Driving Mr. Dead

Page 21

“Beggars can’t be choosers, sweetheart. Get in the car,” he said, shoving me.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Dick Cheney,” he said with a wink. “Pleased to meet you, Jinx.”
“What, like the vice president?” I asked as Dick slammed the door behind me. I peered over my shoulder and saw him flank the approaching car.
In the shadows, by the soda machine, I could see Collin. His face was pinched and worried as he observed this new development. His eyes locked with mine, and he mouthed, “Stay down.”
I slumped down in the seat at the sound of Dick’s raised voice. He was cursing vehemently, and I heard something about “counterfeit Snuggies” and “connections in South America.” There were grunts and groans as blows were exchanged, and the car lurched forward when someone was thrown against the bumper. I shrieked and covered my head with my arms.
The door opened, and Dick tossed a heavy duffel bag into my lap. He started the engine and gunned it, smashing into the car parked behind us. I shrieked, clicking my seatbelt into place as Dick wheeled the car around and slung my weight against the door. I saw a flash of orange and blue in the side mirror just before Dick sped out of the parking lot. There was a light thump, and I saw Collin’s hand waving at me in the mirror.
While Dick ranted into his cell phone at a guy named Ralphie, I kept my head down and my eye on the clock. Dick’s Dukes of Hazzard–style driving meant we were making pretty good time down the interstate toward the Hollow. But whoever Dick had argued with wasn’t following us, so he slowed down outside the city limits. Dick hung up with a final, “No, it’s coming out of your share!” and shot an apologetic look my way.
“Sorry, hon. Believe it or not, that turned out better than I expected.”
“So your business … does this happen a lot in your line of work?”
“Ever since my wife asked me to try to keep on the ‘lighter’ side of the line, yes,” he said. “No one seems to take me seriously anymore. That deal back there? That was for counterfeit University of Kentucky–themed Snuggies.”
“I can see how that would make it hard to maintain street cred,” I told him.
He frowned, reaching into a little warming compartment between the seats and taking out a Faux Type O. “So tell me more about the car with boobs that ended up in the ravine,” he said. “I like a good story.”
I spilled my tale of woe. Dick found it highly amusing. Somewhere between my car getting ravined and my engagement ring’s mystique getting debunked, Dick was laughing so hard that Faux Type O was coming out of his nose. The sight was downright disturbing.
“You know, you remind me a little of my friend Jane,” he said, wiping at his nose. “She’s another vampire in the Hollow. She had to be turned into a vampire, because the local drunk thought she was a deer and shot her. It was either go undead or go into the white light.”
“Wait, does Jane run a bookstore called Specialty Books?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“Yeah.” He chuckled. “How did you know?”
“I drove her to Nashville this week.”
“Hey, you’re Miranda, aren’t you?” he exclaimed. “You’re Iris Scanlon’s new driver!”
“You know Iris?” I squeaked.
“Sure, she’s a friend of my Andrea’s. I work at the shop sometimes, too, but I was, er, out that night. Jane was telling me about you. Did you really drop that marble dragon’s egg on her foot?”
“Oh, no!” I yelped, the blood draining from my face. He knew my boss, and I’d just confessed to the full complement of my professional nitwittery. I clapped my hands over my mouth. “I can’t believe—of all the vampires to run into—damn it!”
“Calm down, Jinx, I’m not going to call and tell on you. I figure you and Iris need to work this out on your own.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Really?”
“Yeah, I’m the one who arranged all of the upgrades on the transport vehicle. You think I want to tell her that her newest employee destroyed the car she’s been drooling over for three months?”
“Good point.”
“Besides, Jinx, what’s said in the El Camino stays in the El Camino.”
“Could we talk about why you’re calling me Jinx?”
“I give people nicknames, it’s sort of a thing. If it makes you feel better, my other friends are nicknamed Stretch, Jackass, and Spazzy McGee.”
“You know, I think that does make me feel better.”
“If you’re hungry, there’s Corn Nuts in the glove compartment.”
“Why would you have Corn Nuts?”
“Living friends, one of whom eats as if carbs are about to be declared illegal,” he said as I dug into the bag. “So are we going to talk about your friend who’s hiding in the back of my car?”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry about that. He was afraid you would feel threatened if there were two of us.”
“Why didn’t he just run ahead?”
“He didn’t want to leave me.”
“Well, I think that makes me like him a little bit. Would he be insulted if I asked him to move up front?” he asked.
I thought about the car-in-the-ravine incident. “No, he’s OK.”
I wasn’t exactly relishing the idea of returning to my hometown. Nestled in a crook of the Kentucky-Ohio River border, Half-Moon Hollow is one of those stereotypical Southern towns where everybody knows each other. Of the ten thousand or so people who live in the town, my parents played bridge, golfed, or went to church with at least half. There was not a lot of room for someone like me, who kept the gossip mill running like a hamster wheel. I’d left as soon as the ink was dry on my high-school diploma and had never intended to come back. And now I didn’t think I would have a choice about leaving.
The drive back to the Hollow was a strange mix of highly entertaining conversation, courtesy of Dick, and that strange “time molasses” feeling you get when you’re facing trouble. Time alternately feels as if it’s moving too fast and gives you far too many opportunities to think about the exact depth of your particular paddle-less creek.
How was I going to handle the Jason situation? Part of me really wanted to approach it with all of the class and dignity that he wouldn’t expect from me, while the other wanted to Taser him in bad places until his neighbors called the cops.
And even if Dick kept his mouth shut and Collin took the blame for the car, how was Iris going to react to my arrival? Wearing mismatched picnic clothes while bearing a bedraggled, barely fed vampire client in my wake wasn’t exactly the picture of professionalism. And I hadn’t contacted my mother in more than twenty-four hours, which meant that there was every chance she had called Iris to demand to know where I was. Maybe if I just skipped town after Iris fired me, my mom would assume that I was a missing person.
I could live in Mexico for a while. My Spanish was passable, and I enjoyed a good tamale. I groaned. I would not hide from my problems, I told myself. I would face up to what happened, tell Iris everything, dump Jason like a sack of manure, and figure everything out from there.
“Don’t worry, honey, we’re only a few miles away,” Dick assured me.
I glanced at the clock. We were running right on time.
The Mexico plan wasn’t so bad, really.
Ophelia Lambert had creeped me the hell out the night I’d had to submit to various screenings to clear me as a transport specialist. When Dick drove me to a little two-story ranch house on County Line Road, I was sure he’d taken me to the wrong place. Martha Stewart could have lived in this house. There were flipping geraniums in the window boxes on the front porch.
Iris’s bright yellow Beeline minivan was parked in the driveway. Of course, it only made sense that she would want to be present for the inaugural arrival of the Beeline transport service … which meant that I had even less time in her employ.
“Are you sure this is the place?” I asked.
“It’s her house, I promise,” Dick told me. “And don’t worry about Iris. She might blow her stack at first, but she’ll eventually see the humor in it. Tell your man in the back that the next time he rides in my vehicle, it should be in the cab.”
“I will,” I said, smiling despite myself. “Thank you, Dick. Really, you’re a lifesaver.”
He winked, the little dimple in his cheek giving him an impish air. “I’ll see you around town, Jinx. One thing about our little circle of friends, we’re impossible to escape.”
As I got out of the car, Collin hopped out of the truck bed. He gave Dick a manly little nod and straightened his loud Hawaiian shirt. The case was still cradled carefully against his side. My hands shook as we approached the walk, and I thought I might get sick. Collin took my hand into his and kissed my forehead.
“It will be all right,” he promised. Just as he was leaning in for a better kiss, the front door of the house swung open. Ophelia Lambert stepped out, her brown curls bouncing in a sleek, high ponytail. She was wearing a red pleated miniskirt and a tiny red cardigan.
Collin’s hand slipped away from mine. He straightened, squared his shoulders, and looked every inch the dignified soldier. I, on the other hand, looked like a vagrant, given the expression on the vampires’ faces.
“Miss Puckett, aren’t you the surprise?” Ophelia said, her lips twitching in amusement. “Collin, so good to see you. And right on time.”
Despite his ridiculous outfit, Collin managed to look smooth and collected as he bent low over Ophelia’s hand. “I couldn’t bear to keep you waiting for this, Ophelia.”
She smirked at him. “Clever.”
Iris emerged from the house, her wild dark hair tamed into a respectable French twist. My boss looked tidy and sweet in her blue pencil skirt and white eyelet blouse. While she initially offered me a wide smile, her expression deepened into a frown when she glanced at the driveway … and my outfit.
Before she could say anything, a lithe, cool blond woman sashayed out of the house and launched herself at Collin. “Darling!” she exclaimed. “How wonderful to see you. It’s been ages.”
What. The. Hell?
The blonde in question, Sophie, was another senior member of the local Council. I’d learned not to trust that sweet face and those pretty manners during her “qualifying examinations” for the Council. Sophie was a sort of walking lie detector. She could yank the truth from someone’s subconscious if she was touching bare skin. I’d spent several unpleasant hours in her company during the Council’s screening process for humans who planned to work in vampire homes. The process was necessary to determine whether I had some sort of death wish or a secret desire to go on a staking rampage.
Collin gracefully pried his way out of Sophie’s embrace, with a pained glance in my direction. “Sophie, it has been too long.”
Sophie was not to be deterred, however, and she linked her arm through Collin’s to lead him into the house. She chattered away about this mutual friend and that. She wanted to throw Collin a dinner party while he was in town and introduce him to her neighbors.
Collin didn’t spare me another glance as the party gathered in Ophelia’s formal dining room. And why would he, with beautiful, polished Sophie and her smooth, nearly pearlescent skin and tits that seemed to have a gravitational pull all their own? I looked down at my borrowed, wrinkled dress and felt a blush creep up my cheeks. I drifted toward Iris, hoping that I could explain about the car quietly, get fired, and then slink away before I had to watch Sophie and Collin set up a bloody dinner date.
I had almost opened my mouth to confess when I realized that I was finally going to see inside the mysterious silver case! My brain spun with thoughts of the treasure I would be viewing in just a few seconds. Was it jewels? Precious archeological artifacts? The frozen head of Walt Disney?