Hey? Maybe something goes morbidly wrong with that gardening tool she’s wielding and the blood on my hands belongs to Regina?
Just the thought brightens my mood.
“Bowie.” Regina makes a sour face when she says my name. “Nice party. Didn’t I tell you Miggy would do us right?”
Opal plucks a wad of cash from her bosom before I can answer, and it’s only then I notice she’s holding a white ball of fluff in her other hand, a persnickety cat named Tallulah.
“Nice party? This is a terrific party.” Opal draws out the words like only she can. “Now let’s talk about extending the hours, shall we? I say we open the manor for this demonic debauchery twenty-four seven until the big day.”
“No,” I don’t hesitate shutting down the idea.
Opal chortles. “You say no, Bowie Binx, but this cold, hard cash in my hand says yes.” She rattles it in my face, and the heady scent of greenbacks wafts over me like a greedy perfume.
“Trust me, Opal.” I shake my head. “We need to give people something to look forward to. Besides, the three-to-seven time slot for families is perfect. The kids are out of school, they get to bed at a decent hour, and there’s still time for Mom and Dad to enjoy a glass of vino before they hit the hanky-panky. Everyone is happy. And then we have eight to midnight for the real party scene. Believe me, if we open this haunted house up all night, we’ll both run screaming from this place and it won’t have anything to do with a visit from the other side. But, I’ll tell you what—on Halloween night, we’ll run this party into the ground until about two in the morning. That might rack up a thousand extra bucks at the bar alone.”
Opal smacks her forehead with the back of her hand and moans as if she were about to faint.
“You do realize that means we’re losing a thousand bucks a night,” she snips my way. “I suddenly feel ill.” She heads straight for the bar where Mud is trying to get the dry ice to do its thing and spook up the ambiance.
Regina takes a breath as she looks around. “Now that I’m forced to work as your underling, I think we should set some ground rules.”
“At the café? I’m your boss, Regina. I set the rules.”
I know for a fact girls like Regina feel the need to be in control of all situations at all times, and as her boss I should probably use that to my advantage, but not one part of me feels like giving her the impression that she’s the one wearing the managerial apron around here.
“I’m not talking about the café.” She looks affronted that I even brought it up. “I’m talking about Shep. I realize you’re new in town so you have no idea about our sordid history. Shep and I are virtually engaged—as in, we’re still an item. So don’t go getting any funny ideas about sleeping with your landlord. He’s officially off-limits to you—and your little sister, too. Not that he’s interested in that whippersnapper.” She scowls at someone over my shoulder, and I’m assuming she’s got a clear shot of Steph.
Regina lands her stink eye over me before continuing. “But I’ve seen you looking at him with moony-swoony eyes while you pour him cup after cup of coffee. I can’t blame you, he’s a hot ticket in just about every sense of the word. But he’s my hot ticket. Get it?” she belts out the words like a threat. “From now on, when Shep comes into the Manor Café, I serve him. He’s always been my customer and my man. Don’t make me tell you twice.” Her lips twitch from side to side as she examines me for a moment. “Besides, I think you and Mud would make a much better pairing. Who knows? Maybe the four of us could double date sometime?” She gives a fluttering finger wave with the one in the middle taking special prominence in the act. “Have a spooktacular night, Bowie Binx. Don’t worry. I’ll put in a word with Mud that you’re interested.”
She takes off toward the bar and I spot Mud pouring Opal a smidge of whiskey into a teacup. Something she likes to refer to as comfort. And by the looks of that conversation Regina and I just had, Regina will need a double shot of comfort if she thinks I’m backing off.
I’m about to continue scouring the interior for signs of mayhem when Tilly comes up with her handcuffs at the ready.
“You’re not going to arrest me, are you?” I tease.
“No offense, Bowie, but I wouldn’t waste these precious silver bracelets on you. Seeing that I lost the key, these are a one-time use only, and I’ve got my eye on trapping a certain vampire for the night.” She bites down on her crimson-colored lip.
“Well, before you go trapping your way through the night, I need you to know I’ve had another vision.”
She takes a quick breath.
I’ve told both Tilly and Opal about my strange gift. I’m not sure why I was so eager to spill the supernatural beans. But then, I didn’t think I would be hanging around in Starry Falls for long, and the vision I had concerned Opal herself. Anyway, my take on it turned out to be wrong, but my decision to tell Opal and Tilly about my sibylline superpower turned out to be right.
Believe me, it feels like a relief to share my visions with someone.
“What’d you see?” She swats me with the silver instruments of torment in her hand.
“Not much. Lola and I were looking at one another and we were downright terrified.”
Tilly gasps. “Because you just realized you’re both in love with the same man?”
“What? No! Because we both had blood on our hands.”
Tilly cringes. “Sounds like that man has another thing coming.” She cranes her neck past me. “Ooh, that vampire is ogling me from the bar. It’s go time.” She rattles her handcuffs like a threat. “Wish me an early parole, because what I’m about to do to that creature of the night is illegal in all fifty states.” She takes off toward the vampire in question, and when he turns this way, I note it’s the same tall bloodsucker with the receding hairline that was arguing with Hazel.
Huh. I’m not sure how I feel about Tilly potentially serving time over a man with a temper.
The warm scent of a familiar thick cologne envelops me, and an involuntary moan works its way up my throat.
Before I know it, Shepherd Wexler is standing before me with a naughty grin threatening to break out on his vexingly naughty face. They don’t call him Sexy Wexy for nothing.
He ticks his head to the side. “You were saying?” His lips flicker and slight dimples press in on either side. How could I not notice this man has dimples? Some men get better with age, but Shep is getting better by the day.
Lucky, lucky me.
I shudder involuntarily because my life isn’t exactly shaped like a horseshoe.
My finger glides down his tie. “I was just about to lead you into a dark corner—you know, so we could discuss a certain kissable encounter we shared last week, but I’ve been informed by Regina that I’m to stay away from her man—as in tag, you’re it. Regina has drawn a circle around you, and there’s no telling what the punishment might be for crossing that line. I’m thinking there might be blood involved. But then, I’ve never been opposed to living on the edge.”
Shep is the only one in Starry Falls who knows of my true identity and what I’ve done. And oddly enough, it turns out, he once interviewed my father from his prison cell while doing research for his series on a crime family. As fate would have it, the mobsters Shep writes about in his books are loosely based on the crime families I’m far too familiar with back in New Jersey—namely mine.