Forbidden Nights with a Vampire(78)

 

Vanda sat with a huff. "This place is depressing."

 

"You're supposed to be depressed." Phil sat next to her. "You just lost your club."

 

"Don't remind me." She looked over her shoulder. "Where did the guys go? They're supposed to protect me."

 

"They will." Phil noticed how well Colbert and his friends blended into the dark booths at the back of the club. Robby MacKay, with his bright blue and green kilt, was more noticeable. He was sitting at a table, facing them, to keep the broadsword on his back from being seen.

 

"The first part of the plan is for you to get on Corky's show," Phil explained. "But we don't want your little army to appear on the show."

 

"Right," Vanda muttered. "Not only am I bait, but I have to look like totally helpless, vulnerable bait."

 

"Exactly." Phil motioned to a waitress. "If Casimir sees how well-protected you are, he'll know it's a trap. But if he thinks you're unprotected, he's more likely to attack with just a few men."

 

Vanda sighed. "Okay. Let's get on with this."

 

The waitress stopped by their table and looked Phil over. With a smile, she leaned over to show off her cleavage. "How can I serve you?"

 

"You can put on some clothes," Vanda grumbled.

 

The waitress straightened and shot her an annoyed look.

 

"I'll have a beer," Phil said. "And my fiancée will have a Blissky."

 

The waitress turned with a huff and stalked away.

 

Vanda stared at Phil. "What was that?"

 

"I know you don't drink liquor much, but you need to appear drunk," he explained.

 

"I meant the fiancée part. Did I miss a conversation somewhere?"

 

He smiled. "I thought it might keep the waitress from coming on to me. My apologies for using you in such a manner."

 

Her mouth twitched. "Honey, you can use me in any manner you like." She rubbed a booted foot along his leg.

 

He motioned with his head toward the other Vamps.

 

She rolled her eyes. "This forbidden crap is for the birds. I should be able to jump my guard if I want to." She smiled. "And I do want to."

 

He smiled back. "I want to, too. But we can't allow ourselves to get distracted right now."

 

A flash of light drew Phil's attention. More flashes. Three Japanese vampires were taking photos of the waitress. She posed for them, smiling.

 

Tourists, he figured. They each had a digital camera hanging around their necks. They sat at a table close by.

 

The waitress brought Phil and Vanda their drinks, then turned to the Japanese. "What would you like?"

 

"We want Brissky! I am Kyo, and I pay."

 

The waitress nodded. "Three Blisskys, coming up." As she walked toward the bar, Kyo took a picture of her backside.

 

"Kyo!" One of his friends laughed. "You are too bad."

 

Vanda sipped her Blissky and grimaced. "Ugh."

 

"Sorry," Phil murmured. "You're supposed to look like you're drowning your sorrows."

 

Phineas approached them, talking on his cell phone. "Yeah. Okay, bro. Way to go." He snapped his phone shut and sat at the table with them. "That was Gregori. He's at DVN, pretending to be arranging a new commercial for Vampire Fusion Cuisine, and he let it drop a few times that Vanda was here wallowing in self-pity."

 

Vanda scoffed. "I don't wallow."

 

"It's all part of the act, sweetness," Phineas whispered. "Any second now the news will reach Corky."

 

"And she'll want to show me wallowing on her show," Vanda grumbled. She took another sip of Blissky and made a face.

 

Phineas frowned. "Sweetness, you don't look very drunk."

 

"I'm not. And if you call me 'sweetness' one more time, I'll cram my whip down your throat."

 

Phineas raised his hands in surrender. "Dudette, I'm just saying that I have some experience in matters of extreme intoxication. First of all, you need to look like you're enjoying that Blissky. Let me show you." He grabbed her glass and guzzled down half the contents.

 

He slammed the glass down and thumped the table. "Damn, that's good. Now, secondly, you need to look intoxicated. Slouch over in your chair and leave your mouth hanging open."

 

Vanda arched a brow at him.

 

Phil noticed the bartender answering the phone. A short bald man appeared, teleporting in with a small camera. Corky's spy, the same guy Phil had spotted in her office a few nights ago. The man scurried off to a nearby booth.

 

"Showtime," Phil whispered. "Corky's spy is here."