"Davidson,.Mary.Janice.-.Betsy.3.-.Undead.and.Unemployed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

"I wasn't even barely speeding."
"Yeah, yeah. Listen, where were you the other night?"
"Which one?"
"Saturday?"
Uh-oh. "Home," I said, putting plenty of fake curiosity in my tone. "Why?"
"I don't suppose anybody could back you up on that one?"
I shook my head. "Marc was at the hospital, and Jessica was probably at homeЧI
didn't see her that night. Why? What's going on?"
Nick leaned back, easing his feet through the garbage on my passenger side
floor. He didn't know how lucky he was. It had been a lot worse when I'd been
eating solid food. "Cripes, don't you ever clean out your car? How many shakes
do you drink in a week?"
"None of your business. Now go away and catch bad guys."
"I'm going to need a tetanus shot when I get out of here," he complained,
kicking an empty 7-Up cup off the end of his boot.
"Seriously, Nick, what's up? I mean, if you're not giving me a ticketЧ"
He shook his head. "It's stupid."
"Well, I figured."
"No, really stupid." While he babbled, I let my gaze roam over his blond hair,
his swimmer's build, his chiseled featuresЧthen jerked my gaze back to the road
where it belonged. That's how we'd gotten into trouble the last time. I'd been
newly undead and unbelievably thirsty, he'd been handy, I'd drank his blood, and
he'd been lost. For a long time. Sinclair had to step in and fix it. I still had
no idea whatЧif anythingЧNick remembered.
"Е and this nutty old cab driver described you. I mean, not that there aren't
about a zillion blondes in Minneapolis, but still. The description fit you
pretty well. It was the shoe thing, actually, that caught myЧ"
"Well, obviously it wasn't me," I lied. "Doy."
"Doy? Haven't heard that in about fifteen years. But anyway, I think you might
be right. The whole story was justЕ I think the guy wasЕ I don't know. Maybe
some of it was real, and some of it he imagined, or made up to get attention. He
seemed like a lonely guy." Nick was rubbing his temples in a way that made me
distinctly nervous. "IЕ sometimes I have dreams and they seem realЕ"
"That happens to everybody." Should I zap him with my vamp mojo? Would it
interfere with whatever Sinclair had done, or would it make things better?
"Maybe you need a vacation."
"That was a funny thing that happened to you last spring," he said, changing the
subject. At least, he thought he was changing the subject. "I mean, not
everybody has a mix-up like you do."
"I still say it was my stepmother playing a joke. It's not like she wouldn't
want to see me dead."
"Yeah, but going to the extent of a fake funeralЧor was there a funeral?" He was
rubbing his temples so hard, they were getting pink. "I dreamed about it, but
mostly IЕ IЕ"
"Nick, for crying out loud!" I said loudly, hoping to snap him out of it. "I've
got stuff to do. So are you going to get out of here or what?"
His hands fell to his lap at once, and he seemed to shake off the trance-like
state he'd fallen in. "So sorry, Betsy," he said sarcastically. "What, there's a
shoe sale somewhere?"
"As a matter of fact, there is. Look, I hope you catch the bad guyЧ"