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bees. And pretty soon, they were proposing extra events and creating committees to run those events, and they built a power base. They elected themselves as officers, moved the headquarters, rewrote the bylaws, and made life miserable for the old-school members. One by one, the charter members all left. Margie quit after they gave her a demerit for wearing brown shoes with a black suit. To Margie, that translated to: You’re over forty, get out.”
    “What happened to all the men?”
    Andrea shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess they just quit, or they got too many demerits …”
    “I think the Courtneys ate them,” I countered.
    “Your guess is there’s some supernatural reason for the pink chamber seal?”
    I nodded. “My guess: coven of succubi.”
    “Well, you should fit in well, being a vampire and all.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “You did tell them that you’re a vampire, right?”
    I sipped my drink to avoid answering.
    “I thought you said you weren’t going to live in the coffin anymore!” Andrea cried.
    “I’m not living in the coffin. I’m just not volunteering any information that wouldn’t come up in an introductory conversation. Do you walk up to people and say, ‘Hi, I’m Andrea. I’m a natural redhead.”
    “I’m not a natural redhead.”
    “I knew it!”
    “Don’t deflect the question. So, I guess you’re not going back, huh?”
    “I have to,” I mumbled. “I’m in charge of the prizes for the charity carnival.”
    Andrea hooted. “They’ve pulled you in!”
    “They did not!”
    “They made you their prize bitch! And not in the dog-show way. You might as well have given them all your milk money and then done their homework for them.”
    “I told you, they’re scary. And blond. We’ve established that I don’t do well with scary blond people. And you’re starting to talk like me the more time we spend together. I think we can both agree that having one person in the world who talks like me is too many.”
    “Jane, maybe you could see this as an opportunity to grow as a person, to face your fears, to be a little less wracked by insecurity.”
    “I am not wracked by fear and insecurity. I have completely normal fears: failure, clowns, spiders. What’s weird about that?” I groaned. “Oh, who am I kidding? It’s all gone pear-shaped.”
    Andrea patted my head. “No more Kitchen Nightmares for you.”
    “It’s Gordon Ramsay. I can’t help myself. All the yelling and the cursing … it’s so forceful. And he takes off his shirt at least once every episode to change into his chef’s uniform.”
    She snorted. “Freak.”
    “Look, I’m going to stick it out. I have to. Joining the chamber is good for the shop … it’s going to be good for the shop. Please, God, let it be good for the shop. And at least we know that they’ll let you quit if it’s not the place for you … or you exceed the maximum weight allowances.”
    Andrea snickered. “You know, maybe you’d be a little more confident if you jazzed up your wardrobe a bit.”
    I smirked. “You’re just looking for an excuse to take me on another humiliating shopping excursion.”
    “Keep it up, and I’ll put you in a stylish poncho,” she said, giving me a mock evil glare.
    I shuddered. “Vampires should not wear ponchos.” I made kissing noises and beckoned my dog. “Come here, Fitz.”
    Fitz yawned and scooched even further under the porch swing, nuzzling his head into Andrea’s hand.
    “Traitor,” I muttered.
    “Oh, you got a shipment at the shop. I put it on your hall table,” she said, rising and dislodging Fitz’s head from her knee.
    “Why didn’t you just leave it at the shop?” I asked, following her through the front door, pitcher in hand.
    “Well, I thought maybe you’d want these for yourself,” she said, smirking, handing me the opened box. About a dozen books with blazing neon titles winked out at me.
    “ Forbidden Thirst. Blood Lust. Penetrating Fangs. The