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The pink dress made my ankles look chunky. The yellow sweater made me look sallow. The green jacket made my shoulders look like a linebacker’s.
I finally agreed to Mama’s chosen outfit—a navy-blue dress I’d had since high school, complete with a white sailor ’s collar—just to get them out of the house. And then I ran back upstairs to put on black slacks and a soft blue cashmere sweater that Aunt Jettie had bought for me on my last birthday. Touched by the gesture, Jettie agreed to stick around the house that night, just in case Jenny and Grandma returned to help themselves to the silver.
Missy lived in a brand-new subdivision called Deer Haven, in an unassuming little two-story ranch house that looked exactly like the twenty-seven unassuming little two-story ranch houses on the same street, most of which were empty. It was easy to find the party, as Missy’s place was surrounded by cars. From the front door, I could hear smooth jazz piano and people chattering and laughing. Before I died, my idea of a good party had involved an ice cream cake. Somehow, I doubted that would be offered at this soiree.
Before I could register someone coming to the door, Missy had it open and was squealing in greeting. “Jane, I’m so glad you could make it!”
I just said, “Here I am.”
I’d brought a bottle of merlot that a library patron had given me for Christmas as a hostess gift, because I figured Missy would be into that sort of thing. Fortunately, I’d remembered to remove the gift tag. As I handed it over, Missy cooed, “Oh, shug, you didn’t need to do that. Come on in.”
Missy hooked her arm through mine and steered me into the foyer. The walls were sponged a subtle beige. There was a maple table with a bowl full of business cards and a votive of roses. Beyond the living room was a huge, airy, and empty kitchen decorated in a rustic Tuscan motif. It was obvious the kitchen was never used and, given Missy ’s dietary habits, never would be.
About thirty vampires were circulating pleasantly in the living room, admiring Missy ’s collection of blown-glass sculptures, all of which looked vaguely anatomical to me.
These were definitely newer vampires. There was no mystery here, no mystique. They were all cheerful and shiny and clean-cut. Some of the guys were wearing polo shirts, for goodness sake. They still seemed remotely human, as if they were clinging to remnants of their former lives. I kind of liked them.
“Now, y’all know the rules!” Missy lectured in a preschool teacher’s tone, dragging me through the crowd. I bumped into several people, sloshing their drinks. Missy seemed oblivious to this. “A few minutes of chat, exchange business cards, and move on! We want to meet as many people as possible, don’t we?”
Missy handed me a frosty cocktail glass, glittering with ice and mint, led me around the room, and forced me into several introductions. Everyone else was prefaced by their profession—Joan the vampire party planner or Ben the vampire tax attorney—
or the brilliant things they were doing with radio advertising or blood brokering. I was introduced as “Jane Jameson, she used to be a librarian.” Or “You must know Jane, she’s Gabriel Nightengale’s childe.” It felt like the time Mama dragged me around the Girl Scout campout, determined that I would have the most signatures in my friendship book. The words “Stay sweet, have a great summer” still make my stomach turn.
And much as at that third-grade campout, I was not a hit at the cocktail party. At first, the undead movers and shakers were thrilled to meet me, but as soon as my name was mentioned, their lips twisted into snide little grins. They’d smirk and ask me about the price of a Grand Slam or tell me they’d heard the tombs over at St. Joseph’s offered great leverage. As soon as Missy pulled me away from one group, they’d snicker and bend their heads together to talk about me as if I couldn’t hear them. Some of the female vampires seemed downright hostile when Missy told them who I was.>If I corrected her and said anything about my new job, it would only prolong their visit, so I shrugged it off. “Daddy says you repainted your kitchen.”
“How are you going to pay the bills? You know, the taxes on River Oaks are coming up soon,” she said, trying her hardest to be nonchalant. “If you can’t pay them, you can always come to Kent and me for a loan.”
I narrowed my eyes at my sister. Same old Jenny. The same Jenny who refused to let me touch her pep -squad pom-poms because I’d “mess them up.” The same Jenny who picked our second cousin to be a bridesmaid over me because everyone else in her wedding party was thin and blond, and she didn’t want me to “stick out.” Well, screw the same old Jenny.
“I’d rather roll naked over broken glass and dive into a pool full of lemon juice, but thanks, ” I said, smiling back. “Besides, Junie said there are some shifts opening up at the Booby Hatch. I thought I’d give that a try.”
Mama gasped and turned, prompting Jettie to drop the candlestick behind the couch with a thud.
No one noticed, because Grandma Ruthie loudly demanded, “You know what your problem is, Jane?”
“No, but if I had a couple of hours, I’m sure you’d tell me.”
“You’re too full of yourself.” She sniffed. “Always have been. I’ve never understood what you thought was so special about you—”
“Why don’t you just go get dressed, honey, and we’ll wait down here?” Mama asked, her voice desperately cheerful.
“I wasn’t finished, Sherry,” Grandma Ruthie said.
Behind her back, Aunt Jettie muttered, “The minute she’s finally ‘finished,’ that’s when we’ll know to call the undertaker.”
“Well, what about selling the house?” Jenny asked, irked that the conversation had strayed from her agenda. “You don’t need all the space to yourself. I have two growing boys. We need the room. And it’s just impractical for you to have all this room now that you’re broke.”
“I’m not selling you the house so you can raise those two wolverines you call children here. ” I rolled my eyes. “Honestly, Jenny, you’re about as subtle as a sack of hammers. And I’m not broke. So just back off.”
“Jane, how about getting dressed?” Mama asked again. Her voice was desperate now. “We’ll need to hurry if we’re going to get a table.”
“Mama, I can’t. Really, I can’t.”
“And why not?” Mama cried, eyeing my pajamas, which were decorated with little goldfish. “What could be so important that you can’t drag yourself away to spend a little time with family? I haven ’t seen you in weeks. And it’s not like you have a busy schedule without working.”
“I am working! OK?” I exclaimed. “I’ve had a job for almost a week now.”
Oh, crap.
