Vamps and the City

  “Thank you, Ms. Stein.” Sean walked back to the door. “It is imperative that both these men get on the show.”

  Her eyes widened. “But there could be hundreds of suitable young men auditioning.”

  Sean glowered at her. “You don’t understand, Ms. Stein. These men must get on the show. The security of our nation is at stake. The innocent people of our country are in grave danger.”

  She blinked. “From a reality show?”

  “This is no ordinary reality show. These men will be in constant danger.”

  “Oh, my.” She gave Garrett a worried look. “You—you’ll be dealing with terrorists?”

  Sean lowered his voice. “I’m sure you’ll understand, Ms. Stein, that we’re unable to divulge any more information.”

  Her face turned deathly pale. “I—I understand. I’ll make sure your men are chosen.”

  “Fine, do that.” Sean opened the door.

  Ms. Stein glanced nervously at the two men and then at her papers. “Which one of you is going to be Garth Manly?”

  “That’s me.” Garrett lifted a hand.

  “Excellent. A very macho name. It suits you.” She looked at Austin and frowned. “You need a decent haircut, Mr.”—she glanced down at her papers—“Little Joe Cartwright?”

  Alyssa and Emma snickered.

  “Austin.” Sean glowered at him.

  He shrugged. “She said a name suitable for television.”

  Ms. Stein’s frown deepened. “You must select another name.”

  “Hoss?”

  She chewed on her red power lipstick.

  “Adam?”

  “Adam will do. And you, young man, should have a better attitude toward the performing arts.” With a sniff, she left the room.

  Sean went with her, leaving the teammates alone.

  Garrett shook his head. “I can’t believe this. A reality show?”

  Austin shrugged. “Why should humans be the only ones with bad taste?”

  “It sounds dumb to me,” Garrett grumbled.

  Alyssa smiled. “At least you have a good name.”

  “Garth Manly.” Emma pursed her lips. “Ooh, it’s so sexy.”

  Alyssa giggled, then abruptly stopped when Sean strode back into the room.

  “All right.” He pinpointed Austin with a stern look. “Ms. Stein is concerned about your…rumpled appearance. So, she’s expecting you and Garrett at her agency in an hour. She’s calling in an emergency hair stylist and wardrobe consultant.”

  Austin grimaced. “What about my stake-out?” He had hoped to see her again tonight. And have his 35-mm ready so he could discover the truth about her once and for all.

  “Forget it,” Sean answered. “Emma can record DVN from here.”

  Emma made another note on her legal pad. “I’ll run those plates for you, too, Austin.”

  “Is this show really necessary?” Garrett lounged back in his chair. “Why don’t we just break inside DVN during the day and gather information while the vampires are sleeping?”

  Sean planted his palms on the table and leaned forward. “I want to know where my daughter is. I doubt it’s written down on an invoice. You’ll have to talk to the damned vampires and gain their trust. Working on this show will give you that opportunity. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, sir.” Austin’s reply was echoed by Garrett.

  “Good.” Sean gave Austin a wry look. “You do need a haircut.”

  He ran a hand through his shaggy, thick hair. “Sheesh. I thought the poodle place was doing so well.”

  Emma snorted. “Apparently not.”

  “Take this seriously,” Sean warned him. “My daughter’s life is at stake. And you could get killed.” His mouth twisted with a wry smile. “Or worse, you could become a star.”

  Chapter 3

  “Any luck convincing the ladies to be on the show?” Gregori maneuvered his Lexus into the right lane on Broadway.

  Darcy gazed out the car window at the bright lights and images that flashed across the buildings in Times Square. “No. Princess Joanna announced the show was disgraceful, and since the others follow her lead, they all refused to take part.”

  “Except Vanda,” Maggie added from the back seat.

  Darcy nodded. “She enjoys being a rebel.”

  “Well, keep trying.” Gregori turned right onto Forty-fourth Street. “I’ll find you the fancy penthouse. You just get the harem out of my apartment. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Darcy noted the lights of the Shubert Theatre. The Stars of Tomorrow Casting Agency was only two blocks away.

  Gregori slanted a curious look her direction. “Why are you doing auditions at this agency instead of DVN?”

  “I’m trying to keep it a secret from Sly. He wanted some surprises on the show, and I thought this would be a good one.”

  Gregori winced. “He might be angry that you’re fouling up his show with lowly mortals.”

  “He might be,” Darcy conceded. “At first. But then, I think his superiority complex will kick in. He’ll be convinced the mortals can never advance past the first few rounds.”

  “But what if they do advance?” Gregori asked. “You could piss off a bunch of Vamps who think they’re superior.”

  “Well maybe, they’ll have to realize they’re not so damned superior after all.”

  “Sheesh,” Gregori muttered. “Look, I don’t like their snotty attitude, either. I hate it when they look down their noses at my mortal mom. But that’s the way it is. You can’t fight it.”

  “Someone should. Look at what they’re doing—running a television station with soaps like All My Vampires and General Morgue. They copy the mortals and claim to be superior to them at the same time. It’s blatant hypocrisy, and I’m sick of it.”

  Gregori heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy, Darcy, but you gotta chill. It’s not worth shooting yourself in the foot.”

  She gazed out the window. Gregori might have a point. This was the best job she could get, and she shouldn’t let her anger destroy her chance at success. “Okay. I’ll be careful.”

  “Good. Here we are.” Gregori pulled over to double-park. “I’ll be checking out rental sites for Roman’s new restaurant. Just call me when you’re done, and I’ll come back.”

  Darcy touched his arm. “Thanks for everything.”

  She and Maggie left the car, went into the brown brick building, and waited in front of the elevator. Darcy realized that Maggie was being unusually quiet. Instead of her usual smile, she was frowning at the lit elevator button.

  “Are you all right, Maggie?”

  She sighed. “I didn’t realize you hated us so much.”

  “I don’t hate you! I never would have survived these last years if you hadn’t been so kind to me.”

  Maggie turned toward her, anger flashing in her eyes. “Are you blind? Yes, I was nice. I felt sorry for you. But don’t you see what you’ve done for me? When I met you I was still dressing like it was 1879. Sweet Mary, I was wearing a stupid bustle!”

  “I have to admit, your tastes have improved.”

  “It’s more than that. You gave me the nerve to try new things. You’re so modern and strong and confident. I want to be like you. So, don’t tell me that we all think we’re superior.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

  Maggie gave her a sad smile. “You’ve made my existence worthwhile again. I have great hopes for the future, now. Thanks to you.”

  Darcy’s eyes misted with tears. “Thank you.”

  Maggie gave her a hug. “Everything happens for a purpose. I believe that, and you should, too. You’re meant to be here now.”

  Darcy returned the hug. She wanted to tell Maggie she agreed, but the words wouldn’t come. What purpose could she possibly have in the vampire world?

  The elevator doors swooshed open, and a man stepped out. “Jeez, ladies. Get a room.” He continued to mutter to himself as he left the lobby.

  Darcy and Maggie released eac
h other, then started to snicker as they stepped into the elevator. On the tenth floor, they found a middle-aged woman in an expensive suit waiting outside the agency. Darcy wished she could afford such a nice suit. She was wearing her blue one again for good reason. It was the only suit she owned. She’d lost everything when her life had turned into a nightmare.

  The woman strode toward them. “I’m Ms. Elizabeth Stein, owner and director of the Stars of Tomorrow Casting Agency. Is one of you Miss Darcy?”

  “I am.” Smiling, Darcy extended her hand.

  Ms. Stein shook her hand quickly as if she were afraid of catching a disease. Her face was pale, and her mouth pinched with stress. “Delighted to meet you, Miss Darcy.”

  Darcy let the error stand. She’d only left her first name on the phone message for fear that her complete name might trigger some memories. “This is my assistant, Margaret O’Brian.”

  Ms. Stein nodded briefly at Maggie, then clutched her hands together. “The lobby is filled with applicants. I thought you should avoid seeing them before the auditions. So, if you’ll follow me?” She motioned jerkily toward an unmarked brown door.

  Darcy and Maggie accompanied Ms. Stein. As they passed the glass entrance to the agency, Darcy noted that the lobby was indeed full. Great! She would have no problem finding suitable mortal men for the show.

  Ms. Stein opened the unmarked door and gestured for them to enter. “This hallway will take us to the conference room.”

  Darcy and Maggie headed down the plain white hallway.

  Ms. Stein rushed to catch up and squeezed past them. “This way.” She turned right into a larger hallway, then halted in front of a set of double doors. She clenched her hands tightly, turning her bony knuckles white. “This is the conference room. I hope it will be satisfactory.”

  “I’m sure it will.” Darcy smiled. “Thank you for allowing us to use your facilities.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ms. Stein opened the doors. “I’ll give you a few minutes to settle in.”

  “Thank you.” Darcy entered the room with Maggie, then heard the doors click shut behind her. It was a typical conference room—long table with leather-upholstered chairs. One wall had three large arched windows that overlooked Forty-fourth Street. The other walls were lined with autographed eight-by-ten glossies of Ms. Stein’s successful clients.

  Maggie glanced back at the closed doors. “She seemed awfully nervous.”

  “Yes.” Darcy set her portfolio on the table. She was a bit nervous, too. “Thank you for helping me, Maggie.”

  “I didn’t want to miss out on all the fun.” Maggie had declined from participating on the reality show, because she still had hopes of getting on a soap. She’d been recalled for another audition in two weeks. In the meantime, she’d agreed to help Darcy as her assistant.

  “I hope you didn’t audition for Sly.” Darcy remembered what services Tiffany had rendered in order to be recalled.

  “No, I lucked out, and got the assistant director from As the Vampire Turns. She thought I’d be perfect for the show, and that means I’d be with Don Orlando.” Maggie gazed out a window with a dreamy look. “We’re destined to be together. I know it.”

  Darcy jumped when the cell phone inside her portfolio started to ring. It was a new phone, a gift from Gregori, so she’d be able to call him if she needed him.

  Maggie drew close. “I wonder who’s calling?”

  “I don’t know. Hardly anyone knows this number.” Darcy fumbled in her portfolio and found the phone. “Hello?”

  “Darcy!” Vanda’s loud voice sounded frantic. “I’m coming over. Is it safe?”

  “You mean you’re teleporting? It’s safe enough, but this isn’t a good time.” Darcy could hear screeching voices in the background. “Vanda? What’s going on?”

  “Is something wrong?” Maggie asked.

  “I don’t know.” Darcy closed her phone when Vanda materialized in the room. “What are you doing here?”

  Vanda looked around. “Great. You haven’t started yet.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” Darcy insisted. “You’re the only one I have for the reality show, and you’re not supposed to see the guys beforehand.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll behave.” Vanda adjusted the black whip she wore around her waist as a belt. “Besides, I had to get out of that apartment. It’s a war zone.”

  “What happened?” Maggie asked.

  “Everyone was grumbling at Cora Lee because her stupid hoop skirts take up all the closet space. Then Cora Lee said”—Vanda affected a southern accent—“I do declare the female form looks more beguiling in the corsets and hoop skirts of the Victorian era than any other style in the entire history of the world.”

  Darcy made a face. “If you enjoy being tortured.”

  “Right.” Vanda ran a hand through her short, spiky, purple hair. “Then, Maria Consuela said medieval gowns were much more attractive, and Cora Lee’s hoop skirts could go to El Diablo.”

  “Sweet Mary and Joseph.” Maggie crossed herself.

  Vanda grinned. “Then, Lady Pamela Smythe-Worthing put on her snooty face and announced that the most elegant gowns ever created were the ones worn in Regency England. And that’s when Cora Lee said that the high waistlines on Lady Pamela’s gowns make her look as wide as the side of a barn.”

  Darcy winced. “And that’s when the fight started?”

  “Not quite. Lady Pamela screamed she was so dreadfully overset that she was flying into some boughs, or something like that. Then, she zipped over to the closet, grabbed one of Cora Lee’s hoop skirts, and stuffed it into the fireplace.”

  “Oh, my!” Maggie pressed a hand to her chest. “And that’s when the fight started?”

  “Not quite. The skirt caught fire, but being a hoop skirt, it popped back out of the fireplace and landed on Princess Joanna’s velvet cape.”

  Darcy gasped. “Not the red one lined in ermine? It’s worth a fortune.”

  “That’s the one.” Vanda raised her hands dramatically. “And that’s when all hell broke loose.”

  Maggie sighed. “That was Princess Joanna’s favorite cape.”

  “I know,” Vanda agreed. “And the really sad thing was that she was wearing it at the time.”

  “What?” Darcy squeaked. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s a little on the crispy side. But she’ll be fine after a good day’s sleep.”

  Darcy collapsed into a chair. “This is terrible! Those ladies are going to kill each other.”

  “I know. You’ve never seen the princess so steamed.” Vanda snorted. “Or rather, she was smokin’.”

  The conference door opened, and Ms. Stein peeked inside. “Are you ready?” Her mouth fell open at the sight of Vanda. She glanced around the room, then looked behind her at the empty hall. “How—how did—I thought there were only two of you.”

  Darcy stood and smiled like nothing odd had happened. “This is Vanda Barkowski. She’s my…second assistant.”

  Ms. Stein’s eyes widened as she took in Vanda’s purple hair and black spandex catsuit. “Okay. We, uh, we’re ready to begin. My secretary, Michelle, will bring each candidate to you.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Stein.” Darcy rounded the table so she would be facing the door.

  Ms. Stein backed out of the room, closing the door.

  Darcy took a seat at the center of the table, then removed a pad of paper and pen from her portfolio.

  Vanda sat on her right. “So, we’re looking for the most handsome men? That’s easy. They’re tall, dark, and mysterious.”

  “You mean like Don Orlando.” Maggie sat on Darcy’s left. “He would be my choice for the sexiest man on earth.”

  Vanda propped an elbow on the table. “What about you, Darcy? What do you think is sexy?”

  “Well, let me think.” She recalled her sunny, carefree days on the beaches of southern California. Which guys had made her heart rush like the pounding surf? “He would be intelligent, kind, honest, and hav
e a bright sense of humor.”

  “Boring.” Vanda yawned. “Tell us what he looks like.”

  Darcy narrowed her eyes, envisioning the perfect man. “He’d be tall with broad shoulders and golden skin bronzed by the sun. His hair would be blond, no, light brown, but with blond streaks, bleached by the sun. He’d have blue eyes that sparkle like a lake when the sun is setting. And his smile would be bright—”

  “Let me guess,” Vanda muttered. “Like the sun?”

  Darcy grinned sheepishly. “Well, you asked. That’s my idea of the perfect man.”

  Maggie shook her head. “Darlin’, that’s not a man. That’s Apollo, the sun god.”

  Vanda snorted with laughter.

  Apollo, the sun god? Darcy groaned. Maybe the perfect man was a myth, a false hope that would never see the light of day.

  A knock sounded on the door. A young woman peeked in. “Hi, I’m Michelle.” With her nice suit and her brown hair pulled back into a bun, it was obvious the secretary was emulating her boss. “Your first applicant is ready. Bobby Streisand.”

  Darcy picked up her pen to take notes, then froze. A tall woman with broad shoulders had entered the room. Her red evening gown sparkled with sequins. She flipped a red feather boa over one shoulder and struck a dramatic pose.

  What? Darcy’s mouth fell open. Didn’t Ms. Stein know she was like the army—looking for a few good men? “I’m sorry, but we’re looking for a male—”

  “He is male,” Vanda whispered.

  Darcy blinked and looked more closely. Oh, dear.

  Bobby sauntered toward them, his hips swaying in the tight red dress. “I’m all male, darling,” he said in a deep, husky voice. “Would you like to hear me sing? My rendition of ‘Memories’ is guaranteed to make you cry.” He set an eight-by-ten glossy autographed photo on the table and patted it gently. His red nail polish was an exact match to his dress.

  Darcy stared at her, or him, for a moment. How could this happen? She’d made it clear that they were searching for the sexiest man on earth. “I—I’m afraid you won’t be suitable for the role we have in mind.”