He shook his head at me. “People haven’t changed, Lucy, not so much. What’s changed is how very nosy people are. In the old days, there was more privacy. None of this social media.” He said the words social media the same way you’d say social disease.
For a moment, I indulged myself in what Rafe’s Twitter account might look like. Or what he might post on Instagram. Of course, being a vampire, he didn’t turn out in pictures, so no endless selfies for him.
He looked momentarily uncomfortable. “I wasn’t sure about having you do this. But I’ll only be upstairs. If there’s any problem, all you have to do is call out.
“If anybody tries anything with me, they’ll be sorry.” I said it all tough guy, but in reality, I wasn’t entirely sure about my spells. I had protection spells and a few that would stop aggression. I wished one more time that Pamela wasn’t going to be there. She wasn’t a witch. Maybe she wasn’t a very nice person, but I wouldn’t wish her to get tangled up in something ugly because some entitled, rich boys got so drunk they started causing havoc.
Fortunately, William had also invited my cousin Violet, also a witch, to be a waitress. I figured two witches and one self-serving narcissist could handle a bunch of rowdy boys who drank too much. I was sure of it.
“I’ll see you there, then,” Rafe said. He touched my shoulder. “Remember. Call out, and I’ll be by your side within a minute.” It might sound like an idle boast, but with Rafe, I knew that was true. More than once I’d barely even let out a squeak and found him right beside me. One of his superpowers as a vampire. Still, I was sure I wouldn’t need the help. I bid him goodbye and then made sure there was plenty of food for Nyx, who was out. Luckily for Rafe. Otherwise she’d have shown him so much affection, he’d currently have cat hair all over that fancy suit.
We were meeting at the shop, so I turned out the lights and walked down the stairs that led directly to the shop. Only a few minutes later, William came in. “You look nice, Lucy.”
“I dressed exactly the way you asked me to. White blouse, black skirt.”
“Well, you still look nice.”
I smiled at him. “Thanks. So do you.” He had a suit on, which was strange since he was the caterer, not the butler, tonight.
He saw my obvious confusion and explained that he’d be serving the wine. “I’ll swap my apron for my suit jacket a few times. Nothing simpler.”
Violet came in next. She’d taken the black and white thing slightly less traditionally. Her heart had recently been broken, but she must be feeling better about herself because she had dyed a purple and pink stripe down her long, black hair. She wore baggy cocktail pants in black, and her idea of a white blouse was an embroidered peasant blouse.
Then Pamela made her entrance. She walked in and stopped, like a runway model ready to be admired. There was a moment when we all said nothing. She wore high, black heels. That was the first thing I noticed. What kind of waitress wore high heels? They were patent leather and cut away, revealing beautifully manicured toes painted red. Her legs were excellent, and she showed them off with a figure-hugging skirt. Her blouse had to be pure silk based on the sheen, and it was low-cut. Her hair had clearly been freshly done at a salon, and her makeup was impeccable. Diamonds glinted from her ears.
William nearly swallowed his tongue. “Pamela. Pamela,” he said again. “You look amazing.” She laughed, that silvery laugh that was as fake as the spectacular cleavage she never had when I knew her.
Ouch, that was catty and unworthy of me. Pamela brought out the worst in me.
Because I’d had such unkind thoughts, I tried to be nice. We were going to be working together all evening, after all. “I hope you won’t cripple yourself in those heels. I’ve got some flats upstairs if you want to borrow them.”
Again with the silvery laugh. “I spend so much time in high heels that me wearing these would be like you wearing plaid bedroom slippers.”
She’s not insinuating you have no life. She’s not. But I knew she was.
William had the nondisclosure agreements all ready, and we three signed them. He said, “Okay then. Let’s go.”
William ushered us out to his white van, which was waiting out front. Violet rode up front, and Pamela and I got into the back. The minute I got inside the van, my mouth started to water. “William, what have you got back there? It smells amazing.”
He glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and his eyes crinkled. “I’m so glad you think so, Lucy. I admit, I put a lot of effort into this one. These young men will one day run this country. If I can impress them now, who knows where that could lead? Since it’s St. George’s Day, I stayed with British produce, local where I could get it.”
Beside me, I felt Pamela perk up, and I didn’t think she was interested in local produce. “Who’s going to be there tonight?”
William didn’t know Pamela the way I did. I’d probably have said I didn’t know, which was true, but William was still under the spell of Pamela’s charm. I wondered how long that would last. “Remember, you’ve signed an NDA,” he reminded her.
She nodded, and he continued, “These young men are all part of the Gargoyle Club. It was originally a sports club, but it grew quite quickly into a dinner and debating club.”
“Gargoyles? That’s a funny name for a club. Aren’t they basically fancy waterspouts?”
“You’re quite right, Pamela,” he said approvingly. “Their function is to divert rainwater from the roof
