Part 20 (1/2)
While I knew I looked trendy cool, I still couldn't remember the last time I'd just pulled it all back, to h.e.l.l with hair products or a flatiron. But forty-five minutes on hair seemed so unimportant compared to everything that was happening in my afterlife.
That, or I was suffering from some serious sleep deprivation.
After a few seconds of consideration, I latched onto number two. I already had two strikes against me when it came to unbecoming vamp character (working cla.s.s and a romantic). No need to add a third (compa.s.sionate).
My ma would disown me for sure.
Locking the hotel door behind me, I headed for the back alley. I dodged a few suspicious piles (the animals were gone, but the evidence remained) and found a small secluded spot where I could concentrate.
I tuned out the steady buzz of crickets and the voices from Elmer's TV and tuned into the steady thump of my own heart, from the sound echoing in my ears to the pulse in my chest.
My body began to tingle. The sensation started in my toes, sweeping upward until I felt as if it were vibrating in time to the steady ba-bom ba-bom. My arms and legs grew weightless and my vision sharpened. I added a mental All aboard! so I didn't forget anything (namely the flats, which had cost me two retainers) and then I hopped on the Batgirl Express.
A few seconds later, I flapped my way over the top of The Grande and headed for Austin.
”T hat's Tara Hanover over there,” said the old man who'd met me at the front door of Golden Acres.
Bernie MacDougal. An ancient little man with snow white hair and a hunched back that would have made Quasimodo envious.
He wore his pants too short and his gla.s.ses too thick. He was this close to breaking the Golden Acres' chess record of 863 straight wins. If he won this next game about to take place in five minutes and fifty-three seconds-just as soon as the Bridge Club finished and vacated his lucky table-he was going to win a year's supply of Metamucil. With the way the cafeteria served up mac and cheese every other night, he needed all the help he could get. ”She's the one on the right.”
My gaze s.h.i.+fted to a large woman wearing an orange muumuu and a pair of black cat's-eye gla.s.ses. ”The redhead?”
”Your other right,” Bernie told me.
My gaze bounced to the other side of the table. Same muumuu, different color. This one was pink and wrapped around a chubby woman with pasty white skin and dyed black hair. She wore a ton of foundation, most of which had settled into her wrinkles, making her look even older than her seventy-eight years. Bright red lipstick rimmed her thin lips and bled slightly at the corners. Red rouge splotched her cheeks and blue shadow hovered over her eyes. Crimson-painted nails gripped a handful of cards. She looked deep in thought.
That, or asleep.
I noted the steady rise and fall of her chest. A faint grrrrrrr crossed the distance and slid into my ear.
”Are we gonna finish this or what?” Orange muumuu demanded, and Tara jumped.
”Don't get your girdle twisted, Laverne,” she growled. ”I'm just concentrating.”
Yeah. Sure.
I moved to step forward, but Bernie caught my arm. ”No sirree, bub. She gets cranky if anyone bothers her during Bridge.
They'll finish up soon enough.” He eyed the clock. ”It's almost time. I need to run back to my room and get my lucky rabbit's foot.
Just have a seat over there.” He pointed to a group of chairs. ”That, or there's refreshments out in the lobby. You can talk to her when she's done.”
”Thanks.” I sank onto a nearby folding chair. Pulling out my iPhone, I was about to check the two new voice mails I'd received when Katy started singing.
Every head at the Bridge table swiveled in my direction. A dozen pairs of eyes drilled into me and their owners' thoughts rolled through my brain.
What the h.e.l.l is her problem?
We don't allow phones in here.
Shut that b.i.t.c.h up, will ya?
And a few more that I really didn't want to think about. Who knew old people could be so violent?
I gave them an apologetic smile and sent a mental You are not mad. You love me and you love Katy Perry and you don't mind the interruption. Unfortunately, the men were well past their s.e.xual prime and so my seductive vamp influence was totally wasted. They scowled and one of them gave me the universal peace symbol. I pushed to my feet and headed for the lobby before someone lit a torch and yelled Death to the Vampire!
”I need to ask you something,” Rob's voice echoed over the line once I hit TALK. My heartbeat kicked up a notch.
Asking meant he suspected and suspected meant he practically knew. Which meant I wouldn't be telling him. No, I would merely be answering-truthfully-whatever question he might pose.
”Okay. Shoot.”
”Where's the cat food?”
”Yes, she does love-Excuse me?”
”I can't find any more cans in the cabinet.”
”Well, let's think about this. Maybe you can't find any more cans because I'm out. If you want cat food, you'll have to go to the store.”
”But there's a rerun of the Dolphins playing Pittsburgh.”
”Pause it.”
”I can't do that. Pittsburgh is about to score.”
”Then make Killer suffer until the touchdown.”
”Okay.”
”I was being sarcastic. Get off your a.s.s and go get cat food. And while you're at it, pick up some more bottles of blood to replace all the ones you've drank. And a new coffee table. And a pair of lamps. And a Swarovski crystal hair clip.”
”What?”
You can't blame a vamp for trying.
”Did I say hair clip? I meant commitment ring.”
He went suspiciously silent. ”Why would I buy a commitment ring?” he finally asked.
”Not for Nina, that's for sure. Really. I mean, you guys are over, right?”
”Right.”
”Which means you should be ready in case, you know, you find someone else and want to pledge your devotion. You never know when you might fall in love or have a baby vamp or both. In no particular order.”
”Are you feeding?”
”I'm fine.”