Kiss of Death Page 0,28

fell on signs posted around the store: YOU DRAW YOUR GUN, WE DRAW FASTER. GUN CONTROL MEANS HITTING WHAT YOU AIM AT. NO TRESPASSING--VIOLATORS WILL BE SHOT; SURVIVORS WILL BE SHOT AGAIN. "I don't think I'm going to be hungry," she said, but Michael was right. This really was their only option, other than sitting outside in the car. "Maybe something to drink. They have Coke, right?"

"Claire, people in Botswana have Coke. I'm pretty sure Up the Road Apiece, Texas, has Coke." By the time they'd gotten seated at one of the grungy plastic booths, still being stared at by the locals, Eve finally joined them. She looked more relaxed, bouncy, and more--well, Eve. "Better," she announced, as she slipped into place next to Michael. "Mmm, much better now." He put his arm around her and smiled. It was cute. Claire found herself smiling, too, and snuggled up against Shane. "How was the bathroom?" Eve shuddered. "We shall never speak of it again."

"I was afraid of that."

"You want a menu?"

"Absolutely. They might have ice cream." The last thing bouncy, happy Eve needed was a sugar rush, but ice cream did sound good.... Claire looked around for a waitress and found one leaning against the cracked counter, whispering to the man on the other side. They were both staring straight at Claire and her friends, and their expressions weren't exactly friendly. "Uh, guys? Maybe ixnay on the ice cream-ay. How about we wait in the car?" she asked. "And miss ice cream? Hella don't think so," Eve said. She waved at the waitress and smiled. Claire winced. "Oh, relax, CB. I'm a people person."

"In Morganville!"

"Same thing," Eve said. She kept on smiling, but it started getting a little strained as the waitress continued to stare but didn't acknowledge the wave. Eve raised her voice. "Hi? I'd like to order something? Hellooooooo?" The waitress and the guy behind the counter seemed frozen in place, glaring, but then they were blocked out by someone stepping into Claire's line of sight--more than one someone, in fact. There were three men, all big and puffy, and with really unpleasant expressions. Shane, who'd been slumped lazily next to her, straightened up. "Don't y'all got no manners where you come from?" the first one asked. "You wait your turn. Sherry don't like being yelled at." Eve blinked, then said, "I wasn't--"

"Where you from?" he interrupted her. The men formed a redneck wall between the table and the rest of the room, pinning the four of them in place. Shane and Michael exchanged a look, and Michael took his arm away from Eve's shoulders. "We're on our way to Dallas," Eve said, just as cheerfully as if the situation hadn't gone from inhospitable to ominous. "Michael's a musician. He's going to record a CD." The three men laughed. It wasn't a nice sound, and it was one Claire recognized all too well-- it was deeper in register, but it was the same laugh Monica Morrell and her friends liked to give when stalking their prey. It wasn't amusement. It was a weird sort of aggression-- laughing at you, not with you; sharing a secret. "Musician, huh? You in one of those boy bands?" The second man--shorter, squattier, wearing a dirty orange ball cap and a stained University of Texas sweatshirt with the arms cut off. "We just love our boy bands out here."

"I ever meet those damn Jonas Brothers in person, I'll give `em what for," the third man said. He seemed angrier than the others, eyes like black little holes in a stiff, tight face. "My kid can't shut up about 'em."

"I know what you mean," Eve said with a kind of fake sweetness that made Claire wince, again. "Nobody's really been worth listening to since New Kids on the Block, am I right?"

"What?" He fixed those dead, dark eyes on her. "Wow, not a New Kids on the Block fan, either. I'm shocked. Okay, I'm thinking not Marilyn Manson, then.... Jessica Simpson? Or..." Eve's voice faded out, because Michael's hand had closed over her arm. She looked over at him, and he shook his head. "Right. Shutting up now. Sorry."

"What do you want?" Michael asked the men. "Your little freak vampire girlfriend needs to learn how to keep her mouth shut."

"Who you calling little?" Eve demanded. Shane sighed. "Wrong on so many levels. Eve. Shut up." She glared at him but made a little key-and-lock motion at her lips, folded her arms, and sat back. Michael