Nina rolled her dark eyes with an exasperated groan and stomped out of my room. I snatched my comforter off my bed, wrapped it around my shoulders, and followed her into the living room.
“Oh my ...” My eyes were wide, taking in the spread Nina had laid on the dining-room table: bagels, juice, limp bacon, half-raw eggs with runny yolks, a full pineapple, and a chocolate cake with pink icing roses, the words Happy Birthday, Sophie in cursive scrawl across the front.
“Ta-da!” Nina shouted, dancing around the table.
I took a tentative step back toward my bedroom. “What is this all about, Nina?” I pointed at the cake. “It’s not my birthday. You know that, right?”
Nina shrugged. “I know. But you try and find a cake at nine am. Let’s just hope little Stella doesn’t miss it today.”
I frowned, seeing where the kid’s name had been scraped off and replaced by mine. “Oh.” I looked at Nina. “And this is for what again?”
Nina bounded toward me, threaded her arm through mine. “What are you talking about, silly? Can’t a best friend do something for her fantastically talented best friend?”
“Yes. But you can’t. And I’m not talented. So, what’s going on?”
Nina was silent, a wide smile on her face. I rubbed my eyes. “Look, Nina, in the last week I was almost killed twice, was introduced to my new mortal enemy, and learned that I very well might be the fruit of Satan’s loins. So I’ll ask you again: What is going on?”
Nina skipped to her closed bedroom door—bedroom being a loose term as vampires don’t sleep, thus don’t own beds—and pushed open the door. “Sophie Lawson, meet ChaCha!” Nina said.
I looked down, incredulous, as the little ball of fur vaulted and yapped, throwing his full three-pound body against my ankles. “Oh, Nina, he’s adorable!” I said, scooping up the puppy into my arms. I nuzzled the tiny brown terrier against my cheek, and he responded with a series of introductory yips followed by a full-face tongue wash. “He’s so cute! Wait—” I held the puppy out and eyed Nina suspiciously. “You’re not going to eat him or anything, are you?”
Nina looked horrified. “What kind of monster do you think I am?” She scratched ChaCha on his little puppy head and he rolled his big, chocolate brown eyes skyward, trying to see her. “I don’t eat puppies. I got him for you! You know, as a pet. I thought you could use a little cheering up.”
I snuggled ChaCha close and pulled Nina into a one-armed hug. “Oh, Nina, thank you! He’s so cute! I love him! You are so thoughtful!”
Nina stroked ChaCha once on the head, then took my hand in hers. “Sophie, sit down. I have something to tell you.”
I let Nina lead me to the couch. “It’s bad news, isn’t it?” I looked down at ChaCha and skipped a breath. “It’s puppy-bad news? Oh Lord, I don’t know if I can take any more bad news.”
“It’s about Dixon.”
I looked around. “Are you moving out? Are you moving in with him?”
“No. Not yet. It is about Dixon ... and you.”
I slapped the heel of my hand to my forehead and ChaCha jumped at the sound, then licked my chin. “Don’t tell me—he wants to kill me, too?” I looked down into ChaCha’s sweet, too-sensitive face. “That’s it, right? This is what this is all about? Oh, geez. How about I lay down so you can kick me?”
Nina crossed her arms. “Are you through?”
“No. I can’t believe you’re trying to make me feel good because someone else wants to kill me. Someone you’re in love with! Oh, man!”
Nina took both my hands. “No! No,” she said, her voice soft. “I would never be in love with someone who wanted to kill you, Sophie, no matter how long his fangs were. I love you; you’re my best friend.”
“That’s good. I really don’t think I could survive another assassination attempt.” I paused, swallowed hard, patted ChaCha’s velvet-soft nose. “So, what is it?”
“I promise, Sophie, Dixon doesn’t want to kill you,” Nina said, a relieved smile on her face. “He just wants me to fire you.”
Someone let all the air out of the room. I gasped, sputtered, and coughed, and Nina ran toward me with a glass. She held it to my lips and I drank gratefully, then hiccupped.
“What is this?”
“A mimosa,” she said with a grin.
I hiccupped again. “I think you forgot the orange juice.”
Nina knitted her brows, set the tumbler full of champagne on the coffee table. “So you’re okay with this?”
I picked the tumbler back up and downed it. “No, I’m not okay. I’m fired? Fired?” I felt the sting of tears at the corners of my eyes—but whether they were tears of sadness or anger, I wasn’t sure.
“Technically, we’re laying you off.”
“Is anyone else being laid off ?”
She bit her lip. “No. Dixon just thought it would be best for the company.”
“What?” I stood up and ChaCha rolled to the floor, then bit down on the leg of my pink pajama pants, growling ferociously.