Real Vampires Have Curves

Page 11

"What are you reading?" She plopped on the end of my bed and rubbed Valdez's ears. I made a face. "Business stuff." I'd already offered to teach Flo to read and been set straight on the matter. She wasn't interested. Period. If I didn't like her the way she was, ciao. She'd said it with her usual charm. No one could stay mad at Flo. Or argue when she managed quite well on her own terms.
"You want to watch some Sex and the City?"
Flo was twenty-first century when it came to electronic equipment and knew her way around a DVD player. I'd turned her on to my fave show at Freddy's and she was hooked now too.
"Go ahead." I tossed my book aside. "But first I want to hear about you and Damian. Your brother?" Flo shrugged. "It's a long story. Like Freddy with his mother. When Damian became vampire, I wasn't going to just turn to dust while my brother played forever." She tied her shawl around Valdez's neck and he let her. Not even a sarcastic comment. Flo did have a way with men.
"I get it. Blade's family is the same way. None of his brothers and sisters turned down the chance for immortality." I poked Valdez with my foot. "Do you need to go out before we bed down for the day?" Valdez looked up at Flo. " I could take a walk. What do you say, gorgeous?" Poor thing. When would he realize he had a dog's chance with Flo?
"Me? You want me to take you out?" Flo smiled. "Yes, I will take you. We will stop by the coffee bar downstairs and see if there is a handsome man. Si?" She pulled her shawl off of him and threw it around her shoulders. "And you will protect me."
" Nobody does it better." Valdez aka James Bond jumped off the bed, pulled his leash off my dresser and dropped it at Flo's feet. " Use this. We gotta keep up appearances."
Appearances? Hello, a dog is a dog. Valdez gave me a look that made me wonder if maybe this one wasn't. Flo fluffed her hair and wet her lips.
"How do I look, Glory?"
"Perfect, as always." Her skinny black pants and turquoise wrap top were perfect too. She had great fashion instincts. I'd invite her to work with me, but she'd made it clear that she held nothing back when she gave an opinion. Maybe not the best attribute for customer service.
"I'm surprised you're not hooked up with someone, Flo."
"Oh, I have a lover." Flo sighed as she clipped the leash onto Valdez's collar. She patted his head when he growled. "Not working out, though. He's distracted by others."
"Must have shit for brains."
"Valdez!" I'd just about spewed Bloody Merry, but I agreed with him. Flo was all that and more. Who wouldn't be satisfied with her?
"You're too kind, Glory." Flo pasted on a smile. "Yes, I read your mind still. Tomorrow I do better." She swished out of the room, Valdez trotting at her side. My life was getting more and more interesting. I picked up my book but couldn't concentrate. Maybe a little Sex and the City. I headed back to the living room. "Season Four" was already in the player. But watching Carrie hook up with Big just reminded me that I was here in a cotton gown alone, sexless in the city. The good news was that it was by choice.
A floorboard creaked in the hall and I checked the dead bolts. Locked tight. I put my feet on the coffee table and picked up the remote again. Maybe another episode. At least my new life in Austin was shaping up to be very interesting. And the sexy Italian Casanova? Clearly a bonus.
"Hello." Time to confront my spirits and find out if they were going to be a problem. I planned to start setting things up tomorrow night, if the vibes weren't too bad down here.
My earlier encounter, if you could call it that, had seemed benign enough.
"Calling all spirits, malevolent or otherwise." I dusted off a rickety chair, sat down and waited.
"You really nailed it with Damian. Hot, but a Casanova. So helpful." And waited.
"Come on. Please? Haven't you been lonely here? Let me tell you about my shop. Maybe you could help me with it." I felt the chill first. Then a woman materialized. A cowgirl. Red hat, boots and the cutest white leather outfit I'd ever seen.
"Wow! Love the threads!"
"Thanks, honey. Good thing since I seem to be stuck in them for eternity." The cowgirl looked around. "You planning to fix things up?"
"I might. If you and I can strike a deal."
"Good attitude. I was here first." She took off her hat and fluffed her gray hair. "What are you planning?"
"Vintage Vamp's Emporium." The hat went sailing across the room and vanished. I'm not afraid of ghosts. I've been part of way too many paranormal freak shows to let a ghost bother me. Shape-shifters are the worst. You try reasoning with a werewolf you just dumped.
As for ghosts, Castle Campbell had been crowded with dead ancestors. One roamed the halls carrying an ax and an enemy's head. A cowgirl was more than welcome here.
"I'm not just a cowgirl." She looked down at her fringed leather skirt. "It's okay, but not my everyday look. Just what I happened to be wearing when I went toes up."
Another mind reader? Of course.
"Whoa. Makes you want to rethink how you dress each day. I mean, what if you'd been stuck in baggy sweats and running shoes?" I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt.
"Exactly." The cowgirl looked me over. "My name's Emmie Lou Nutt." She sighed when I giggled. I hate gigglers, but sometimes that's all that works.
"You're kidding."
"I wish. You think I wanted to be a Nutt? But Harvey Nutt was the best darn kisser in Travis County. If I had it to do over…" She winced and looked up. "Too late for do overs. I get it."
"I'm Gloriana St. Clair. Glory to my friends." I held out my hand but Emmie just looked at it.
"Look but don't touch, honey." She settled down on another rickety chair. "Now tell me about this Vintage Vamp place. I get that you're a vampire."
"True, but it's named more for my 'vamp' days. Back in the roaring twenties. I'll have vintage clothing, antiques, whatever I think will sell. I can see you've got a real sense of style."
"Thanks, honey." She got up and walked around me. "Back in my day, the only place I wore jeans was to muck out the horse stalls."
I smiled and gestured around the filthy room. "That's what I'm here to do, muck out this stall." I couldn't get a read on Emmie's age or era. The skirt hit her just at the knees.
"Would it be rude to ask when you… passed on?"
"Not at all. October 5, 1963. I was sixty-seven years young. I'd dressed up like this because I'd entered the peach pie contest at the Texas State Fair in Dallas. Called my entry Cowgirl Emmie's Passionate Peach Pie." She lowered her voice. "The secret's amaretto in the filling. Second place. That bitch Sheila Lee Harper stole first. I swear she was sleeping with the judge." She glared at the ceiling. "As if my day hadn't been bad enough, Harvey drove over me pulling out of the parking lot."
"Oh, no!"
"Yep." Emmie frowned and I felt that chill again. "Harvey Nutt, don't you dare interrupt us. She's going to hear my side first." She stood, stomped over to the window and wrote "Killer" with one finger.
"He says it was an accident. What about the rearview mirror? Did he bother to check? And we'd had a hell of a fight just that morning. The man would spend anything on a new tractor and he could not balance a checkbook." She underlined "Killer" three times.
"I had insurance, you know." Emmie Lou cocked her head, then looked up and made a face. "He'll be by later to tell his side. Don't listen to him."
I knew better than to take sides. "Why are you here? If you… passed in Dallas."
" I call it purgatory. This used to be a soda shop. Harvey and I met here. Someone," she looked up again, "wants us to make up. When hell freezes over, Harvey!"
And she was gone.
"Wait! Are you going to be okay with this shop? Will you be trying to scare away my customers?" I smelled flowers. Roses. A pretty smell. Friendly. I took that as a yes. Interesting. And no way was I spooked.
I grabbed a broom and began to attack the dust. I felt a little sorry for Harvey, but I'd wait till I heard his side to pass judgment. For now, I had a feeling that Emmie Lou, at least, was going to like this shop.
"Everything looks great, Lacy." The store opened tonight and Lacy had been terrific the past month, working like a demon, if you'll pardon the expression. She'd scrounged up some cheap mannequins, dressed them in vintage clothes and set them in the windows. A flapper stood next to a chic fifties model in a cocktail dress complete with petticoat.
"CiCi must have arranged all the furniture and doodads again last night. They look good, don't they?" Lacy didn't look bad herself in a forties style navy and white shirtwaist and perky navy hat complete with feather.
"Great. Everything looks great." Had Freddy's mother rearranged things or were Emmie and Harvey responsible? Harvey had shown up the day after Emmie did. He'd been in plaid Western shirt and starched and pressed jeans, claiming he'd never meant to run his darling Emmie Lou down. She'd bent over to pick up a penny. Not his fault that the woman was so tight she squeaked. Emmie had appeared then and they'd vanished together, still yelling at each other. Fortunately Lacy was as comfortable with ghosts as I was. A small vase toppled to the floor and shattered. Spirits. That was the preferred term.
"I wish they wouldn't do that." Another vase shook. "Sorry! I know. You were here first." The vase settled down.
"We bear you!" Lacy huffed and got the broom and dust pan.
The shop had evolved into 60 percent clothing, 40 percent everything else. When the word had gone out that I paid a fair price for vintage pieces, I'd been inundated. I wasn't the only immortal with a hoarding mentality. Fortunately, I wasn't the only one who'd decided it was time to let go of some things now too. I was proud of my store. It looked eclectic, well-organized, but crowded enough to hint at buried treasures.