Read Online Here Comes the Vampire by Kimberly Raye - Free Book Online
Authors: Kimberly Raye
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and your father are trying to be chintzy— achewww! Call five wanted to know if you want a sit-down dinner or an all-you-can-eat buffet. Call six said—“
“Let me guess. Never mind she’s going for the buffet because she doesn’t want anyone to think that she and my father are cheap.”
“Actually she said you’d better call her as soon as possible because she’s this close to stabbing the penny-pinching bastard.” I arched an eyebrow and she added, “She wants the buffet, but he thinks it’ll cost too much money on account of your aunts are, quote, greedy bitches, end quote. He said they’re liable to bankrupt him because they don’t know how to control themselves and he’s refusing to pay unless your mother opts for a limited sit-down menu or crosses them off the guest list.” She gave me a watery smile. “And that’s it.”
I eyeballed the letter opener sitting on the corner of my desk. I didn’t think of myself as an emo, but a jab in the heart sounded pretty good right about now.
“Get out of here and get some rest.”
“I can stay and at least man the phones while you meet with Mr. Fairweather.”
“I can handle it. Go home.”
“Seriously?”
“Go.”
“I swear I’ll help with the Remy situation as soon as my temp drops below one hundred.” She smiled, crossed her heart and walked out, taking the delicious scent of ripe blood with her.
Thankfully.
I took the stack of messages and dumped them in my top drawer. I had enough drama at the moment. Besides, no sense getting worked up over a reception that was never going to happen. I would comb through every second of footage until I found the proof I needed. Vegas would be null and void and Remy and I would go our separate ways.
Hey, it could happen.
In the meantime, it was all about not losing hope. Persistence. That’s what I needed Cwhath="4. That and a LOT of blood. I reached for the other half of the glass I’d been drinking when I’d “accidentally” dropped the bottle.
I sat there for a few seconds, letting the warmth spread through me. But without a decent night’s sleep, one glass wasn’t enough. Even more, I’d sort of gotten used to the fresh stuff now that Ty and I were together. He fed from me and I fed from him and it was soooo much better than even the most expensive import. I had the fleeting image of Remy and his smooth, tanned throat. My stomach clenched. I retrieved another bottle—my last since the other one was now in the trash—from my bottom drawer, popped the cork and took a huge swig.
I’d chugged over half when the door opened and my first appointment walked in a full hour before his scheduled time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“And make sure she’s not incontinent,” said the old man sitting across the desk from me. “I spend half my Social Security check on Depends as it is.” He had a head full of snow white hair, lots of wrinkles and a grimace that said he either a) didn’t want to be here, b) had missed his morning fiber or c) both.
I was gunning for c.
“Ix-nay on the bad pipes.” I jotted down the last requirement and scanned the profile. “Okay, so let me get this straight, you want a woman with crackerjack plumbing, a head full of hair, her own teeth, no cataracts and no bunions.”
“And no hemorrhoids. Have you seen how much they charge for Preparation H?” The grimace turned into a full blown frown. “I’m living on a fixed income. I ain’t gonna give up one more red cent on account of some woman.”
Especially since she isn’t my dear, sweet, Adelia.
The thought glimmered in his pale green eyes and my heart hitched.
Oscar Fairweather had been widowed all of three months, after sixty-nine years of marriage, five kids and eight grandkids. He lived in Brooklyn in the same brownstone he and his dearly departed wife had bought nearly fifty-two years ago. He sat in the same brown recliner every evening and watched the same console TV every night. The kids visited but not
“Let me guess. Never mind she’s going for the buffet because she doesn’t want anyone to think that she and my father are cheap.”
“Actually she said you’d better call her as soon as possible because she’s this close to stabbing the penny-pinching bastard.” I arched an eyebrow and she added, “She wants the buffet, but he thinks it’ll cost too much money on account of your aunts are, quote, greedy bitches, end quote. He said they’re liable to bankrupt him because they don’t know how to control themselves and he’s refusing to pay unless your mother opts for a limited sit-down menu or crosses them off the guest list.” She gave me a watery smile. “And that’s it.”
I eyeballed the letter opener sitting on the corner of my desk. I didn’t think of myself as an emo, but a jab in the heart sounded pretty good right about now.
“Get out of here and get some rest.”
“I can stay and at least man the phones while you meet with Mr. Fairweather.”
“I can handle it. Go home.”
“Seriously?”
“Go.”
“I swear I’ll help with the Remy situation as soon as my temp drops below one hundred.” She smiled, crossed her heart and walked out, taking the delicious scent of ripe blood with her.
Thankfully.
I took the stack of messages and dumped them in my top drawer. I had enough drama at the moment. Besides, no sense getting worked up over a reception that was never going to happen. I would comb through every second of footage until I found the proof I needed. Vegas would be null and void and Remy and I would go our separate ways.
Hey, it could happen.
In the meantime, it was all about not losing hope. Persistence. That’s what I needed Cwhath="4. That and a LOT of blood. I reached for the other half of the glass I’d been drinking when I’d “accidentally” dropped the bottle.
I sat there for a few seconds, letting the warmth spread through me. But without a decent night’s sleep, one glass wasn’t enough. Even more, I’d sort of gotten used to the fresh stuff now that Ty and I were together. He fed from me and I fed from him and it was soooo much better than even the most expensive import. I had the fleeting image of Remy and his smooth, tanned throat. My stomach clenched. I retrieved another bottle—my last since the other one was now in the trash—from my bottom drawer, popped the cork and took a huge swig.
I’d chugged over half when the door opened and my first appointment walked in a full hour before his scheduled time.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“And make sure she’s not incontinent,” said the old man sitting across the desk from me. “I spend half my Social Security check on Depends as it is.” He had a head full of snow white hair, lots of wrinkles and a grimace that said he either a) didn’t want to be here, b) had missed his morning fiber or c) both.
I was gunning for c.
“Ix-nay on the bad pipes.” I jotted down the last requirement and scanned the profile. “Okay, so let me get this straight, you want a woman with crackerjack plumbing, a head full of hair, her own teeth, no cataracts and no bunions.”
“And no hemorrhoids. Have you seen how much they charge for Preparation H?” The grimace turned into a full blown frown. “I’m living on a fixed income. I ain’t gonna give up one more red cent on account of some woman.”
Especially since she isn’t my dear, sweet, Adelia.
The thought glimmered in his pale green eyes and my heart hitched.
Oscar Fairweather had been widowed all of three months, after sixty-nine years of marriage, five kids and eight grandkids. He lived in Brooklyn in the same brownstone he and his dearly departed wife had bought nearly fifty-two years ago. He sat in the same brown recliner every evening and watched the same console TV every night. The kids visited but not
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