Eve winked at him and spun around to show him the back. Of which there wasn't any. It was just her skin, and a crimson rose tattoo at the small of her back.
"Man," Shane said. "That's just -- yeah."
It wasn't until she'd gotten past their reactions -- which were pretty fun -- that Claire realized that Eve must have done a number on the boys, too ... because they looked amazingly fine. Michael was wearing black pants and a black leather coat, and a dark blue silk shirt. It made him just ... blaze, like white gold against velvet.
Shane looked good enough to drag back to her room. Eve must have forced him to get the worst of his shag evened up, which brought out his strong cheekbones and chin. He was wearing black, too, with a cream-pale knit shirt. Claire had never seen him in a jacket. She decided he needed to never take it off. Not ever.
Michael shook his head and offered Eve his arm. She took it, smiling with her red, red lips, and winked at Claire. Claire winked back, suddenly feeling very wicked, and slid her arm through Shane's.
"I can't believe we're doing this," Shane said.
This was going to be fun.
Claire hadn't forgotten the address, even though she'd given away the invitation, and Michael knew Morganville like the back of -- Eve's back, the way he kept looking at her exposed skin, especially the tattoo. And besides, if you were within a couple of blocks of the party, you couldn't possibly miss it. Between the glow of the lights and the low-pitched rumble of the music, there was no sleeping through it if you lived nearby.
Michael cruised around the block, looking for parking, and finally located a narrow few feet of curb. As he pulled in, he said, "Ground rules. We don't split up. Eve and Claire, you two especially. It's not just because of the vampires, it's because of Jason. Got it?"
They nodded.
"Besides," Shane said, and playfully tugged at Claire's overgelled hair, "I want to see Monica's face when she catches sight of the two of you. Kodak moment."
Eve fumbled in her tiny little coffin-shaped purse and held up a brand new cell phone, with camera. "I'm ready."
"Me too," Claire said, and pulled out the fancy phone that Amelie had given her. She felt a blast of shame as Shane glanced at it, but controlled it. She couldn't be ashamed all the time, and besides, it wasn't so bad, right? What she was doing? It wasn't any worse than having a day job. Just ... different.
"Be careful what you eat and drink," Michael continued. "Monica's party is probably roofie heaven. I can smell what they put in the drinks, you guys can't. And if you get into any trouble, step back, let me handle it. If you're going to have a freak vamp friend, you might as well get your money's worth out of it."
Shane didn't answer, but Claire could see there was some smart-ass remark burning a hole in his tongue. She was glad he didn't let it loose. It was nice to feel like four friends again, instead of four people all about to spin apart in different directions.
"Anything else, Dad?" Eve asked. Michael kissed her, very lightly, sparing her lipstick.
"Yeah," he said. "You look good enough to eat. Promise me you'll remember that."
Claire was caught between a smile and a shiver, and saw that Eve was, too.
The Morrell home looked like Tara from Gone With The Wind, post Sherman's march. Claire watched, blinking, as a mob of drunken frat boys stumbled down the walk, roaring something she couldn't make out, carrying a couch.
Which they deposited in the giant European-style fountain in front of the house. Apparently they were relocating most of the living room out there. Some partiers were already sitting in chairs, soaking in the fountain's spray, and now three or four of them piled giggling onto the wet couch.
"Now this," Shane said with respect, "is out of bounds. I like it."
It was totally out of control. The four of them stood together by Michael's shiny vampire-tinted car, watching in admiration. The house was blazing with lights, there were lit tiki torches tilting drunkenly all over the lawn, and partiers were everywhere. Making out under the trees, in full glare of the security lights. Doing shots on the big, white-columned front steps. A girl ran by dressed in half a bikini. The top half.
"Damn," Michael said. "Monica does know how to throw it."
No kidding. Claire watched as a big bobtail truck inched its way through a knot of people toward the back of the house. It had the logo of BOB'S FINE LIQUORS. Apparently, Monica had called in liquid reinforcements already, and the night was young.
"Well?" Eve said. "Are we standing out here all night? Because I'm ready to knock somebody dead."
The four of them strolled up the walkway, keeping an eye out for frat boys and wandering furniture. They went as a group up the front steps, where about ten people were playing some complicated game that involved drinking shots, spray cans of fluorescent paint, and giggling hysterically. Even the drunkest turned to look at the four of them and whistle.
The frat boys, the drunks in the fountain and the even drunkers on the porch were all wearing standard college casual dress, mostly shorts and t-shirts. "Um," Claire said, "Maybe we should have come a little less formal."
"No way," Eve replied. "If you're going, go big."
"Remind me to play poker with you later," Michael said. "I love a girl who'll go all in."
She hip-bumped him. "That's what you want to do with me later? Dude. Respect the dress, at least."
Michael trailed his pale fingers down her back, following the line of her spine, all the way to the red rose. Eve shivered, and her eyes went half-closed. Whatever Michael whispered in her ear, Claire thought it was probably way too personal to hear.