Kitty and the Silver Bullet
Page 14
I'd never been in the same room with Mercedes Cook to smell her, to be able to tell if she wasn't quite human.
"Go on," I said.
"After all this publicity about the paranormal over the last year, which you might be aware of—" Uh, yeah, did she think? "People are starting to ask the right questions about Ms. Cook and her remarkable career. The bottom line is we'd prefer to make this announcement on our own terms rather than have some reporter splash this all over the nightly news. What could be more perfect, Ms. Norville? America's first celebrity werewolf conducts a live interview with America's first celebrity vampire."
Perfect, indeed. One of the country's most beloved stars of one of its most beloved institutions—a vampire? Oh, the conservative witch hunters were going to have a field day with this. She totally hadn't been on my list—my potential vampire list that included every celebrity who looked younger than plastic surgery could explain.
And I couldn't tell anyone. Jones was smart—she'd given me a very good reason to keep the secret. I had to, if I wanted to get the exclusive story. Breaking this kind of news on my show? Ha! This was too cool.
I took a breath and tried to sound nonchalant. "That's quite intriguing, Ms. Jones. I think I can make the time to have Ms. Cook on for an interview." I acted like I was poking through a calendar. "Yes, I'm sure I can fit her in. When is she available?"
"Is this week too soon? She'll be in Denver for her concert tour."
"This week is fine."
"I can arrange for her to come to your studio for an interview. I'm assuming that would be convenient?"
"Yes, yes, of course. I'll make sure we're set up on this end."
"That's great. Would you like tickets for her concert?"
Why the hell not? "That would be great. Thanks."
"I'll be in touch."
She clicked off, and I had my show for the week all set up. Belatedly, I realized I had admitted that I was in Denver. But surely the publicist couldn't reveal that to anyone who would cause trouble.
After the show, I'd have to call Detective Hardin and tell her that Mercedes Cook had hundreds of publicity photos and several videos of her musicals. Vampires did appear on film, and something else had robbed that store.
Chapter 4
Judy Jones reserved tickets for me for the Thursday night concert. Not only that, but I had an invitation to visit Mercedes Cook afterward, with a backstage pass. I was starting to feel like some kind of big deal myself. This was all to butter me up so I'd give a flattering interview. We'd see about that.
I had two tickets, and I wanted a date. Ben didn't want to go.
"That really isn't my kind of thing," he said, working at his desk the day before the concert.
"Have you ever even been to a show like this? World-class singer, world-class concert hall, it'll knock your socks off."
He spared a brief glance over his shoulder. "I'm really not all that into music."
Oh, now he tells me. "Ben, I started my adult life as a radio DJ. You can't live with me and not be into music. Are you saying that all the times I blast The Clash while making dinner you haven't been into it?"
"To be honest, I mostly tune it out."
How the hell do you tune out The Clash? Turned all the way up? Once again I reminded myself that Ben and I were together by accident. Did we even know each other, really?
"Ben, I'd really like to go to this. Together."
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Still wouldn't look at me. "Can't you get someone else to go? Maybe your sister."
Uh, no. Not the same. "You know how you keep saying that we've never been on a real date?" We were living together, sleeping together. We were practically married. We'd skipped clean over the whole dating thing and went straight into settled. I wanted to change that. "Can this be it?"
Finally, he turned, stared at me in a way that was almost a wolf challenge—asking for a fight or offering to give one. Then, he gave a sly half smile.
"Are you asking me out?" he said.
"Yeah, I am."
"Well, okay then."
I turned my gaze to the ceiling, as if that would tell me how his brain worked. "You're really obnoxious, you know that?"
He was still grinning when he turned back to his desk.
I convinced Ben to dress up—suit, tie, the works. I knew he could pull out the GQ polish for important courtroom appearances and high-level meetings. The rest of the time, not so much. But we were having a night on the town, and I wanted to go all out. Who knew when we'd ever do anything like this again?
He finished dressing while I was in the shower, and I hurried because I didn't want to be that stereotype of the woman who takes forever to get ready while the guy is in the living room glancing at his watch. Hair dried and up, makeup on, earrings, necklace, little black dress, and strappy heels. I was probably way overdressed, but I didn't care. The dress was a clingy silk number with spaghetti straps, sexy without being trampy. I'd only worn it once before—it had given me good luck then. I contorted in order to see myself in the narrow full-length mirror, making sure the skirt was all smoothed out, that a few wisps of hair were artfully arranged around my face—and rearranged, and arranged again—and that everything was in order.
"Kitty, we'd probably better—" Ben's steps approached just as I bent over to adjust a strap on my shoe one more time. "Wow."
He stopped in the doorway. He stared. I straightened and stared back. The look in his eyes—I found myself blushing in places I didn't know I could blush.
For his part, Ben was wearing his best courtroom suit, charcoal gray, perfectly tailored, with a rust-colored tie. The lines were smooth, giving him a slim, fit appearance, an image of power and privilege. His hair was a touch too long to lay slicked back, so it flopped over his forehead, with a rakish, mischievous air. Put a pair of Ray-Bans on him, he'd be downright scary. Dreamily scary.
"Wow yourself," I said. I resisted an urge to lick my lips, but I did gulp a little.
"You, ah, clean up pretty well." His voice seemed a bit subdued, and he'd started fidgeting with his cufflinks.
"You, too." I didn't have cuff links to fidget with, so I laced my fingers together behind my back. The blushing was getting worse. My whole body was turning red, I was sure of it. Did he have any idea just how…how amazing he looked?
"Go on," I said.
"After all this publicity about the paranormal over the last year, which you might be aware of—" Uh, yeah, did she think? "People are starting to ask the right questions about Ms. Cook and her remarkable career. The bottom line is we'd prefer to make this announcement on our own terms rather than have some reporter splash this all over the nightly news. What could be more perfect, Ms. Norville? America's first celebrity werewolf conducts a live interview with America's first celebrity vampire."
Perfect, indeed. One of the country's most beloved stars of one of its most beloved institutions—a vampire? Oh, the conservative witch hunters were going to have a field day with this. She totally hadn't been on my list—my potential vampire list that included every celebrity who looked younger than plastic surgery could explain.
And I couldn't tell anyone. Jones was smart—she'd given me a very good reason to keep the secret. I had to, if I wanted to get the exclusive story. Breaking this kind of news on my show? Ha! This was too cool.
I took a breath and tried to sound nonchalant. "That's quite intriguing, Ms. Jones. I think I can make the time to have Ms. Cook on for an interview." I acted like I was poking through a calendar. "Yes, I'm sure I can fit her in. When is she available?"
"Is this week too soon? She'll be in Denver for her concert tour."
"This week is fine."
"I can arrange for her to come to your studio for an interview. I'm assuming that would be convenient?"
"Yes, yes, of course. I'll make sure we're set up on this end."
"That's great. Would you like tickets for her concert?"
Why the hell not? "That would be great. Thanks."
"I'll be in touch."
She clicked off, and I had my show for the week all set up. Belatedly, I realized I had admitted that I was in Denver. But surely the publicist couldn't reveal that to anyone who would cause trouble.
After the show, I'd have to call Detective Hardin and tell her that Mercedes Cook had hundreds of publicity photos and several videos of her musicals. Vampires did appear on film, and something else had robbed that store.
Chapter 4
Judy Jones reserved tickets for me for the Thursday night concert. Not only that, but I had an invitation to visit Mercedes Cook afterward, with a backstage pass. I was starting to feel like some kind of big deal myself. This was all to butter me up so I'd give a flattering interview. We'd see about that.
I had two tickets, and I wanted a date. Ben didn't want to go.
"That really isn't my kind of thing," he said, working at his desk the day before the concert.
"Have you ever even been to a show like this? World-class singer, world-class concert hall, it'll knock your socks off."
He spared a brief glance over his shoulder. "I'm really not all that into music."
Oh, now he tells me. "Ben, I started my adult life as a radio DJ. You can't live with me and not be into music. Are you saying that all the times I blast The Clash while making dinner you haven't been into it?"
"To be honest, I mostly tune it out."
How the hell do you tune out The Clash? Turned all the way up? Once again I reminded myself that Ben and I were together by accident. Did we even know each other, really?
"Ben, I'd really like to go to this. Together."
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. Still wouldn't look at me. "Can't you get someone else to go? Maybe your sister."
Uh, no. Not the same. "You know how you keep saying that we've never been on a real date?" We were living together, sleeping together. We were practically married. We'd skipped clean over the whole dating thing and went straight into settled. I wanted to change that. "Can this be it?"
Finally, he turned, stared at me in a way that was almost a wolf challenge—asking for a fight or offering to give one. Then, he gave a sly half smile.
"Are you asking me out?" he said.
"Yeah, I am."
"Well, okay then."
I turned my gaze to the ceiling, as if that would tell me how his brain worked. "You're really obnoxious, you know that?"
He was still grinning when he turned back to his desk.
I convinced Ben to dress up—suit, tie, the works. I knew he could pull out the GQ polish for important courtroom appearances and high-level meetings. The rest of the time, not so much. But we were having a night on the town, and I wanted to go all out. Who knew when we'd ever do anything like this again?
He finished dressing while I was in the shower, and I hurried because I didn't want to be that stereotype of the woman who takes forever to get ready while the guy is in the living room glancing at his watch. Hair dried and up, makeup on, earrings, necklace, little black dress, and strappy heels. I was probably way overdressed, but I didn't care. The dress was a clingy silk number with spaghetti straps, sexy without being trampy. I'd only worn it once before—it had given me good luck then. I contorted in order to see myself in the narrow full-length mirror, making sure the skirt was all smoothed out, that a few wisps of hair were artfully arranged around my face—and rearranged, and arranged again—and that everything was in order.
"Kitty, we'd probably better—" Ben's steps approached just as I bent over to adjust a strap on my shoe one more time. "Wow."
He stopped in the doorway. He stared. I straightened and stared back. The look in his eyes—I found myself blushing in places I didn't know I could blush.
For his part, Ben was wearing his best courtroom suit, charcoal gray, perfectly tailored, with a rust-colored tie. The lines were smooth, giving him a slim, fit appearance, an image of power and privilege. His hair was a touch too long to lay slicked back, so it flopped over his forehead, with a rakish, mischievous air. Put a pair of Ray-Bans on him, he'd be downright scary. Dreamily scary.
"Wow yourself," I said. I resisted an urge to lick my lips, but I did gulp a little.
"You, ah, clean up pretty well." His voice seemed a bit subdued, and he'd started fidgeting with his cufflinks.
"You, too." I didn't have cuff links to fidget with, so I laced my fingers together behind my back. The blushing was getting worse. My whole body was turning red, I was sure of it. Did he have any idea just how…how amazing he looked?
