Dead And Dateless
“I blurted when my mother opened the back door at a quarter past nine on Saturday night.While I did have some backbone (I’d purposely bypassed Golftown on my way over), it went all soft and Jell-O-ey when faced with the prospect of breaking three hundred years of Marchette tradition.“I meant to stop off and pick them up,” I rushed on, “but I couldn’t get away and—”“It’s about time,” my mother declared.Jacqueline Marchette wore a chocolate-colored silk wrap dress, a diamond Tiffany choker and mat...ching bracelet, and a disapproving frown. Her long, dark brown hair had been slicked back into a chic ponytail that accented her high cheekbones and sculpted nose. Thick eyelashes fringed her rich brown eyes. Chanel’s Chocolate Mousse slicked her full lips. She smelled of French perfume, cherries jubilee, and lots of money (what born vampire didn’t?).I’d been fortunate enough to snag my favorite Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress—black and white with cap sleeves—before fleeing from the cops and a fab pair of black leather Vivia’s, so I didn’t feel underdressed.“Your brothers have been here for over an hour,”MoreLess
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