Driving Mr. Dead

Page 22

Iris eyed me warily as I stepped eagerly toward the table. Collin placed the case in front of Ophelia with a flourish. He took the key from its chain around his neck and popped the lock. He lifted the lid, but I couldn’t see inside just yet.
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Ophelia sighed, reaching into the case and pulling out—
“A teddy bear?” I exclaimed.
It was a very nice bear, its short brown fur perfectly fluffed, with soft velvet pads on its paws. But still. “I put myself through hell for a fucking teddy bear?” I shouted.
“Not just any teddy bear.” Ophelia preened. “An original 1902 Meinhoff with intact joints and ear rivets. And this one is one-of-a-kind. You see, the eyes are two different colors. The manufacturer didn’t make mistakes like this. It’s practically an urban legend in the toy world. Collin spent years tracking it down for me. It’s for Georgie’s birthday. She’s going to love it. Thank you, Collin, Miranda, for making this possible.”
What the—why—who the hell was Georgie?
My brain seemed to shortcircuit as I stared down at the little bear. It glared balefully up at us through one brown marble eye and one blue. All this time I thought we were carrying cash or jewels or nuclear secrets, and I was delivering a child’s toy.
Ophelia turned toward Iris and myself, handing us both envelopes. I glanced down at mine, which was filled with cash. Hundreds, lots of them.
Iris patted my shoulder. “Ophelia insisted on paying you a separate cash bonus if you arrived on time.”
I found that the money only seemed to make my anger grow, particularly with Sophie wriggling all over Collin like some vampire Playboy bunny. I was dismissed again. I was the help. The inadvertent other woman.
“Collin,” I said, clearing my throat. Collin couldn’t hear me over Sophie’s coos and giggles. I cleared my throat even louder. Nothing. Finally, I exclaimed, “Sophie, do you think you could stop rubbing your breasts against his arm for about five seconds so I can talk to him?”
“Miranda, what’s wrong?” Collin asked, his brow creased as he pried Sophie loose. She pouted a bit but kept her chest to herself. He pulled me aside, asking quietly, “Is this about Sophie? You have nothing to worry about, she’s just a friend. An old friend from a long time ago. We’ve known each for years. Trust me.”
Where had I heard that before?
Just a friend. Sure, Sophie was just a friend. And then, in a couple of days, I would be treated to exposure to Collin and Sophie’s secret sex life via video chat or text message or some digital media I hadn’t heard of yet. No. I wasn’t doing this again. I would not be subjected to the silly nicknames and accidental boob grazes of “platonic friends.” My next boyfriend was going to be a hermit.
Wait, my current boyfriend was a hermit … and I still had to compete with plastic, breathless Sophie.
Screw it.
I turned to Iris, who seemed to be caught in a permanent wince. “You know what? Iris, I really appreciate the fact that you hired me. And I know my employment is pretty much hanging by a thread. But at this point, I don’t care if you fire me, I quit!” I stalked toward the door, grumbling about vampires and their bullshit. I stopped, turning back to Iris and Ophelia. “I don’t mean to be rude. Ophelia, thank you for the bonus. And thank you for the opportunity, Iris. I really appreciate it. And considering what happened to your car, I won’t blame you for suing me.”
I stomped out the door and down the stairs toward the driveway. Sophie chuffed indignantly and called me too immature to work with the undead community. As the screen door slammed shut, I heard Iris ask, “What about the car?”
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
12
Dick was waiting for me at the end of Ophelia’s driveway, leaning against the side of his car and giving me a sympathetic look.
“How did you know?” I groaned. “Are you psychic, too?”
Dick chuckled. “Nope. But I’ve spent enough time around Ophelia to know how these situations are going to turn out. Can I give you a ride home?”
I nodded, smiling gratefully as he opened the door. “Would you mind if we made a quick stop first?”
“Will you tell me what happened in there?” he asked.
“I’ll think about it,” I grumbled.
Dick didn’t blame me for being pissed about the teddy bear, but he thought that selling counterfeit Snuggies out of his El Camino was a valid business model, so I’m not sure that was support that I needed. He seemed to understand that I needed some cheering up, so he shared Jane’s latest exploits, which included dropping a case of coffee beans on Andrea and wrenching her own front door off its hinges while she was arguing with Dick over stocking “adult paranormal titles.” I was going to have to spend more time with Jane. She may have been the only person on earth who could really understand me.
“Can you keep the engine running?” I asked as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “I’ll be right back.”
Dick frowned, clearly thinking that this was my home. He was probably wondering why I was planning to leave so quickly. “Sure.”
“And can I borrow your cell phone?”
Even more confused, Dick nodded and handed me a late-model smartphone. I played with the features on the walk to the house, until I found the camera function. I pulled the pawn receipt from my pocket as I climbed the steps. I took a deep breath, centering myself before I knocked on the door and dealt with Jason. He answered the door, coiffed and pressed as always, but the confused look on his face was priceless.
He glanced over his shoulder nervously but put his best smile on as he exclaimed, “Hi, sweetheart, you’re—”
I cranked my fist back like a piston and swung at his nose with all of my might, landing a blow that sent Jason tumbling back across the foyer floor. He yelped, landing with a thud, clutching at his spurting nostrils.
I smiled, acidic and sweet. “Enjoy Lisa and her ticklish knees.”
“Bat the hell, Miradah?” he exclaimed, slurring his words through his recently rearranged nasal cavity. “I tink you broke by dose!”
I tossed my pawn receipt at him. “Learn to use your screen lock, you spineless, manipulative mama’s boy!”
And while he was sprawled on the foyer floor, with blood dripping down his nose and my pawn ticket perfectly centered on his dark T-shirt, I whipped out Dick’s cell phone and snapped several pictures. Because this was a moment I wanted to remember.
I scampered down the steps and slid into the passenger side. Dick stared at me, wide-eyed, but had a huge grin plastered on his handsome face. “Did I just help you commit a felony?”
“I don’t know, are there important distinctions between misdemeanor and felony assault?” I asked, flexing my sore fingers as we sped away from the apartment complex.
“It seems like there should be,” he mused as I forwarded the cell-phone pictures to my e-mail address.
“Probably better that you don’t know, then.”
Dick was nice enough to drive me to my parents’ house, after assuring him that I wouldn’t be “bitch-slapping” anybody living there. Before I climbed out of the car, I promised that I would come by his place on Silver Ridge Road soon so I could spend some time with Andrea. Dick seemed very keen on persuading her to take a cross-country trip with me, as it could only end in what he called “world-class acts of destruction and stupidity.” He seemed to consider me some sort of vampire extreme-tourism attraction.
The house was quiet as I slipped inside. My parents’ part-time housekeeper, Faye, had left dinner warming in the oven, but I was too tired to consider eating. I flopped onto my bed and pressed my face into the freshly laundered quilt. My childhood bedroom was always ready for me. The furniture was always dusted. It hadn’t changed since I was a senior in high school. The walls were the same shade of Violently Violet.
I needed to take a shower. But I couldn’t seem to find the will to get up. I couldn’t move. I was exhausted, physically, emotionally, financially. I rubbed my face into the quilt and sighed. All that trouble for a stupid toy.
What could I do next? What was the step down from vampire chauffeur? Werewolf walker? Pedicurist for Bigfoot? I would have to Google that in the morning, I told myself. For now, I needed to sleep on a bed that wouldn’t collapse, get sprinkled in broken glass, or attract prickish vampires. I closed my eyes and let exhaustion drag me under.
Someone was touching my face. I was curled into the fetal position on my mattress, and cool fingers stroked down my forehead, along my brows. I leaned into them, mumbling, “Morning, Collin.”
“Who’s Collin?” a warm feminine voice asked.
“Mom?” I lifted my head from the bed and blinked up, my eyes gummy and tired. The scent of my mom’s gardenia perfume washed over me in an oversweet, familiar cloud. I ignored the recoil Mom gave when she took in the smeared makeup and Medusa hair.
She chuckled fondly and kissed my forehead. “Darlin’, what in the world are you wearing?”
My eyes adjusted to the dark room, and I could make out the glint of Mom’s ash-blond bob tucked behind her ears. The streetlamp outside my window reflected off the raw silk of her favorite slate-blue suit. It was one of those classic suits, the kind a woman buys in her thirties and will only give up when it’s ripped from her cold dead hands … or she gains twenty pounds. My mother hadn’t gained an ounce in thirty years. The suit would be perfectly crisp, even after a work day. And although I couldn’t see it clearly, I knew that her face was carefully made up to look professional and mature, as always.
“Hi, baby,” she said, stroking my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re home, where you belong. I was so worried about you being out there alone with some vampire.”
“He wasn’t just some vampire, Mom,” I groaned, rubbing my hand over my eyes. “He was a pretty nice guy.”
She sniffed and folded a pair of my discarded socks while I switched on the bedside lamp. I had this strange feeling of déjà vu, as if Mom had come home from work to have one of our come-to-Jesus midnight chats about why I should focus on passing trigonometry instead of auditioning for the school play.
Again with the sniffing. “Well, I’m just glad you won’t be doing that again.”
I swung my feet to the ground, wincing as my stiff legs cramped in protest. I stripped out of my borrowed dress and slid into my bathrobe. Mom straightened the picture frame I’d bumped on my way in the night before and realigned the participation certificate I’d received from a middle-school soccer team.
“Mom, I never said I wouldn’t be doing it again,” I reminded her. Never mind the fact that I probably wouldn’t be doing it again. I still hadn’t said it. “And you’d be surprised how nice some of them can be, some of the time.”
She patted my head. “Well, it doesn’t matter now. Have you talked to Jason since you got back into town?”
I avoided direct eye contact. “You could say that.”
Mom took my chin in her hands, then glanced down at my bruised knuckles. “So I take it the wedding is off, permanently?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I know you’re disappointed, but really, you should be used to it by now.”
“Oh, don’t be that way, Miranda. I understand why you don’t want to marry Jason, really, I do. It would be too difficult, knowing that he was in love with another woman. Don’t get defensive with me.”
“You’re right.” I sighed. “I’m not being fair to you. I owe it to you to tell you this without my usual sarcasm.” I sat on the bed and looked her straight in the eye as I said, “Mom, I appreciate that you’ve tried to help me find my way over the past year, but I’m not going to work for you anymore.”