The Real Werewives of Vampire County

Page 55

Tiffany did, smiling wolfishly as she slid a business card across the table. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Vera watched Tiffany leave with narrowed, distrustful eyes. The woman positively sauntered off, clearly pleased at how Alexis and Heather had warmed to her.
“I think we have a winner, ladies,” Cassandra said as she ran her fingertip along the edge of her glass, making the crystal sing.
Heather nodded enthusiastically, while Alexis reddened. “I shouldn’t have said—”
“Hush,” Cassandra scolded. “I don’t think you scared her off. Besides, she’s taken to Heather, and I’m sure she can salvage any hurt feelings and bring the girl around to seeing things our way.”
“I don’t like her,” Vera stated flatly. “I don’t think she’s what she seems.”
“Neither are we,” Heather replied.
The women quieted briefly, sipping at their drinks. Heather frowned, glancing back and forth between the others. Seeing as no one was talking, she broke the silence with a few chipper words.
“I think she’s great. I can’t wait to get to know her better. If she became part of the pack, we could set her up with one of the single wolves. Who hasn’t been mated yet? Oh, I bet she’d be a great match for Travis or Damon—”
“Will you stop that prattling?”
Heather regarded Vera with a hurt expression.
“I’ve seen her somewhere before,” Vera muttered. “I’m not sure where, but I know I have. Something about her is dangerous. We need to know more about her before we take her into the pack.”
Cassandra was not amused. “If you can provide proof of whatever it is that has you worried, I’ll take it into consideration. Until then, we go forward as planned. Heather will gather more information tomorrow and question her about her feelings on Others. Yes?”
Heather nodded, smiling brightly.
“There, you see? We’ll get to know her better and take it from there. I doubt she’ll be willing to sign a contract within a single day, anyway. We have time.”
Vera still wasn’t convinced, but said nothing.
“Even if she poses a threat now, she won’t be one for long. I’ll make sure of it.”
CHAPTER 3
I’ve been getting some bad publicity, but you got to expect that.
—Elvis Presley
Tiffany toyed with the curtains while she held her cell phone to her ear, staring out over the wide expanse of her backyard to the ring of trees that surrounded her property. After a few rings, a gruff voice harrumphed in her ear.
“Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you this soon. Run out of money already? Alimony isn’t due yet.”
“Don’t be an ass, Richard,” she said, turning away from the window. “I want you to tell me what you know about Cassandra Sachs and the women she surrounds herself with—Heather, Alexis, and especially Vera.”
He paused. Coughed. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to hunt on your own? Look, I know you didn’t like our methods—”
“I didn’t call for a lecture. Tell me what you know.”
“They’re dangerous, Tiff. Diamondfangs. Rich, snobbish, always looking to expand their ranks with more of the same. They’ve taken lawyers, CEOs, even a couple of state senators, and made them werewolves. They’ve got some kind of political agenda. I wouldn’t mess with them. If they’re sniffing around you, get out of town. I’ll send over some people—”
“No, Richard.”
“Come on, Tiff, this isn’t like before—”
“No, Richard. It’s not. You’re not my white knight, come to save the day.”
He sighed. “Damn it, babe, you always do this.”
“It’s why we’re not seeing each other anymore. Or have you forgotten?”
“No,” he replied, dull anger coloring his tone. “Of course not. How could I? You never let me forget.”
Tiffany fingered the framed image of herself in a wedding dress, leaning against a much larger man in a tuxedo who had his arm wrapped tightly around her. They were smiling, squinting against bright sunlight as they stood in a field dappled with spring flowers. Happy. Different.
“I don’t think now’s the time to discuss this. All I called for was information.”
“No. It’s never been the right time. Look, we could put off filing the papers. Try this again. Why don’t you just come home? You know I’m crazy about you.”
She tilted the frame until it was lying facedown, turning away. “It’s not my home. The hunting and the killing—that isn’t my world anymore.”
“Babe, it doesn’t have to be. Let me handle it like I always did. You don’t have to do anything. You never did. You wanted to come on the hunt, and you did. You wanted to stop, and you stopped. What’s there to argue about?”
Tiffany’s fingers clenched around the phone until the plastic squeaked. She eased up, taking a breath to calm herself, though it didn’t help much. The words were still bitter, harsh, and she regretted them the moment they passed her lips.
“You really want me to just sit on my ass on the sidelines while you put your life on the line, night after night? I won’t do it, Richard. Don’t ask that of me.”
“You went into this relationship knowing what it meant. I never lied to you. I don’t get why it’s a problem now.”
Distantly, the sound of a horn blared. Tiffany reached for her purse, voice inflectionless. “Good-bye, Richard.”
She didn’t wait for him to reply before snapping the phone shut and tossing it in her purse, clacking down the stairs to meet with Heather.
The silver Lexus idling in her circular drive looked right at home next to Tiffany’s white Mercedes. Heather waved, giving Tiffany a cheerful smile that was soon returned in kind. There was no visible sign of her anger from a moment before.
“Hey, ready to go shopping? Hop in!”
Tiffany settled in on the passenger side, slipping on a pair of sunglasses as Heather took off down the drive, sparing her a surreptitious glance now and again.
“Everything all right?”
Tiffany blinked, startled, before allowing a bitter smile to curve her lips. “Sorry. Just got off the phone with my ex. Ever since the divorce ...”
“Oh, say no more,” Heather said. “Don’t worry, honey, once we hit the stores and start spending, you’ll forget all about him. We’ll find you someone new. Someone better!”
“I think it’s a bit early for that,” Tiffany replied, tone dry. “Let’s stick with the shopping for now.”
“Yeah. You know, who needs men? You’ve got us now.”
Tiffany laughed. “Easy for you to say. Don’t you have a husband?”
“Sure I do. One that’s never home, same as the rest of the werewives.”
“The what?”
Heather flushed. “Sorry. Just an inside joke. Cassandra, Heather, Vera, and I, we’re all such bitches, we call ourselves the werewives. We’ve been using that nickname for years.”
“Funny thing to call yourselves,” Tiffany murmured, gaze focused steadily on the world passing them by.
“You aren’t afraid of werewolves, are you? They aren’t so bad. From what I hear, I mean.”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Honestly, I can’t say that I’ve known any. Just what the papers tell me.”
Heather was scandalized. “You don’t honestly believe what they print in the papers, do you?”
“Hardly. I think a lot of things get nothing but bad press, werewolves included. I’d love to meet one sometime. Find out what they’re really like,” she replied.
“Really? Most people wouldn’t want anything to do with them.”
A low, throaty laugh made Heather glance guiltily at her guest, biting her lower lip. Tiffany wiped unshed tears of mirth from her eyes, ever so careful not to smudge her mascara. “Honey, you have no idea. Despite what the papers might say, there are plenty of people out there—me included—who are curious about Others and would be delighted to have a chance to meet one in person. Vampires, werewolves, wizards—they’re different. Unique. The possibilities fire the imagination.”
“Maybe not that different,” Heather muttered, reddening.
Tiffany arched an artificially bleached brow, then shrugged and laughed again. “You are too funny! If it bothers you that much, we’ll talk about something else. Like calling yourself a bitch. I don’t see why you think so. You’ve been very sweet to me.”
Heather gave her a sheepish smile before returning her attention back to the road. She hadn’t intended to bring up the subject so soon, or with such a lack of subtlety, and was thankful that Tiffany was the one who was turning the topic back to something less dangerous.
“Wait until we both have our eye on the same purse or pair of shoes, then ask me that again.”
The two laughed, together this time, and the topic shifted to far more comfortable topics: fashion, favorite brands, and which celebrity was sleeping with whom. They didn’t speak about Others again for the whole of the trip; not at the store where they each bought a new purse, nor at the café they stopped at for a light lunch and cocktails. The pair gushed about their purchases, stopping at a few more boutiques (each finding the perfect pair of summer sandals, along with darling sundresses and earrings to match), before ending their trek at a Starbucks.