Dead Is the New Black (6 page)

"What time is he going to pick you up?" she asked.

"He said seven." What if he didn't show?

Poppy looked at the clock. It read 5:00. "You'd better get in the shower," she said, shoving me toward the bathroom. "You don't have much time."

Not much time? It took me fifteen minutes to get ready normally, half an hour when I really worked at it. But that was before Poppy got ahold of me.

After a long shower, I found Poppy inspecting three outfits she'd deemed worthy of a first date.

"The Black Opal won't let you in unless you dress to impress," she warned.

I noticed that the denim skirt I bought last month was the only option from my own wardrobe. She'd paired it with a burgundy boho top with full sleeves and with heels that could double as an assault weapon. There was also a short deep blue dress with a plunging neckline that I vetoed immediately. I wanted Ryan to like me for more than my cleavage. The third outfit included Rose's favorite jeans, the superexpensive ones that fit me perfectly, Poppy's periwinkle top, and shoes I could actually walk in. Naturally, I chose the last outfit.

Poppy nodded her approval. "Now get dressed and I'll do your hair and makeup."

As Poppy did her magic, I wondered if all the primping was worth it. "There," she said. "All done. Take a look."

I stepped in front of the full-length mirror hanging on my closet door. I was speechless. Poppy had worked a miracle. My eyes magically looked bigger and bluer than ever, my lashes were impossibly long, and my hair looked sexily tousled, not the usual flyaway mess. For the first time, I could see my own resemblance to my glamorous mother and sisters.

"It's a good thing Mom's working late again tonight," she commented. "She'd have a heart attack to see you looking like this. She still thinks you're five."

"Poppy, thanks so much!" I gave her a hug. She hugged me back, just for a second, and then said, "Oh, don't worry. I'll think of some way you can repay me."

Whatever torture she had dreamed up in repayment would totally be worth it, I thought, but I knew Poppy well enough not to say it out loud.

The doorbell rang and I looked at my watch. It was five to seven.

"He's early," Poppy said. "He's got it bad."

We started for the door, but then I thought of something. "Hey, Poppy?"

"Yeah?" She paused at the top of the stairs.

I gestured to my borrowed finery. "This isn't going to float off my back at midnight, is it?"

"Of course not," she replied. "I gave you permission to borrow this outfit. And besides, Ryan Mendez is a million times hotter than Brian Miller."

Poppy went into the kitchen while I answered the door. For a minute, I stared at Ryan and forgot to breathe. He looked amazing. His shirt matched his green eyes. We locked gazes, and neither of us would look away.

"Hi," he said, smiling softly. "Wow."

"Hi," I said, still looking into his eyes.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked. "Or maybe I should come in and say hi to your mom before we leave."

I opened the door wider to let him in. "Mom's not home from work yet. I think she's still working on that case."

Ryan shifted his feet nervously but took one step inside. "Really? Dad's still working, too," he said. "Maybe we should just go, then."

I grabbed my purse. "Poppy, we're leaving. Let Mom know where I am, okay?"

She came out of the kitchen with the cordless in her hand. "Have fun, you guys." Then, into the phone, "That's a large pie, with everything, extra cheese, and
lots
of anchovies."

I made a face. I couldn't help it. I hated anchovies, but Poppy loved them. It was her chance to munch on the fishy morsels to her heart's content.

"You don't like anchovies, huh?" Ryan said. "I'll have to remember that for next time."

Next time, huh? There was going to be a next time. I smiled at him. This was going to be a great evening. That's what I thought, anyway. I was definitely not the psychic in the family.

Chapter Seven

The evening started to go downhill as soon as I got into Ryan's car and saw Samantha sitting in the front seat. Sean was in the backseat, and he looked about as happy as I felt, which was not at all.

Ryan opened the rear passenger door for me and shot me an apologetic look. "Samantha gets carsick in the back," he explained.

She had spent plenty of time in backseats, I thought. Of course, the car wasn't usually moving at the time.

"I hope you don't mind," Samantha said sweetly. "Queasy stomach."

"I know the feeling," I muttered, but in a louder voice I said, "Not at all. Sean and I can talk about"—I searched frantically for something we could possibly have in common, until I realized he was in my English class—"English."

Samantha laughed. "That's kind of a sore subject," she said.

Sean looked at me, stony faced. "I'm flunking it."

"Oh," I said.

On the way to the club, Samantha and Ryan chatted easily in the front of the car, while Sean and I maintained an awkward silence in the backseat. I frowned when I noticed how often she managed to touch Ryan's arm in the course of casual conversation.

She was dressed entirely in alabaster white, from her top to her gorgeous leather boots. Who buys white leather boots? You could wear them maybe once without getting them dirty. The Devereauxs did have money to burn, but it seemed excessive, even for Samantha.

She caught me staring at her outfit and said, "White is the color of mourning in China." So she was going to dress for death in all seven continents? And designer dead, I'd wager.

The ankh around her neck gleamed in the dark, and I remembered what Rose had told me about the history of the symbol. Why was Samantha wearing a symbol of the afterlife? And why the extreme new look? She hadn't told me the truth earlier. There was more to her new look than boredom. I just hoped it didn't involve vampirism.

Ryan's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "Daisy, are you okay back there? You've been awfully quiet."

"I'm fine, Ryan," I said. But I wasn't. Inside, I was kicking myself for ever agreeing to this. It was obvious that Samantha planned to monopolize Ryan for the rest of the night. That's why she had been so nice to me before. Just to lure me into a false sense of security.

I wanted to make it through the night with a shred of dignity intact. I was not going to let her see that she was getting to me.

The club parking lot was crowded already, but Ryan managed to find a spot at the far end. To my surprise, he came to my door and opened it for me, before helping me out. He left Samantha to fend for herself until Sean caught a clue and rushed over to open her door.

Ryan kept my hand in his as we walked to the door of the club. There was a long line, but Samantha marched to the front and immediately started flirting with the guy at the door.

The rest of us hung back, but then I heard someone calling my name. "Daisy? Daisy Giordano, is that you?" The guy at the door was Nicholas Bone.

"Uh, hi, Nicholas," I said. What was he doing working at the Black Opal when his family had a perfectly good mortuary? And why was he being so nice? When he had dated my sister, I wasn't sure that he could tell Poppy and me apart. Or even wanted to. He had been quiet, surly even, whenever he'd been at the house to pick up Rose. Now he stood there beaming at me like we were long- lost pals.

"Are these your friends?" His brandy-colored eyes gleamed.

I could understand what Rose had seen in him. He was handsome and tall, with pale skin, reddish brown hair, and those strange eyes. His hair was the exact shade of our Irish setter, Sparky, who died of old age last year.

I nodded and Nicholas held open the velvet rope. "Go ahead." He gestured toward the door. "I can't make an old friend wait in this line."

I glanced at the crowd and hesitated. There were a few groans here and there, but most people seemed resigned to us cutting the line. And I had a curfew. If I didn't cut in line, I might not have any time to snoop around.

Samantha grabbed my arm and propelled me forward. "You heard the man, Giordano."

Nicholas stamped our hands and I checked the mark. It matched the one the dead girl had. Then Samantha swept through the door with Sean right behind her. Ryan and I trailed behind them.

She was getting plenty of stares. She looked like a gravedigger's dream date in her strapless metallic white top and scrap of lace that passed for a skirt, fishnet thigh-high stockings and those white boots. Fortunately, she left her coffin at home tonight—too unwieldy for the dance floor. Sean was handing out dirty looks like Halloween candy. I hoped there wouldn't be a brawl.

It was early enough that there were still a few tables available. We grabbed a booth, and Samantha and I slid into the middle with Sean on her side and Ryan on mine. I was surprised that she hadn't found a way to have a guy on either side of her, but the night was still young.

Sean and Ryan talked football while Samantha looked to see if anyone was noticing her (they were) and I watched the crowd. I wondered if any of these people had been here on the same night as the dead girl. Maybe I could talk to some of them and find out.

But at the moment, I was too nervous to say anything. Ryan had dropped my hand when we sat down, but he kept one hand on my knee. It was distracting, not entirely in a bad way. I reminded myself that I was here for sleuthing, not flirting. But I didn't take his hand off my knee.

A server came by and took our order as we waited for the first band to take the stage. "What can I get you?" he asked, after introducing himself and rattling off the drinks specials. He didn't seem to notice or care that our hands were clearly marked with the underage stamp. We ordered sodas and appetizers, but our waiter didn't seem to be in much of a hurry to trot back to the kitchen to place it.

"Are you here for Side Effects May Vary?" he asked.

"What?" I said.

"The band," he said. "They're a local favorite."

Samantha said, "And I heard they just signed a major record deal."

The club started to fill up. I recognized a couple of kids from school. Samantha's best friend, Jordan, was on the dance floor with a couple of the other cheerleaders.

Penny Edwards made a beeline for us, dragging her mini-coffin behind her. Only Penny would bring something the size of a small car to a club. There was some swearing involved when the coffin thumped against random shins and feet as Penny made her way toward us.

I relaxed a little bit. Ryan wasn't hanging on Samantha's every word. In fact, it seemed like he barely noticed her at all.

I made an attempt at friendliness. "So have you ever heard Side Effects May Vary play before?" I asked.

Samantha seemed amused by the question. "Of course. We come here all the time," she said.

"You and Sean?" Somehow, the Black Opal didn't seem to be Sean's scene, despite the fact that he was one of the popular kids.

"No, Jordan, Rachel, and me mostly, but some of the other girls on the squad sometimes."

"I come here all the time, too," Penny bragged.

"I've never been here before," I said casually, hoping for more information.

"Big surprise," Penny muttered.

I ignored her. "So, have you ever seen anyone ... strange hanging around here?" I asked. It was entirely possible that the dead girl met her killer at this very club.

Samantha looked at me like I had two heads. "Strange? Take a look around, Giordano," she snapped.

She had a point. The room was filled with some unusual people, even by Nightshade standards. There was a guy wearing a clown costume, a woman who glowed like her skin had been covered in phosphorus, and a beautiful girl in a fire engine red cowboy hat, a bikini top, and shorts. None of them looked like killers, but you never know.

But before our semicourteous conversation could deteriorate any further, a tall man wearing a baggy checked suit and creepers on his feet strode to the microphone. "Please give it up for Side Effects May Vary!" he said.

The audience went wild, whistling and cheering.

The band took the stage and started things off with a rousing cover of the Ramones' "Rock 'n' Roll High School." The lead singer had a raspy, sexy voice, but the bass guitarist was truly eye-catching. She wore a naughty nurse's uniform paired with leopard-print tights, six-inch white plastic heels, and a towering hot pink hairdo that was obviously a wig. Her makeup looked like she had applied it with a trowel, but even with gunk on her face, there was something about her that seemed familiar.

"Let's go!" Samantha said, cutting off Penny midgrovel. "Penny, stay here and guard our table. We're going to dance." She grabbed Sean's hand and dragged him out of the booth. Then she turned and put a hand on her hip. "Daisy, are you coming?"

I looked at Ryan and raised one eyebrow in question. He took my hand and we followed Sean and Samantha to the dance floor. I felt sorry for Penny, but she seemed perfectly thrilled to be allowed to play watchdog for Samantha.

Ryan was a great dancer. A lot of guys weren't, at least in my limited experience. Take Sean, for instance. He danced like he was running for a touchdown. Zig, zag, shoulder tucked in. He'd make a motion like he was throwing a long pass and then start the sequence over again.

Samantha, on the other hand, had natural rhythm and some slick moves. She looked pretty lively for a girl obsessed with death.

We danced until the band took a break. I watched the bassist as she walked offstage. There was definitely something familiar about her. It nagged at me, but as we went back to the table, I saw a face that was even more familiar.

Rose was at the Black Opal! Definitely unlike my studious sister. She didn't see me, but made a beeline for Nicholas in the corner. It was safe to say Rose knew her ex was in town. By the way she was kissing him, I wasn't too sure he
was
her ex.

She had told me earlier that she was going to the library, yet here she was, practically devouring the mortician's son. Public displays of affection weren't like Rose at all. "I'm going to the bathroom," I said.