Dead as a doornail - By Charlaine Harris Page 0,38
my threat, though I meant it from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair.
He looked down at Tara, and she spoke, as though he’d pulled a string. “Sookie, don’t make such a big deal out of nothing. Mickey is my man now. Don’t embarrass me in front of him.”
My hand dropped back to her shoulder and I risked taking my eyes off Mickey to look down at her. She definitely wanted me to back off; she was completely sincere about that. But her thinking about her motivation was curiously murky.
“Okay, Tara. Do you need another drink?” I asked slowly. I was feeling my way through her head, and I was meeting a wall of ice, slippery and nearly opaque.
“No, thank you,” Tara said politely. “Mickey and I need to be going now.”
That surprised Mickey, I could tell. I felt a little better; Tara was in charge of herself, at least to some extent.
“I’ll return your suit. I took it by the cleaner’s, already,” I said.
“No hurry.”
“All right. I’ll see you later.” Mickey had a firm grip on my friend’s arm as the two made their way through the crowd.
I got the empty glasses off the table, swabbed it down, and turned back to the bar. Charles Twining and Sam were on alert. They’d been observing the whole small incident. I shrugged, and they relaxed.
When we closed the bar that night, the new bouncer was waiting at the back door for me when I pulled on my coat and got my keys out of my purse.
I unlocked my car doors and he climbed in.
“Thanks for agreeing to have me in your home,” he said.
I made myself say the polite thing back. No point in being rude.
“Do you think Eric will mind my being here?” Charles asked as we drove down the narrow parish road.
“It’s not his say-so,” I said curtly. It irked me that he automatically wondered about Eric.
“He doesn’t come to see you often?” enquired Charles with unusual persistence.
I didn’t answer until we’d parked behind my house. “Listen,” I said, “I don’t know what you heard, but he’s not . . . we’re not . . . like that.” Charles looked at my face and wisely said nothing as I unlocked my back door.
“Feel free to explore,” I said after I’d invited him over the threshold. Vampires like to know entrances and exits. “Then I’ll show you your sleeping place.” While the bouncer looked curiously around the humble house where my family had lived for so many years, I hung up my coat and put my purse in my room. I made myself a sandwich after asking Charles if he wanted some blood. I keep some type O in the refrigerator, and he seemed glad to sit down and drink after he’d studied the house. Charles Twining was a peaceful sortof guy to be around, especially for a vampire. He didn’t letch after me, and he didn’t seem to want anything from me.
I showed him the lift-up floor panel in the guest bedroom closet. I told him how the television remote worked, showed him my little collection of movies, and pointed out the books on the shelves in the guest bedroom and living room.
“Is there anything else you can think of you might need?” I asked. My grandmother brought me up right, though I don’t think she ever imagined I’d have to be hostess to a bunch of vampires.
“No, thank you, Miss Sookie,” Charles said politely. His long white fingers tapped his eye patch, an odd habit of his that gave me the cold gruesomes.
“Then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll say good night.” I was tired, and it was exhausting work making conversation with a near stranger.
“Of course. Rest easy, Sookie. If I want to roam in the woods . . . ?”
“Feel free,” I said immediately. I had an extra key to the back door, and I got it out of the drawer in the kitchen where I kept all the keys. This had been the odds and ends drawer for perhaps eighty years, since the kitchen had been added onto the house. There were at least a hundred keys in it. Some, those that were old when the kitchen was added, were mighty strange looking. I’d labeled the ones from my generation, and I’d put the back door key on a bright pink plastic key ring from my State Farm insurance agent. “Once you’re in for the night—well, for good—shoot the dead bolt, please.”