Maybe Bonbon had thrown another of his little parties. “Where did my dog sleep last night?”
“My place. Why?”
“Never mind. So after you picked up the clothes, what happened?” he asked.
“That’s the thing. I didn’t pick up anything. I went to the back to call you and heard a noise out front. I looked through the doorway, and all your suits and shirts were floating in the air. They got back on the racks by themselves.”
Damien frowned. MF’s story wasn’t making much sense.
He nudged Bonbon with his foot. “Wake up.”
Bonbon opened one golden eye. “Hey, dick. Miss me?”
“Bonbon, what did you see this morning?”
“Are you talking to your dog?” MF asked.
“Yes. He is…special.” Damien didn’t know what else to say.
“He’s not the only one,” MF threw back, eyeing Damien judgmentally.
“Bonbon, I’ll ask again. What did you see this morning?” Damien asked.
Bonbon slowly rolled over, rubbing his inflated belly with two front paws. “Nothin’, man. Just some chick. She was crying and yelling, and then she was crying because she made a mess.”
“Some chick?” Damien asked.
“Yeah, she’s sitting right there.” Bonbon glanced toward the leather armchair next to the fitting room.
“I don’t see anything,” Damien said.
“Ohmygod. You’re really talking to your dog.” MF gasped her words and covered her mouth.
“Silence,” Damien barked at MF, who narrowed her eyes. “What is the woman’s name?” he asked Bonbon.
Bonbon barked at the corner and then looked at Damien. “Sky. She says her name is Sky.”
Damien’s knees weakened, and his travel bag slipped from his hand.
“She wants to know why you ran her over with your car.” Bonbon shrugged.
Suddenly, the zipper of his bag slid open, and out fluttered Pet.
“Phew! It was getting hot in there.” She dusted a piece of lint from her shoulder and patted her golden braids.
MF stared at the fairy with a gaping mouth.
Pet looked at their bewildered faces and then at Damien. “Hey, what’d I miss?” Pet’s head whipped in the direction of the corner. “Oh look! It’s Sky! Howdy!” Pet’s gaze then zeroed in on MF. “Oh look! A vampire!”
Damien walked over to the front door, drew the blinds, and made sure it was locked. He set the sign to closed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“MF, why didn’t you tell me you were a vampire affected by the blast?” He shook a finger at her, pacing the workshop.
“Dude, you want to lecture me about secrets after killing a woman, who’s sitting in the corner, bawling her eyes out?”
Yes, because I desperately do not want to accept she is here. He was experiencing feelings he did not know what to do with. Why was Sky’s ghost in his shop? Was this an angry poltergeist situation or a spirit trapped in limbo looking for answers about her untimely death? If so, what was he going to say?
Well, the truth is completely out of the question: In a moment of pre-masturbatory weakness, I imagined smelling your hair. So now you’re dead. You’re welcome.
Damien ran his hand over the top of his head. He had not meant for her to die. But in all fairness, there had been a fairy lodged in his nose. On the other hand, that wasn’t the real reason, now was it?
“Can you see her, too?” he asked MF. Evidently, Pet and Bonbon could.
“No, but why did you kill her?” MF looked horrified.
A gust of wind blew through the middle of the shop, sending some of the suits to the floor.
“It is a long story, one I should explain to her first.” Just as soon as I come up with an appropriate lie. “Where is she now?” he asked Bonbon, who was now getting a back scratch from Pet, who was riding him like a little horse.
“Yeah, right there, sweetheart.” Bonbon thumped his furry foot on the floor. “You know what daddy likes.”
“Bonbon, I asked you a question,” Damien snarled.
Bonbon sighed petulantly. “Sky went out the back. Said she needed time to think.”
Thank gods. He genuinely needed time to process all this. He was unused to having emotions. Feelings bad.
“Hey, boss. Why can’t I hear Bonbon when he speaks?” asked MF.
Interesting how only he seemed fazed by this ghost-of-Sky situation. Just a normal day.
“It takes practice to learn his language.” But Damien didn’t have time to get into this now. “I have to go to San Diego. And if you know what’s good for you, send a fruit basket with an apology to the hairy man. You’ll find his address in my Rolodex under the register.”
“Pfft!” MF laughed. “You own a Rolodex? Wow, you really are a grandpa.”
Damien snarled.
“Sorry.” She chuckled. “But you do wear those sock straps and starched boxers.” She shrugged. “I found your stash of extra clothes in the back.”
The straps were practical. Even socks with elastic fell during the course of a day. “I like my starched shorts. Wrinkles are a sign of a man without discipline.” Actually, he wore them as a sort of chastity belt. He was a very well-endowed, good-looking man with a libido that did not quit. The stiff, chafing shorts reminded him he had no business being sexy, sexual, or flirtatious. In short, his shorts were for the good of society. And a complete failure when it came to Sky.
MF frowned judgmentally. “Whatever you say, dude.”
Dude? “Exactly how old are you?” Damien asked.
“Twenty-five. I was turned a month before the blast, but I’m now human again. Cimil says my fate was hijacked because I’m supposed to live a few centuries. That’s why I agreed to come help you in the shop. She said you could fix everything. I hope she’s right.”
So MF had been a new vampire when she’d been turned back to human. “So this warm persona of yours isn’t the result of being centuries old and sick of life. Good to know.”
“Har, har, Grandpa.”
“I’m not much older than you. Twenty-nine.” Give or take a few centuries.
Bonbon, Pet, and MF snickered.
“My life is a never-ending fountain of joy,” he said under his breath. “I will return later today. If you see Sky, please tell her how very sorry I am for her untimely death. I will sit down and explain what happened upon my return. In the meantime, give her my assurance that the men who harmed her nephew will be punished.”
“She says she wants to go with you.” Bonbon smiled, showing his bright white fangs and teeny tiny teeth. Very disturbing.
“You did not think to tell me she’d returned?” Damien asked.
“She literally just walked in,” Pet argued. “And before you say anything else, she’s in the corner, crying again.”
Dear gods. How much more of this could he take? “I must go.” And drink scotch. “Please do your best to maintain a professional demeanor in my absence.” This shop was more than a place where people, or immortals, came to buy clothing. It represented the Greystone legacy.