besides me, because it would really piss off Gabriel?”
“It’s not you, though, right? Because I would have to hurt you.”
Dick reached into a little blue Coleman cooler and pulled out a beer for me. “It’s not me, but only because I hadn’t thought of it. I wouldn’t get all worked up about it, Stretch. I mean, all of these vampires don’t have anything better to do than sit around gossiping like a bunch of old fishwives. It’ll blow over as soon as someone else lands on their radar. Just ignore it.”
I used the deck railing to pop off the cap and clink the bottle against his. “This has been an extremely crappy week.”
“Well, tell your good friend Dick all about it,” he said, patting a spot on the railing. “It’ll keep me from having to talk to any of those yuppie freaks in there.”
“What are you even doing here?” I asked. “I thought you and Missy had one of those ‘no strings’ friends-with-benefits things going.”
“Me, too,” he said, pursing his lips. “I don’t know what happened. She called and told me about our spin on the rumor mill. And she started pouting and fussing, and before I knew it, I was apologizing. For things I hadn’t even done! And then, to make it up to her, she made me promise I’d come to this thing tonight. She talked in circles until I don’t even remember most of the conversation. She is a hell of a salesman.”
“Saleswoman,” I corrected.
“Whatever. All I know is, I’m not allowed to take my beer into the house because Missy says it doesn’t match the theme. Which is just fine with me. And now you’re here, so the evening’s not a total waste.”
“Well, thanks.”
“So, how are you and Captain Gloom and Doom getting along?”
“If you’re referring to Gabriel, we’re getting along just fine, thank you.”
“Haven’t done the deed yet, huh?”
“Wh-what kind of question is that?” I gasped. “Oh, is this one of those smell things again? Because that’s just gross.”
“No, it’s not a smell issue, even though you downright reek of his manly sobriety. I can tell because you’re still capable of humor. What’s wrong? Is Gabriel too prim and proper to get beyond a good-night handshake?”
“I am not going to talk about this with you!” I exclaimed.
“Why not? If you’re not going to let me see you naked, we might as well be girlfriends.”
“You’re a twisted little man.”
“Come on, Stretch, share with the class.”
“No!” I laughed.
“Prude.”
“Perv.”
“Schoolmarm.”
“Some other word that essentially means perv.”
We were laughing when Missy decided to join us out on the porch. “I figured I’d find you two out here together,” she said brightly. “Jane, you have to promise you’re going to come to my next mixer. Everybody wants to know if you’re coming. You’re like the vampire Jessica Simpson! They can’t understand why they’re interested in you, but they can’t stand not knowing what you are going to do next. You have some serious buzz going in there. I bet you start getting all kinds of business at your little shop.”
“Well, on that note, I think I’m going to call it a night.”
Missy grabbed my arm. “Are you sure, shug? We’re going to start playing Jenga pretty soon!”
“Well, as much as I love games that combine alcohol with fine-motor skills, I think I’ll pass.” I shot a wink at Dick, who was standing behind Missy, giving me a pleading look. “Dick, enjoy the Jenga.”
I slid the glass door open and was met with silence over jazz. Ever walk into a room and realize that someone has suddenly stopped talking because they were saying something bad about you? Ever had it happen in a roomful of vampires? Most of the guests pretended to be absorbed in their drinks or played with their cocktail napkins as they tried to contain their snickers. Others, including Hadley Wexler, just stared at me as if they hoped I would spontaneously combust as some sort of party trick.
“Well, good night, all,” I said, smiling pleasantly and winding my way through silent, motionless bodies. I closed the front door behind me and heard conversation rumble back to life.
I walked quickly toward Big Bertha, eager to put as much distance between myself and Missy’s snotty vampire friends as possible. As soon as I reached for the door handle, the driver’s-side window exploded in front of me. I stood, dumbfounded, as little slivers of glass rained at my feet. A few seconds later, I heard several faint hiss-pops and felt hot, stabbing agony in my left shoulder, my lower back, my ribs. I fell to the ground as another bullet shattered Big Bertha’s rear window. Blood slowly trickled down my arms, soaking my clothes as I scanned the silent row of houses.
Even with my night vision, I couldn’t tell where the shots were coming from. While the pain of the wounds faded quickly, I experienced some residual panic, leftover sensations from the night I was turned. My hands shook, and my mind wouldn’t clear. I couldn’t focus enough to figure out how to open the car door. My thoughts spooled on a loop through my head—had to flee, get to safety, get home.
If anyone inside Missy’s house heard anything amiss, they weren’t making any move to come outside and help me. Against the yellow light of the closed window shades, I saw silhouettes of people talking, laughing. The music played on. Somehow I didn’t think I would find help if I ran back inside.
Whoever was pulling the trigger had stopped shooting. When my legs steadied, I jumped over Big Bertha’s hood, using her massive body as cover as I frantically searched with numb, clumsy fingers. I climbed into the front seat and slumped down as I started the ignition. As calmly as possible, I sped down the street toward home.