down at the table, but he fidgeted and kept looking out the windows until I thought I would snap at him. He speed-dialed Pam again and said, “Freyda’s gone. Miss Sookie is okay.”
Eventual y, Bubba gulped down the rest of the synthetic blood. He put his bottle by the sink and washed Freyda’s out, as if he could remove her visit that way. Stil standing, he turned to me with sad eyes. “Is Eric going to leave here with that woman? Would Mr. Bil have to go with him?” Bil was a great favorite of Bubba’s.
I looked up at the deficient vampire. The vacancy of his face detracted a bit from his looks, but he had a genuine sweetness that never failed to touch me. I put my arms around him, and we hugged.
“I don’t think Bil is part of the deal,” I said. “I’m pretty sure he’l stay right where he is. She just wants Eric.”
I’d loved two vampires. Bil had broken my heart. Maybe Eric was on the way to doing that same thing.
“Wil Eric go with her to Oklahoma? Who would be sheriff? Whose girlfriend would you be then?”
“I don’t know if he’l go or not,” I said. “I’m not going to worry about who would take his place. I don’t have to be anyone’s girlfriend. I do okay by myself.”
I only hoped I was tel ing Bubba the truth.
Chapter 9
“Are you al right?” Eric’s voice sounded strange; hoarse, almost.
“Yes,” I said. “She was very rational.”
“She … that’s what she told me. And Bubba told Pam you were al right.”
So he’d talked to Freyda, presumably in person. And he’d taken Bubba’s secondhand word that I was fine; so therefore, he hadn’t been as quick to cal me as he would have been if there’d been doubt in his mind. A lot of information conveyed in two short sentences.
“No,” I agreed. “No violence.” I’d lain alone in the darkness, my eyes wide open, for a long time. I’d been sure Eric would arrive at any moment, desperate to make sure I hadn’t been hurt.
I was control ing myself with my last bit of self-respect.
“She won’t win,” Eric said. He sounded confident, passionate— everything I might have hoped would be reassuring.
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“Yes, my lover. I’m sure.”
“But you’re not here,” I observed, and I hung up very gently.
He didn’t cal back.
I slept between three and six, I think, and woke up to a summer day that mocked me by being beautiful. The downpour had washed everything, cooled the air, and renewed the green of the grass and the trees. The delicate pink of the old crepe myrtle was unfurling. The cannas would be open soon.
I felt like Hel hungover.
While the coffeepot did its work, I slumped at the kitchen table, my head in my hands. I remembered—too vividly—sliding into a dark depression when I understood that Bil , my first-ever boyfriend and lover, had left me.
This was not quite as bad; that had been the first time, this was the second. I’d had other kinds of losses during the same time period. Loved ones, friends, acquaintances had been mown down by the Grim Reaper. So I was no stranger to loss and to change, and these experiences had taught me something.
But today was bad enough, and I could think of nothing to look forward to.
Somehow I had to pul out of this state of unhappiness. I couldn’t struggle through many days like this.
Seeing my little cousin Hunter would make me happy. Smiling in anticipation, I had already put my hand on the phone to cal his dad before I realized what a criminal mistake inviting Hunter over would be. The child was a telepath like me, and he would read my misery like a book … a terrible situation for Hunter.
I tried to think of another good thing to anticipate. Tara would be coming home from the hospital today, and I should cook a meal for her. I tried to summon the energy to plan that, but I came up with nothing. Okay, save that for later. I cast around for other pleasant ideas, but nothing took a grip on my black mood to loosen its hold on me.
When I’d exhausted my fund of self-pity by brooding on my untenable situation with Eric, I thought I should focus on the death that had precipitated the current crisis, at least in part. I checked the news on the computer, but no arrest had been made in Kym Rowe’s murder. Detective Ambrosel i said, “The police are not close to an arrest, but we’re pursuing several leads. Meanwhile, if anyone saw anything in the Clearwater Cove area that night, please cal our hotline.” So, it would be interesting to hear if Bil and Heidi had found out anything, and it would be interesting—maybe—to ask the writer, Harp Powel , why he was going around with the Rowes. I’d had the feeling he was a cut or two above what he seemed to be doing—
making a quick buck off the murder of a young, self-destructive stripper.
It felt good to have a couple of projects in mind, and I clutched them to me as I went through my morning ritual. The lockers for the employee area were supposed to come today on the truck. That would be fun. If you had a very limited idea of fun.
I goaded and prodded myself into preparation and went in the back door of Merlotte’s ful of grim determination. As I tied on my apron, I felt my mouth curve up in my worst smile, the one that sent out “I’m crazy” signals al over the place. It had been a long time since I’d worn that particular smile.
I made a round of my tables and realized Sam wasn’t behind the bar,
