Will opened his mouth to say something, but I pinned him with a glare that threatened “Say anything and I’ll literally kill you.”
“I’ll need you”—Nina craned her head over her shoulder and eyed Vlad, her coal black eyes stern—“to be on your best ‘I’m a real boy’ behavior. No protests, no VERM, no glamouring any breathers. Understand?”
Vlad rolled his eyes and continued hunching in the backseat, resentment emanating from him. “Yes, ma’am.”
I fished a tube of ChapStick out of my bag. “So I guess you’ll just want me to keep these guys in line while you woo Harley, right?”
“I do not woo. And yes, you will be in charge of the KISS Army back there.”
I raised my eyebrows at Vlad and Will, who shrugged as Nina continued her tirade while using a traffic island as a bumper. “And I expect you to act as my best friend and wingwoman.”
I snorted. “Your wingwoman?”
Nina glared and the tops of my ears went hot.
“Maybe I can hand out some bookmarks or something,” I said with a hollow smile.
I was still shaking and praying that my small intestine would dislodge itself from my rib cage, when Nina’s black Lexus jumped the curb and came to a neat rest, directly in front of Java Script’s double glass doors.
Nina kicked the car into park and clapped her hands delightedly. “We’re here!” She turned to look at us, a smattering of pale faces holding down our lunches after “Nina LaShay’s Wild Ride,” I suspected.
“Ready, everyone? Big smiles!”
Will and Vlad un-pretzeled themselves and filed into Java Script. I was taking up the rear, but Nina stopped me before I could step over the threshold. Her dark eyes clouded, and her heart-shaped mouth started twitching, showing off one angular fang. She poked at my chest.
“All ready, Soph?”
I followed her finger down and fought the urge to giggle. The remains of something unnaturally blue had trailed between my breasts, leaving a cheerful line across the pale yellow knit of my shirt to my belly button.
“It’s not that bad,” I said. “I can just button up the sweater.” I hurriedly did the buttons and frowned at the way they pulled and gaped across my belly. “I guess it shrank in the wash.”
“You have to change your shirt.”
I held up my ultrasmall purse. “Into what? Does this purse look like I can carry a wardrobe?”
Nina pointed to the trunk of the car. “Take your pick and meet me inside.” She dropped her keys into my palm.
My good sense told me to take the car and flee back to the comfort of ChaCha, my couch, and what remained in the Lucky Charms box.
But I knew better.
I rummaged through Nina’s trunk, pushing aside Vlad’s VERM posters and his duct tape, three seasons’ worth of brown boots, and enough bronzer to turn Nina into a member of the Jackson 5. I finally found the clothing spilling out of a Louis Vuitton duffel over the wheel well. I pawed through the things on top: a delicate lace camisole, a few cute tees large enough to fit over my head, and some random shoes. I hunkered deeper into the trunk and gave the bag a yank to get a better look inside, but it was caught on something. One more yank and the bag came flying out—a metal pipe jarred loose and hit the pavement with a loud plink!
I stared down incredulously at the metal pipe. It started to wobble slowly into the street as if showing itself from every angle. I stepped closer, crouching to grab the pipe and return it to the trunk, when I saw the smear on the end. It was just a tinge, easy enough to miss if someone had run a rag hastily over the pipe in an attempt to clean it, but it was there. A dark, rust-colored smear of blood. And pinned to it were a few straggly strands of graying hair.
Suddenly my skin felt too tight. I looked at the pipe and then through the big glass doors of Java Script, where Nina was grinning broadly. Her fangs were hidden behind glossy, cherry red lips as she clung to Harley, her eyes glued to his winsome smile. Vlad stood behind them both, flanked by two Vampire Empowerment henchmen. The trio was almost unnoticed in the shadows, but Vlad stood out, his shoulders hunched, his lips held in a disgusted sneer as his eyes cut across the assembled crowd. He glanced out and caught me staring, standing openmouthed with the trunk open, the Louis Vuitton in my hand, the soiled pipe at my feet. I swallowed hard, broke his gaze, and tossed everything back into the trunk.
Chapter Twelve
I snapped the trunk shut, slid into a sweater I pulled from the bag, and used the sleeve to dab at the sweat that now dotted my forehead and upper lip. I was two feet into Java Script when Nina’s laser gaze burned through me. She yanked me by the sleeve, pressed her ice-cold lips to my ear and whispered, “That looks so much better.”
She tugged me to where Harley stood, uneasily smiling at Will and Vlad; the silent air that hung among them uncomfortable. I looked over my shoulder to where Vlad’s buddies had been lurking, but they weren’t there.