Real Vampires Have Curves (Glory St. Clair #1)

Real Vampires Have Curves (Glory St. Clair #1) Page 12

I'd slipped into one of my favorite vintage outfits, a sixties lime green and orange bell-bottom jumpsuit with a zip front. I had a feeling Emmie Lou approved. Every time I looked down, my zipper was a little lower.

"Too bad CiCi can't be here when we open. She's been a big help. I had no idea she had such a head for business. As far as I know she's never even held a job."

"Could have fooled me." Lacy made a face. "She's been ordering me around like she's been a boss all her life."

"I didn't say she wasn't bossy. But she's right too often to ignore. I'm sure she'll be by later to check up on us. She, Derek and Freddy are celebrating Freddy's birthday tonight." I rolled my eyes. "Don't ask me how. Let them eat cake doesn't exactly work for us."

"Bummer." Lacy pulled a vase of beautiful blood red roses, several dozen of them, from behind the counter and set it next to the cash register. "Surprise!"

"Very nice." I moved closer. They were perfect, barely open, and the fragrance… Delish. The rose smell had hit me as soon as I'd walked in this evening, but I'd figured it was Emmie Lou's way of reminding us she was around and supervising.

"CiCi again? She loves fresh flowers."

"Nope. I shouldn't have read the card," Lacy handed me a small white envelope, "but you know what they say about cats and curiosity."

"I'll let you know in a minute if it's fatal this time." I pulled a card out of the envelope and recognized the bold handwriting immediately. "Success. Blade."

Blade had sent flowers? I read the card again. Apparently. All he'd sent me before was the occasional case of Bloody Merry, because he didn't trust me to keep a sufficient supply. Now red roses? Had Mara put him up to this?

"Red roses are so romantic." Lacy sighed and sniffed. "I'd like to meet this guy. Blade. Cool name." I smiled. At times like this, Lacy made me feel every one of my four hundred plus years. She was like a teenager, crushing on every good looking guy she saw, but, as far as I knew, never hooking up with one.

"Blade likes knives, swords, daggers. And knows how to use them."

"Even cooler. Where are you keeping him?"

"Lake Charles. He has a casino there."

"Oooh. Rich and romantic."

"Usually not romantic." I read the card one more time. Not exactly a love note, but I'd take it. Success. Wow. This felt like a breakthrough.

Lacy wiggled her nose. "Smells like love to me, Glory. Probably is a breakthrough." I'd told Lacy to stay out of my mind too many times to count in the last month. Even though she was a hard worker, I'd have to fire her if she didn't lay off. Her eyes widened and she flushed.

"Sorry, Boss. It's a habit."

I gave her a look.

"Okay, okay, a bad habit. If they made a patch for it, I'd be first in line."

"I don't want to waste my energy blocking you, Lacy. So just tune out. I do it all the time."

"Maybe you shouldn't—"

"And maybe you should." Blocking also gave me a migraine because I'd never gotten the hang of it. And if Lacy was reading this thought, she was fired. I gave her a searching look. She was smelling the roses again. Nada. Finally. Tapping on the glass door. "Are you open yet?" Two women stood outside.

"Ready?"

Lacy nodded, obviously relieved to be off the hot seat.

"Okay, here goes." I took a deep breath and walked to the door. I'd think about Blade and the warm fuzzies I was feeling toward him later. Hmm. Red roses.

And Lacy? I had to admit it felt good having her here and I had to have a day person. She just needed time to adjust to my demands. Which were not unreasonable. I pasted a smile on my face. I was scared spitless. This was big. I'd always worked for other people. Dancer, waitress, bartender—any night gig I could get. No profit, no sweat. For me anyway. Now I was totally responsible for rent, Lacy's salary and my own livelihood. This shop had to make it. I'd sunk all my savings into stock, fixtures and ads that I'd paid the shape-shifter in 3C to pass around in shopping center parking lots. I flipped open the two dead bolts and threw open the door. "Welcome to Vintage Vamp's Emporium."

"The purple cocktail dress in the window. What size is it?" A blonde about my size grabbed the skirt and wouldn't let go.

"Taffeta, Mel, don't you just love it?"

"Mel" was loading her arms with vintage beaded sweaters. "I want one of these in every color. They're in perfect condition. Where did you get them?"

"Here and there." I unzipped the cocktail dress. "I'm pretty sure this will fit you. The tag says size sixteen, but back in the fifties they sized things differently. Marilyn Monroe wore a twelve, but today that would be about a six. This one is about a ten to twelve in today's sizes." The truth, I swear it. And didn't I love that? I know it's just a number and retailing genius, but I feel smaller in a twelve.

The woman hugged the dress and followed Lacy to the dressing rooms we'd created with curtains and screens. There were no mirrors anywhere except inside those cubicles. I avoid mirrors. Nobody home, if you know what I mean. More women pushed through the door, a man and then a couple.

"Look, honey, here's a sideboard that would be perfect in our dining room." By the time Lacy dragged herself off to bed, we'd made enough sales to pay the rent and Lacy's salary for at least two months. I couldn't believe that at two in the morning I still had a customer hip deep in Victorian night rails, including those sexless sacks Flo had insisted I sell. The bells on the front door tinkled. Another customer?

This one was a man, his hair in spikes. He wore a long black coat and, what a cliche, black lipstick. A Goth and potential groupie. I'd had groupies before and they can be a pain, begging you to bite them, turning every night into Halloween with their silly costumes. Sure, I'd had mortal friends in Vegas, but they'd thought I was one of them. I hadn't let a mortal in on my vamp self in years.

"Where are the vamps?"

"What kind of vamps are you looking for?" I gestured toward the mannequin in the window. The first flapper dress, my favorite black, had sold in an hour. This one was blue and had cool beaded fringe. I kind of hated to see it go. I'd had a lot of fun dancing in that dress.

Chicago in the twenties. Al Capone and I had been on and Blade and I had been off. Then I found out what old Al did for a living. Time for the vamp vanishing act. I'd headed to New York, a great place to get lost, if you know what I mean.

"Not that kind of vamp." The man looked pale and swayed, obviously about to faint. I hustled him into a chair.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know. I had an… encounter a while ago." He looked toward the woman holding up a lace-trimmed corset, waiting until she headed into a dressing room. He leaned toward me. "A vampire." He drew out the word like the narrator in a bad horror movie.

"You're kidding. What are you on, dude?"

"Nothing. Well, maybe a little weed. But look!" He stroked his neck where I could see two bright red marks. "He bit me right here. And sucked my blood. It was amazing."

"Looks like mosquito bites to me. Where'd you score that weed?" Yeah, play the diminished capacity card. Make him wonder if he'd dreamed the whole thing. I grabbed a bottle of water from a bucket full of ice Lacy had set on the counter for our grand opening and twisted off the top.

"Drink." I looked deep into his eyes. It had been a while since I'd used the vamp whammy, but I still had him under in less time than you could say "Holy crap." What kind of irresponsible vamp was out there doing the bite and run? Left marks, didn't bother to erase memory.

And this vamp groupie wannabe was just the type to brag about his "encounter." He was already looking for his next one here. All it took was a hint to the wrong person and we'd have what amounted to a vampire witch hunt. The man's eyes were glazed. "Keep drinking." He gulped the cold water. I pressed my fingers against his fang marks until his skin was unblemished again.

"Stop. Rest. You'll feel better in a moment."

Damn it. Some vamp was either suicidal or really, really stupid.

Chapter Six

I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I couldn't call Freddy, his birthday and all, so I hit the speed dial for Damian. He'd put the number in himself when he'd stopped by last night to check out the store. And insisted I call him if I had any problems. I glanced at the man staring at his empty water bottle. Definitely a problem.

" Cara, I knew you'd weaken. You need me." His voice was hot sex on a cold night. Not now, Glory.

"Can you come over here? Now? I'm still at the shop."

"What's wrong?" Now he was all business.

"Just get over here. Fast." I hit end and slipped the phone back into my pocket. I rang up a corset and a night rail for my customer.

"What's with him?" She stowed her credit card in her wallet and nodded toward my zombie.

"Bad weed. I called someone to take him home."

"What an idiot. Him, not you, honey." She grabbed her bag and headed toward the door. "These Goths." She laughed. "They actually believe in vampires and nonsense like that."

"Go figure." I showed her out the door and turned the locks. Nonsense. I wasn't insulted. It was just proof positive that I was blending successfully. I flipped the sign from Open to Closed then hurried back to the idiot's side. He sat motionless just like I'd left him. If I didn't snap him out of it, he would sit like that for hours. Cool, huh?

Kick the weirdo out. Harvey wrote on my spotless counter. He'd been doing that a lot lately. Trying to protect me. Fortunately he didn't leave smudges.

"I'm taking care of it, Harvey." I lifted the man's chin. "Look at me." I used my low, irresistible voice and he raised his eyes to mine. "What's your name?"