Desmond, who was clearly embarrassed by her comment, nodded his head. "Lucy! You don't understand the painting or its theme of significant sexual bondage."
Val's date added her two cents, too, in a very superior manner. "It's a Salvador. Everyone just loves Salvador. Why, I have three of his prints. You must look beyond the obvious. But then, mortals are so often limited in their scope." Turning to Val, she shrugged sexy shoulders. "But what can you expect from the great unwashed."
"Excuse me?" Lucy asked, swelling with ire. "I may be a mortal, but I bathe daily and at least I don't go rolling in mudpiles at the cemetery like you dirt nappers. I don't make love in nasty old coffins, and I'm smart enough to know a dead fish is a dead fish. I like what I like, and I dislike pretentious people who run around spouting off popular mumbo jumbo about nothing."
Val watched with amusement. Lucy could do that better than anybody: go from irritated to full-out enraged in less than sixty seconds. He so enjoyed her pale blue eyes when they lit with that inner fire—whether passion or anger. And it appeared that four years had done little to dim her inner fire. It was such a waste, since she was untrustworthy and disloyal, a fickle female and a death-dealer to hearts, like that Buffy character or two.
"Stupid human. Just because you can't understand the otherworldly is no reason to disdain it," Beverly snapped, her cool demeanor vanished.
Lucy didn't care that she was creating a scene or enraging the full-blooded vampiress. She continued, "Otherwordly? This painting has nothing to do with the paranormal. It only makes me feel glad I didn't have swordfish for supper."
Desmond dropped her hand and took several steps away, frowning in disapproval.
Val's date sneered. "You know nothing about art or the paranormal! Who do you think you are, you insignificant piece of human offal, to ridicule my tastes? What utter rubbish. What conceit. I've lived centuries!"
Hiding the urge to laugh out loud when Beverly got on her high horse, Val decided to defuse the situation. He didn't want mortal and vampire to come to blows even if it would be amusing. "Settle down, cherie. Lucy does know a little about the supernatural. She's the host of the Twilight Zone talk show."
Lucy fell off her high horse, crashing to the figurative ground with a loud thump. Why did Val have to bring up what she did for a living? The vampiress's anger slipped away, and she actually giggled.
"C'est vrai?"
"Mais oui—it's true," Val replied.
The vampiress giggled again. "So that's why you look familiar. I've seen your show by accident once or twice. I couldn't believe it. I caught the tail end of the one about 'Men Who are Genies and the Women Who Rub Them.' I had tears in my eyes by the time that genie appeared in all his pinkish smoke. You were coughing, and your face had black tracks where your mascara had run. It was just so… camp."
Lucy's lips tightened. "I happened to have an allergic reaction to the smoke coming out of the genie's bottle, although I didn't know it at the time."
"Your face swelled up and you croaked like a frog!" the vampiress recalled, chortling gleefully.
"Too bad I didn't fall down and crack my head open. You could have really gotten a real thrill then. All that tasty blood," Lucy retorted.
"Fall down and crack your head?" Val asked. He couldn't resist. "But, didn't you do just that on the show where you had to chase those gremlins about?" Lucy glared at him, letting him know that he was definitely the big prick she'd been talking about earlier. Nobody wore a clearer "I'd like to kick you in the balls" expression.
Glaring at Val, Lucy recalled only too clearly how she'd had to go and get stitches after the gremlins fiasco. It had been her Easter show, and she had thought gremlins would be cuter than bunnies. Their cages had been decorated like Easter baskets, but the scheming little devils had made short work of those, chewing through the bars and snapping at her audience's pant legs. Recalling the whole sordid event, Lucy recognized that she probably hadn't thought the whole basket-cage thing through well enough.
"Yes. I ended up with six stitches," she admitted.
Suddenly realizing that the wily detective had made a deadly slip, she stopped glaring, a slight smile forming on her lips. "I didn't know you watched my show."
Val replied smoothly, inwardly kicking himself for admitting as much to the untrustworthy female. "Only when I'm in the mood for some good lighthearted comedy, Lucy." He would never admit that he watched her show whenever he got the chance, and that, when he didn't, he actually taped it.
"I live to entertain," Lucy replied. "By the way, I'm thinking of doing a show called 'Supernatural Cheaters.' You'd be perfect for it."
Val glared at her. "Not my style."
"If the show fits…"
"Fits? There is one thing certain in this life, cherie—the only way I'd do that sorry-ass show is over my dead body."
"Stake, anyone?" Lucy quipped.
Val's lips lifted in a sneer, and he went on the offensive. "I've often wondered. Did you catch all those little gremlins—especially the one that took a bite out of your finger?" he asked, his expression wicked.
Lucy shook her head, her face red with anger. "You know, some men don't have any moral compass," she said. Glaring first at Val and then at Desmond, she retorted savagely, "Speaking of fingers," and then she shot Val one as she left. The two vampires and her date were given a view of her quickly retreating form.
She departed in graceful elegance, though inside her raged a storm of emotion. Unfortunately, while patting herself on the back for getting the last word and finger in on Val, she wasn't watching where she was going, and as she pushed her way through the crowd, she suddenly knocked into something.
Falling, Lucy at first thought that she had knocked over a life-sized statue of a gargoyle, tumbling them both to the floor. She hoped the statue didn't break. How could she ever cover the cost on her peanuts salary? But at the enraged shriek, much to her embarrassment, she realized the statue wasn't a statue but a real-life gargoyle in the flesh. How humiliating!
The gargoyle cursed her roundly, and in the background Lucy could hear Val's laughter stinging her very soul. It reminded her of another of her mother's quaint little sayings:
"He who laughs last is usually the biggest ass."
She couldn't agree more.
Chapter Four
The Ex-Girlfriend's Grudge
The weekend for Lucy was long and boring after her disastrous date and run-in with Val and his nonhuman paramour. With fate conspiring against her, Lucy gave up men for Ben & Jerry. She ate two gallons of their delicious product not to mention two bags of dill potato chips and a whole pizza—and probably gained three pounds, she grumbled as she walked into her dressing room at WPBS on Monday morning. She had an hour to go before her show.
"Hey," Ricki called out, glancing up from the makeup case she was cleaning. Ricki was the Twilight Zone hairstylist and makeup artist. Her dedication to makeup was legendary around the studio, second only to the legend of her love life. Ricki had never met a man she didn't like. Of course, she only got involved with those males who were both intelligent and wealthy, so Lucy supposed she did okay.
"You look worried." Ricki's words were a question. "Is it the witchy-warlock show?"
No, it wasn't the show but her lack of a love life. Lucy shook her head, taking a seat in the makeup chair. Well, today's topic did make her a tad nervous. It was "Lei-line Warlock Magic vs. Wand-conjuring Witches," which made her role as host a bit tricky.
The two wizarding groups were very competitive, and each coven believed its magic was the best. Of course, the supernatural world was a very competitive one, filled as it was with predators, huge egos, and all manner of creatures.