One Night Burns (The Vampires of Livix, #1) by J Gordon Smith

from the side table.
    “Hi.” I set my graphic novel on the floor where I might have put those chips.
    “It’s me. I wanted to see what you scheduled for Saturday?”
    “It’s pretty open.” My mom wanted me to visit but I didn’t really want to drive out there. My phone call would be easier with a real excuse.
    He asked, “I thought we could go to the Victorian Festival.”
    “Sure, that sounds like fun.” Traffic gets crazy around town so I usually avoided it but with a date the prospect became much more interesting.
    “Do you have any costumes?”
    I smiled remembering, “I was a kid the last time I went dressed up. The little old ladies pelted us with candy. So too long ago to have a costume still.” I mentally ran through my clothing inventory in my head including the pieces I either borrowed from my Mom or she gave me because she had tired of them. “I think I have a skirt and a top I can convert.” I’ll need some magic. I might have a scarf I could use as a shawl. “Yeah, I can probably do it. Pick me up in the morning?”
    “How about ten thirty?”
    “That’s good. See you then.”
    I opened my closet. Well … I pushed the door open a little wider. It rattled on the slider track. My secret area of disorganization spewed toward me. Everyone forgives my closet since they have a similar secret cavern of disarray in their own bedroom. I rummaged around. I found a pair of long heeled boots in the back and tossed them out by the bed. Across the bed I laid a black full length skirt with folds suggesting something old. Hopefully it looked older than the nineteen seventies or eighties. I found a few scarves I could wind around my hips under the top of the skirt to make it flair out along with a nightgown and a slip that gave the suggestion of petticoats. An antique-white blouse with heavily tooled stitching and crocheted lace seemed to work as a top.
    I played with my hair in the mirror. I swept it up and down. I twisted it and put in a quick loose braid to see how it might look if I went to that trouble. I tried combs and pins and spinning it using chop-sticks to hold through it and wondered if a French braid might be good. I’d need help with that and not authentic either. I poked in my jewelry box and nothing inspiring revealed itself. But a basic plan formed and something could pop into my subconscious overnight. I scrubbed my fingers through my hair removing the biggest snarls for morning.
    I slipped under the cool bed sheets and pulled a pillow close with a book for my Friday night. But I didn’t mind as I later fell asleep looking forward to tomorrow.
     
     
     

-:- Six -:-
     
     
    I stood in front of my large living room window watching the street. A weekend morning television show churned in flashes of colors and sound in the background. The show spent more time on their flashy logo screen wipes and “stay tuned this up next” self advertising than they actually did with the real stories. They finally allowed their guest to talk up their fabulous part in a fantastic new movie to fulfill their role in the movie’s PR program ahead of a nationwide launch next week.
    Garin’s car stopped by the curb and he stepped out. I hit the power button on the television remote and grabbed my things. He wore black shoes, charcoal knickers with cream socks and suspenders that stretched tight over his slightly ballooning cream shirt and a black racing hat. His hair seemed curly and shined with some sort of hair gel that I could see out of the sides of the hat. He looked authentic leaning against the passenger fender while he retrieved his non-period cell phone.
    I had already exited my apartment door and took to the building’s stairs when my phone rang. I let it ring in my little purse as I pushed open the building entrance to meet him on the walk. “I’m not getting the phone because I made my purse with some odds and ends of lace and handkerchiefs and ribbon and it’s knotted together.” I