How to Party with a Killer Vampire, page 24
A woman came running toward us from the home. She also wore jeans, plus a champagne-colored knit top. Her dark hair was swept up and caught by clips. On her feet were slip-on black leather flats—Clarks or Rockports—simple, practical, comfortable. But unlike Rob, the look on her face wasn’t at all pleasant.
Rob’s smile turned to a frown as she approached. “Marie? What’s wrong?”
Marie’s flushed face and wild brown eyes made me tense up. Uh-oh. All was not well in Napa’s Camelot. It probably had something to do with the upcoming event. Such was my party karma.
“It’s JoAnne,” she said, breathless from the short run to my car. Even though she was in her early forties, I doubted this trim, attractive woman was out of shape. No doubt stress was causing her to hyperventilate.
Rob sighed, and his shoulders drooped. “What’s she done now?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw two other people appear in the doorway of the house. A woman—blond, younger than Marie, wearing tan shorts, a tight tank top, and leather sandals—was leaning against the doorjamb, her arms crossed in front of her midriff. I wondered if this was the JoAnne they were talking about. Next to her stood a man, nice-looking, thirty-something, dressed in a black suit in spite of the warm spring weather. I couldn’t make out his shoes from this distance, except that they were black and probably expensive, judging by the suit.
I thought I saw a look pass between the two of them.
“She says we have to cancel the party!” Marie cried.
“What?” Rob said, shaking his head. “She can’t do that. There’s no way—”
“Yes, she can!” Marie said, cutting him off. “She’s threatening to call the police!”
Great. The party hadn’t started and already the cops were involved. I had a feeling the fizz in this event was already starting to go flat.
Penny Warner, How to Party with a Killer Vampire
