“No, if we call it a Halloween party, some families won’t come. So it’s a Fall Festival.”
“But we’re going to have pumpkins … and costumes … and candy.”
Head Courtney glared down at me. “Is there going to be a problem, Jane?”
There could be a problem. Believe it or not, vampires tend to hole up on All Hallows Eve and refuse to come out until the last trick-or-treater has been dragged home kicking and screaming.
You’d stay home, too, if you were confronted with a holiday that parades around the worst cultural stereotypes pertaining to your particular species—bluish pallor, black capes, stupid accents exaggerated by clownish fangs—and presents it as “all in good fun.”
“Right, sorry,” I said. “It’s just that … is the chamber really supposed to hold fund-raisers?” I asked. “I thought the Chamber of Commerce was about community building and economic development, bringing in new employers—”
“Well, this is the waywerun the Chamber of Commerce,” Head Courtney said through gritted teeth. “The Half-Moon Hollow Animal Shelter is a cause we’ve supported for years. Why, just last year, we collected five thousand dollars in cash donations.”
“People will just give you cash for the shelter? Without a carnival?”
Head Courtney’s disapproving sneer was now an all-out death glare.
“Right. Sorry,” I mumbled, staring down into my lap as a sign of submission.
For the rest of the meeting, I sat still and silent, just praying to get out alive. And I was incredibly angry with myself. Why the hell was I afraid of these women? If I wanted to, I could beat them all senseless, take their fancy foufou designer wallets, and make them forget I ever did it.
Not that I would ever do that.
4 The best way to show that you’re independent is actually to be independent. Develop outside interests, attend cultural events, anything to show your wayward vampire mate that you’re not sitting at home pining away.
—Love Bites: A Female Vampire’s Guide to Less Destructive Relationships I slunk up my front-porch steps, exhausted and in serious need of sedatives and/or lobotomy instruments. Andrea, on the other hand, looked cool and collected, stretched out onmyporch swing, scratchingmydog behind the ears, and sipping a tall icy beverage that I promptly stole from her.
“Hey!” she cried. “I used your best liquor to make that! And there wasn’t much to choose from.”
“It’s an emergency,” I told her between swigs of what I think was a daiquiri. Because of my sordid history with the demon alcohol and the inevitably humiliating results, I don’t usually imbibe. But tonight I was making an exception. I slumped onto the swing with Andrea and sighed. “Not that you’re not welcome here at River Oaks, but has it occurred to you that making yourself frosty cocktails while I’m not home is breaking and entering?”
“Yes, it did. But I was thirsty, and you left me your key ring to close up.”
“I’m way too trusting. Am I going to come home one night and find you taking a bath in my tub and wearing my clothes?” She arched her eyebrow, looking from her own stylishly cut silk blouse and slacks to my suit—which had been purchased by my mother. “Never mind.”
“I’m not going to go all single white female on you. But I do love this place. I still have a hard time believing you own a home with a name.”
“Well, for all of this, my sister is willing to sue me, steal from me, and have me audited. So, you might want to reconsider your whole romantic image of gentility.”
Andrea sighed heavily. “Why must you destroy my illusions? How was your networking?” she asked as I tried to beckon my dog. Fitz sniffed and rested his head on his paws.
“I’m not trying to say anything about sisterhood or women in power, but what a bunch of bitches.”
Andrea laughed and pulled a pitcher of daiquiris from behind the porch swing. She poured herself another drink, grinning as she said, “I thought you might feel that way. My boss at the gift shop used to complain about the meetings.”
“You knew?” I cried, chucking a cushion at her. “You knew, and you let me walk into that den of iniquity unprepared?”
“Hey, hey! If you can’t respect the daiquiri, at least respect the shirt,” she griped, swiping at the liquor I’d made her spill on her celery-colored blouse. “I know better than to ask you to respect me.”
I blew her a kiss and poured more daiquiri as Andrea began her tale in an ominous tone. “Margie said it happened slowly. One cold October night, a Courtney attended her first meeting, then another and another. It was as if the chamber was a hive being invaded by really perky Africanized bees. And pretty soon, they were proposing extra events and creating committees to run those events, and they built a power base. They elected themselves as officers, moved the headquarters, rewrote the bylaws, and made life miserable for the old-school members. One by one, the charter members all left. Margie quit after they gave her a demerit for wearing brown shoes with a black suit. To Margie, that translated to: You’re over forty, get out.”
“What happened to all the men?”
Andrea shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess they just quit, or they got too many demerits …”
“I think the Courtneys ate them,” I countered.
“Your guess is there’s some supernatural reason for the pink chamber seal?”
I nodded. “My guess: coven of succubi.”
“Well, you should fit in well, being a vampire and all.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You did tell them that you’re a vampire, right?”
I sipped my drink to avoid answering.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to live in the coffin anymore!” Andrea cried.
“I’m not living in the coffin. I’m just not volunteering any information that wouldn’t come up in an introductory conversation. Do you walk up to people and say, ‘Hi, I’m Andrea. I’m a natural redhead.”
“I’m not a natural redhead.”
“I knew it!”
“Don’t deflect the question. So, I guess you’re not going back, huh?”
“I have to,” I mumbled. “I’m in charge of the prizes for the charity carnival.”
Andrea hooted. “They’ve pulled you in!”
“They did not!”
“They made you their prize bitch! And not in the dog-show way. You might as well have given them all your milk money and then done their homework for them.”
“I told you, they’re scary. And blond. We’ve established that I don’t do well with scary blond people. And you’re starting to talk like me the more time we spend together. I think we can both agree that having one person in the world who talks like me is too many.”
“Jane, maybe you could see this as an opportunity to grow as a person, to face your fears, to be a little less wracked by insecurity.”
“I am not wracked by fear and insecurity. I have completely normal fears: failure, clowns, spiders. What’s weird about that?” I groaned. “Oh, who am I kidding? It’s all gone pear-shaped.”
Andrea patted my head. “No moreKitchen Nightmaresfor you.”
“It’s Gordon Ramsay. I can’t help myself. All the yelling and the cursing … it’s so forceful. And he takes off his shirt at least once every episode to change into his chef’s uniform.”
She snorted. “Freak.”
“Look, I’m going to stick it out. I have to. Joining the chamber is good for the shop … it’s going to be good for the shop. Please, God, let it be good for the shop. And at least we know that they’ll let you quit if it’s not the place for you … or you exceed the maximum weight allowances.”