Living Dead in Dallas

I’m like his sister,” I said.
    “You forget, you’ve had my blood, and I can tell what you are feeling,” Bill said. “I don’t think you feel exactly like a sister to him.”
    “That would explain why I’m here in bed with you, right?”
    “You love me.”
    I laughed, up against his throat.
    “It’s close to dawn,” he said. “I have to go.”
    “Okay, baby.” I smiled up at him as he gathered up his clothes. “Hey, you owe me a sweater and a bra. Two bras. Gabe tore one, so that was a work-related clothes injury. And you tore one last night, plus my sweater.”
    “That’s why I bought a women’s clothing store,” he said smoothly. “So I could rip if the spirit moves me.”
    I laughed and lay back down. I could sleep for a couple more hours. I was still smiling when he let himself out of my house, and I woke up in the middle of the morning with a lightness in my heart that hadn’t been there for a long time. (Well, it felt like a long time.) I walked, somewhat gingerly, into the bathroom to soak in a tubful of hot water. When I began to wash, I felt something in my earlobes. I stood up in the tub and looked over at the mirror above the sink. He’d put the topaz earrings in while I was asleep.
    Mr. Last Word.
     
    S INCE OUR REUNION had been secret, it was I who got invited to the club first. It had never occurred to me that that might happen; but after it did, I realized that ifPortia had figured she might be invited after going with a vampire, I was even primer meat.
    To my surprise and disgust, the one to broach the subject was Mike Spencer. Mike was the funeral home director and the coroner in Bon Temps, and we had not always had a completely cordial relationship. However, I’d known him all my life and was used to offering him respect, a hard habit to break. Mike was wearing his funeral home duds when he came in to Merlotte’s that evening, because he’d come from Mrs. Cassidy’s visitation. A dark suit, white shirt, subdued striped tie, and polished wing tips changed Mike Spencer from the guy who really preferred bolo ties and pointy-toed cowboy boots.
    Since Mike was at least twenty years older than me, I’d always related to him as an elder, and it shocked me silly when he approached me. He was sitting by himself, which was unusual enough to be noteworthy. I brought him a hamburger and a beer. As he paid me, he said casually, “Sookie, some of us are getting together at Jan Fowler’s lake house tomorrow night and we wondered if we could get you to come.”
    I am fortunate I have a well-schooled face. I felt as if a pit had opened beneath my feet, and I was actually a little nauseated. I understood immediately, but I couldn’t quite believe it. I opened my mind to him, while my mouth was saying, “You said ‘some of us’? Who would that be, Mr. Spencer?”
    “Why don’t you call me Mike, Sookie?” I nodded, looking inside his head all the while. Oh, geez Louise. Ick. “Well, some of your friends will be there. Eggs, and Portia, and Tara. The Hardaways.”
    Tara and Eggs . . . that really shocked me.
    “So, what goes on at these parties? Is this just a drinking and dancing type thing?” This was not an unreasonable question. No matter how many people knew I wassupposed to be able to read minds, they almost never believed it, no matter how much evidence to the contrary they’d witnessed. Mike simply could not believe that I could receive the images and concepts floating in his mind.
    “Well, we get a little wild. We thought since you’d broken up with your boyfriend, that you might want to come let your hair down a little.”
    “Maybe I’ll come,” I said, without enthusiasm. It wouldn’t do to look eager. “When?”
    “Oh, ten o’clock tomorrow night.”
    “Thanks for the invite,” I said, as if remembering my manners, and then sauntered off with my tip. I thought furiously, in the odd moments I had to myself during the rest of my shift.
    What good could my going serve? Could I really learn anything that would solve the mystery of Lafayette’s death? I didn’t like Andy Bellefleur much, and now I liked Portia even less, but it wasn’t fair that Andy might be prosecuted, his reputation ruined, for something that wasn’t his fault. On the other hand, it stood to reason that no one present at a party at the lake house would trust me with any deep dark secrets until I’d become a regular, and I just couldn’t stomach that. I wasn’t even sure I could