Dead and Gone by Charlaine Harris Page A

shoulders, and a woman at the next table said, “Oooooooooh . ”
    “Understand that he can’t touch you now, that no one can unless they petition me first. This is under penalty of final death. And this is where my ruthlessness will be of service to both of us.”
    I took a deep breath. “Okay. You’re right. But this isn’t the end of the subject. I want to know everything about our new situation, and I want to know I can get out of this if I can’t stand it.”
    His eyes looked as blue as a clear autumn sky, and as guileless. “You will know everything when you want to know,” he said.
    “Hey, does the new king know about my great-grandfather?”
    Eric’s face settled into lines of stone. “I can’t predict Felipe’s reaction if he finds out, my lover. Bill and I are the only ones who have that knowledge now. It has to stay that way.”
    He reached over to take my hand again. I could feel each muscle, each bone, through the cool flesh. It was like holding hands with a statue, a very beautiful statue. Again, I felt oddly peaceful for a few minutes.
    “I have to go, Eric,” I said, sorry but not sorry to be leaving. He leaned over to me and kissed me lightly on the lips. When I pushed back my chair, he rose to walk me to the door. I felt the wannabes hammer me with looks of envy all the way out of Fangtasia. Pam was at her station, and she looked at us with a chilly smile.
    Lest we part on too lovey-dovey a note, I said, “Eric, when I’m back to being myself, I’m going to nail your ass for putting me in this position of being pledged to you.”
    “Darling, you can nail my ass anytime,” he said charmingly, and turned to go back to his table.
    Pam rolled her eyes. “You two,” she said.
    “Hey, this isn’t any of my doing,” I said, which wasn’t entirely true. But it was a good exit line, and I took advantage of it to leave the bar.

Chapter 7
    The next morning, Andy Bellefleur called to give me the green light to reopen.
    By the time the crime scene tape was down, Sam had returned to Bon Temps. I was so glad to see my boss that my eyes got weepy. Managing Merlotte’s was a lot harder than I’d ever realized. There were decisions to make every day and a huge crowd of people who needed to be kept happy: the customers, the workers, the distributors, the deliverymen. Sam’s tax guy had called with questions I couldn’t answer. The utility bill was due in three days, and I didn’t have check-writing privileges. There was a lot of money that needed to be deposited into the bank. It was almost payroll time.
    Though I felt like blurting out all these problems the minute Sam walked in the back door of the bar, I drew in a calming breath and asked about his mother.
    After giving me a half hug, Sam had thrown himself into his creaking chair behind his desk. He swiveled to face me directly. He propped his feet up on the edge of the desk with an air of relief. “She’s talking, walking, and mending,” he said. “For the first time, we don’t have to make up a story to cover how fast she can heal. We took her home this morning, and she’s already trying to do stuff around the house. My brother and sister are asking her a million questions now that they’ve gotten used to the idea. They even seem kind of envious I’m the one who inherited the trait.”
    I was tempted to ask about his stepfather’s legal situation, but Sam seemed awful anxious to get back into his normal routine. I waited a moment to see if he would bring it up. He didn’t. Instead, he asked about the utility bill, and with a sigh of relief I was able to refer him to the list of things that needed his attention. I’d left it on his desk in my neatest handwriting.
    First on the list was the fact that I’d hired Tanya and Amelia to come in some evenings to make up for Arlene’s defection.
    Sam looked sad. “Arlene’s worked for me since I bought the bar,” he said. “It’s going to be strange, her not being here. She’s