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Authors: Kimberly Raye
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tears swimming in the depths of his light blue eyes.
Then again, this was Francis.
I handed him a tissue and patted his shoulder. “There, there. You can do it.” I could do it. Sure, it was Mount Everest. But what the hey? I had hiking boots. Gucci, as a matter of fact. I could go the distance.
“You really think so?”
“Sure, I do.” Sort of. “We’ll just take one thing at a time. First off, appearance. You’re in pretty decent shape physically; you just hide it behind slouchy clothes. Which means, we pull out the credit cards and hit the stores.” I smiled, despite my doubt, because I am the expert, therefore it’s my job to be calm and reassuring.
Besides, if there was one thing I liked even more than hooking up lost causes, it was shopping.
With a capital S.
W hile most people would have seen the Friday meeting with Ty Bonner (hot and off-limits—talk about a double disaster whammy) as reason enough to spend the rest of the weekend in bed, moaning about my pathetic life, I wasn’t getting down in the dumps. The hour I’d spent with Francis had lifted my spirits and given me hope, and so I’d been anxious to crawl out of bed Saturday evening.
Since DED was closed (it was the weekend), I left my apartment and headed over to Fifth Avenue for my six-thirty tan-brushing appointment with Dirkst. An appointment, I might add, that I’d had to make a month in advance because, hey, we’re talking Dirkst. A veritable genius with a spray gun.
“What do you mean I don’t have any sessions left? I stared at the blonde who stood behind the counter wearing a mini white tank top, white capri pants, and a golden tan to die for.
“I mean, you don’t have any sessions left.” She held up the gold gift card The Ninas had given me for my birthday last year. “As in zero. Zip. Nada. ”
“The gift card is for a full year. Twelve months. My birthday was in February. It’s only been eight months. That means I should have at least four months left.”
“The gift card was for twelve months or twelve sessions. Whichever comes first.” Her irritated expression faded into a huge smile, and I knew she was shifting into sales-pitch mode. As if I’d be remotely interested now.
“We’re offering a special package,” Miss Sales Pitch went on. “Twelve visits for eight hundred dollars.”
My preternatural brain multiplied at the speed of light. “That’s a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar savings.” I smiled. What can I say? I love a sale.
“Will you be putting that on your credit card?”
“I…” My Visa had exactly five dollars and twenty-eight cents open, which I was still holding on to in case of an emergency. “I, um, don’t think so.”
“Check?”
“I’m not really a check person.”
“Cash?” Delight glittered in her eyes, and I shook my head.
“IOU,” I told her. “I was hoping you could float me today and I’ll pay for the special at my next appointment.” You will float me. You’ll be glad to float me. And you’ll even throw in a free massage because I’m such a great customer.
I focused every ounce of vamp energy into the silent command. I felt my hands tremble ever so slightly (which indicated mucho concentration). My body hummed with otherworldly vamp energy. While my persuasive talents hadn’t done much with Francis and one might be inclined to think I’m not all that, I really am.
The clerk merely blinked. Annoyance creased her forehead. She looked as if she had a fly buzzing around her and she was this close to whacking it.
“I’m afraid we don’t run tabs.” Whack. “It’s pay as you go or purchase a package.” Whack. Whack.
“I intend to. As soon as possible. Which just so happens isn’t this exact moment. That’s why I need you to make an exception. Just this once.”
You will make an exception, I silently commanded. You want to. It would be your ultimate pleasure to give me anything I ask.
She leveled a stare at me. “That’ll be eighty-five
Then again, this was Francis.
I handed him a tissue and patted his shoulder. “There, there. You can do it.” I could do it. Sure, it was Mount Everest. But what the hey? I had hiking boots. Gucci, as a matter of fact. I could go the distance.
“You really think so?”
“Sure, I do.” Sort of. “We’ll just take one thing at a time. First off, appearance. You’re in pretty decent shape physically; you just hide it behind slouchy clothes. Which means, we pull out the credit cards and hit the stores.” I smiled, despite my doubt, because I am the expert, therefore it’s my job to be calm and reassuring.
Besides, if there was one thing I liked even more than hooking up lost causes, it was shopping.
With a capital S.
W hile most people would have seen the Friday meeting with Ty Bonner (hot and off-limits—talk about a double disaster whammy) as reason enough to spend the rest of the weekend in bed, moaning about my pathetic life, I wasn’t getting down in the dumps. The hour I’d spent with Francis had lifted my spirits and given me hope, and so I’d been anxious to crawl out of bed Saturday evening.
Since DED was closed (it was the weekend), I left my apartment and headed over to Fifth Avenue for my six-thirty tan-brushing appointment with Dirkst. An appointment, I might add, that I’d had to make a month in advance because, hey, we’re talking Dirkst. A veritable genius with a spray gun.
“What do you mean I don’t have any sessions left? I stared at the blonde who stood behind the counter wearing a mini white tank top, white capri pants, and a golden tan to die for.
“I mean, you don’t have any sessions left.” She held up the gold gift card The Ninas had given me for my birthday last year. “As in zero. Zip. Nada. ”
“The gift card is for a full year. Twelve months. My birthday was in February. It’s only been eight months. That means I should have at least four months left.”
“The gift card was for twelve months or twelve sessions. Whichever comes first.” Her irritated expression faded into a huge smile, and I knew she was shifting into sales-pitch mode. As if I’d be remotely interested now.
“We’re offering a special package,” Miss Sales Pitch went on. “Twelve visits for eight hundred dollars.”
My preternatural brain multiplied at the speed of light. “That’s a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar savings.” I smiled. What can I say? I love a sale.
“Will you be putting that on your credit card?”
“I…” My Visa had exactly five dollars and twenty-eight cents open, which I was still holding on to in case of an emergency. “I, um, don’t think so.”
“Check?”
“I’m not really a check person.”
“Cash?” Delight glittered in her eyes, and I shook my head.
“IOU,” I told her. “I was hoping you could float me today and I’ll pay for the special at my next appointment.” You will float me. You’ll be glad to float me. And you’ll even throw in a free massage because I’m such a great customer.
I focused every ounce of vamp energy into the silent command. I felt my hands tremble ever so slightly (which indicated mucho concentration). My body hummed with otherworldly vamp energy. While my persuasive talents hadn’t done much with Francis and one might be inclined to think I’m not all that, I really am.
The clerk merely blinked. Annoyance creased her forehead. She looked as if she had a fly buzzing around her and she was this close to whacking it.
“I’m afraid we don’t run tabs.” Whack. “It’s pay as you go or purchase a package.” Whack. Whack.
“I intend to. As soon as possible. Which just so happens isn’t this exact moment. That’s why I need you to make an exception. Just this once.”
You will make an exception, I silently commanded. You want to. It would be your ultimate pleasure to give me anything I ask.
She leveled a stare at me. “That’ll be eighty-five
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