Dead End Dating (9 page)

I reminded myself of this as I stood in front of the marble counter.

But desperate times called for desperate measures, as the saying went. I’d waited three weeks for this session with Dirkst, and I couldn’t let a few archaic vamp rules stand in the way of airbrushed perfection. I had to at least try.

“So how
will
you be paying for today’s visit?” the clerk persisted.

I’ll be using my gift card. The one you’re about to slide into your register to program for another year’s worth of visits.

My face grew warm, and I could see the intense gleam of my eyes mirrored in the clerk’s gaze. Normally, my eyes would be a vivid shade of red when I channeled my vamp energy so intensely. But thanks to a new pair of contacts, they just glowed a brighter, purplish shade of blue.

Okay, it’s not that I’m ashamed of my vamp heritage. But red? Talk about asking for trouble. Sure, I know the vamp wannabes pay big bucks for a pair of crimson contacts, but real vamps haven’t existed for centuries by flaunting their vampness.

Okay, so a few have. With our mind-control abilities, we can impress a plausible explanation for whatever a human might witness. But that itself is exhausting, and with so many people in the world, I’d be controlling left and right. Much better to keep a low profile. As it was, I was ready to slide to the floor and take a little cat nap.

“You obviously can’t pay.” The clerk shook her head and punched several buttons on her computer screen. “I’m afraid Dirkst won’t be able to see you today.”

“But I’m his best client.”

She gave me a “yeah, right” look. “He has many clients, miss. And a waiting list of over six weeks. Speaking of which, you’ll have to prepay your next appointment—if you make one—via credit card; otherwise we won’t be able to reserve your time. Dirkst is much too busy for clients who schedule and then can’t pay.”

“But I—”

“Ask for Janice.”

The strange female voice echoed in my head, and I turned. My gaze scanned the pale beige sofas that lined the walls, and I drank in the familiar faces of the women I’d passed on my way to the counter. Human. Human. Not so human (but that’s another story all by itself). Human. Human. Snotty, pretentious human. Human. Vamp—

She looked about thirty or thirty-five (human years, of course), with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail that should have looked chic. If she’d had good bone structure. Instead, her face was soft and round. She wore an expensive bronzer and glitter eye shadow à la Nicole Richie. But she didn’t look as trendy as Nicole. Or as malnourished.

I knew then, even before I caught a whiff of Chanel, that she was a made vamp. You’ll never see a born vamp with a weight problem. Thanks to our lean, mean diet, we simply don’t ingest a lot of fat calories. Made vamps, however, are different. They’re human. Or at least they once were. And if they happened to be fat or thin or tall or short or if they’d had their hair dyed a ridiculous red or cut in a pixie bob when they were turned, that’s the way they stayed. For all eternity.

Ouch.

The woman was definitely plump by today’s standards.

Then again, most everyone was plump by today’s standards.

Her gaze met mine, and I heard the words again in my head.

“Ask for Janice.”

I turned back to the counter and gave the clerk another mesmerizing smile. “Could I, um, speak to Janice, please?”

“You can speak to whomever you’d like, but she won’t be able to do anything for you. We have strict policies here.”

“Obviously, but I’d like to speak with her anyway. Just to say hi. She’s an old friend of a friend, and I wouldn’t want her to think I had stopped by without so much as a hello.”

She gave me a suspicious look before finally shrugging. She disappeared. A few seconds later, another woman wearing the same mini white tank top and capri pants appeared. She had delicate bone structure, short blond hair, and a certain awareness that glittered in her hazel eyes.

Her stare collided with mine, and I saw a spurt of hunger. “Yes? Can I help you?” Her voice was breathy and inviting and I knew then that Janice was either (a) lesbian or (b) bisexual. Because she wanted me. Bad.

While I don’t swing both ways myself, I’ve never been one to let opportunity pass me by.

I projected my thoughts again and went through the
program the gift card
spiel.

Instead of giving me a PMS look, she smiled, took a fresh, shiny gold card from the top drawer, slid it into the register, and keyed in several numbers. A few seconds later, she held up the card, now good for another twelve visits.

I felt a small niggle of guilt. It wasn’t like I was stealing or anything. I fully intended to pay for the visits—in full—with my first big Dead End Dating windfall. Until then…

Hey, what was the point of being a vamp if you couldn’t be a little vampy once in a while?

I took the gold card, gave Janice my most dazzling smile, and slid the treasure into my purse.

“I’ll let Dirkst know you’re here,” she said.

“I’d appreciate that.” I started to turn, but Janice’s voice stopped me.

“I’m sure he’ll be right with you.”

“That’s fine.” I started to turn again.

“He’s always on time, but I’ll hurry him up just in case.” She winked. “Just for you.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Very good.”

“I’ll be right back.” She gave me a little wave.

“I’ll be here.” I waved back and hurried toward the waiting area before she found something else to say.

“Thanks,” I said as I slid into the seat next to the made vampire. “I think.”

She smiled. “She can be a pain, but if you’re female and you’re low on cash, she’s the person to see.”

I settled into my chair. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d missed my spray session with Dirkst.”

“Is he that good?”

“He has the biggest gun in New York, and, unlike most men, he knows how to use it.”

She smiled. “Glad I could help.”

“My name is Lil. Lil Marchette.”

“I’m Esther. Esther Crutch.”

Yow. And I had issues with
my
name?

“So what are you in for, Es? Massage? Steam bath? Oatmeal facial?”

“I’m having my thighs wrapped.”

There weren’t too many things that caught me off guard. But this did the trick. “But you’re a vampire,” I pointed out.

“I know.”

“A
made
vampire.”

“I know.”

“Don’t, um, take this the wrong way, Es, but the way you are is the way you’re going to be. Now and forever.”

“I know that, too.” She sighed. “But I keep hoping. I mean, they have so many new, innovative treatments these days. One of them is bound to stick, right?”

Wrong.

“I can’t be doomed to fat thighs and cellulite for the rest of eternity, can I?”

Yes
was there on the tip of my tongue, but she looked so hopeful that I found myself swallowing instead of shattering her hopes and dreams and turning her into a cold, hard cynic like most other made vampires the world over.

I remembered Ty Bonner (whoa, baby), and I couldn’t help but think of the glimmer I’d seen in the dark depths of his eyes when I mentioned dating and love and vampires all in the same sentence. Hope? Maybe. Probably.

Okay, so there’d been a hell of a lot of disbelief, too. But somewhere in the mix, I’d definitely seen hope.

After all, made vampires were entitled to the emotion, too, even if their situation was pretty dismal. While born vamps were, for the most part, attractive, charismatic creatures, made vamps were an entirely different animal.

As I mentioned, they’d once been human. With human flaws. And whatever imperfections they’d possessed when they were turned—everything from acne to jock itch—were with them for the rest of eternity. Ty still had his scars and Esther still had her cellulite.

“A thigh wrap, huh?” I nodded. “Maybe I should try that myself.”

Esther eyed me as if I’d sprouted a halo. “You don’t need your thighs wrapped. You’re just an itty-bitty thing. What are you? A size seven?”

“A five.”

She sighed. “I can’t remember if I ever fit into a size five. Back when I was turned the clothes weren’t divided up into sizes. You couldn’t even buy off the rack. You just made your own.”

“How long ago was that?”

“About a hundred years ago. I was thirty-three at the time.”

Am I good or what? “Where are you from?”

“Texas. Barron’s Bluff. A small settlement just south of San Antonio. There’s not much left of it now. Just a few run-down houses. But at one time it was a nice place to live.” She smiled. “And date. Boy, I had ’em coming out of the woodwork when I was in my prime. But my mama got sick and I had to stay home to tend to her, so marriage was out of the question. I turned into an old maid. Then this crazy miner—at least I thought he was a miner—rode into town and stole me away from my farm in the middle of the night. Me and two other women from nearby spreads. He sold us to the man who drained our blood and turned us. The other two women were the appetizer and dessert. I was the main course on account of I was so healthy looking.”

“And you haven’t had a date since before you were turned?”

She nodded. “Way before on account of my mama. And now…” She shook her head. “It’s a different world. Men aren’t looking for a soft body to curl up against. They want long, slim legs.” She grimaced as she adjusted the purse sitting on her lap. “And tight tummies. And perky boobs.” She glanced down. “While I’ve got the boobs, they haven’t been perky since I was eighteen years old.”

“Not all men are interested in perky boobs.”

“True, but I don’t want a human man. I’ve buried a whole mess of relatives—I wouldn’t turn them and doom them to the same fate.” She shook her head, and a sadness filled her eyes. “When I get close to someone—
if
I ever do—it’ll be somebody like me. The trouble is, why would a made vampire want a not-so-perfect vampire when he can have any human woman he wants?”

She had a point. Born male vamps had to choose a born female vamp in order to continue the race. But made vamps weren’t genetically equipped with any such loyalty. Their survival instincts were purely self-sufficient. As in feeding. Since all men—human and vamp alike—were visual creatures, it only made sense that they would opt to suck on a pretty woman rather than an ugly one.

“I know it seems sort of hopeless, but I’m sure there’s
someone
out there.” What was I saying? “You’ll never know if you don’t at least try. Wow. An entire century without a date.” I sounded shocked, but truthfully, I wasn’t nearly as surprised considering I myself hadn’t had an official one in just as long. And I was just an itty-bitty thing.

“We called it courting back then. While I never married, it wasn’t for lack of prospects. I had three proposals.
Three.
” She shook her head. “I just couldn’t up and leave my mama. She had Alzheimer’s. I didn’t know it then, mind you. We had no clue way back when, but I understand now. It was a blessing in her particular case because I was able to go home after I’d turned and still take care of her without her knowing anything was wrong. She never even batted an eye when I started serving her breakfast at night.” If I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn I saw a brightness in her eyes.

But made vamps didn’t cry. Did they?

Honestly, while I am pretty worldly when it comes to born vamps, I’ve led sort of a sheltered life. My parents, like their parents before them, never had much use for made vamps. They considered them a threat to our race.

Actually, they considered them the plague of the entire vamp civilization, but that, I was starting to realize, was a tad harsh. I mean, Ty hadn’t waltzed in and started pillaging my office. He hadn’t even posed a threat to my very human, and thus vulnerable, receptionist. The only threat he’d posed had been to my hormones.

As for Esther…She could probably give an exercise machine hell, but otherwise she seemed harmless.

“I buried my last relative, a fourth cousin, just three weeks ago. I don’t have anyone left now. I’m all that’s left.” She shrugged. “And what good am I? It’s not like I can continue the Crutch name even if I did manage to meet a decent made vampire who wasn’t turned off by a robust figure.”

Thank the Powers That Be for small favors.

“So what do you do when you’re not getting your thighs wrapped?”

“I watch
Bonanza.
And the
Lone Ranger.
And
The Cattleman.
I have a huge DVD collection. The one good thing about today’s world—the technology. Otherwise, I’d have a ton of spare time on my hands.”

I smiled. “This might be your lucky day, Esther.”

Her eyes lit. “Do you know something about the thigh wrap that I don’t?”

“I’m afraid not.” I reached into my purse and pulled out one of my business cards. “But if you’re sick and tired of watching westerns all alone, then I just might be able to help you.”

She stared at the card I handed her. “A dating service for vampires? There is no such thing.”

“There is now. Call me and we’ll set up an interview.”

“Really?”

“Sure thing. My receptionist’s name is Evie. If I’m out, you can set up a time with her. She’s totally sweet.” When a hungry light glimmered in Esther’s eyes, I rushed on, “Not like that. Sweet, as in nice and understanding. We have a platonic relationship. She doesn’t moonlight for any dating services, and I don’t use her as a midnight snack.” I patted Esther’s hand. “So call me, okay?”

“Okay.”

A shrill cry punctuated her reply, and I glanced toward the doorway to see Dirkst eyeing me, a look of outrage on his face.

Dirkst stood well over six feet. He had a hard, toned body and a face that would have done a Greek statue proud. He wore white pants and a tight white T-shirt, and he smelled like a mixture of coconut, pineapple, and Obsession for Men.

“You’re a mess,” he declared for everyone to hear.

“Thanks.” I smiled and pushed to my feet. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“Worse than a mess.” His frown deepened as I reached him. “A pale mess.”