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Marie Claire Paquin, they insisted on being called by their noms de sang, Suleiman and Moravia. These vampires didn’t seem to be the daylight avoiding type. Even though it was 9:00 A.M. they were as bright-eyed as game show contestants.

      “Good morning, Suleiman, Moravia,” I hurried to say. “I’m so sorry to be late.”

      “No, please, do not worry about it,” Suleiman answered, as he bowed over my hand. “Theresa made us very comfortable.”

      Suleiman’s accent was British plus something else, possibly Indian. His black hair was slicked back from his slightly receding hairline with a shiny hair gel, probably the one from their line called “Sleek.” His eyes were dark and thick-lashed and his skin was olive-toned. His outfit was straight out of Hedda Gabler: a pinstriped cutaway frock coat, paisley vest, and a red silk cravat secured with a pearl tie tack. He was unusual without being over the top, and despite my better judgment I was intrigued. I also wanted to know where he bought his clothes.

      Once, when Lucy had referred to the clients as “the vampires,” Moravia had corrected her.

      “We don’t say ‘vampires,’ we refer to those in the vampire lifestyle.”

      Since then we always used the politically correct term, at least to their faces. I assumed the vampire lifestyle meant dressing in black, frequenting night clubs, listening to Goth music, and drinking Bloody Marys. Although I’d never been to a vampire club, I felt I understood something about their chosen lifestyle. Taking on an unusual persona gives you an entrée into a world that is glamorous and different from your own mundane life. You can easily recognize who belongs and who doesn’t. I can’t count the number of late-night, coffee-driven conversations I’ve had with other actors about how much different (and better) our world was compared to the nine-to-five one. Of course, I recanted those statements when I couldn’t make my car payments, but I still understood that need to feel special.

      “Will Lucy be joining us this morning?” Moravia’s breathy voice interrupted my reverie.

      Human Resources had already told us yesterday that until we had some definitive answer about Lucy’s whereabouts we were to simply say Lucy was “unavoidably delayed.”

      “Lucy was unavoidably delayed this morning,” Kimberley answered. “But Angie and I can’t wait to show you the great concepts we’ve prepared for you.”

      Moravia nodded and leaned back in her chair, giving me a view of the tops of her breasts, perfectly round and the size of small cantaloupes. Her cleavage could support a pencil upright. She bore a close resemblance to Elvira, Mistress of the Night, who appears in display ads (not ours) in liquor stores every Halloween. Her long black hair was parted in the middle and worn loose down her back. Her face was an artful display of all of her company’s wares, with translucent white skin, black-rimmed eyes that could give Cleopatra a run for her money, and juicy red lips. Moravia might have been plain if you caught her just out of the shower, but then you probably wouldn’t be looking at her face. The two were the perfect spokesmodels for their brand, and that was the pitch.

      Kimberley projected the first illustration, of Suleiman and Moravia in a red Ferrari convertible driving out of a Transylvanian-style castle on a mountain. Suleiman was smiling at Moravia while she laughed with her head thrown back, her hair blowing in the wind. Both were wearing sunglasses and had visible fangs. Moravia’s dress was classic Vampira, with jagged-edged sleeves, while they’d put Suleiman in a playboy smoking jacket. The caption under the picture read: “You’re going to live forever. Make sure you look good.” Below that the words “Macabre Factor Cosmetics” dripped down the page in a spidery Gothic font.

      The rest of the illustrations had the same combination of style and campy humor: the couple at a Hollywood-style party, toasting each other with glasses of red liquid; skiing down a mountain dressed in bright parkas, red lips sparkling against the snow; in the stands at the horse races, shielded from the sun in huge hats. Kimberley ran down the campaign logistics—the magazines, the websites and blogs, the rollout in select cosmetic and department stores—and I helped her the same way I helped Lucy, filling in relevant details and statistics.

      Finally it was over and we were silent. Now was the moment of truth.

      Chapter 2

      Neither Suleiman nor Moravia spoke for a long time. Finally Suleiman took a deep breath. “Well, you certainly made us look attractive. But I don’t think this quite gets at what we’re after. After all, it makes us look like we’re trying to join their society, instead of vice versa. I think people might be attracted a little more to the dark side. The seductive lure of the vampire, so to speak.”

      Moravia chimed in. “Yes, Sully’s right. We don’t really see our target audience as the debutante ball, Junior League types. Frankly, most of us don’t go skiing. Too much risk of sunburn.”

      I got up to close the projection screen, using the motions to cover my discomfort. How could Lucy have been working with these people for the last month and not know what they wanted? I consoled myself by thinking that if she had let me talk to them we wouldn’t be having this problem, but I knew that wasn’t necessarily true. Sometimes clients have to see a pitch to realize what they don’t want, and it helps them clarify their desires. It’s awkward, however, and a little embarrassing.

      Kimberley cleared her throat. “You know, I totally agree with you,” she said. “Angie and I were pushing for something a little more, uh, edgy, but Lucy felt sure you would love this. We’ve got some other great ideas for you, though, in that vein.” She giggled at her own joke.

      I kept my head down. Kimberley was now insulting Lucy in front of the clients. If Lucy caught wind of it when she came back I didn’t want her to think I’d been involved.

      Suleiman jumped in, his voice enthusiastic. “I think it would be a great idea if you both came to the club and soaked in the scene, met some of our friends. I bet some of them would even be willing to be part of the campaign. Why don’t you come tonight?”

      Moravia leaned across the table like she wanted to confide something. Her bosom threatened to pop out of her dress. “There’s just one thing. If Lucy comes back today, well, if you could possibly keep tonight’s date between us…It’s not that we don’t like Lucy, not at all, but we think you two deserve a chance with this.”

      Suleiman nodded. “We see how things are with her,” he said pointedly.

      There’s something we call account executive telepathy, which is a subtle form of body language we use to communicate around clients. I tried to silently ascertain what Kimberley thought of their proposition, but she seemed to have turned off her radar.

      “Well, we’ll certainly try to come,” I said, “if not tonight, then another time. We’ll just have to check our calendars. Why don’t you write down the address?”

      Suleiman pointed at Kimberley, who was stacking pens on a legal pad.

      “Ask Kimberley, she’s been there before.”

      Kimberley and I saw Suleiman and Moravia to the reception area. All the way back up in the elevator and down the hall I waited for Kimberley to speak. I’d already imagined the scenario—Kimberley’s tearful confession followed by my generous forgiveness. Lucy had kept us both on a short leash, but her absence had set us free. Kimberley had decided on a Machiavellian approach to career enhancement. I, on the other hand, had been raised by an Eagle Scout and a Sunday school teacher, and wasn’t capable of taking two newspapers out of the kiosk when I had only paid for one. If I were Kimberley I’d be riddled with guilt and waiting for the first opportunity to unburden myself. But Kimberley didn’t seem to feel any such obligation. When we reached her office she walked in without another word to me. Before the door had shut I followed her inside.

      “So you’ve been to the House of Usher before?” I asked. “What’s it like?”

      “I’m not sure.” She brushed a stray golden hair from her eye. “It was dark.”

      “When did

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