Dead End Dating - Sucker for Love Part 12

The question was like a vise sliding around my heart and cranking a couple of notches. "Next Friday," I managed after swallowing the lump in my throat. "It'll all be over by then."

"I did it," Nina One declared when I answered my cell an hour later. I'd just walked into my apartment and picked my way through the maze that was now my living room. "Rob's out of here." Her words confirmed the fact that she had no clue Rob had come crawling to me for a place to stay. "Yesterday's news. Gone. Adios."

If only.

I toed a pair of dirty socks that sat near the coffee table. Several empty bottles of blood lay strewn atop my InStyle collection.

Rob wore a pair of faded black sweatpants and nothing else. He lay stretched out on the couch, his eyes closed, the TV blaring.

"Good for you," I told her as I bypa.s.sed the mess and headed for my bedroom.

"So you think I did the right thing?"

"Don't you?"

"Of course. Better to nip it in the bud before things get really complicated. I mean, what was I thinking? No way could I actually settle down right now. I'm in the prime of my afterlife. I like sleeping around and sucking on the cutie of the moment. We were getting way too serious. Your mother made me see that. I'm not ready to pledge myself to one vampire. I don't know if I'll ever be ready."

"Not ready. I totally get it."

"And Rob's not ready either," she rambled on. "Even if he thinks he is."

No kidding. Rambling.

"Just weeks ago," the ramble continued, "he was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around without a care in the world. Boffing anything with a v.a.g.i.n.a and a pulse. He doesn't want to be saddled down with a mate and responsibilities and my ma.s.sive credit card bills."

"I hear ya."

"It's better this way."

"Much better."

"Did he say that?"

"Say what?"

"That it was better not to be saddled with a mate and responsibilities and ma.s.sive credit card bills?"

"Not in so many words, but I know he's glad you ended it and saved him the trouble of having to do it."

She went silent for several heartbeats. "He wanted to break up?"

"What does it matter? It's over. You don't want to be with him."

"Yeah, but I thought he wanted to be with me. I mean, why wouldn't he want to be with me? I'm one of the hottest vampires out there, right?"

"Absolutely." "From one of the wealthiest families."

"Definitely."

"With one of the highest fertility ratings."

"You're off the charts."

"So what's his problem? Don't tell me, he's gay."

"He's not gay."

"Then how could he possibly want to break up with me?"

"He was probably just blowing off steam, running his mouth, s.h.i.+rking his responsibility. You know how men are. " When she didn't say anything, I added, "Stop worrying about it. This is all for the best. You know it. Rob knows it. Let it go. Go out, have fun." Realize how lost you are without him and come crawling back.

I know, I know. Nina is a heteros.e.xual born vampire. Immune to my mojo. But cut me some slack. At the moment, my brother's a.s.s was making a permanent indentation in my couch.

"You're right. There's no need to dwell on it. I'm over him. It's finished."

"Exactly. Forget all about Rob."

"d.a.m.n straight."

"And his hideous foot ma.s.sages and spur-of-the-moment gifts like that diamond bracelet from Tiffany's and those cool earrings from BCBG. Talk about lame. And what vampire in her right mind wants a male who brings her breakfast in bed?"

"I kind of miss the breakfast in bed," she said after a long, quiet moment. "And the way he stroked my hair after I finished feeding. And the way he held my hand when we fell asleep. And that cute little way he snores when he's just falling asleep."

My ears perked to the thunderstorm now vibrating the walls of my living room. "Cute isn't exactly the adjective I'd use, but suit yourself."

"Oh, it is cute. Sure, it's a little loud, but that's what makes it so endearing. It's bold and powerful and, well, I get tingly all over just thinking about it-"

"Forget Rob," I cut in before she started pinpointing tingle locations and really creeping me out. "This dwelling will only make you second-guess yourself and your decision. You aren't second-guessing, are you?"

Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease- "Hardly. I'm just saying that it wasn't all bad."

The admission sent a burst of excitement through me and confirmed what I'd known all along-she'd fallen for Rob. What can I say? I had a sixth sense when it came to these things. I was an expert, after all. I made my living by finding and orchestrating love.

This was my thing. My bread and b.u.t.ter.

Or, in my case, my AB+ and O-.

"We actually had some pretty good times," she added.

My ears perked. This was it. She was going to admit the truth. Embrace it. Say it. "And?" I gave her a little nudge. And you were right, Lil. I love him. I love him. And thank you for helping me realize the truth. You're the best. You're a master matchmaker. A true professional who knows her business in and out and is destined for major success. A Park Avenue apartment. An overflowing bank account. And the a.s.surance that you will never, ever have to file unemployment or wear a lime green polo s.h.i.+rt for a living.

"And nothing," Nina said. "It was good. Then it was bad. Now it's over. Time to go."

"But-"

"No, really. I've got to go. I'm meeting Ernesto in five minutes. He's the new bartender downstairs. He makes a mean Mexican Firing Squad." A smile touched her voice. "You wouldn't believe what else he can do with a little lime juice and some tequila.

Things should get really interesting."

"Don't you think it's a little premature-"

Click.

Moe's, here I come.

T ime to spill my guts.

Figuratively, that is. Living with Rob isn't that bad. Yet.

I'm talking confession. Laying it all out. Purging my conscience.

While I know being snotty and pretentious is as normal to a born vamp as having fangs and a severe allergy to the sun, I 've never really considered myself one of those-the elitist, self-involved, I-wouldn't-be-caught-dead-driving-the-same-Ferrari-two- days-in-a-row-or-shopping-at-Wal-Mart types like my ma and all her friends.

Come on. I live in the city. I don't even have a driver's license. As for Wal-Mart... All right, so I've never set foot in the big W (city, remember?), but I have thought about it (I'm a sap for anything retail).

Back to the point-I didn't really think of myself as the normal BV and so flying coach wasn 't something that had ever bothered me.

Until I sat down next to Angela Darlene Connolly.

She was a thirty-four-year-old mother of three from Vermont who'd been married half her life. She was president of the Gramercy Elementary PTA, treasurer for the local Little League and she'd won an iPod by selling the most Snickers bars in last year's Tumbling Tots fund-raiser. She didn't drink, smoke or swear.

But man, could she talk.

"... so I told him, he isn't the only one who needs time for himself. He goes to Colorado twice a year to ski with his fantasy football buddies. He spends every Fourth of July ice fis.h.i.+ng in Alaska with his old fraternity brothers. He 's been kayaking through the Grand Canyon and hiking in the Appalachians with his softball team. And did I mention Friday night Poker?"

Not yet. But I had a feeling ...

"Sure, it's fun for him. All he does is deal the cards. I'm the one who spends all day making crab puffs and meatb.a.l.l.s and these bite-sized pepperoni pizzas," she rushed on. "And for what? So a bunch of overweight, spoiled men can sit around smoking cigars and stuffing their faces. I don't even like cigars. Why, it takes days just to get the smell out. So I tell him, it 's my turn. I deserve a break from the world and a chance to kick up my heels. That's why I'm here. I'm grabbing my fun while I'm still young enough to enjoy it. My mother-in-law has the kids and Paul's in charge of the house for the next two weeks while I head to Austin to see my sister."

"That's great."

The comment popped out before I could stop it. Dread swam through me as she took the encouragement and launched into a detailed explanation of just how great it was going to be.

"We've got the whole thing planned. We're going to do a little spring cleaning and have a yard sale and hit every flea market we can find. That is, once she's up and around. She had a bladder lift last week and the doctor says she'll have to stay off her feet for another seven days. Until then, I'll be making her meals and cleaning the surgical site and doing bed pan duty."

Party on.

"Do you know there are over fourteen different kinds of bed pans?" Did I mention that she watches a lot of Discovery Health?

"I didn't know that." Correction, I didn't want to know that.

"Neither did I, but it's true." She proceeded to give a very vivid description (color, size and model number) of the various bed pans-who knew they weren't all round?-that lasted a full thirty minutes.

Yep, you heard me.

Thirty as in three-oh, as in half a freakin' hour.

Meanwhile, I contemplated my options. I could a) do the vicious vamp thing and start slicing and dicing or b) stab myself with a fountain pen or c) get the h.e.l.l outta there.

Forget a. I was wearing a totally cute Iro jacket (dry clean only) and a pair of Twenty8Twelve skinny leg pants in creamy vanilla. As for b, I'd never been much for violence, particularly if it was self-inflicted. I latched onto c and bolted to my feet.

"It was really great talking to you." What? I'm nice. Get over it. "But I have to hit the john ASAP." I crawled over the woman to my left and headed toward the back of the plane before Angela could tell me exactly how much the largest bed pan in existence could hold.

I so didn't need that tidbit of info.

I spent ten minutes barricaded in the bathroom, primping and stalling and praying that Angela wasn't a premonition that this trip was going to be one big disaster. Finally, the stewardess pounded on the door to tell me that I would have to return to my seat because we were having some turbulence.

I took one last look in the mirror and forced myself to get a grip. I couldn 't hide forever. Even more, maybe I was hiding needlessly. Maybe she'd decided to nap and was now snoring away. Or maybe the rest of the pa.s.sengers had decided to lynch her and save me the trouble.

Either way, problem solved.

Hopeful, I slid open the door, apologized to the stewardess for taking so long and marched back down the aisle.

"You're back!" Angela slapped the magazine closed that she'd been looking at and turned her full attention to me. "I was starting to worry."

"I'm fine." I barely ignored the urge to turn and run. Instead, I climbed over the woman on the aisle, sank down in the middle, hands in my lap so that I didn't knock elbows, and braced myself.

Angela shoved her Good House keeping mag into the front seat pocket and opened her mouth. Before she could get out another word, I whipped my head toward the woman on my left and blurted, "So where are you headed?"

"Back home," the woman replied. She glanced up and her dark brown eyes collided with mine.

Her name was Wanda Wilder and she was a sixty-two-year-old retired nurse. She'd been in New York for her oldest granddaughter's birthday. She'd been married for twenty-two years. Divorced for fourteen. And she'd recently signed herself up on an Internet dating site for seniors.

That's what I'm talking about.

"I'm Lil." I smiled. "I own Dead End Dating. It's a matchmaking service in Manhattan."

"I'm Wanda Wilder. I'm retired now, but I used to work in the ER at St. Mary's Hospital in Austin. I live in Georgetown now.

So what brings you to Texas?" "Business retreat."

"In Austin?"

"Actually, it's a small town about an hour outside of Austin. Maybe you've heard of it. Lonely Fork?"

"Are you kidding?" She waved a hand at me. "My cousin lives there. You staying at The Grande?"

I smiled at the familiar name. "I made a reservation there just yesterday. Is it nice?"

"Nicest place in town. Got a five star rating the last I heard."

Okay, maybe Angela hadn't been a premonition, after all. The trip couldn't be all that bad, not with a fully stocked mini -bar and turn-down service.

"Stayed there myself once when I went to my cousin Ronnie's wedding. He owns the pharmacy in town. Knows everybody who's anybody. If you stop in, be sure to tell him Wanda says hi."

"I'll do that."

She turned and eyeballed the back of the plane. "If you'll excuse me, I think it's my turn to hit the little girls' room. I think I had too much coffee."