Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (Glory St. Clair #5)

Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (Glory St. Clair #5) Page 38

“Wow, you must really think I want to roam.”

“I don’t know what you want, Glory St. Clair. And that’s a fact.” His smile was a little off center, then—boom!—he turned back into Valdez the dog.

I pulled up the covers and snuggled down, desperate to sleep, to heal. Tomorrow night was going to be big for me. But I lay there for a long while listening to my bodyguard breathing on the floor beside me. The throbbing in my cheek reminded me why I needed him there. He did make me feel completely safe. I just wondered why Valdez had never shown up in my dreams. What did that mean?

I woke with a jolt and took stock. No aches, no pains. Hey, I actually felt like the old Glory. Refreshed. Full of energy. A quick look in the webcam assured me that my face had healed. Yes! I ran to weigh in and had kept the weight off. Even better.

I shampooed my hair again and blew it dry this time. I knew the stylist for the show would do more with it, but at least it would be ready for her to work with. I sniffed the new concoction Ian had left and decided not to chance it. Maybe after the crew from the show left.

Ray headed out soon after he got up. More rehearsals and an appearance on a talk show. It had been tough getting even one gig, when some of Ray’s competition were doing them nonstop. Most of the shows taped during the day and Nathan had been getting flack from Barry over that problem. I’d had to listen to Ray’s complaints while he got ready. I didn’t mention the daylight drug. We were both in a hurry. That was my excuse anyway.

“They’re here, Glory.” Barry’s assistant, Bethany, rushed in, bringing the hairstylist and makeup artist with her. “Thirty minutes, people. This is so exciting. Glory, wait till you see the designs! You’ll freak.”

“In a good way or bad, Beth?”

“I’ll never tell.” She giggled and rushed back out to the living room, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

I turned myself over to the two professionals, making excuses why I didn’t want to look in the mirror when they were done. By the time I walked out to the living room, my stomach was knotted, but this time it was nerves and not from exercise.

My cell rang just as I was ready for the first fitting.

“Hello.” I made a face at the exasperated producer who kept pointing to his watch.

“Glory, are you coming out here tonight or do you need for me to come to you again? Ian can’t make it, but I can bring the supplements with me.” Trina sounded her usual happy self. “I hope your friend Flo won’t be there. She doesn’t like me.”

“Uh, I’m in the middle of something.” I looked at the producer. “What time will we be finished here?”

“I have no idea, Ms. St. Clair.” He looked significantly at my phone. “Depends on how many interruptions we have to endure.”

“Come here and make it late. Do your run first. I can’t go with you. Too much happening here. Make it about four thirty. Got to go.” I hung up and realized I could actually afford to lose a few more pounds before the big night. Sweet. I heard the producer clear his throat. “I’m turning off my cell now.” I smiled. “So sorry about that.”

“Four thirty. Do you ever sleep?” The makeup artist brushed some powder on my chin and forehead. “Guess so. You’re glowing.” She smiled. “Glory’s good to go.”

“All right, people, let’s roll.”

Zia swept in and looked me over. “What’s happened to you, Glory? Those are skinny jeans.”

I laughed and felt my cheeks go warm. “I’ve been dieting, Zia.”

“So you said. But you’ve lost so much so fast.” Zia put her hand on my elbow and turned me around. “What’s your secret?”

By the time I’d made a full circle, I realized they’d started filming. “I’ve been working really hard. And I’ve had a doctor’s supervision.”

“Oh, of course. There are many wonderful doctors in L.A., aren’t there, Glory?” Zia would’ve raised her eyebrows but she’d obviously been freshly Botoxed. “I’m sure our audience would love for you to name names. He’s obviously very . . . skilled.” She was smirking.

“I told you it was a diet, Zia, no surgery involved. Isn’t it time for me to see my dresses?” I looked longingly toward the hall where I knew they’d stashed the three designers.

“Cut. She’s right. Let’s set up for those shots.” The director began issuing orders to rearrange the living room.

The plan was for me to look over each designer’s offering, then try it on in the bedroom. I would emerge and there would be a fitting along with my overall impressions. It was decided that I would sit in a club chair in front of the balcony doors. Someone rolled in an empty rack to hang the dress and accessories on and naturally they brought in the dreaded mirror.

“Can I ask a favor?” I gestured for a producer to come over.

“What is it, Glory? Do you need a water?” The producer snapped his fingers and three assistants scurried to his side.

“No, no, it’s just that I don’t like the mirror.”

“Why?” The producer looked puzzled. “Isn’t it big enough?” He frowned at the group and they all groaned. “Where did you get this piece of crap?”

“No, not that. It’s fine, but it seems so cliché, don’t you see? I’d rather just look at the dress on the rack, try it on and feel it on me, then look into the camera and say what I think. Tomorrow night maybe we can bring Ray in to help with the final decision. I could do a kind of runway turn for him.” I prayed Ray would do it. He’d been hungry for media exposure. Maybe this would help make up for those lost opportunities on the talk show circuit.

Zia was suddenly interested in me again.

“Israel Caine would help make the decision?” Her eyes lit up. “Do whatever she says, Lee.”

“Lose the mirror. Hurry.” The producer looked around to assure himself that everything was in place. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Melanie! You’re up!” an assistant yelled.

Melanie came rushing in with a garment bag and a large tote. She hung up the bag, then started unloading a pair of shoes, an evening bag and jewelry. Finally, she unzipped the bag and pulled out the dress.

I sat back and stared. Okay. For starters it was blue. I love blue. Good choice. Low cut. Another smart decision. Some kind of sheer printed material filled in the space between the breasts and formed the long sleeves. Strange, but I could deal with it. Then there were the gold beaded and embroidered shoulder pads, perfect for a linebacker who liked bling on his uniform. Melanie had obviously been inspired by the recent Super Bowl.

She’d cinched in the waist with a wide belt with the buckle in the shape of a star. Okay, Ray is a star. Nice message but the belt was too big, of course. Gold stars marched down the front of the skirt to the hem. I figured this was designed to make me look taller and slimmer. I was going to try it on, obviously. But I wasn’t sure about it. At all.

I smiled and commented on what I liked. Then Melanie carried it to the bedroom. An assistant helped me into it. It was too big everywhere. Yay! But that meant that my boobs were pretty well exposed and I had to go out for the cameras. Melanie started wringing her hands and muttering when I emerged.

“I’m sorry, Melanie, but I’ve been dieting. Obviously you’re going to have to take it in a few inches.” I hid a smile, not a bit sorry, as I held the front together enough for modesty.

The crew grinned when they realized they were going to have to bleep some of Melanie’s comments.

“I can’t believe you lost so much weight in four days. What kind of shit have you been smokin’, lady?” She flushed when she remembered I was the judge. “Uh, I mean, you look great. Wish I could lose that fast.” She whipped out a pin cushion and started pinning. “No problem, I can fix this.” More muttering. “What do you think about the shoulder pads? I took a risk there.”

“Yes, they’re, uh, different.” I reached up and felt them. They crunched. What had she stuffed them with? Foam peanuts?

Tears filled her eyes. “You hate them.”

“I didn’t say that. I think they probably make my waist look smaller. And Ray will appreciate the star motif.” I winced when she jabbed me with a pin under one arm. “Uh, I’ll be letting him help me decide the winner.”

“Oh, wow, Israel Caine. Maybe I need more stars.” Jab, jab. Melanie wiped her eyes. “Does he like football? This was kind of an homage to the game.” She pointed to the shoulders in case I didn’t get it.

“Loves it. Never misses a game on TV. He and the band are addicted.” I smiled into the camera, then realized how that could be taken out of context and show up on a tabloid cover. “To football. Sports of all kinds, but they love football. We had a great Super Bowl party back in Austin.”

“Yeah, well, bigger shoulders and your waist will look freakin’ tiny by comparison.” Melanie held out the shoulders and squinted at me. “But might be too much.”

“You’re the designer.” I had visions of having to turn sideways to get through doors. “Thanks, Melanie. Guess I’d better get out of this and see what Butch has come up with now. Good luck.” I picked up the skirt.

“Wait!” Melanie darted around in front of me. “When the sleeves and bodice are tight, you’ll see what I was trying to do with the sheer printed fabric.” She sighed. “Oh well, just wait till tomorrow night. It’ll be a surprise.”

“Great. Can’t wait.” I walked carefully to the bedroom, pins stabbing me every step of the way. I did love the silver sandals that had a designer label and fit like a dream. The earrings and necklace were great too. I should have mentioned those things. Oh, well, I’d do better for designer number two on the accessories. I got back into my clothes, my wonderful size-six skinny jeans, and headed back to the club chair.