And because Sara loves Halloween so much, she wanted to offer all of you a special Halloween gift: a sneak peak into the sequel, BITE SOMEBODY ELSE, which will be released in summer 2017. While BITE SOMEBODY was told through the point of view of Celia, the awkward newbie vampire, BITE SOMEBODY ELSE is all about Imogene, Celia's purple-haired eighties punk rocker sidekick.
Here you go: have a bite.
They never met at The Columbia. It was way too posh for the likes of Imogene and Celia, so she was surprised when Celia suggested they meet there for drinks. Whenever Imogene made her way to St. Arthur’s Circle on Admiral Key, she usually opted for cheap frozen beverages at The Daiquiri Deck, where they served drinks with names like “Call a Cab” and “Blotto.”
As expected, the restaurant was crowded, it being peak tourist season in Florida. She ducked and wove around people to try and spot Celia’s bright red hair but thought maybe she’d beat her friend to The Columbia, which never happened since Imogene was always late. She didn’t see Celia, but she hid behind a waiter in a crisp, white shirt when she spotted the back of a familiar head.
He sat at a table set for two with a sketchbook in front of him. She suspected the “painter” of Dr. Savage’s nude was Nicholas, which was why Dean had been all in a huff the other night.
When the waiter—her shield—moved on to another table, Imogene ducked behind a potted palm and watched Nicholas, pencil in hand. She got a quick glimpse of what he was drawing and made a sound like, “Huh?”
It was quite obviously a drawing of her. Well, her wild hair at least, with the beginnings of her prominent cheekbones. She stood up straight, hands on her hips, until a waiter asked, loudly, “Ma’am, can I help you?”
Nicholas glanced over his shoulder, recognized her, slammed the sketchbook shut, and shoved it into the back pocket of his navy blue trousers.
Cover now blown, she walked up to his table. “Hey.”
He stood and ran a hand through his short, auburn hair. “Miss … Imogene.” His dark suit coat was over the back of the chair. He wore a light blue striped dress shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, and a navy blue vest. In the gentle glow of St. Arthur’s street lamps, his multi-colored eyes shined a shade of sea green. It took every damn bit of her resolve to not lean forward and sniff him, because even from two feet away, that toe-curling smell was back: basil and peppermint with a dash of pepper.
She pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes. “Uh, what are you doing here?”
“I’m meeting Ian.”
“I’m supposed to be meeting Celia.” She crossed her arms and sighed.
Nicholas seemed to understand the same time she did. His forehead crinkled.
“They set us up,” she said.
“Indeed.” He looked down at his shiny brown shoes. “I owe you an apology.”
She pursed her lips.
“It was very rude of me to speak as I did the other night. You’re right, I am a cold fish. I am now, at least, and I—”
“You’re not a cold fish.” She chewed on one of her fingernails. “You painted that nude of Dr. Savage. You must be kind of kinky.”
He snorted and did something like a smile—an amused lift of his upper lip. Then, he looked down at the candlelit table. “We both drove here. Might as well have a drink. Join me?”
She wanted to ask why he was drawing a picture of her in his sketchbook, but instead, she said, “Fuck it,” and sat.
“You’re very fond of that word.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” She smirked.