Real Vampires Live Large (Glory St. Clair #2)

Real Vampires Live Large (Glory St. Clair #2) Page 34

“Edvard wouldn’t mind.” Flo trailed a finger across the wall just where the man’s neck met the vampire’s lips. “He didn’t mind anything I did.”

“Speaking of things you do . . .” I checked out another pair of customers flipping through a dress rack. Okay, I had my limits.

“Forget it. I’ve arranged for Lacy to take over at midnight. Will you meet me at the apartment then?”

Flo glanced at her watch. “I guess I could watch a DVD for a while, but don’t keep me waiting. I have a date later.”

“With Simon?” I wished Flo would move on like she usually did. If she stayed with her normal pattern, Simon probably had only another week or two at the most anyway. But would he let her go? And now there was this whole Brad Pitt thing going on. I kept up a block so Flo couldn’t read my mind and start an argument I didn’t feel like finishing.

“Yes, with Simon.” Flo picked up a pearl necklace, ran it across her teeth, then put it back. “Fake. Simon has promised me a special gift. Remember, I told you I wanted a man who would give me good jewelry.” She sighed. “I think I finally found him.”

“Swell.” This was the pits. Of course Simon could afford real pearls, diamonds, whatever. He was a damned drug dealer. I glanced at the women again and was relieved to see them head for the dressing rooms. I grabbed Flo’s arm and pulled her toward the back.

“Honey, do you remember what happened last night?”

Flo looked down at where I gripped her arm. “Careful, Glory, this is my favorite cashmere sweater. Don’t you love the color?

Apple green.” She smoothed the soft knit. “Simon says it makes my eyes sparkle like emeralds. He is always saying things like that. Sweet compliments. He’ll be sure to notice how these brown suede jeans fit me.” She turned to show me. “What do you think?

Does my butt look too big?”

“Flo, a size six butt is not considered big by anyone’s standards other than someone size zero and you know how we feel about

those people.” I bet Beyoncé had a size zero butt and I really didn’t want to think about that now. “Please concentrate, Flo. You were zonked last night. You acted . . . drugged.”

Flo just waved her hand. “Nonsense. It was near dawn. I was exhausted from a night of very intense lovemaking.” She glanced toward the dressing rooms. “Simon is a stallion. My God. And his tongue . . .” She shivered and I fought back a gag.

“Did you take any of that Vampire Viagra?”

“Of course. Why not? Simon passes it out like it ’s candy.” She ran her hand down the pearl buttons on her cardigan, “I surpassed myself.” She leaned closer. “I had him weeping, Glory. The king of the EVs. Simon Destiny. Kissing my feet and declaring that I was the best lover he had ever had.” She had a dreamy look that gave me chills. “Isn’t that incredible? You should try it.”

“Try what?”

“The VV of course.” Flo laughed merrily and patted my cheek. “Not Simon. He’s mine.”

As if I wanted to go within a mile of the reptilian creep. “About Simon.” I poked my roommate in the general location of her navel. “You’ve been giving him your power, haven’t you? To make the VV.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t give my power to anyone.”

I reached out and pulled up Flo’s sweater. Flat tummy, damn her, but no telltale marks. Obviously the evidence faded with the healing vampire sleep.

“What are you looking for, Glory? I’m not giving him my power. Simon has drones for that. Stupid vampires who are hooked on his drugs. He’s a businessman, Glory. He sells things, just like you do.” Flo jerked down her sweater, careful to smooth it.

“You’re comparing me to a drug dealer?” I didn’t appreciate that comparison one damned bit and let her see how much in my eyes.

“Now, Glory. You know what I meant. We’re best friends. Right?” Flo backed away from me and smoothed her sweater again.

“I think your customers need you. I’ll see you later. I think I’ll watch Ocean’s Eleven.” She turned on her heel and waved from the door, the bells tinkling as the door closed behind her.

I just stared. Simon was just like me? I wanted to run after my “best friend” and drag her back by her cute little ponytail. But she’d disappeared, probably already upstairs using her vamp speed. The fact that at least one pedestrian might have seen her apparently hadn’t slowed her down. Had to get to that Brad Pitt movie.

Damn it, she was out of control. Valdez and Will gave me a look, but didn’t speak since the mortals were out of the dressing room and whipping out their charge cards.

After the women left, I seethed. So that was my excuse when I overreacted just a bit at the sight of the art student. Young, academic type, complete with tinted glasses and a stake in his pocket.

“Holy crap, Glory.” Will stood on one side of the body, Valdez on the other.

Valdez nudged the glasses lying on the floor beside the unconscious man. “I hate to tell you this, but these are regular tinted reading glasses. I read the guy’s mind. Nothing in there but artsie-fartsie stuff. The guy’s really deep into his dissertation on paranormal figures in art.”

Will bit the wooden handle poking out of the man ’s pocket and pulled, dropping the thing at my feet. “Here’s his stake. Disguised as a paint brush.” He grinned. “Check out the traces of red on the bristles. Might be the blood of all the vampires he’s killed with it.”

I didn’t waste time with a clever comeback. Instead, I ran to the door and locked it, about a minute later than I should have. At least no customers had witnessed me going completely insane. I dragged the man to the back room. He didn’t wake up. I pulled a cold bottle of water from the fridge and dumped some on a paper towel, then knelt down to press it on the man’s closed eyes.

“Hello? Are you okay?” What had Melanie said his name was? Larry. Larry LeFevre. “Come on, Larry. Open your eyes.” The man’s pale blond lashes fluttered. “That’s it. Wake up, Larry.” I picked up his head and held the water bottle to his trembling lips.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Wha . . . What happened?” Larry took the bottle and held it against his forehead where a lump the size of a dime was rapidly swelling to quarter size.

“Freak accident.” I helped him to his feet and watched him sway for a minute. Right. Glory the impulsive freak had accidentally bopped art boy with an art nouveau bronze titled Reclining Nude.

“Accident?” Oh, great, he was looking green like maybe he’d puke. I slid a trash can near him, just in case. “I don’t remember.”

Larry groped his face and I remembered to hand him his glasses.

“There you go. Not broken, thank goodness.”

“Thanks. Eye strain. Too much time on the computer. But the dissertation’s due in a few months.” He took a shaky breath and sat on the stool, obviously still wobbly. Him, not the stool. “What kind of accident?”

“I turned and you just walked into this lovely work of art.” I pressed the statue I’d used as a weapon into his trembling hands.

“Fortunately the piece is undamaged. I don’t want to think what could have happened.”

“Oh . . . good.” He stared at the bronze, his thumb absentmindedly stroking the curve of the woman ’s voluptuous hip. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s yours. In apology. I’m so, so sorry.” I looked into his eyes. Yep. I could read his mind now that I stopped long enough to check. He was still a little dazed. Headache. Confusion. The statue. Wished he had a girlfriend with that kind of figure. Sally didn’t have curves, she had angles. But she gave the best—

“Larry!” I’d just read way too much. I do hate to intrude that way.

“Uh, the mural . . . ?”

“Of course you can use the mural for your dissertation. Come back during the day.” When I’m not here. “I’ll leave word to give you full access.” I kept a hand under his elbow and walked him to the door, then reached to flip open the dead bolt.

“I can’t accept—”

“Nonsense.” I grabbed a piece of bubble wrap and a bag and had the statue back in his hands before he knew which way was up. “Here. Take it, please. It’s the least I can do after wounding you.” I checked in on his scattered thoughts. The man needed aspirin. He looked down and picked up the paint brush and stuck it in his pocket again. Sally ’s paint brush. He was supposed to stop by her place with it. Now he couldn’t wait to show her the statue. It was erotic. Maybe it would inspire her to give him a—

“Larry! Maybe you should go home. Take an aspirin or two.”

“Yeah, sure, Ms. St. Clair. Thanks. Really.” Larry pulled open the door and took a deep breath of cold air. His head didn’t hurt so bad that he couldn’t get up for one of Sally’s world class bl—

“Bye, Larry. Take care of yourself.”

He hurried out the door before I could change my mind. He knew just where he ’d put the statue. Right next to his Erté print. Blah, blah, blah, more art stuff. I slammed the door shut and leaned against it. Way too much information. And who knew academic types thought below their belts just like macho vamps did?

“Glad that’s over.” I smiled at the dogs. “Whoa. I’ve got to relax. I can’t believe I did that.”

“Uh, Glory.” Will wagged his tail. “There’s a woman hiding under the bench in one of the fitting rooms. She ran in there when you turned into a psycho bitch.” Will did a dog version of a chuckle, half bark, half snort.

“Just do the whammy on her, Glory. She was looking at that black velvet coat over there when the shit hit the fan.”

Valdez trotted to the curtain and nudged it aside with his nose.

“You mean when I hit Larry.” I pulled the wild-eyed, trembling woman out from under the bench. She had on worn jeans and a pink sweater that was only slightly less fuzzy than her over-processed hair. I stared into her pale blue eyes until she was under then led her to the rack where the velvet coat still hung. I looked into her eyes again.