Here Comes the Vampire (4 page)

“Which ones are from last night?”

“All of them.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“This is a big hotel. We have one thousand and eighty-eight surveillance cameras shooting twenty-four hours of footage. You do the math.”

“But I only need the footage from that one camera.”

“If you give me a few hours, I can look through and find the specific camera you’re interested in. Then you can come back and take a look.”

Fat chance. I was leaving for the airport in five minutes and no way was I missing the only flight back to New York. I wasn’t getting stuck here for another twenty-four hours. I was in enough trouble as it was and the sooner I went home, the better.

But Frankie didn’t know that.

I flashed him a look of pure gratitude. “I can’t put you out like that. I’m sure you have work to do. Why don’t you just run along and do your thing and I’ll look through the DVDs myself? I’ll find what I need and take a peek.” I indicated the small DVD player and screen that sat on a nearby desk. When he didn’t look the least bit accommodating, I added, “I tend to get overly emotional and I’d really like to do this in private.” I blinked and managed to push out two tears this time. “That saintly woman providing all that spaghetti for all those poor children is my
mother
.”

I could see him softening as he conjured a mental image of his own mama. Yikes. No wonder he was bald.

“I
am
supposed to be on duty in the casino right now,” he finally said. “We’ve got a team of professional card counters making the rounds of all the hotels and the boss has everyone on alert.”

“It’s settled then.” I beamed. “I’ll stay here while you go to the casino.”

“I’ll come back up and check on you in an hour.” He reached for the first DVD in the stack, popped it into the DVD player. He’d just hit the play button when his phone started to beep. He glanced at the display. “I’ve really got to go. They’ve spotted the counters at one of the Hold ‘Em tables.”

I gave him a little wave. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
Not
.

As if he could read my mind as clearly as I could read his, he gave me a stern look. “Don’t touch anything.”

“I’ll just watch.”

“I mean it. I could get in big trouble for doing this.”

“For a good cause. Your Mama would be so proud.” The last statement eased the worry around his eyes. “I’ll be right here when you get back. Cross my heart and hope to die.” Which would have been a binding statement if I wasn’t technically already dead.

The door slammed behind him and I found myself alone. I emptied out the contents of my make-up bag into the nearest trash--desperate times and all that--and grabbed a stack of DVDs from the shelf. In a split-second I had stuffed all but a handful of them into my make-up bag.

All right, already. So it’s more of a small suitcase than an actual cosmetics tote. What can I say? I’m having a mad, passionate affair with MAC.

The remaining DVDs went straight into my Louis Vuitton hobo bag. I retrieved the lone DVD from the player, stashed it deep and sent up a silent thank you that pencil clutches had gone out with last season’s metallic skirts.

Gathering up my stuff, I did my vamp version of a power-walk and hit the elevator in two seconds flat. Inside, I punched the button for the lobby and breathed a sigh of relief.

For the first time, I actually started to think that maybe this whole weekend wasn’t a disaster of
Titanic
proportions. There was a chance, albeit slim, that I truly hadn’t slept with Remy and the DVDs could prove that. They
would
prove it.

It was just a matter of watching each one until I found the truth. In the meantime, I had to hold tight and play the newly committed Mrs. Remy Tremaine until I could prove my innocence.

That meant no crying.

Or freaking out.

Or jumping ship.

“Where have you been?” Remy asked the minute the doors swished open and he spotted me in the lobby.

“Bad hair day.” I waltzed past him and headed for the front desk. “But I’m here now. Let’s go. I don’t want to miss the plane. I’ve got an appointment first thing tomorrow evening.”

“About that,” Remy said as he caught up to me, wrenched the bag out of my hand and slid an arm around my waist. “I was thinking you might want to call it quits.”

“Call what quits?” I kept walking.

“Your job. You aren’t making that much money anyway.”

“I’m still establishing myself,” I said in my own defense. “Building a reputation takes time.”

“So does raising kids.”

“What kids?”

“The eight that we’re going to have.”

I came to a dead stop and turned on him. “You want
eight
?”

“Or nine.” He smiled. “We Tremaines like big families.”

On second thought, this was definitely a scene worthy of a James Cameron flick.

I glared. “Let’s set the record straight--I’m
not
having nine kids with you.”

“Then we’ll go for the eight.”

“I’m not taking care of eight kids, either.”

“You don’t have to take care of them. We’ll get a nanny for that. You just have to squeeze them out.”

Okay, so like I’ve thought about having kids. But in my fantasies they come sliding out in a cloud of fairy dust and
bam
, I’m the vamp equivalent of June Cleaver--with better hair and a super fantabulous wardrobe, that is. No worries. No regrets. No huffing and puffing and squeezing. My throat went tight. “I think I need to sit down.”

“You can sit in the limo. It’s waiting outside.” He smiled. “Nothing but the best for Mrs. Tremaine.”

Forget sitting. I needed to lie down. Flat on my back. Eyes closed. Comatose to the world.

“Besides,” he went on, “we need extra room. Your parents are riding with us.”

Nix the coma. I needed more alcohol.

“Finally,” my mother sighed as I climbed into the back next to her. “We’ve been waiting for ages. Whatever took you so long?”

“Hair,” Remy said when I couldn’t seem to get the words past the lump in my throat.

My mother gave me a thorough once over. “I think I would have given up on that lost cause and gone for some extra make-up, dear. You look like death warmed over and I don’t mean that as a compliment.”

I thought of the wastebasket full of my treasures up on the second floor and for the first time, the enormity of what I’d done hit me.

I’d not only committed myself to Remy but I’d ditched every last bit of my prized makeup collection. I now had nothing now. Nix the lip gloss. No blush. Zero bronzer.
Nada
.

I blinked back the sudden burning in the backs of my eyes. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Nonsense.” My mother patted my knee. “You’re a vampire. We’re strong. Resilient. It’s the shock of finally finding someone and settling down that has you looking so green. I can’t say that I blame you. I’bacme you.d all but given up on you, too.”

Gee, thanks, Ma.

“Your father and I even had a bet going that you were a lesbian. Needless to say, he won. But I don’t mind losing this one time since things finally turned out the way I’d always hoped. Even if I do owe your father a record-breaking BJ.”

What did I tell you? Rabbits. The whole lot of us.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” My stomach churned and I swallowed against the bitter taste of champagne and full-blown panic.

“You’ll get used to the idea in no time. Once you and Remy get back home, you can set up house together and everyone will be happy. First things first,” she eyed me, “I’d get some sleep. Just crawl into the coffin together and shut out the world for the next few days.”

“As great as that sounds,”
not
, “I can’t crawl into a coffin and shut out anything. I have a business to run.”

“You have a husband now, Lilliana,” came the stern voice I remembered so well from my wild and crazy teenage years.
Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. Don’t stay out past midnight. Don’t eat the Italian when you can easily suck down a Frenchman.
“He’s your first priority. Not that silly dating service. Speaking of which, did Remy tell you the good news? That darling mother of his managed to book the country club.” She beamed. “One week from Saturday you and Remy will announce your commitment in front of six hundred and ninety two of our closest friends. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“It’s...” I started, the words stumbling into one another on the way out. “It’s just...”

“Fabulous, I know.” My mother looked positively giddy. “So much so that I even managed to forget Maggie and Jack and their impending bundle of half-human joy for a few blessed nanoseconds.”

It’s Mandy
.

I tried to verbalize the statement, but nothing could make it past the golf ball size lump in my throat.

“Since you were too anxious to let us give you a proper commitment ceremony in the first place, your father and I are intent on having an elaborate reception. After that, Remy is planning a long, productive honeymoon. With any luck, you’ll get pregnant right away. I’m hoping you have twins the first go around. They do run in our family, you know. Remember Aunt Claudette? She had six sets of twins.”

The Devil’s Dozen. How could I forget? They’d tried to set my hair on fire at our last family reunion.

“Or maybe even triplets,” my mother went on. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” When I didn’t reply, she gave me a nudge. “Say something dear. At the very least, you should be thanking me for pushing you two together in the first place.”

My mouth opened then, but it wasn’t gratitude that poured out.

Bye-bye Cristal
.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I did it,” I declared when Evie finally answered her cell phone. “I rolfed all over my mother’s favorite pumps.” I sat in a stall in one of the airport bathrooms and tried to quiet my roiling stomach.

The
click click click
of heels on tile echoed in the background, along with the occasional
whooooosh
of the hand dryer and a symphony of flushing toilets.

“And you had to call me at,” bedsprings creaked and I heard a light flick on, “half past midnight to break such monumental news
because
...?”

Because Nina One had started feeling tired thanks to her future bundle of joy so she and my brother had hopped an earlier flight back to New York. Translation? She was beyond cell reach. Likewise, Nina Two d IAhad been busy trying to make her own baby with her significant vampire Wilson and so my call had gone straight to her voice mail. And Remy wanted nine—count ‘em—
nine
screaming, pooping bundles of joy and I was totally freaked and I desperately needed to talk to someone.

“
Because
you’re my BFF.”

“I thought The Ninas were your BFFs?”

“They are, in a we-grew-up-together-and-we-know-each-other’s-deepest-darkest-secrets way. You and I are BFFs in a totally different way.”

She perked up. “Cosmic soul sisters?”

“I was thinking more like earthly shopping partners.”

“That works, too,” she said.

I heard her throw the covers back (preternatural hearing, remember? The bionic woman’s got nothing on us vamps). The mattress groaned.

“So what’s up?” she finally asked.

“I’m having a major meltdown.” I told her about the naked virgins, the Elvis chapel, a very naked Remy in my shower and the target practice involving my mother’s shoes. “So that’s it. I’m stuck with Remy forever unless I can prove that we didn’t do it in the elevator.”

I counted off six seconds of shocked silence before she managed to speak. “I can’t believe you’ve been keeping such a big secret from me.”

“A secret? What secret?”

“The one you just spilled. We’ve been working together for over a year now and I had no idea you had something that huge hanging in your closet.”

Uh, oh.

See, here’s the 4-1-1. Evie doesn’t know I’m a vamp. She just thinks I’m a fabulously dressed boss with mucho sex appeal and great interpersonal skills.

At least, that’s what she’d thought until about five seconds ago when I’d opened mouth-o and inserted foot-o.

I did a mental rewind, searching for any reference to fangs or vials of blood, but I’d blurted out the story so fast that I wasn’t one hundred percent certain I hadn’t slipped with
something
.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” she said accusingly.

Ugh. I was
so
busted. “I, um,” I swallowed, “That is, I really didn’t know how,” I finally said after a rush of dread and a sinking
I’m-never-talking-my-way-out-of-this
. “I mean, you don’t just blurt out something like that.”

“No, but you could have at least hinted. Paved the way. Poured the foundation.
Anything
to cushion the blow before you dropped the bomb.”

“I didn’t want to scare you off.”

She seemed to think. “I can understand that. My grandmother was one and she scared the crap out of me every time I went to her house. It was always so dark and creepy.”

“Tell me about it.”

“And all those candles...”

“We mainly rely on electricity these days, but I hear ya.”

“And all those rosary beads she used to wear. I like a great piece of jewelry as much as the next girl, but the whole crucifix thing went out ages ago. I get it that she has one hanging by her bed, but she doesn’t have to wear them, right? I mean there’s no law that says she’s going to hell if she doesn’t have a rosary around her neck.”

Okay, we’d definitely hopped two different trains of thought back at the
uh, oh
station. “What, um, exactly are we talking about?”

“The fact that you’re Catholic. That’s why you need to prove that you didn’t have sex with Remy, right? To get an annulment from the Church?”

Relief rushed through me, followed by a sliver of disappointment because, in all honesty, I did think of Evie as one of my BFFs and I hated keeping such a huge secret from her. Next to The Ninas, Evie was my girl. She cd a girl. ould drink a latte, answer phones and greet clients, and all without smudging her Perfectly Pink lip gloss. She was smart and loyal and I was lucky to have her working for me.