Your Coffin or Mine? (16 page)

“T
hey’re all so beautiful,” Mandy declared after trying on thirty-two more dresses for the second time in three hours. “I just can’t decide.”

I stood near the edge of the velvet sofa, downed my third Jell-O shot, and croaked, “More.”

Shirley retrieved the now-empty tray (Mandy had done four and her mother a whopping five) and smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

I was just about to settle back and return calls on my cell while Mandy wiggled into the next dress when she grabbed my arm and hauled me off the couch. Her eyes were lit with desperation. “You have to help me decide.” She shook her head and eyed the rack full of white fluff. “There are just so many. And they’re all so…”

Busy? Outdated? Ugly?

“…so
white,
” she finally finished. “I’m getting a headache.”

“It’s the tequila. No more shots for you.” I pried her fingers loose from my arm and stepped back, wobbling a bit in my Charles David lace-up sandals. Not that I was snockered. Not yet. I blinked until the blurriness faded and eyed the dresses. “Okay,” I said. “
Okay.
”

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’m going to do this. Fix this. Make it all better.” I blinked again and stood up straight and my mind cleared enough for me to think. “Have you ever had a wedding fantasy?” I turned to Mandy. “You know. Dreamt of the Big Day? With all the trimmings?”

“Well, yes.”

“Did you picture a certain dress?”

“Several of them.”

It figured. “Did they all look just alike, or were they similar in cut and style?”

She seemed to think. “They were kind of similar.” An idea seemed to strike and I knew she was following me. “Not exactly, but they had lots of things in common.”

“Good.” I motioned toward the sofa. “Sit.” When she plopped down and wiggled for comfort, I added, “Now I want you to close your eyes and picture the different dresses. I’ll ask you questions and we’ll toss out everything that doesn’t fit with the mental. That might not get us all the way down to one, but it should narrow things a bit.”

She nodded. “Okay.” She closed her eyes and I gave her a few seconds to get her juices flowing.

Okay, so I gave myself a few seconds to get a grip. Either way, we’re talking win-win.

“Straight or full?” I finally asked.

“Mostly straight. But not too straight. I need to be able to keep up with Jack when we walk down the aisle.” She cracked an eye open. “Vampires walk down the aisle, don’t they?”

Never. “Of course.”

She smiled and closed the eye. “Is it working?”

“We’re definitely making progress.” I retrieved eight of the thirty-two dresses, set the rejects off to the side, and kept the possibilities hanging in front of us. “What about material? Satin or silk?”

“Yes. I mean, I’m open to either. Or both.”

“That rules out the taffeta.” I rifled through the stack and pulled out seven dresses to add to the Not in this Galaxy rack.

“What about lace?”

“Yes, but not too much.”

That cut five more from the Back to the 1980s collection.

“Poofy bows?”

“I’m not really big on bows. Or beads. I don’t like a lot of clutter.”

That eliminated nine more. I eyed the remaining trio. “Sleeves or strapless?”

“I definitely want strapless.”

Adios three amigos.

Relief swept through me and I smiled. “All done.”

“Really? Which one did I—” Her eyes opened and she stared at the empty rack. “But there’s nothing there.”

“I say we consider it a sign from God.” Whoops, did I say that? My bad. “I’ll make an appointment at Vera Wang. I’m sure they’ll have something wonderful.”

“But I can’t go there.”

“Of course you can. I have connections. I can get us an after-hours appointment. We’ll sip champagne, eyeball dresses, and have a fab time.”

She shook her head. “Let’s do it again.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I have to pick something
here
.” Her desperate gaze struck mine. “Shirley’s family. She went to a lot of trouble to get as many dresses as possible so that I would have plenty to choose from. And she’s been staying open late. And she’s making all these Jell-O shots and she’s even throwing in the unity candle for free. I can’t just walk out and hurt her feelings.”

“I can.”

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah. I’ll tell her.”

Mandy’s eyes lit with hope. “You can do that?”

“I’m a badass vampire. We rape and pillage the way some people jog and play tennis. Crushing someone’s hopes and dreams? Snuffing out their livelihood?” I smiled. “I am so there.”

That’s what I said, but somewhere between the raping and snuffing, I sort of lost my enthusiasm.

When Shirley returned with another round of shots and a hopeful expression on her face, I lost my nerve, as well.

“Have you made a decision?”

Mandy and her mother stared at me. I cleared my throat.
You can do this. Release your inner vampness. Just open your mouth, maybe even flash a little fang, and let it rip.
“She wants to try everything on at least one more time,” I heard myself say. “Then she’ll sleep on it and pick her favorite first thing tomorrow.”

“I will?”

“She will?”

Mandy and Mrs. Dupree spoke in unison. Meanwhile I flashed them a look that said
Hello? Lying, here. Follow me.

“I will,” Mandy blurted.

“Most definitely,” Mrs. Dupree agreed.

Ah, the look. Works every time.

“Excellent,” Shirley replied. “Then we can move on to the veil and shoes and accessories.”

“Lucky us.”

“Actually, you really are. I have a bunch of new vendors who are sending me stuff left and right. I just got in this conch shell necklace that looks as pretty as a picture with the dress that has the little navy sailor bows.”

I smiled. “Fab.”

Shirley beamed and held up the tray. “Shot?”

“Please.” Mandy grabbed eagerly for the lime. I took a green apple and Mrs. Dupree settled back with a watermelon and a raspberry.

The next few hours passed in a blur of dresses and tequila and self-pity (my own). The more I stared at all the lace and pearls and swaths of fabric, the more I kept picturing myself instead of Mandy. And the more I missed Ty.

Made vamp. Born vamp. So
not
happening.

I knew a future with Ty wasn’t in my realm of possibility (or my mother’s), but I couldn’t kill the images no matter how much I tried. Nor could I squash the worry that niggled away at me and made me all the more anxious to call Ash. Again.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mandy declared as she tried on one Southern belle monstrosity in particular. Shirley had gone to retrieve the matching straw hat (yep, ya heard me,
straw
) and veil, and we were alone for the first time since I’d wimped out.

“You do?”

She nodded. “You don’t have to say a word. The look on your face says it all.”

My look says I’m pining away for a made vampire?

“I can see it in your eyes.”

Oh, no.

“You think I look awful.” She faced the mirror and threw up her hands in disgust. “Maybe we should just forget the whole thing. I’ll never find a decent dress. The hotel booted us out and all the other decent hotels are booked. The only place that’s free on our date is my Uncle Nino’s hamburger joint. He wants to serve chili-cheese fries.” She sniffled. “And I’m beginning to think that your mother hates me.”

“What makes you say that?” Other than cracker-jack intellect, of course.

She shrugged and the floppy sleeves of the white dress sagged on her shoulders. “She never talks to me. At first, I thought it was because she didn’t really know me. But I’ve been to oodles of hunts and I’ve tried talking to her, and she just doesn’t bite.”

“That’s actually a good thing.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged. “But she also glares at me a lot, as if she can’t stand me. What do you think?”

This was it. My chance to come clean and stop carrying the burden of my mother all by my lonesome. I would simply tell Mandy how much my mother detested her and go from there. The girl had a right to know. I mean, really. I would want to know if the love of my life’s mother
hated
my guts.

I think.

“She doesn’t hate you,” I told her.

“What makes you say that?”

Yeah, what? “She just doesn’t warm up to people very quickly.” Okay, so technically she was a lukewarm vampire who would never warm up, but that was beside the point. “Just give her a little time.”

“She doesn’t think I’m good enough for him.”

“No, actually, she doesn’t.”

Her gaze collided with mine. “I knew it!”

“She thinks you’re too good. Don’t take this the wrong way, Mandy, but Jack’s a real shit. Believe me, I’ve seen it. We’ve all seen it. She just doesn’t want you to wake up one day and realize you made a mistake.” Okay, so this was my fear for Mandy, not my mother’s, but who was I to argue details? “She just wants you to be sure.”

“I know how Jack used to be. I mean, I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard. A player. Sleeping with different women every weekend.”

I nodded. “And during the week.”

“But he’s changed. He’s a wonderful man. Committed. Loving. And everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?” Without waiting for my reply, she added, “Even a player like Jack.”

“You’re sure?”

She seemed to think. “You know what? I am.” Her shoulders stiffened. “I’ve actually never been more sure of anything, or anyone, in my entire life.” She leveled a stare at me. “I know I’m doing the right thing by marrying him. Deep in my heart, I
know.
”

I smiled. “Then that’s all that matters.”

She seemed suddenly aware of the tears streaming down her face. She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks. “You know, you’re right. Who cares if I’m wearing a hideous dress and eating chili on THE most important day of my life? I’m marrying the vampire I love. The vampire who loves me. We don’t need a fancy location or an elaborate ceremony. We don’t even need favors for the guests. The almonds tied in those cute little satin baggies. We just need each other.”

Yeah, right.

I wiped at a traitorous tear that slid down my own cheek. “You’re not going to wear a hideous dress or tie the knot in a greasy diner.” I sniffled. “And no way are you wearing white and going within twenty feet of a platter of chili-cheese fries.” I stiffened. “Not if I can help it. You’re going to have the wedding of your dreams.”

“Really?” Her eyes glimmered with newfound hope and I nodded.

What can I say? I’m a sucker (no pun intended) for the big H.

“You’re so wonderful, Lil. I’m so glad we’re going to be sisters.” She seemed to gather her determination as she slapped more tears from her face. “So what are we going to do?”

I forced aside my own crazy notions of love and marriage and Ty, and pasted on my most convincing smile. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just finish trying on the rest of these and leave the details to me.”

Nineteen

A
fter we finished up at Wedding Wonderland, I took a cab straight home. I drank a glass of freshly nuked blood, fed Killer a can of cat food, and then spent the next few hours on the computer researching alternatives to the wedding dress situation. When I felt certain I had a workable plan, I tackled the ceremony location.

“I need a favor,” I told Nina One when she answered her cellphone.

“I need my jacket. And my sunglasses.”

“You can have them both if you do me this one itty-bitty favor.”

“I’m not seducing Remy. He’s nice and all, but I’m not ready to squeeze out a couple of born vamps right now and his mother is worse than yours.”

No, really? “This isn’t about Remy. I need a ballroom.” I explained the Mandy situation and ended with a dramatic, “If you do this for me, I’ll do
anything.
”

“Bajra cashmere scarf?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of my first-born. My second, too, if you validate parking.”

“Sorry, but I prefer more immediate gratification. Like, say, sometime in this century.”

“Thanks a lot.” I closed my eyes and pictured my all-time favorite accessory
ever
. At least until Hermés came out with their fall collection in three months, two days, and sixteen hours. “Okay,” I blurted before I could change my mind. “It’s yours.”

“Really?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“I’ll check our schedule and see who I can bump.” She paused and I could hear her fingers flying over the keyboard. “It’ll be tricky. We already have a banquet for the bar association scheduled for that evening.” More typing and my anxiety level kicked up a notch.

“Maybe I’ll call Lola and see if she can work something at the Plaza,” I said. The minute the words were out, the fingertips tapping the keyboard on the other end of the line stopped cold and the earth stalled on its axis.

Lola Bettancourt Camden was the daughter of real estate tycoon and born vamp extraordinaire Hamilton Camden. Her father and Nina’s frequently competed for the same high-end properties. The running score as of yesterday’s buyout of the Chase bank building put Hamilton in the lead while Victor Lancaster ran a close second.