9
Just because you have joined a new community, that doesn’t mean that everyone you meet in that community is going to get along. Try not to interfere with established feuds between vampires. Those situations have a tendency to take out bystanders.
—My Mommy Has Fangs: A Guide to Post-Vampiric Parenting
Chelsea Harbaker had her revenge, upping the deadline for my donation collection for the Pumpkin Patch Party by two weeks. It was a maneuver that was both elegant in its effective simplicity and super-bitchy.
So I was spending the evening at Specialty Books with my two favorite vampire ladies. Jane and I were going over a list of businesses in the chamber of commerce listing. We were dividing the list into two sublists, one of businesses most likely to donate raffle tickets and auction lots for the Pumpkin Patch Party and the other of businesses that would be good targets for me to approach for my bookkeeping operation.
Les and Marge were not pleased with me for reporting their breach of Judge Holyfield’s freshly released order. I could feel their displeasure as more of my clients—most of whom knew Les and Marge—had been dropping off my roster with excuses like “I’d be more comfortable with someone I can contact during the day” or “I’ve been friends with Les for twenty years, so . . .” Meaning I’d lost about ten percent of my client base in the last week.
According to Kerrianne, Les had been grousing to his cronies at the Coffee Spot that Judge Holyfield was obviously a shameless liberal, biased toward the undead. In a town as small as the Hollow, that was bound to get back to the judge eventually. I decided to take the opposite tack, so I would be able to meet the judge’s eye when we finally saw him. To show that my little family was being influenced by the most stable vampires in the region, Danny was sitting at the coffee bar, enjoying a large hot chocolate and telling Mr. Dick and Mr. Gabriel all about his latest schoolyard adventures with Harley. I noted that he did not mention his three-day TV ban as a result of his emotionally scarring threats to Chase Ramos.
Danny loved Miss Jane’s “magic shop,” with its mysterious candles and ritual items and the strange herbal smells. And if I wasn’t careful, he was going to talk Dick out of a third chocolate chip cookie.
Andrea slid into the seat next to me and shook her head over my two-page list of neatly handwritten business names.
“Never accept the prize committee position,” Andrea told me in a sage tone. “That way lies madness.”
Jane shrugged. “I tried to tell her.”
“Not helpful,” I told them both, sipping a particularly nice bottle of Plasmatein, a blend of synthetic blood and proteins that was supposed to stave off bloodthirst for longer periods of time.
“I don’t get it,” Jane huffed. “I mean, I was turned years ago, and I’m not facing the sort of prejudice you are. Sure, my former boss was a bit of a jerk about filling out my undead benefits paperwork, but all I had to do was make a few veiled threats, and she fell right in line.”
Dick protested, “Yeah, but you basically stuck to the nocturnal community. You got a job in a bookstore in a seedy part of town. You made friends in the vampire community. It’s easy to ignore someone who’s sticking to their own kind. Buttercup here is going to PTA meetings and cooking for the school bake sale. She’s rubbing her fangs right in their faces.”
“You do realize that I’m standing right here, yes?” I said, waving my hand, making Dick and Gabriel laugh. “And I am not rubbing anything in anybody’s face. And at least I’m not engaging in front-seat make-out sessions with my sire at a Cracker Barrel, Jane.”
“That happened one time,” Jane said, holding up her index finger.
“Besides, I don’t think Finn’s ever been to a Cracker Barrel,” Dick added.
“Finn?” Gabriel’s eyes went wide. “Finn Palmeroy is your sire?”
“Why does everybody say it like that?” I exclaimed.
Andrea cleared her throat. “Finn has a bit of a reputation among vampires. Also, Jane, Dick, why didn’t you tell us Finn was Libby’s sire?”
“We took a vow of confidentiality,” Jane said.
Dick shrugged. “Also, it sort of slipped my mind.”
“What kind of reputation?” I asked.
“What’s a nice word for ‘shady as hell’?” Andrea asked.
“Dick Cheney,” Jane said just as Gabriel asked, “Is there a nice word for ‘shady as hell’?”
I might have laughed if they weren’t talking about the guy who’d turned me while I was unconscious. I hoped there weren’t questionable pictures out there on the Internet.
“I think I find that offensive!” Dick exclaimed. “No, seriously, I do find that offensive, Jane. You know how hard I’ve worked to turn over a new leaf. I haven’t sold a counterfeit UK promotional product in months!”
“Dick!” Jane exclaimed. “You know I’m kidding!”
“No, I don’t know that, Jane. Just like you don’t know whether I’m ‘kidding’ when I throw out every coffee drink you make at the shop to protect our customers from food poisoning!”
Dick flounced off into the back room. He honest-to-God flounced. I’d never seen a vampire flounce before. It was considerably less intimidating than everything else I’d seen vampires do. Jane stared after him and turned to her husband, who shrugged and then gestured toward Dick’s back.
“That wasn’t more insulting than what I usually say to him,” Jane protested.
“You make me apologize to Jamie when I say the wrong thing,” Gabriel noted.
“That’s because you say the wrong thing so frequently. I only say the wrong thing every once in a while.”
Gabriel said nothing, merely lifted an eyebrow and stared at his wife.
She added, “When it comes to Dick, I only say the wrong thing every once in a while.”
Gabriel’s eyebrow did not change position.
“Miss Jane, when you hurt someone’s feelings, you should say you’re sorry,” Danny informed her solemnly. “Miss Steele says that not saying you’re sorry ‘only compounds the rudeness.’ I’m not sure what that means, because when we asked, she told us to look it up on Google when we got home. And I forgot.”
“You’re setting an example for Danny,” Gabriel told her, smirking to beat the band.
Jane groaned. “Fine.”
With all of the enthusiasm of a petulant teenager, Jane flung herself from the chair and followed Dick into the stockroom. “Dick! Danny says I have to say I’m sorry!”
“They’ve been like this ever since they started working together at the Council,” Gabriel said with a sigh.
“As much as I sympathize with the Council’s internal squabbles, can we get back to the fact that my sire has a Keyser Soze reputation?” I asked.
“He’s not violent,” Gabriel said, quickly putting his hands over Danny’s ears. “Well, he’s not always violent. He considers it the last resort, a sort of rudeness he doesn’t want to stoop to.”
“So more Hannibal Lecter than Keyser Soze. That’s much better.”
Gabriel didn’t disagree with me, which I didn’t find comforting. “Finn has made a lot of money over the years for himself and his backers using a systematic sort of ruthlessness that makes even the Council hierarchy balk. He is unsentimental and efficient and has no qualms.”
“Has no qualms about what?” I asked.
“Anything.” Gabriel’s expression was neutral despite his conflicted tone. “I didn’t say he was unlikable. He can be quite charming, actually. I just wouldn’t trust anything that comes out of his mouth, unless he’s telling you how his actions will directly benefit him.”
“So why would he turn me?” I asked. “If he’s this cold, ruthless businessman, why in the world would he respond to an online ad and turn me?”
Gabriel shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Should you go back there and try to smooth things over with Dick and Jane?”
Gabriel shook his head emphatically, finally unclamping his hands from Danny’s ears. “No, I should not.”
“You’re much better at earmuffs than my papaw,” Danny informed Gabriel. “I could hardly hear anything.”
Gabriel gave Danny a regal little nod.
“So on to less awkward subjects. How’s Wade?” Andrea asked in a tone too casual to be authentic.
“He’s fine,” I said lightly.
Andrea sighed. “Yes, he is.”
Jane poked her head out of the stockroom doorway, having apparently heard this comment over the commotion of Dick’s hissy fit. She and I both stared at Andrea for a long moment.
Andrea shrugged. “I have a soft spot for sketchy characters with hearts of gold. And you two were just so adorable at Danny’s birthday party. It’s hard to believe he’s the same guy you were screaming at in a janitor’s closet.”
“I wasn’t screaming. I was projecting my voice. Loudly. And Wade isn’t sketchy,” I insisted quietly, checking to make sure Danny wasn’t listening. “He’s just not what I’m used to.”
I expected some commentary from Jane, but she was staring at the door, with a “kill it with fire” expression on her face. I followed her line of sight to the door and saw my sire strolling into Specialty Books like he didn’t have a care in the world. He’d dressed up for the occasion of startling the hell out of me, wearing a dark blue suit and a crisp white shirt. And his short dark hair seemed especially slicked back. And I was smiling at him, in front of my mentor, who likened him to poison ivy.
Oh . . . shitballs.
“Hey, man,” Dick said, emerging from the stockroom to shake Finn’s hand.
“Dick!” Jane barked.
“What?” Dick sighed. “I don’t get to spend time with a lot of former colleagues.”
Jane gave Dick an even more pointed look. Dick’s heaving sigh was downright petulant, giving Danny a run for his money. At last, she relented. “Fiiine. But this is not helping your whole ‘I have changed’ shtick.”
Finn gave Dick’s shoulder a manly pat and sauntered over to the table, standing behind me. He put his hands on my shoulders and seemed to relax, as if he was relieved to be near me again. It was sort of flattering but, at the same time, off-putting, considering Jane’s opinion of him.
“Mrs. Nightengale, you’re the one who summoned me here. Surely you’re not surprised to see me.”
Jane’s whole character seemed to change in one roll of her shoulders. She went from the quirky, funny lady who let my son scramble all over her like a beanbag chair to a strange queenly creature, glaring across the table at Finn like he’d sunk her armada without even offering a half-assed apology. Her posture was ramrod straight. Her mouth was grim. And her voice was frosty. “I am surprised to see you, considering that I asked to see you tomorrow night. When Libby isn’t here. I think you two have already spent enough time together.”
“Really?” Finn gave me a cheeky wink. “I don’t think so.”
Oh, Oprah, I prayed, just let me sink through the floor so I don’t have to be present for this awkward conversation.
“So uncomfortable,” Andrea whispered. I bit my lip and nodded.
“Did you just not hear me when I forbade you to see your childe, or do you suffer from some sort of auditory-processing disorder?” Jane asked.
“Actually, I appealed your decision to the North American Council offices in Cleveland,” he said, handing Jane an official-looking envelope. “I offered several character references and a considerable donation. They’ve granted me conditional visitation rights.”
Suddenly, I understood how Danny felt, with the “adults” in the room talking over my head. I was pretty sure Jane and Finn were going to start spelling the big words soon. Also, why did I not know that the North American Council offices were in Cleveland?
And because he could sense conversational tension like a shark scents a distressed seal, Danny slid off his bar stool and climbed into my lap. “Who’s this?”
My son studied Finn for a long moment, then leaned close and whispered, “I don’t trust him, Mom. He’s got a bad-guy beard. He’s probably from an evil dimension.”
My first-grader knew about the Star Trek Evil Beard Dark Parallel Universe. Lord, save me from my sci-fi precocious son.
“Mr. Wade has a beard, too,” I reminded him.
“Not the same thing,” Danny insisted. “Mr. Wade’s beard goes all the way up his cheeks.”
Andrea bit her lip so hard I was afraid she would draw blood. I glanced at Jane, who threw her hands up in the international gesture of I tried to warn you.
“What is this?” Finn asked, his eyebrows arched.
“This is Danny. My son,” I said, staring at him, challenging.
Finn shook his head and in an amused tone told me, “I know he’s your son, Libby. And I know he’s the reason you wanted to be turned. I meant, what is this about a bad-guy beard?”
“All the bad guys on my cartoons have beards like that,” Danny informed him, pointing to the neatly trimmed goatee on Finn’s chin.
“Danny,” I warned quietly, pulling my son’s hands out of biting range. But to my surprise, rather than looking annoyed, Finn snorted and knelt down to Danny’s eye level.
“No, no, it’s true, cartoon villains are partial to facial hair. It’s a scientific fact,” Finn agreed. He extended his hand to Danny. “But you’ll find that in real life, the villains are a little harder to spot. Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Finn.”
Danny gave Finn’s hand a manly shake. “I’ll be watching you.”
That delighted grin broke across Finn’s face again. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Why don’t you go start on the downtown section?” I asked Danny, scooting him toward Dick as I stood.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Finn,” Danny said, running toward his favorite vampire.
“What if I shave it off?” Finn called after Danny.
“I’ll still know it’s there!” Danny yelled back, making Finn snicker again.
“Sorry about that,” I said, my lips twitching.
“I can respect a healthy reluctance to trust a strange man with designs on his mom,” Finn said with a shrug. Jane made a disdainful grunting noise, which Finn ignored. “What’s the downtown section?”
“My son is recreating Gotham City. Out of biscotti.”
“No one eats the biscotti,” Andrea muttered.
“Because they’re like cookies, only drier and harder to eat,” I told her.
“Well, this complicates things.” Finn sighed.
I pursed my lips. I had been expecting this. Dating when you had a child was complicated. I hadn’t actually done it yet, what with the deadly disease and all, but even when I had been well and felt strong enough to take off my wedding ring, the moment I mentioned my son to a man who seemed interested in me, I could see the shutters behind his eyes close. I was disappointed that I saw the same from Finn. I’d expected more, somehow, as if he should have better perspective because of his immortality.
“Because after seeing you with your son, now I have to like you as a person, too,” Finn said, as if this was a great burden. “And here I was hoping for a relationship built on chemistry and dimples.”
“Aw.” Andrea sighed. When Jane glared at her, she cleared her throat and said, “Right, back to the coffee bar where it’s safe. Come on, Jane.”
Andrea caught Jane through the crook of her elbow and tried to lift her from her seat. When Jane resisted, Andrea picked up the envelope and waved it in her face. Jane screwed up her face with disgust but allowed Andrea to haul her away.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, which was pointless, because all of the vampires in the shop were going to hear me regardless of what I did.
“I wanted to see you, and I wanted to make clear to Jane that her embargo wasn’t going to stand. As long as you don’t have a problem with me visiting you, the Council shouldn’t be able to stop that.” At that, the tiny demitasse cup Jane was holding shattered in her hands. We turned to look at her, and she smiled blithely, shuffling the shards of porcelain from her fingers. Finn rolled his eyes and cupped my chin in his hand. “Do you . . . want me to visit you?”
“I don’t know,” I told him.
“Hey, this is an important part of a relationship, right? Awkwardly introducing each other to the lesser-known areas of our lives? How else would I know about your son’s passion for cookie architecture or that your first name is Liberty?” When I groaned, he added, “I saw it on Jane’s paperwork.”
“Is that what this is, a relationship?” I asked.
“I’d like it to be the beginnings of one.”
“Then I think you should know that I’m seeing someone else.”
Finn scoffed. “Yes, your motorcycle enthusiast. I have heard tales. I like my chances on this one.”
I snorted. Of course Finn would see himself as the natural choice over Wade. He wasn’t being snobby or rude. That was just who he was, confident and secure in himself to the end. Part of what made him so charming was what made me want to smack him.
“So, Danny’s father?” Finn asked. When I raised my brows, he added, “I didn’t get a thorough look at your file.”
“Passed a few years ago.”
“It’s not going to be easy on you, you know, taking care of a child on your own,” he said.
“It’s never been easy.”
“But growing up without a father, you know how hard that’s going to be on Danny as well.”
“Are you trying to make a point, Finn?” I asked, my voice going several degrees colder.
“I’m just wondering, do you ever regret not knowing your father?”
“I regret not applying myself more in geometry. And most of my fashion choices during my adolescence. But it’s hard to regret something you’ve never had.”
“I was just curious,” he said.
“Well, be curious about something else,” I snapped. I regretted my waspish tone, but I didn’t like being asked these questions by someone I barely knew. And I was getting tired of explaining myself—to the Council, to the courts, to the PTA.
But Finn seemed unaffected. He grinned cheekily. “OK, I’m curious about what you will be doing next weekend, as I would like to take you out to an interesting little spot that serves specialty blood. Perfectly legal specialty donor blood.”
“Next weekend, I have plans,” I told him, thinking of my date with Wade.
“And the weekend after that?”
“I may have other plans,” I said.
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” he asked, dark eyes twinkling.
“You don’t want me to make it easy for you. That wouldn’t be fun for you.”
He moved in fast, giving me an unexpected peck on the lips, which made me take two steps back. He grinned, despite my sudden movement. “See, you already know me so well!”
Several nights later, I stood at the kitchen window, watching the moonlight filter through the tree limbs, painting the elaborate landscaping in the backyard in a silvery wash. I would miss the flowers, come spring. It was a small sacrifice, but I would definitely miss the bright colors of the day. I thought about a poem we’d read in high school about Persephone’s garden and the elaborate, but false, flowers she’d constructed out of gems and precious metals the god of the Underworld gave his lonely, depressed bride to try to keep her happy. I wondered if this was some ancient Greek fable to explain seasonal affective disorder.
Jane had insisted that I attend another Newly Emerged Vampires meeting the night before and she made me sit next to Crybaby Bob, with his decidedly unposh London accent, who ended up crying every time he was asked for an update on the strained relationships with his family.
“I just miss them all so much,” Bob blubbered, slugging down what had to be his fifth bloodyccino since we’d started the meeting. “It’s not fair that they’ve cut me off from the whole family. I’m not allowed to go to Christmas this year, can you believe that?”
Frankly, I was surprised Bob’s family hadn’t set him on fire just to prevent his whining.
Despite Jane’s best efforts, membership in the NEV group was a mixed bag. I was starting to make some friends, but the meetings weren’t a lot of fun. I still didn’t know what my vampire power was, but Jane insisted that was normal. I was, however, learning lots of new tips and tricks for ignoring human food smells, so I could feel like I was more a part of Danny’s dinnertimes. Andrea even gave me a polished egg-sized pink quartz crystal to keep in my palm, so I could picture all of my discomfort and negative energy being absorbed into its milky surface.
And as an added bonus to NEV membership, there were several vampire-owned businesses in town that not only wanted to use my bookkeeping service but were also happy to donate items to the Pumpkin Patch raffle. This was increasingly important, as the deadline was looming and businesses that had supported the event for years had suddenly instituted “budget cuts” when I called.
Somehow I’d cobbled together a network of supportive people—Kerrianne, Jane, Andrea, Miss Steele, Mr. Walsh, Wade. In fact, when Kerrianne wasn’t available, Wade and I had come to depend on each other for babysitting help.
For instance, tonight I was home, watching the kids. Wade was working on a special project at his shop, some custom part for a special-order bike that he wanted to finish in time for the weekend so we could keep our drive-in plans. So I was keeping Harley for dinner and homework time. Wade had promised to take the boys to see some very loud, obnoxious cartoon the next week to even things out.
I was composing a list of excuses for why I couldn’t go to the next NEV meeting—new-fang cramps, Danny had homework, emergency meeting of the Pumpkin Patch committee, Dancing with the Stars marathon—when a large figure emerged from the trees in my backyard. I suppressed a grin, wondering what exotic shape Jed had selected for this evening. Fins? Fur? Fangs?
I stared at the shape lumbering about in the backyard. It would seem that he’d gone with none of the above. In fact, he looked downright human, which was sort of boring. He was a tall human, with a broader build, but still human. I lifted my hand to wave. After a long moment, he waved back.
“This form needs some work,” I muttered.
“Mom, I don’t think Harley feels too good.”
I turned to see Harley and Danny standing behind me. Harley’s cheeks were flushed, and his blue eyes were glassy as marbles, a quick descent from the condition I had found him in when I rose for the evening. Kerrianne had mentioned that Harley had been a little “draggy” when she’d picked the kids up from school. I should have known that was a child-health red flag for impending immune-system meltdown.
Harley sneezed loudly and looked utterly miserable.
“Your shoes are tight,” Danny told him, patting Harley’s matted blond hair.
“I don’t think tight shoes makes you sneeze,” Harley said, sneezing louder, even as I wiped at his dripping nose with a tissue.
“Your shoes are tight again” was Danny’s reply.
“Gesundheit, honey,” I reminded him, laughing. “It’s Gesundheit. It means ‘bless you’ in German. Why don’t you get Harley a juice box from the fridge?”
“That makes more sense,” Danny reasoned, fetching the juice and poking a straw into the box. Harley let loose one final ear-splitting sneeze. I grabbed the digital ear thermometer from the medicine cabinet.
“Bless you in German,” Danny told him.
“No, that’s not—” I shook my head. “Never mind.”
“My head hurts,” Harley said, crossing to the sink and leaning his face against my arm. His forehead was burning up. I didn’t need a thermometer or vampire senses to know that he had a fever.
“Harley, honey, I think we need to get you into a cool bath. Danny, grab my phone off the charger. We need to call Mr. Wade, OK?”
I carried Harley upstairs to the guest bath, running a tub as cool as I thought Harley could tolerate. According to the ear thermometer, his temperature was 102.3, not dangerous but definitely not a symptom to ignore, particularly with his asthma.
I let Harley put a pair of Danny’s swim trunks on, for both our sakes, before he climbed into the tub. His poor little lips were quivering, and his teeth chattered, even though the bathwater was lukewarm. As I dialed Wade’s number, I called to Danny to knock on Miss Nola’s door and explain the situation.
“Hey, baby doll, everythin’ OK?” Wade yelled over the whine of machinery in the background. I set the phone to speaker.
“No. I’m sorry to bother you, but Harley’s not feeling well. He’s got a fever and a runny nose.”
“You put him in a bath yet?”
“I’m in here now, Daddy, and it’s cold!” Harley shouted irritably.
“That usually works, but he’ll fight you like a pissed-off cat,” Wade said.
“Really? He didn’t give me any trouble, other than some pitiful looks.”
Wade harrumphed. “Clearly, he likes you better than me.”
“Clearly.”
Nola, bless her, was there in a flash, medical bag in hand, and took the phone from me so she could ask Wade some questions about Harley’s asthma medication. I kept myself busy mopping Harley’s head with Danny’s Ninja Turtles loofah.
Once Harley’s tooth chattering was reduced to a less castanet-like state, we let him out of the tub and dried him off. Danny had already fetched his favorite Ninja Turtles pajamas, which were about a size and a half too small for Harley, but the poor baby didn’t complain.
“You, sir, have a nice, solid upper-respiratory infection going,” Nola informed him after examining him. “It’s nothing too serious, but it’s probably a good thing we caught it before it got worse.”
“Am I going to have to take medicine?”
“I’ll call Dr. Hackett and ask him to call something in to the pharmacy,” Nola told me. Harley groaned, and Nola brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. “I’ll make sure they add the bubble-gum flavoring, OK, darlin’? Can Wade pick it up?”
I nodded, and Danny suddenly sneezed, spraying the side of my face with spit and who knew what else. Nola handed me a wet wipe and then curved her hands under Danny’s jaw, feeling his lymph nodes.
“If I didn’t know I was immune to whatever biohazards are on my face right now, I would be really upset,” I told her, wiping at my cheeks. “Nope, I am upset either way.”
“Danny, do you and Harley share everything?” Nola asked, carefully cupping her hands under Danny’s jaw to feel for swelling. “Like your pencils, your hats, maybe your water bottles?”
Danny nodded. “Harley finished his drink before I did at lunch today. It’s nice to share.”
I groaned, dropping my head. “Of course.”
“Well, he should fall victim within a day or so. Lots of fluids for both of them,” Nola told me. “Rest, cartoons, bland soft food. And I will bring by some coloring books tomorrow describing how not to share germs.”
“Too late,” Danny grumbled.
By the time Wade arrived, I could tell that he was already sliding toward infection himself. His symptoms mirrored his son’s to an eerie degree, down to the glassy blue eyes and flushed cheeks. He was congested, and I could feel the slight difference in his body temperature without even touching him. And he looked like he was about to fall over from exhaustion.
Harley and Danny were conked out together in Danny’s room. They’d spent most of the evening on the foldout couch in the living room, dosed up on Tylenol and ginger ale and enough Dexter’s Laboratory to drive me slightly insane. I impressed even myself by hauling both of them upstairs under my arms without breaking a sweat. All mothers should have vampire upper-body strength.
“You don’t look so good,” I told Wade, handing him a can of ginger ale from the fridge.
“I don’t get sick,” he protested, shrugging out of his denim work jacket. “I’ve got the Tucker constitution.”
“Well, I don’t know if you should take Harley home. He’s sick. Danny’s halfway to sick. You’re getting sick. And I can’t get sick. So if you stay here, when you inevitably fall under the germ spell, you’re not left without support.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t get sick,” Wade growled, sprawling back on the foldout couch.
“I’ll remind you of those words in twelve hours when you’re sniffling and whining for juice.” I propped his foot against my thigh and wiggled his work boot loose. His leg dropped like dead weight to the floor as I repeated the process with his other foot.
“I never whine. I’m a Tucker,” he muttered.
I was smiling, even as I rolled my eyes and pulled the sheets up to his chin. “Yep.” I kissed his warm forehead. “You’re a regular badass.”
It didn’t take twelve hours for Wade to sniffle. It took three. But to his credit, he didn’t whine for juice. He politely requested a Budweiser.
“I don’t think beer is the answer,” I told him, dropping two Tylenols into his palm for his five A.M. dose.
“It’s the answer if the question is ‘What’s cold and delicious and makes ya forget that ya feel like your head’s about to explode?’ ”
“Well, it is hard to argue with that logic.”
“I really don’t feel good,” he mumbled, pulling me down to sit so he could drape his arms around my waist and bury his face against my thighs.
I giggled, cupping my hand around his bare neck. “I know.”
“I don’t want you to have to take care of me.”
“I know. And I appreciate that.”
“You’re a really sweet girl, and your hand feels nice on my neck.”
“Thanks. You’re a nice guy.”
He rolled onto his back and sort of sleepily leered up at me, through the dark gold hair that was tossed over his eyes. “And you’re so good to Harley. You treat him just like you treat Danny.”
I pushed the hair back from his face. “He’s easy to love. He’s a good boy. He’s a good friend to Danny.”
“And you’re funny and you’re smart and you call me on my bullshit.” Wade grinned loopily. “And ya have a pretty fantastic rack.”
“There it is,” I scoffed. “How much of that Coldaid stuff did you take?”
He held up two fingers to measure a little bit and then slowly expanded his fingers until they measured a shit ton. He pursed his lips. “You’re right. That’s not a very nice thing to say, is it?”
“Probably not.”
“OK, ya have the greatest rack in the history of racks.”
“Is that much better?”
“Is it the word ‘rack’ that bothers ya?” he asked, squinting at me.
I shook my head, still petting his hair like I was stroking a feverish cat. “I’m not sure.”
“Will ya ignore the ‘rack’ comment and lie down here with me?” he asked, lifting up the blanket. I looked down at his flushed, feverish face. I couldn’t catch his cold. There was no reason not to slide under those blankets. Shaking my head, I crawled onto the couch next to him. He rolled over, slinging a leg over mine and snuggling his face against my chest. “Oh, you feel nice and cool.” He sighed, combing his fingers through my hair. “And ya smell nice. You always smell nice, like those white flowers. The ones that only come out at night?”
“Jasmine?”
“Yeah, jasmine. It’s pretty, and you’re pretty.”
“Thanks.” I chuckled, patting his sweaty head. “I try.”
“And I really like you,” he mumbled into my side. “Like more than a friend or one of them ‘friends with benefits’ things. I like you a lot more than I’ve liked anybody in a long time.”
“That’s really nice to hear, Wade. Because I like you, too.”
“Gonna ask ya to be my girl.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What does that mean, exactly?” I asked.
No response from Wade.
I craned my neck to peer down at him. Wade’s eyes were closed, and his mouth was open in a light snore. “Of course.”
The boys ended up waking for their own doses of Tylenol just before dawn. They crawled onto a pallet I made up on the floor near the foldout couch and went back to sleep. I stayed with them, watching them doze, until the sunlight crept over the horizon. I had to get down to my little basement hidey-hole. I knew I had to go. But I made up reasons to stick around, leaving bottles of water and juice boxes for everyone by the sofa and leaving little Post-it explanations about how to use our remotes.
I watched as Wade rolled over to the far side of the mattress, fumbling around blindly until he found Harley with his hand. He rubbed the space between Harley’s shoulder blades, in a gesture that seemed to comfort him as much as it did his son. And then, absently, he reached over and patted the top of Danny’s head.
I heard the jangle of keys at the front door and jumped up to let Kerrianne into the house. I pressed my fingers to my lips. She nodded and followed me into the living room.
“Welcome to the plague house,” I whispered. “Danny will not be going to school today. Also, you have a few new inmates.”
Wade’s head rose from the pillow, hair all askew and still squinting. “Hi, Kerrianne.”
“Wow. I knew one day I would stumble into your house and find Wade all stupid and disoriented, but I thought it would be under dirtier circumstances.”
“Easy,” I warned her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of them,” Kerrianne told me. “I’ve got the day shift.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, yawning. “You’re no use to your family if you’re sick, too. This could be the beginning of one of those horrible outbreak movies that ends in a zombie apocalypse.”
Kerrianne scoffed. “Oh, I’m fine. Unlike Cliché McTough Guy here, I’m smart enough to use hand sanitizer and megadoses of vitamin C. I don’t rely on the Tucker constitution to defend me from germs.”
“Does everybody but me know about the Tucker constitution? Is it on the Internet or something?” I asked.
“Wade may have referred to it a few times. He’s a legend in his own mind.”
Wade shook his head. “That’s not very nice, Kerrianne.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t ogle you if you’re all snotty and gross. You need to think of my needs before you do something dumb like this,” she shot back.
“Oh, come on, you can still ogle him from the neck down,” I chimed in helpfully.
“I’m lyin’ right here, ya know,” Wade grumped.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” I crouched close to him, sitting on the chair near the couch and running my fingers along his cheek. He leaned into the caress like a cat and made a rumbling noise low in his throat. Kerrianne’s eyebrows rose at the sight, but she said nothing.
“Better. Not awesome. But better,” he said. “And I don’t remember a good portion of last night, so I’m hopin’ you’ll have the decency not to post any incriminatin’ videos on YouTube.”
“Just for my private collection, then. Got it.”
“Very funny,” he said, weakly batting at me with his hands. “How are the boys?”
“They’ve been napping for a while,” I said, nodding toward their motionless forms. “You should probably get them up for some juice and meds in an hour or so. But for now, just enjoy the peace and quiet. Danny’s a bit of a whiner when he doesn’t feel well.”
“Yeah, pretty soon Harley is going to want his own pajamas, his own toys, that sort of thing,” Wade said, patting his son’s head.
It struck me that Harley and Wade would be going home soon, maybe even tonight. And that made me sad. I liked having them here in the house. It felt more like a home when Danny had other humans around, other people who needed to eat and could go out during the day. I felt more secure with Wade there, and . . . it just felt better. I’d looked forward to rising for the evening, knowing that he and the boys would be waiting upstairs. And the fact that I was desperately attracted to Wade, well, that didn’t hurt.
“I’ll get some breakfast started,” Kerrianne said.
“My colds are cured by bacon!” Wade told her. “And more bacon!”
Kerrianne replied, “Oatmeal for everyone!”
“Bacon-flavored oatmeal?” Wade asked, his tone hopeful. He looked up at me, his eyes all pitiful. “She’s just making regular oatmeal.”
“I know, the very nerve,” I said, rubbing my hand on his back. “I miss bacon.”
“Maybe they could make bacon-flavored blood someday. I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” he said, waving his hand at his blotchy face.
“It’s not so bad,” I told him. “It’s actually kind of nice, you letting me see you all vulnerable and pathetic. Rob always went to his mom’s when he was sick and stayed for days at a time. Said her chicken soup was magic or something.”
“Rob was a dumbass. And was the ‘pathetic’ really necessary?”
“You’re begging for bacon-flavored oatmeal, so yes, it was.”
The boys stirred, almost simultaneously. Danny sat up, blinking blearily. Harley buried his face in his dad’s ribs and pulled the covers over his head. Seeing this, Danny rolled off the pallet and ambled around to my chair. He climbed into my lap and tucked his face into my neck.
“I hate everything,” Danny grumbled against my skin.
I laughed, hugging him tight. I could feel the weight of the sunrise, a wave of fatigue dragging me under. But I wanted to stay. I wanted more time with everybody. It seemed unfair, that I had to give up the daytime, that I missed out on so much of their lives. But I guessed this was the sacrifice I’d made for more time. A girl couldn’t ask for everything.
“Thanks for taking care of us all night, Miss Libby,” Harley said.
“There had to be some advantage to this vampire thing, like being able to stay up all night with you,” I said. “Well, that and the whole immunity to your gross germs.”
“The gloatin’ was definitely not necessary,” Wade warned.
“What are you going to do, sneeze on me?”
Wade made a face that was downright diabolical. “Might.”
“I already tried it,” Danny told him. “Didn’t work.”
“Dang it. New plan, boys. We lick random objects in the room and don’t tell her which ones are contaminated.” At this, the boys cheered. Well, they cheered as much as two sick boys could muster.
“And with that, I bid you good day,” I told them. “I’m going to bed.”
“Aw, come on, Mom!” Danny whined.
“I said good day!” I exclaimed, streaking toward the basement door. I took one last look at the boys, Danny hanging off the back of the chair while Wade and Harley sprawled on the couch. Sleep-rumpled and slightly snotty, they waved at me. I blew them a kiss and closed the door.
“I’m going to lick the remote!” I heard Danny exclaim.
I poked my head out of the basement doorway. “Don’t lick the remote!”
Boys were so weird.