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“They did not!”
“They made you their prize bitch! And not in the dog-show way. You might as well have given them all your milk money and then done their homework for them.”
“I told you, they’re scary. And blond. We’ve established that I don’t do well with scary blond people. And you’re starting to talk like me the more time we spend together. I think we can both agree that having one person in the world who talks like me is too many.”
“Jane, maybe you could see this as an opportunity to grow as a person, to face your fears, to be a little less wracked by insecurity.”
“I am not wracked by fear and insecurity. I have completely normal fears: failure, clowns, spiders. What’s weird about that?” I groaned. “Oh, who am I kidding? It’s all gone pear-shaped.”
Andrea patted my head. “No more Kitchen Nightmares for you.”
“It’s Gordon Ramsay. I can’t help myself. All the yelling and the cursing … it’s so forceful. And he takes off his shirt at least once every episode to change into his chef’s uniform.”
She snorted. “Freak.”
“Look, I’m going to stick it out. I have to. Joining the chamber is good for the shop … it’s going to be good for the shop. Please, God, let it be good for the shop. And at least we know that they’ll let you quit if it’s not the place for you … or you exceed the maximum weight allowances.”
Andrea snickered. “You know, maybe you’d be a little more confident if you jazzed up your wardrobe a bit.”
I smirked. “You’re just looking for an excuse to take me on another humiliating shopping excursion.”
“Keep it up, and I’ll put you in a stylish poncho,” she said, giving me a mock evil glare.
I shuddered. “Vampires should not wear ponchos.” I made kissing noises and beckoned my dog. “Come here, Fitz.”
Fitz yawned and scooched even further under the porch swing, nuzzling his head into Andrea’s hand.
“Traitor,” I muttered.
“Oh, you got a shipment at the shop. I put it on your hall table,” she said, rising and dislodging Fitz’s head from her knee.
“Why didn’t you just leave it at the shop?” I asked, following her through the front door, pitcher in hand.
“Well, I thought maybe you’d want these for yourself,” she said, smirking, handing me the opened box. About a dozen books with blazing neon titles winked out at me.
“ Forbidden Thirst. Blood Lust. Penetrating Fangs. The Misadventures of Millie ,” I read, thumbing through the slick paperbacks. This went way beyond the cover of your average bodice-ripper. Let’s just say more was being inserted than fangs. “I didn’t order this! This is … porn! Vampire porn, but porn all the same.”
“I think the publishers prefer the term ‘erotica.’”
I shot Andrea my best withering glare. She shrugged, all wide, innocent eyes betrayed by her madly twitching lips. “Well, you said you were going to be lacking in sexual companionship. I thought maybe you decided to expand your horizons.”
“Your perception of me is disturbing.” I shuddered. “Is there a packing slip?”
“‘Hope you enjoy these samples. Let me know about ordering. Talk soon, Paul,’” Andrea read aloud before showing me the innocent slip of white paper. “Who’s Paul?”
“Paul Dupree, one of my suppliers in Atlanta. He specializes in vampire publishing. Normally, he sends me diet guides and self-help books.”
“Technically, that could be considered a form of self-help.” Andrea wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Ew. I’m leather-bound editions, not this!”
“Maybe he just got stuck on leather-bound,” she said, cocking her head to get a better look at Millie, who seemed more than thrilled to be tied up, hanging upside down, and leered at by a vampire with implausible pecs.
“Did Dick give you a list of dirty quips? You’re enjoying this way too much.”
She snorted. “I’ve seen some of the titles in your personal library. I don’t think I would be too judgmental.”
“I’m not going to enter into a censorship debate with you. I have other things on my mind right now— Stop laughing!” I cried when she collapsed onto a chair. “All I can say is thank goodness Gabriel’s not here to see this. He’d probably go after Paul and rip his arms off for sending me this sort of thing, professional relationship or no … or he’d just say, ‘This porn stash is probably for the best’ and gift me with a lifetime supply of batteries.”
