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

Real Vampires Hate Their Thighs (Glory St. Clair #5) Page 39

Butch came in next. He was practically skipping, he was so excited, and I suspected he was on something other than just adrenaline.

“Glory, oh, stand up, lady. Look at you. What have you done?” He turned me around so the camera could get a good shot. “You’ve been dieting, you bad girl. I’ll have to take in this fabulous dress.”

I couldn’t stop grinning. “Afraid so. But this is a big event for me, Butch, so I’ve been working hard to get in shape.”

“I can see that, girlfriend. So I won’t mind taking a tuck here and there one little bit.” He whipped the cover off his dress, then let me look my fill while he pulled out shoes, bag and accessories.

“Wow.” I was almost speechless. Butch had chosen black for me, my favorite color when I’m trying to look skinny. Now that I was a six, I’d look positively waiflike in it. Hmm. Not a bad thought. This black dress was made of a sheer chiffon over nude lace that plunged front and back. The thin straps were rhinestone. Too bad the whole thing looked like a naughty nightie for a circus elephant. My new, slim body would be lost in the yards and yards of fabric.

“Black is good. I have a lot of black in my wardrobe.” I turned. Uh-oh. My lack of enthusiasm had crushed his spirit. “Let me try it on. I want to feel how it moves.”

“Thanks, Glory. Give it a chance. I believe it will make you feel like the beautiful woman you are.” He carried the dress to the bedroom where he had a brief discussion with the assistant because apparently it was hard to tell the front from the back of his creation. I did like the way the dress felt. The fabric floated away from my body and rhinestone tassels dangled from the deep vee at the neckline and moved when I walked.

“Love the shoes.” I stepped outside and walked over to the windows. They were rhinestone sandals. “And the bag.” A vintage silver clutch that I would have liked to sell in my shop.

“But it’s huge on you.” He sniffled and wiped his eyes, then pulled out some jewelry. “I hope you like what I arranged for you to have from a famous Hollywood jeweler to go with the dress.” Butch put a fabulous sapphire and diamond drop around my neck and matching sapphire earrings in my ears.

“Oh, wow!” I felt like a princess. I really, really wished for Ian’s “mirror.” “I’ll definitely keep all this in mind. But, you’re right—it’s too big, Butch.” I held the blousy fabric away from my body. “Uh, everywhere.”

“I can take it in.” He started rooting around in his bag.

“I’ll be honest, Butch. I’m just not sure it’s new. Something I haven’t seen before.”

“No!” He turned around, a giant pair of scissors in his hand, and aimed them straight at my heart.

A blur of fur flew through the air and knocked him on his butt. The scissors landed on the carpet a few feet away.

“Help!” Butch screamed when Valdez sat on his chest, growling and snapping an inch from his nose.

I held my breath, afraid my bodyguard was going to start asking questions. I grabbed the scissors.

“Butch, are you okay?” Stupid question. The designer sobbed and had covered his face with both hands. “Valdez, no!”

No one else in the room moved. Well, except for Zia, who’d hopped on the couch and had pushed three assistants in front of her like a human fence. She held two of them by their hair.

“This is why I have a cat, Glory.” She wobbled and almost went over the back of the couch.

I ignored her and her poor assistants’ screeches of pain and pulled on Valdez’s collar, but he wasn’t ready to move. “Animal instinct, Butch. Valdez must have thought you were threatening me with these scissors. What were you going to do with them?”

Butch finally peeked between two fingers. “Can’t . . . breathe.”

Of course no one else had the nerve to get near Valdez, not when he barked and snapped again, this time drawing blood when his teeth grazed Butch’s fingers. I felt my fangs swell and had to fight the feeling. So not the time for that. Too bad Butch had a tasty type. Down, Glory.

“Oh, my God!” Butch wailed from behind his hands. “He’s going to eat me.”

“Someone call 911!” Zia clearly was antidog. “Or animal control.”

I wanted to give her a look that should have melted the lacquer off her manicured nails but had to admit my guy was overreacting. Please. Butch as vampire slayer? I don’t think so.

“Calm down, Zia. I’m handling this. Seriously, do not call anyone. Or this show will not go on.” I swept the room with an icy stare and heard several cell phones snap shut. “Thank you.” I turned back to my problem child. I’d already sent him a mental message to back off, which he’d ignored. Apparently he wanted his TV moment.

“Damn it, Valdez, get off of him!” I gave his collar a serious jerk.

“Ooo!” The crowd was impressed when V stepped back. Of course he just had to put his foot down where it would inflict maximum pain and Butch shrieked, rolling to his side and into the fetal position as soon as he was free.

“Butch, the scissors?” I finally noticed the red light that meant the camera was on. Of course this was too good to miss.

“C-c-culottes.” Butch whimpered.

“What?” I shoved Valdez behind me and knelt beside the designer.

“I thought if I cut the skirt and t-t-turned it into culottes it would be f-f-fresh.” Sob. “And added a belt.” More sobbing.

“Culottes! Brilliant. Yes, I could go for those.” I patted his shoulder and eventually got him up and on his feet. Camera still rolling. But someone would have to do some serious editing or this would end up a two-hour special instead of the usual hour show. It took two assistants to get Butch out to the hallway. Especially when he finally calmed down enough to ask for his scissors back. That request sent Valdez into another barking frenzy.

I passed them to a woman, obviously one of Zia’s victims, whose ponytail looked a lot worse for wear. “Tell Butch to leave them at home when he comes back.” I glanced at Valdez, who’d managed to keep one of Butch’s shoes and was ripping the sole off of it. “Please tell Butch to send me a bill for a new pair of shoes.” I grimaced for the ever-present camera. “Valdez is usually so well behaved. I’m thinking it must be something he ate.” I frowned at V. “We’ve been spoiling him. Ordering from room service. He needs a more restricted diet.”

“I’m thinking a muzzle.” Zia eased behind the couch when Valdez growled. “Now, let’s get a move on people. Where’s the next victim—er, I mean designer?”

Darren strode in with his garment bag and a small suitcase. “You know, I’m kind of scared to come in here. Butch is out there crying and carrying on about how the dog ate his shoe and nearly took his arm off.” He stopped dead when he saw me and frowned. “Whoa, Glory. Didn’t anyone tell you you’re not allowed to change during the production of this show?”

“No.” I grinned because he looked so serious. “And, relax. Unless you plan to attack me, Valdez won’t bother you.”

He grinned back. “No, I’m not that stupid. I know who’s doing the judging. You’re looking great, by the way. But you just blew my design all to hell. I’m going to be up all night fixing this thing because the fit is very important.” He sighed and hung up his bag. “Take a look.”

I really wanted to like it because I liked Darren. But he’d picked red. Now, I love red. But it had two strikes against it. First, I’d had that nightmare and Mara and I’d both been in red dresses. Second, and the real reason not to pick red, it’s a red carpet. Hello? I do not want to disappear into the carpet. Or worse, be just a shade off. You know? You have to be contrasting or complementing the carpet, not part of the stupid thing.

The dress was beautiful. Red silk, again cut low because Ray had made a big deal about showing off my assets. The shimmer and shine almost made up for the color choice. And the way the dress would hug my new smaller curves would be a thing of beauty. Too bad I simply couldn’t see myself in that dress. I said nice things, though. Loved the shoes and bag he’d picked. And laughed when I found out that Butch wasn’t the only one with the genuine jewels from a Hollywood jeweler. It was a deal with all the designers that they were on loan for the event.

Finally, we were done and the designers hurried back to their studio to do the alterations. The film crew was packing up when the curtains parted and a production assistant screamed.

“Who the hell is that and where did he come from?” The producer picked up a light stand like he was prepared to defend me from a cat burglar. “Why isn’t the dog attacking him?”

“Relax, folks. This is a friend of ours. We have adjoining balconies.” I walked over and smiled at a glowering Jerry. Valdez was right beside me as he’d been most of the night.

“I didn’t think—”

“You’re not paid to think, Daphne. Just finish packing and let’s get out of here. We’re already over budget with all this night shooting. No more overtime this month. Got it?” The producer shooed the group to the door. “Thanks, Ms. St. Clair. We’ll see you tomorrow night for the big finish. Be sure Mr. Caine is here. Eight o’clock sharp.”

“Right.” I crossed my fingers. I’d have to make sure that happened. I hadn’t even checked Ray’s schedule yet. Finally the last of them left and I shut the door.

“Well, Jerry, that was a dramatic entrance. You scared that poor girl to death.”

“Your cell phone was off.” Jerry looked around. I had a feeling that any stray mortal would be sorry.

“Had no choice. We were filming.” I sighed and sat again, then kicked off my shoes.

“Still hurting?” He squatted down and picked up my foot. “Need a foot rub?”

“I wouldn’t turn one down. But I actually healed last night. I’m okay.” I smiled when he massaged the ball of my foot. “Mmm, that’s wonderful. Do the other one too.”