“You’re more philosophical than you were three days ago.” She pushed a shot of blood toward me. Hopefully, it was on the house, since I currently had about fifty cents to my name.
“I guess it’s been a philosophical kind of week. The kind of week that makes you consider taking a bath with a plugged-in toaster. Busy in here, huh?”
Zelda glanced around as she made another round of drinks and arranged them on a serving tray. “Fewer clubs are staying open these days, so the ones that are get the overload.”
George appeared next to me and flashed me one of his fabulous Chippendale smiles. “Hey, gorgeous. I was worried I wouldn’t be seeing you around here tonight after your dramatic departure this morning.”
I smiled back at him. If he was working this evening, it meant he was healing up quickly.
“Every time I come in here, I say I’ll never come back. But here I am again.”
“You want me to find you-know-who for you?”
“If you mean Thierry, I think I’ll track him down myself. But not just yet.”
Zelda grabbed my hand across the bar. “Sorry about our new arrival. I had no idea she was going to be visiting.”
I tried to play dumb. Wasn’t all that hard. “Whoever do you mean?”
“ ‘Queen Vee,’ of course.”
“Oh, her.” I forced myself to laugh. “Why ever would I have a problem with her being here?”
Zelda studied me for a second. “Oh, no reason.” She and George shared a look. “No reason at all.”
“Speaking of Veronique”—I glanced around the dimly lit club again—“any word on how long she’s planning on staying in town?”
“Haven’t asked,” George said. “She doesn’t like me that much, don’t ask me why. But it seems indefinite.”
“Her visit or her not liking you?” Zelda laughed.
“Probably both.”
I smiled. “It’s nice that she’s come for a visit. She seems to be a very interesting person.”
They shared another look. “Come off it, Sarah,” Zelda said. “You don’t have to pretend with us. We know you’re jealous as hell.”
I just raised my eyebrows at them and drank my shot a little quicker than necessary.
“Jealous? Why ever would I be jealous?”
George glanced at Zelda. “She’s totally jealous. And can you blame her? Thierry is to die for. Believe me, if I had a chance… I’d… well, I won’t get into any details until I check your IDs to make sure you’re old enough to hear what I’d do.”
“Actually,” I said, “I’m not all that interested in married men, especially the ones who leave that little piece of information out about themselves. So, you’re welcome to him.”
“Ah.” Zelda poured me another shot, this time vodka.
“Do I see our little fledgling’s shields are slipping a bit, the more we talk about this?”
My lip quivered. “No. Just forget it, okay? I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about anything.” I let out a long, shaky sigh. “Unless, of course, you two happen to know anything about this cure for vampirism I’ve been hearing about.”
“A cure?” George played with the salty rim of one of the drinks he had yet to deliver.
“Doesn’t ring a bell for me.”
“I know about it,” Zelda said simply. “Didn’t I mention it to you?”
I was surprised. “I thought you were just joking around. So, how? What? Where?”
She laughed. “One question at a time, okay? First of all, yes, there is a cure, if you want to call it that. Very hard to come by, and not everybody knows about it. It’s some kind of secret experimental thing.”
“Are you sure?” George said. “How come I’ve never heard of it?”
“I guess you’re just not hanging with the right people, Georgie. When you’ve been around as long as I have, you get to know a lot of people. Add to that my current vocation as an underpaid and overworked bartender, and everyone is practically tripping over each other to tell you things.”
I was stunned. “Have you ever tried to find out more about it?”
She shrugged. “Why would I? I’m not interested in being cured. I like being a vampire. It makes life so much more interesting.”
“How about you?” I said to George. “Would you want to be cured?”
He thought about it for a moment. “Maybe once upon a time. Not anymore. I mean, look at me. If I wasn’t a vampire, I’d be in my eighties by now, cooped up in an old-age home praying for a clean bedpan. Besides, how much fun could it possibly be to tan wrinkled skin?”
Zelda leaned against the bar counter. “Are you saying that you’re looking for a cure?”
“Maybe.” I frowned. “It was one thing before I knew there really was a cure, and now I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
“This doesn’t have anything to do with finding out Thierry’s married, does it?”
“No,” I said quickly. “All I know is, nobody tried to kill me before, or called me a monster. I could see myself in a mirror, and my teeth were a normal, nonpointy shape. My life was a whole hell of a lot less complicated, that’s for sure.”
“Life’s no fun without complications,” Zelda said.
“I guess that depends on your definition of complicated.”
I watched a large, pale man approach George and tap his shoulder roughly.
“We’ve been waiting for our drinks for a long time. You want a tip, or what?”
George picked up the tray full of drinks and handed it to the man with barely a glance.
“Here you go. You can keep the tip.”
The vampire grumbled about lousy service, but then dutifully carried the tray back to his table while trying his best not to spill anything.
“You see, Sarah, honey?” George put an arm around my shoulder. “Things are only as complicated as you allow them to be.”