How to Party with a Killer Vampire (7 page)

“This is hella awesome,” Berk said as he swept the camera lens around the party area. The forefront of fashion, he wore skintight, ankle-length jeans, a striped sweater with pushed-up sleeves, and black-and-white-striped Chuck Taylor’s on his feet. I know it’s a stereotype to assume all gay men have such an envelope-pushing sense of fashion, but Berk certainly did.

“It’s freaking sweet!” Dee exclaimed. “I thought it looked cool last night, but you’ve done so much more. I feel like a real zombie walking among the dead! On the other hand, Dee had her own sense of fashion. Today she wore a low-cut peasant top, a short flowered skirt, pink tights, and black ballet shoes. And she managed to carry it off.

“I guess that’s good,” I said, not completely sure that zombies and vampires mixed that well. I wondered how the invited guests would dress, since costumes were required. It wouldn’t be long before I changed into my own costume—a long black dress and long black vest. Subtle, to the point of being nearly invisible, it was perfect for a party planner who wanted to remain in the shadows.

Moments later the rental tables arrived, along with the party tents. I spent the next hour micromanaging, which mostly entailed a lot of pointing, but it was exciting to see the whole party backdrop come together. By late afternoon, nearly everything was in place, and the cast members, including stars Jonas Jones and Angelica Brayden—who seemed to be inseparable—had arrived to rehearse their lines for a mini-performance from the film. All we needed was Rocco with the food and we’d be ready to welcome the first guests.

“Parker!”

“Presley!”

“Pres!”

I heard my name called from three different directions and headed to Lucas Cruz first, since he was the one paying for all this.

“Are you sure you didn’t leak anything to the media?” Cruz said to me through a set of vampire teeth. “Sure” sounded more like “sir,” and “anything” came out as “anyfing.” He had changed for the party and was now dressed as a “Vampire Director,” sporting a long black cape with the words “Bite me” on the back in giant white letters. He’d tucked his thinning hair under a wig of slick, black hair, and had even painted his nails black. But he still wore his ragged black tennies on his feet. I’d never seen him without them.

“I thought I saw some paparazzi lurking around the cemetery earlier,” he added. “You know I gave
Gossip Guy
an exclusive. They’re helping to foot the bill for this party, not to mention a few other expenditures, so I don’t want anyone else inside.”

“I haven’t seen anyone who looks like press,” I said, not that I’d know a paparazzo from an Ansel Adams.

“Well, make sure Ryan Fitzpatrick from
Gossip Guy
is given the red-carpet treatment. He has carte blanche at the party, understand?”

“Gotcha,” I said, tempted to salute him. I made a mental note to keep an eye out for someone named Ryan Fitzpatrick. It wouldn’t be too hard, as long as he had a big old camera with him.

I headed over to my second summons, this one from Angelica Brayden, the starring actress. She too was in costume—the one from the film—a long flowing black dress, low-cut to allow her perky breasts to distract men from making eye contact with her. Her makeup was expertly done—bloodred lips against pale skin and heavily lined, smoky eyes, thanks to the makeup artist still applying shadow to her lids. And her long black wig was firmly in place. She looked drop-dead gorgeous and seemed to know it. An African American man, tall and lean, and also drop-dead gorgeous, sat nearby on a fake gravestone, watching her. Dee would have called him hot. If he was wearing a costume for the party, it amounted only to black slacks, a black turtleneck, and black Vans.

“Angelica, you look beautiful—and scary at the same time,” I said, and meant it.

She offered a practiced demure smile I’d seen her use on Jonas and a couple of other men. Jonas, in particular, had seemed to be the one bitten by a vampire and under Angelica’s spell. The man in black continued to stare at her, expressionless. Maybe he wasn’t as easily seduced by her flirtatious charms.

“So, what can I do for you?” I continued.

She dropped the smile. “I’m starving! Can you get me something to eat before I faint?”

I glanced around for Rocco, my caterer, and saw that his truck had just arrived—thank God.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She turned her attention back to her makeup artist, dismissing me without another word. I looked at the man in black as I headed away, and realized he hadn’t taken his eyes off Angelica. Was he some sort of bodyguard? I wondered. She didn’t even seem to be aware of his presence.

I made my way over to Dee, my assistant, who’d summoned me from the middle of the party area. She was fiddling with Berk’s outfit, a costume that seemed more suited to
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
than a vampire film—white shirt, black blazer, short black pants, and black-and-white-striped tights. At this point, I didn’t care what he looked like, as long as he was prepared to videotape the event.

Dee, as usual, looked adorable, as only a short, slim, and curvy young woman could. She was dressed as Vampira, the one-time hostess of a TV horror show. Her cleavage would vie with Angelica for the attention of the men at the party, and I worried about those who fell under her spell. And they would, without even a bite on the neck.

“Presley! Don’t you think Jonas looks wicked hot?” she said softly, indicating the star who was now practicing his swing over the party area, something like a goth Peter Pan.

“I wouldn’t kick him out of bed,” Berk said, smiling naughtily.

“You’re kidding. That’s what you called me over for?” I looked at each of them in disbelief, then tapped my watch. “This party is going to start in less than an hour and you’re both ogling the movie star? Snap out of it!”

Dee giggled. “No, that’s not why I called you over here. I’m worried about Duncan.”

I looked around for him. “Where is he? I saw him here earlier.”

“I know. Me too,” Dee said, “but I haven’t seen him for a couple of hours.”

“Neither have I,” Berk added.

I bit my lip. Great. Now that he was back, I needed him to help with the computerized background music. If he’d disappeared again, Lucas would have a fit.

“Okay, tell Raj. Then see if you can find Duncan yourselves. He may be out wandering among the graves, maybe where his friend was killed last night. But don’t get lost!”

They nodded and went to find Raj.

I moved over to the food station where Rocco was setting out sandwiches shaped like tiny coffins and mini-headstones. His bat-shaped cookies were to die for—I’d tasted one of his earlier mistakes—and the bloodred punch with floating wax teeth looked as if it had come directly from the mortician’s lab.

“Absolutely awesome!” I said to Rocco, who only nodded. Rocco considered himself an artiste, and he had the temperament and his own local cooking show to prove it. He had come dressed in his chef whites, but had spattered his jacket with blood—hopefully made from red food coloring.

I snitched a sandwich for Angelica when Rocco’s back was turned, and I fled before he could catch me. I just hoped she kept her mouth shut about her “source.”

As usual before a party, I walked the area to make sure nothing had been forgotten and everything was working properly, from the disembodied voices Duncan had installed that seemed to rise from the gravestones to the rubber bats that were to flutter around in circles overhead. It wasn’t long before night began to shadow the cemetery grounds.

In spite of the tranquil, parklike setting that most cemeteries provided, Lawndale Cemetery was more like a crowded churchyard, with crumbling, untended tombstones spaced closely together. I stopped to study some headstones and marveled at the ornate carvings. One in particular displayed frightening designs of skulls and skeletons. Another monument featured a life-sized angel draped in agonizing despair over the top, suggesting eternal damnation rather than eternal rest.

Spotting a few guests entering the party patio, I entered work mode and began overseeing the service of drinks and appetizers. But a scuffle at the entrance to the party area called my attention away from the tasks at hand, and I headed over to see what the problem was. Lucas Cruz appeared to be arguing with a scruffy, burly man wearing a safari vest and holding a large camera. I figured he was a paparazzo, but was this the one I was supposed to be looking for? The one who was supposed to get the red-carpet treatment? Somebody named Ryan Fitz-something? If so, why was Lucas Cruz yelling at him?

A small crowd of staff and crew members had gathered around the two men. I squeezed between them to see what the problem was.

“Get the hell out of here!” Lucas shouted, his face red with rage.

“It’s a free country!” the other man said, spouting what was probably his mantra.

“This part isn’t!” Lucas returned, louder. “I paid for it!”

“I’m just doing my job!” came the angry retort.

They were acting like schoolchildren. I sensed this banter would go on all night if someone didn’t stop it.

And that would be my job.

I moved over to Susan Serpa, Cruz’s assistant, and told her to go find Brad, the security guards, and anyone else who might be able to get this soon-to-ignite war ended before there were any casualties.

Then I said, “What’s going on?” My words were drowned out by the continued shouting. So much for my taking charge.

Brad appeared seconds later and stepped up to the task, elbowing between the two men. Although the paparazzo was big, his girth was mainly fat, while Brad was all muscle. As for Cruz, he looked like a scrawny teenager next to these guys.

“Hey! Knock it off!” Brad said with authority. Speaking of a take-charge demeanor, Brad had it. It was part of the reason I liked him.

But I was getting distracted.

Lucas started in. “I want this leech, this parasite, this piece of trash out of my sight! I have a restraining order against filth like this scumbag, and I won’t have him anywhere near me or my party!”

Scumbag took counterpoint. “That order applies only in San Francisco, not in Colma. And I have as much right to be here as anyone.”

At that point, Lucas reached up, grabbed the man’s camera strap with both hands, and jerked him close enough to spit on him with every word. “I swear to God, I’ll kill you if you don’t get out of my face!”

Brad pulled Lucas off, while Raj and another security guard who’d just arrived restrained the camera guy. Susan, the quivering assistant, simply stood by, nearly in tears. The rest of the audience looked on in silence. Some were seemingly shocked by the impromptu performance. Others appeared amused.

“Get him out of here,” Brad said to the guards, now standing between the two men. “I’ll call the police. They can handle this.”

The words seemed to zap the steam from the paparazzo’s bravado. He backed off, shaking loose the grip of the guards. With a last daggered look at Lucas, he turned and stomped off toward a beat-up Toyota double-parked in the narrow lane.

“What was that about?” I asked Lucas as he pulled himself together in front of the onlookers. “I thought you wanted me to give your
Gossip Guy
reporter the red carpet?”

“That wasn’t Ryan. That was some jerk from TMI. Name’s Bodie Chase. He wrote a story last year that was full of lies about me. And that was after he’d followed me in my car and nearly got me killed. I got a restraining order against him. He’s not supposed to be within a hundred yards of me.”

“Well,” Brad said, “he’s gone now. The threat of calling the police seemed to do the trick. I don’t think he’ll be back.”

I caught Brad’s eye and nodded a silent thanks. He winked at me in response.

As the group broke up, I glanced around to see if there had been any damage to the party props. Everything seemed in place, and the guests were back to eating, drinking, and mingling. I was about to check on Lucas, to see if he had calmed down, when I caught a glimpse of Angelica Brayden. The star was here. But instead of making her way to the party, she stood unmoving—and without her bodyguard—in the cemetery several yards away, peeking out from behind a tree. She’d apparently had been watching the scuffle from a distance. But unlike the others who had witnessed the scene, her expression, lit by moonlight, was neither shock nor amusement.

Angelica looked terrified.

Angelica caught me staring at her. She blinked several times before turning away and heading back to the party, leaving the eerie shadows created by the moon. I had only seconds to wonder what had terrified her so much, because more guests were arriving and the area was getting crowded. I headed over to make sure Raj remained at the entrance to check invitations and IDs against the guest list. I didn’t need any more unwanted party crashers.