All Together Dead

dependent half sister who hated me on sight.
    He was a little tense, waiting for my reaction. I could feel it in his head, in his body. I tried to think of a sweet, wonderful way to put how I felt. I was too tired.
    “Quinn, I’ve got no problem with you,” I said. I kissed his cheek, kissed his mouth. “No problem at all. And I’ll try to like Frannie.”
    “Oh,” he said, sounding simply relieved. “Well, then.” He kissed my forehead, and we fell asleep.
    I slept like a vampire. I didn’t wake to make a trip to the bathroom, even, or to turn over. I swam almost up to consciousness once to hear Quinn was snoring, just a faint ruffle of sound, and I snuggled closer to him. He stopped, murmured, and fell silent.
    I looked at the bedside clock when I finally, really, woke up. It was four in the afternoon; I’d slept for twelve hours. Quinn was gone, but he’d drawn a big pair of lips (with my lipstick) on a piece of hotel stationery and laid it on his pillow. I smiled. My roommate hadn’t come in. Maybe she was spending the day in Gervaise’s coffin. I shuddered. “He leaves me cold,” I said out loud, wishing Amelia was there to respond. Speaking of Amelia…I fished my cell phone out of my purse and called her.
    “Hey,” she said. “What’s up?”
    “What are you doing?” I asked, trying not to feel homesick.
    “Brushing Bob,” she said. “He had a hair ball.”
    “Aside from that?”
    “Oh, I worked at the bar a little,” Amelia said, trying to sound casual.
    I was dumbfounded. “Doing what?”
    “Well, serving drinks. What else is there to do?”
    “How come Sam needed you?”
    “The Fellowship is having a big rally in Dallas, and Arlene wanted time off to go with that asshole she’s dating. Then Danielle’s kid got pneumonia. So Sam was really worried, and since I happened to be in the bar, he asked me if I knew how to do the job. I said, ‘Hey, how hard could it be?’”
    “Thanks, Amelia.”
    “Oh, okay, I guess that sounded pretty disrespectful.” Amelia laughed. “So, it is a little tricky. Everyone wants to talk to you, but you have to hurry, and you can’t spill their drinks on ’em, and you have to remember what everyone was drinking, and who’s paying for the round, and who’s on a tab. And you have to stand up for hours and hours.”
    “Welcome to my world.”
    “So, how’s Mr. Stripes?”
    I realized she was talking about Quinn. “We’re okay,” I said, pretty sure that was true. “He did one big ceremony last night; it was so cool. A vampire wedding. You would’ve loved it.”
    “What’s on for tonight?”
    “Well, maybe a trial.” I didn’t feel like explaining, especially over a cell phone. “And a ball.”
    “Wow, like Cinderella.”
    “Remains to be seen.”
    “How’s the business part of it going?”
    “I’ll have to tell you about that when I get back,” I said, suddenly not so cheerful. “I’m glad you’re busy and I’m glad everything’s going okay.”
    “Oh, Terry Bellefleur called to ask if you wanted a puppy. You remember when Annie got out?”
    Annie was Terry’s very expensive and much-loved Catahoula. He’d come out to my place looking for Annie when she’d roamed away, and by the time he’d found her, she had had some close encounters.
    “What do the puppies look like?”
    “He said you had to see them to believe them. I told him you’d come by next week, maybe. I didn’t commit you to anything.”
    “Okay, good.”
    We chatted a minute more but since I’d been gone from Bon Temps less than forty-eight hours, there really wasn’t that much to say.
    “So,” she said in closing, “I miss you, Stackhouse.”
    “Yeah? I miss you, too, Broadway.”
    “Bye. Don’t get any strange fangs on you.”
    Too late for that. “Bye. Don’t spill any beer on the sheriff.”
    “If I do, it’ll be on purpose.”
    I laughed, because I’d felt like dousing Bud Dearborn, too. I hung up feeling pretty good. I ordered room service, very tentatively. That was not something I got to do every day; even every year. Or ever. I was a little nervous about letting the waiter into my room, but Carla wandered in at just the same moment. She was decorated with hickeys and wearing last night’s dress.
    “That smells good,” she said, and I handed her a croissant. She drank my orange juice while I had the coffee. It worked out okay. Carla did the talking for both of us, telling me all about the things I’d experienced. She