"Mary Janice Davidson - Betsy 01 - Undead And Unwed" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

I flopped down on my bed, limp as a noodle and completely exhausted. Andthirsty . But I wasnтАЩt going
to do anything about that now. Except maybe snack on GiselleтАФno, I wasnтАЩt going to do that, either. I
was just going to lie hereтАФmy room faced eastтАФand let the sun finish me off. If I woke up dead again,
IтАЩd take it as a sign that I was supposed to move on. If I didnтАЩt wake upтАжwell, at least that was one
problem solved. Hell couldnтАЩt be worse than a Wal-Mart after midnight, right?

With that thought in my head, I fell asleep.

CHAPTER FIVE
 I came awake instantly, as I had in the funeral home. This was a definite departure for me; usually it
took me an hour, a shower, and two cups of coffee to wake up. Not anymore. One minute I was dead
(ha!) to the world, the next I was wide awake and rising from my coffin. Well, my bed with Laura Ashley
sheets.

The first thing I saw was Giselle, perched imperiously at the foot of my bed. She had apparently done
plenty of sniffing around me during the day and had decided I would still do. So the first thing I did was
feed her. Then I took a shower, changed into clean, comfortable clothes, and slipped into my tennis
shoes.

I was here, I was dead, get used to itтАжor however the chant for vampire rights went. No more suicide
games. It was time to adjust and deal. How, I had no idea, but it was important to get started.
Momentum usually helped me figure out the rest of the plan. Step one: get my shoes back. Time to visit
the homeplace.

*****



A few words about my stepmother. I could have forgiven her for marrying my father. I could have
forgiven her for seeing me as a rival rather than a member of the family. I could not forgive her for chasing
my father while he was married, bringing him down like a wounded gazelle, then marrying the carcass.
My father wasnтАЩt a saintтАФstill isnтАЩtтАФbut Antonia did everything she could to help him fall from grace.

My mother got the house and the humiliation that comes from your family and friends knowing your
husband traded you in for a younger, thinner model. My father got Ant and a promotionтАФshe was the
definitive trophy wife, and was a great help to his career. I got a stepmother, at the tender age of thirteen.

The first thing she ever said to me was, тАЬBe careful of my suit.тАЭ The second was, тАЬDonтАЩt touch that.тАЭ
тАШThatтАЩ was one of my motherтАЩs vases.

Yep, she took prisoners and moved in. As for myself, IтАЩll be honest: I made no effort to get to know
her. I had zero interest in building a relationship with the woman who had destroyed my motherтАЩs
marriage. Plus, itтАЩs hard to be nice to someone when you instantly realize they donтАЩt like you.

About a week after she moved in, when I overheard her referring to my mother as тАЬthat cow from the
suburbs,тАЭ I tossed her gold ingot necklace into the blender. Over the sound of my stepmotherтАЩs screams,
I pressed тАШpuree.тАЩ This was followed by my first trip to a therapistтАЩs office.

My father, the poor dope, just tried to keep his head down. To his credit, he never gave in to the AntтАЩs