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“He just runs off, skulks away like some thief in the night. He gets me all riled up and angry, and then he leaves me all this crap to deal with, with no help from him. It’s like a relationship hit-and-run.” I cleared my raw, aching throat and looked up into my friend’s pitying eyes. “Andrea, I never thought to ask you directly, because I just assumed you would tell me. But just in case you’re trying to protect him or something … could you tell me—do you know who Jeanine is? I’m pretty sure she’s my ‘concerned and vigilant friend.’ The letters say that he made her, but maybe I’m being too literal. Or maybe she’s just lying out her ass. Is it possible that she’s Gabriel’s sire? Because he won’t share that story, either.“
“Jeanine’s not Gabriel’s sire,” Dick blurted out, clearly without thinking. And when Andrea and I turned our attention on him, he muttered, “Aw, crap.”
“Dick, who’s Jeanine?” Andrea asked.
Dick sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “This is one of those ‘it’s better if I keep my big mouth shut’ situations, honey.”
“Aw, damn it, Dick,” I moaned. “Not you, too.”
Andrea’s lips pursed. She crawled into his lap and made a pouty face. Dick groaned. We both knew he was powerless against Andrea’s pouty face, or, really, any face that Andrea made. “OK, fine, if you won’t tell us who she is, tell us who she isn’t. How do you know Jeanine is not Gabriel’s sire?”
“Because Gabriel’s sire was a woman named Jessica,” Dick blurted out as if he’d been dosed with truth serum. He had the sense to look chagrinned but buckled when Andrea kissed his earlobe. He cleared his throat. “Irish gal, sort of snooty. And she was, is … not very nice. They met at a party hosted by my parents. I don’t know how she found the party or how she chose Gabriel. But she led him away from the party into a cotton crib, had her lascivious way with him, and bit him. She didn’t give him the choice. We didn’t have the rules we do now. Back then, no vampire would say a word if you didn’t necessarily wait for written permission to turn someone. Jessica thought Gabriel would be amusing, but she got bored waiting for him to rise. She had, well, has, a really short attention span. She walked off without thinking about what might happen if he was discovered or got hit with sunlight while he was still sleeping it off.”
“He was turned against his will?” I shuddered, imagining the torture such a violation would incur today. Eager to keep up a pleasant, harmless public image for vampires, the Council for the Equal Treament of the Undead enforced strict laws against forcibly turning humans. The punishment included the Trial, a combination of sunlight, silver, and sometimes a coffin full of bees, a veritable trifecta of capital punishment.
“Well, it’s more like she bit him and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse,” Dick said. “He caught up to her during WWII, feeding on orphans lodged in the English countryside. When he saw her again, when he saw what a monster she was—as much as he resented her abandonment, being left to figure out this vampire thing all by himself, he knew he probably would have grown cruel and bloodthirsty with Jessica. He was grateful that he was left alone. But he knows that his turning out so ass-numbingly dull was all a matter of chance. That’s part of the reason he felt he had such a responsibility to you. He wants you to have the right sort of influence, to become all that you can be, and all that.
“Stretch, I’ve known Gabriel my whole life. For him to get this worked up over something, to put you through all this, he’s got to have your best interests at heart. Just hold on for a while, let him work it out for himself.”
“Whose side are you on?” I grumbled.
“Mine,” he said. “If you two patch things up, I won’t have to hear the pair of you whining all the damn time.”
“The pair of us?” I asked suspiciously. “You’ve been talking to him, too? Damn it, Dick!”
“We agreed you wouldn’t speak to the enemy camp!” Andrea yelled.
“All I did was go over to his house and threaten to kick his ass on your behalf,” Dick said defensively. “It was after the store opening, and when I saw how hurt you were, I couldn’t stand it. I went over there and told him he was getting the beat-down he’d deserved since 1878. And then he cried!”
“He cried?” I asked.
Dick’s teeth ground together, his expression disgusted. “Yes! He took all the fun out of it. How am I supposed to kick a man’s ass when he’s bawling like a baby? It was horrifying. I found myself comforting the jackass.”
“What did you tell him?” I asked.
“I told him that whatever he was going through, you were worth— No! No, I am not going to do this,” Dick said, standing and waving the pair of us off. “I don’t want to get caught in the middle of all this. And Gabriel swore me to secrecy … which puts me right in the middle of this. Dang it, he’s better than I thought.” He pulled his beer hat back into place and yelled, “I am Switzerland, do you hear me? Completely neutral. Work this stuff out yourselves. Now, could everybody please be quiet, so I can watch Macho Man Randy Savage beat the crap out of somebody?”
“But, Dick—” Andrea cried.
“Shh!” Dick shot back, turning back to the wrestling match with a determined air.
Andrea and I watched Dick with bemused expressions. “That’s my boyfriend,” Andrea said, sort of meekly.
“At least yours didn’t drop you on your ass,” I pointed out.
10
The best way to get over a messy break-up is to spend time with a supportive group of friends. The best way to chase off a supportive group of friends is to talk constantly about your messy break-up.
—Love Bites: A Female Vampire’s Guide to Less
Destructive Relationships
To say I had some pent-up anger would be like saying Britney Spears had minor impulse-control issues. Love Bites encouraged me to channel those emotions in a positive direction, so I decided to pay Zeb’s contractor a visit.
The minute there was enough twilight shadow for me to move unscathed to the future site of Casa Lavelle, I ran through the trees at full speed. Zeb said that Buster, who was known for high-quality carpentry work before his interest in a perpetual buzz outstripped his desire for a growing clientele, took off at exactly five P.M. every day, leaving a pile of empty beer cans in his wake.
The battered green Dowdy Construction truck was parked in the shade of a huge elm tree, where Jolene had talked about hanging a tire swing for the kids. Buster was dozing with his mouth open, his old faded Cardinals cap perched over his eyes. Long and lanky, he looked like a young Don Knotts, complete with droopy eyes and a twitchy lip.
