Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs

Page 2

“Welcome.” The man was dressed in L.A. evening wear. Expensive, casual and mostly black. He was tall, slim and vampire. “I’m afraid the shifter will have to wait outside unless he wishes to assume a more human form.”
Not a conventionally handsome guy, but I wouldn’t toss him out of my bed. Hey, figure of speech. I glanced at Jerry and smiled. Fortunately, he wasn’t reading my mind; he was busy assessing the environment, checking for dangers, that kind of thing. Once a warrior, always a warrior.
“No, the shifter will wait out here.” Jerry signaled Valdez, who grumbled, but settled next to the door outside.
Inside, there was music with a good beat, loud enough to encourage dancing, and a lighted floor crowded with couples. Some were same sex; some weren’t. A bar in the corner was also crowded and I could see martini glasses being drained. Either they were selling synthetics or they had a supply of the real deal. My nose told me there was some fresh on hand and I was suddenly very thirsty. There was lots of chrome and glass and shiny gray walls that seemed to glow until the lights were dimmed as the music slowed. The effect was very urban chic, not the “dark, creepy crypt” thing that a mortal would expect from a vampire club.
Our greeter was still by Jerry’s side. “I’ll need a credit card from one of you to run a tab. There’s a cover, plus if you want to use one of the donors, we have private booths. I can get you a menu if you’re interested.”
“We want to see what you’ve got.” Damian handed him a Platinum Card.
The vamp smiled and showed fangs. “I’m Stephen, your host tonight. Let me know if you need something or someone you don’t see on the menu.” He snapped his fingers and a woman in a skimpy costume à la Star Wars handed each of us a laminated card. “And if you need an explanation of any of our choices, just ask your waitress. Let me lead you to a table.” He took off across the crowded room and I, for one, wasn’t going to let him out of my sight.
Wow! Talk about a menu. What was a “Train Wreck”? And what about a “Three Alarm”? Since my shop had been firebombed, I really didn’t have the urge to check out anything to do with fire. Unless . . . three donors? Damian grinned and winked at me, obviously reading my mind. Hmm. Guess I was being too literal.
I did see that they sold fresh AB negative by the glass, hopefully from a blood bank somewhere. I’d sworn off feeding from humans. Stephen got us a round table near the dance floor and introduced Mandy, another barely dressed space cadet, as our waitress. Soon we each had a glass of our favorite blood type in front of us and I was ready to dance.
“Come on, Jerry. They’re playing our song.” I pulled him to his feet. I dropped my wig and sunglasses on the table.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard this song before.”
I laughed. Of course he hadn’t. Jerry’s not exactly into rock bands. I stay very current. Because I believe in blending with my environment. As a rocker’s girlfriend, I’d been really into this kind of music lately.
“Humor me, Jerry. Just stand there and look good and I’ll dance around you.” I leaned into him and gave him an encouraging kiss. That got him headed in the right direction and we were soon moving to the music.
When things slowed down and the lights dimmed to almost complete black except for the glowing pedestals under each table and the base of the bar, he pulled me into his arms. He’d taken some dance lessons not too long ago, but forget those. This was all about bodies and a rhythm that had more to do with sex than dancing. I held on to him and breathed in his yummy male essence. The music sped up, the lights got brighter and I’d just about decided that Jerry’s hotel room was the right place for us after all when I felt a hand land on my back.
“Gloria Simmons! I swear to God, I never thought I’d see you here in L.A.”
I turned, ready to deny the alias, though that had been the name I’d gone by in Vegas for almost two decades. But when I saw who it was, I forgot all about denials.
“Sheri!” I threw my arms around her neck. I’d had one good vampire friend in those days, and Sheri had been it. I’d told her I was leaving town and intended to keep in touch, but the e-mails had dwindled lately. “It’s Glory St. Clair now. This is Jeremy Blade.”
“Tell me this isn’t the Scotsman you were pining for all those years.” Sheri looked Jerry over from head to toe. “Girl, you were crazy for avoiding him.”
“That’s what I keep telling her.” Jerry pulled both of us off the dance floor toward our table. “Gloria Simmons was your name in Las Vegas. Glory didn’t really dance topless, did she, Sheri?”
Sheri winked at me. “Why wouldn’t she? She’s got the perfect equipment.” She threw back her shoulders, stunning in a short red dress cut low in front. The clingy material made it clear her dancer’s body was perfect. I’d always used tricks to make mine look good.
“Thanks, Sheri. It really is great to see you. Remember, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” I winked back at her and smiled at Jerry.
“I hear ya. But, Glory, honey, you should come back. I’ve got a part in the new vampire show. You’d love it. They want you to wear fake fangs, even troll through the casino in them.” She laughed and tossed her dark hair. “They figure I’m one of their best erotic angels. ’Cause I wear my fangs everywhere I go.”
“Sheri, you’ve got to meet my other friends.” I didn’t see Flo and Richard but Damian strolled up to the table, a full glass in his hand. “Damian, meet my old friend Sheri LaDouce. Sheri, this is Damian Sabatini.”
“Honey, this year it’s Sherry Landolt. You know how it is.” She turned and got an eyeful of Damian. “Well, hello there.”
In typical Damian fashion, he picked up her hand and pulled it to his lips. “Bonjour, mademoiselle. Parlez-vous français?”
“Mais oui.” Sheri fluttered her eyelashes. “Let’s cut the foreign stuff. Glory never could get her mouth around any of that. But it makes for wonderful pillow talk, don’t you think, cheri?”
“Ah, I think we already speak the same language.” Damian grinned at me. “I love your friend. Will you dance, Sheri?” He gestured at our waitress, pressed some bills in her hand and in moments, the lights dimmed again and there was another slow, sensual song playing.
“Oh, boy, I think I’m going to have my hands full, literally.” Sheri laughed and let herself be pulled toward the dance floor. “Nice meeting you, Jeremy. See ya, Glory.”
“Shouldn’t you warn her about Damian?” Jerry looked like he wanted to go after the couple.
“Should I warn Damian about her is the question.” I laughed and sat at the table. Damian’s a Casanova type, but I knew Sheri was more than a match for him. “You should have seen her operate in Vegas. Sheri never has money problems because she always has a sugar daddy. Damian better get that Platinum Card ready. Before Sheri gets through with him, she’ll have shopped Rodeo Drive from one end to the other, courtesy of his plastic.”
“Good for her. He can afford it. Now, about that topless thing.” Jerry stared at my cleavage. “I know you’d look good, Glory, but the thought—”
“Here’s Flo and Richard. I wonder if they found out what a ‘Train Wreck’ is.” I wasn’t about to let Jerry know if I’d danced topless or not. I figure a little mystery in a relationship is a good thing.
“Glory, you’ll never guess who we just met.” Flo sat next to me.
“It’s bogus. Don’t get her stirred up about this nonsense.” Richard sat and tapped his fingers on the table. He looked as handsome as Jerry did, but Richard is white blond and tanned with bright blue eyes. Obviously Flo had picked out his wardrobe too and he had a “Beverly Hills hottie” look to him that had other women in the room licking their lips. I’m sure Flo had been busy sending mental messages to those vamps to back off or die.
“You never know, Ricardo. It might be true. I owe it to my best friend to let her know, amante, that what she thought is impossible could be possible.” Flo grabbed my arm.
“What are you talking about? What’s impossible?” I winced. Flo’s got a grip on her.
“There’s a man here tonight. He’s famous among the Los Angeles vampires. He claims he can make anyone, even vampires, lose weight.” Flo frowned down at her thighs and I wanted to slap her. Excuse me? They were barely a six. What did she want? A four?
Wait. Had I heard her right? Not possible. Back in 1604 when Jerry had turned me vampire after I’d begged him to—so we could be together forever—I’d been “healthy.” I mean, women who carried some extra weight back then were voluptuous and proud of it. So I didn’t think ahead. If I’d known then what I know now, I’d have fasted a few days before the big turning. Lost ten pounds or so first. But, no, Glory was bloating, or at least that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. So I was stuck forever with hips that would have been great for delivering twelve-pound babies if I’d ever had that option. And thighs . . . Well, God knows if I were a Thanksgiving turkey, entire Pilgrim villages could have feasted on one of my thighs.
“Florence da Vinci. Are you telling me that there’s a man here who says he can help a vampire lose weight?” I stood. Ready to ambush this guy and use every bit of my credit limit for a shot at skinny.
“Gloriana, stop this nonsense. You’re perfect. Why would you want to lose weight?” Jerry stood beside me and patted my rump. Wrong move.
I turned slowly and looked him in the eye. He must have seen something there, because big, brave warrior Jerry actually backed up a step.
“Don’t ever pat my butt in public again.” I said this past the fangs that had shot down into my mouth like maybe I was thinking about ripping out Jerry’s throat. Overreaction? Maybe. But, come on. Do you like having your fat ass patted in public? Why not just shine a spotlight on it? Or hang a sign? Hey, world, look at my lady’s big butt. I just couldn’t take it at that moment. Not when I suddenly, against all reason and rational thinking, had a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, I might finally be able to do something about a problem that had weighed me down for centuries.