Page 22
“Please tell me less,” I groan.
More nodding from the crowd. Vampyra is good at this. She’s relatable and likable, two things you never want a killer to be. It really does make the confrontation that much harder.
Macy’s hand shoots up, and suddenly I’m shrinking in my seat.
Ella, however, is cheering on her Aunty Maymay.
Morticia grimaces for a moment as if she senses the woman in red is no better than the old lady with bats in her hair. “Yes?”
“As a fellow entrepreneur, I have a product question. My new ‘Sexy Vampire’ candle line—should I market it as something you light before he bites your neck, or after he’s already drained you? Because I’m trying to figure out if the target demographic wants atmosphere for the main event or something fragrant to cover up the evidence.”
The crowd gasps. Half the women are clutching their pearls, and the other half are leaning forward with genuine interest. Someone in the back yells “BOTH!” and Ella shrieks and reaches her arms toward Macy like her aunt is the most entertaining person on the planet.
Which, to be fair, she might be.
Vampyra doesn’t even blink. “Honey, light it before, let it burn while the good times roll, and blow it out after he leaves. The whole experience should smell mysterious and sexy, not like evidence. That’s basic crime scene management, ladies.”
The crowd nods and applauds at these wise words. Women are howling, someone yells “CRIME SCENE MANAGEMENT” like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard, and half the audience looks like they need a minute to recover. I might need a year. And maybe one of those naughty candles, too.
Vampyra leans forward. “Remember, honey, when he walks in and asks what smells so good, you say ‘me.’ Let him think you naturally smell like dark chocolate and danger. The candle is backup. Men don’t need to know about our infrastructure.”
Wild applause. This is clearly life-changing advice that will perhaps channel itself into lifesaving sales for my sinful sister.
Georgie’s hand spikes in the air again.
Morticia points at her without hesitation this time. “I see that hand, and the answer is no.”
The crowd giggles itself into a conniption with Ella and me leading the giggling charge.
“But I have a legitimate question about professional development!”
“Your last ‘legitimate question’ was about landing men on their backs,” Morticia correctly points out.
Georgie clutches her chest as if she’s just been shot. “And it was EDUCATIONAL. Half these women learned something new!”
Someone in the audience yells, “And some of us took notes!”
Morticia sighs. “Fine. What’s your question?”
Georgie stands up—which Mom tries to prevent, but almost topples over in the process. I swear that cape she’s wearing is still trying to strangle her. “Vampyra, if you had to seduce a vampire, a werewolf, and a ghost all in one night—in that order—what’s your strategy and do you need a costume change between each one?”
Dead silence.
As far-fetched as the question is, I swear that Georgie came upon it honestly.
Then the crowd erupts with a latent laugh.
Women are cackling, someone screams “ASKING FOR A FRIEND,” and Morticia drops her head into her hands. By the looks of it, she’s laughing her head off too.
Vampyra is laughing so hard she can hardly breathe. Leave it to Georgie to kill with humor.
“Okay, first of all,” Vampyra begins, “I respect the ambition. Second, yes to the costume change because werewolves don’t appreciate sequins—there’s just too much shedding and heaven knows they do enough of that on their own. Third, the ghost doesn’t care what you’re wearing because he’s dead and just grateful for the attention. His standards have had plenty of time to decompose.”
The audience is HOWLING.
Morticia glances at the pumpkin-shaped twinkle lights overhead. “I feel as if there’s a gentleman somewhere who should be warned.”
“That depends,” Georgie says. “Is he single? Because dead I can work with. Married is where I draw the line.”
