The Real Werewives of Vampire County
“Hey, ready to go shopping? Hop in!”
Tiffany settled in on the passenger side, slipping on a pair of sunglasses as Heather took off down the drive, sparing her a surreptitious glance now and again.
“Everything all right?”
Tiffany blinked, startled, before allowing a bitter smile to curve her lips. “Sorry. Just got off the phone with my ex. Ever since the divorce …”
“Oh, say no more,” Heather said. “Don’t worry, honey, once we hit the stores and start spending, you’ll forget all about him. We’ll find you someone new. Someone better!”
“I think it’s a bit early for that,” Tiffany replied, tone dry. “Let’s stick with the shopping for now.”
“Yeah. You know, who needs men? You’ve got us now.”
Tiffany laughed. “Easy for you to say. Don’t you have a husband?”
“Sure I do. One that’s never home, same as the rest of the werewives.”
“The what?”
Heather flushed. “Sorry. Just an inside joke. Cassandra, Heather, Vera, and I, we’re all such bitches, we call ourselves the werewives. We’ve been using that nickname for years.”
“Funny thing to call yourselves,” Tiffany murmured, gaze focused steadily on the world passing them by.
“You aren’t afraid of werewolves, are you? They aren’t so bad. From what I hear, I mean.”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Honestly, I can’t say that I’ve known any. Just what the papers tell me.”
Heather was scandalized. “You don’t honestly believe what they print in the papers, do you?”
“Hardly. I think a lot of things get nothing but bad press, werewolves included. I’d love to meet one sometime. Find out what they’re really like,” she replied.
“Really? Most people wouldn’t want anything to do with them.”
A low, throaty laugh made Heather glance guiltily at her guest, biting her lower lip. Tiffany wiped unshed tears of mirth from her eyes, ever so careful not to smudge her mascara. “Honey, you have no idea. Despite what the papers might say, there are plenty of people out there—me included—who are curious about Others and would be delighted to have a chance to meet one in person. Vampires, werewolves, wizards—they’re different. Unique. The possibilities fire the imagination.”
“Maybe not that different,” Heather muttered, reddening.
Tiffany arched an artificially bleached brow, then shrugged and laughed again. “You are too funny! If it bothers you that much, we’ll talk about something else. Like calling yourself a bitch. I don’t see why you think so. You’ve been very sweet to me.”
Heather gave her a sheepish smile before returning her attention back to the road. She hadn’t intended to bring up the subject so soon, or with such a lack of subtlety, and was thankful that Tiffany was the one who was turning the topic back to something less dangerous.
“Wait until we both have our eye on the same purse or pair of shoes, then ask me that again.”
The two laughed, together this time, and the topic shifted to far more comfortable topics: fashion, favorite brands, and which celebrity was sleeping with whom. They didn’t speak about Others again for the whole of the trip; not at the store where they each bought a new purse, nor at the café they stopped at for a light lunch and cocktails. The pair gushed about their purchases, stopping at a few more boutiques (each finding the perfect pair of summer sandals, along with darling sundresses and earrings to match), before ending their trek at a Starbucks.
“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Heather asked as she sipped her grande nonfat iced mocha raspberry latte.
Tiffany stirred her chai tea with a straw, eying Heather over the rim of her drink. “I didn’t know there was a party. Am I invited?”
“Of course! It’s at Alexis’s house, everyone who’s anyone in the neighborhood was invited. She must have forgotten to mention it last night. It’s not a big deal, just a little barbeque. If she gets uppity, we’ll go back to my place and mix some margaritas.”
Tiffany laughed, the sound attracting admiring glances from a few of the men and a number of glares from some of the women cradling drinks or hunched over laptops as they worked on the next Great American Novel. She touched her hair, then plucked at one of the buttons on her silk blouse, frowning.
“Do you mind stopping at my place so I can drop off my things and freshen up a bit before we go?”
“Of course not! Let’s get moving, then, don’t want to be late.”
“No,” Tiffany said, her eyes narrowing and her smile turning sly. “No, we don’t.”
CHAPTER 4
Just because you got the monkey off your back doesn’t mean the circus has left town.
—George Carlin
Alexis’s mansion sprawled across the verdant grounds of the property with all of the glamour and poise of a movie starlet. The trees lining her driveway glittered with twinkling lights, urging guests to come along to see the wonders of her garden. Row upon row of Jaguar, Mercedes, Audi, BMW, and Lexus luxury cars had been positioned just so, shining to advantage in the lights spilling from the house. Gabled windows and wrought-iron balconies gave the manor a European flavor, and the sounds of chatter, music, and laughter spilled from open French doors.
Tiffany followed in Heather’s wake, adjusting the strap of her purse as she paused in the foyer, bright blue eyes scanning the interior.
Much like the cars, many of the people inside had positioned themselves to advantage. They cradled drinks as they chatted in small groups of four or five, clustered around the baroque Louis XIV furniture done in rich tones of red and gold that matched the marble floors and sweeping columns in the open receiving room.
“Excuse me,” Tiffany said as her eyes locked on a man in a casual Tony Bahama polo and sleek J. Crew slacks. “I see one of my clients. I’ll be back shortly.”
Heather nodded, but Tiffany wasn’t paying attention, already stalking across the room like a hunting cat on the prowl, lacquered hand extended for the surprised gentleman to take as he noticed her. “Todd, it’s been ages… .”
The smooth way Tiffany went in for the kill drew Heather’s admiration instead of her ire. Though she wasn’t pleased at being ditched, she soon shrugged it off and followed her nose, trailing the distinct, musky scents of her favored pack mates. Her own stride became smooth, quiet, the stalking of a predator, leading the people around her to unconsciously move aside as she found her way to the back doors leading outside. A bright smile was soon plastered on her face as she took an empty seat beside Alexis on the patio. Cassandra returned her smile, eyebrows arching high.