Dead as a Doornail

while he was filling my prescription by speculating on the possibility that Claude was bisexual—even a little bit? Every woman who came into the pharmacy had a glazed look on her face. Of course, they hadn’t had the privilege of having an actual conversation with Claude, so they hadn’t had the benefit of his sparkling personality.
    “Took you long enough,” Claude said as I got back in the car.
    “Yes, Mr. Social Skills,” I snapped. “I’ll try to hurry from now on. Why should getting shot slow me down? I apologize.”
    Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Claude’s cheeks reddening.
    “I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “I was abrupt. People tell me I’m rude.”
    “No! Really?”
    “Yes,” he admitted, and then realized I’d been a tad sarcastic. He gave me a look I would have called a glower from a less beautiful creature. “Listen, I have a favor to ask you.”
    “You’re certainly off to a good start. You’ve softened me up now.”
    “Would you stop that? I know I’m not . . . not . . .”
    “Polite? Minimally courteous? Gallant? Going about this the right way?”
    “Sookie!” he bellowed. “Be quiet!”
    I wanted one of my pain pills. “Yes, Claude?” I said in a quiet, reasonable voice.
    “The people running the pageant want a portfolio. I’ll go to the studio in Ruston for some glamour shots, but I think it might be a good idea to do some posed pictures, too. Like the covers of the books Claudine is always reading. Claudinesays I should have a blonde pose with me, since I’m dark. I thought of you.”
    I guess if Claude had told me he wanted me to have his baby I could have been more surprised, but only just. Though Claude was the surliest man I’d ever encountered, Claudine had a habit of saving my life. For her sake, I wanted to oblige.
    “Would I need, like, a costume?”
    “Yes. But the photographer also does amateur dramatics and he rents out Halloween costumes, so he thought he might have some things that would do. What size do you wear?”
    “An eight.” Sometimes more like a ten. But then again, once in a blue moon, a six, okay?
    “So when can you do this?”
    “My shoulder has to heal,” I said gently. “The bandage wouldn’t look good in the pictures.”
    “Oh, right. So you’ll call me?”
    “Yes.”
    “You won’t forget?”
    “No. I’m so looking forward to it.” Actually, at the moment what I wanted was my own space, free and clear of any other person, and a Diet Coke, and one of the pills I was clutching in my hand. Maybe I’d have a little nap before I took the shower that also featured on my list.
    “I’ve met the cook at Merlotte’s before,” Claude said, the floodgates evidently now wide open.
    “Uh-huh. Sweetie.”
    “That’s what she’s calling herself? She used to work at the Foxy Femmes.”
    “She was a stripper?”
    “Yeah, until the accident.”
    “Sweetie was in an accident?” I was getting more worn out by the second.
    “Yeah, so she got scarred and didn’t want to strip anymore. It would’ve required too much makeup, she said. Besides, by then she was getting a little on the, ah, old side to be stripping.”
    “Poor thing,” I said. I tried to picture Sweetie parading down a runway in high heels and feathers. Disturbing.
    “I’d never let her hear you say that,” he advised.
    We parked in front of the duplex. Someone had brought my car back from the library parking lot. The door to the other side of the duplex opened, and Halleigh Robinson stepped out, my keys in her hand. I was wearing the black pants I’d had on since I had been on my way to work, but my Merlotte’s T-shirt had been ruined so the hospital had given me a white sweatshirt that someone had left there once upon a time. It was huge on me, but that wasn’t why Halleigh was standing stock-still, catching flies with her mouth. Claude had actually gotten out to help me into the house, and the sight of him had paralyzed the young schoolteacher.
    Claude eased his arm tenderly around my shoulders, bent his head to look adoringly into my face, and winked.
    This was the first hint I’d had that Claude had a sense of humor. It pleased me to find he wasn’t universally disagreeable.
    “Thanks for bringing me my keys,” I called, and Halleigh suddenly remembered she could walk.
    “Um,” she said. “Um, sure.” She put the keys somewhere in the vicinity of my hand, and I snagged them.
    “Halleigh, this is my friend Claude,” I said with