Sookie Stackhouse Boxed Set (Books 1-8) - Charlaine Harris [163]
His gaze lingering on me until the last minute, Eric stepped through the door and Bill locked it behind him. “You think he’s listening outside?” I asked Bill, as he untied the sash of my robe.
“I don’t care,” Bill said, and bent his head to other things.
WHEN I GOT up, about one o’clock in the afternoon, the hotel had a silent feel to it. Of course, most of the guests were sleeping. Maids would not come into a room during the day. I had noted the security last night—vampire guards. The daytime would be different, since daytime guarding was what the guests were paying so heavily for. I called room service for the first time in my life and ordered breakfast. I was as hungry as a horse, since I hadn’t eaten last night at all. I was showered and wrapped up in my robe when the waiter knocked on the door, and after I’d made sure he was who he said he was, I let him in.
After my attempted abduction at the airport the day before, I wasn’t taking anything for granted. I held the pepper spray down by my side as the young man laid out the food and the coffeepot. If he took one step toward the door behind which Bill slept in his coffin, I would zap him. But this fellow, Arturo, had been well trained, and his eyes never even strayed toward the bedroom. He never looked directly at me, either. He was thinking about me, though, and I wished I’d put on a bra before I let him in.
When he’d gone—and as Bill had instructed me, I added a tip to the room ticket I signed—I ate everything he’d brought: sausage and pancakes and a bowl of melon balls. Oh gosh, it tasted good. The syrup was real maple syrup, and the fruit was just ripe enough. The sausage was wonderful. I was glad Bill wasn’t around to watch and make me feel uncomfortable. He didn’t really like to see me eat, and he hated it if I ate garlic.
I brushed my teeth and hair and got my makeup situated. It was time to prepare for my visit to the Fellowship Center. I sectioned my hair and pinned it up, and got the wig out of its box. It was short and brown and really undistinguished. I had thought Bill was nuts when he’d suggested I get a wig, and I still wondered why it had occurred to him I might need one, but I was glad to have it. I had a pair of glasses like Stan’s, serving the same camouflaging purpose, and I put them on. There was a little magnification in the bottom part, so I could legitimately claim they were reading glasses.
What did fanatics wear to go to a fanatic gathering place? In my limited experience, fanatics were usually conservative in dress, either because they were too preoccupied with other concerns to think about it or because they saw something evil in dressing stylishly. If I’d been at home I’d have run to Wal-Mart and been right on the money, but I was here in the expensive, windowless Silent Shores. However, Bill had told me to call the front desk for anything I needed. So I did.
“Front desk,” said a human who was trying to copy the smooth cool voice of an older vampire. “How may I help you?” I felt like telling him to give it up. Who wants an imitation when the real thing is under the roof?
“This is Sookie Stackhouse in three-fourteen. I need a long denim skirt, size eight, and a pastel flowered blouse or knit top, same size.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, after a longish pause. “When shall I have those for you?”
“Soon.” Gee, this was a lot of fun. “As a matter of fact, the sooner the better.” I was getting into this. I loved being on someone else’s expense account.
I watched the news while I waited. It was the typical news of any American city: traffic problems, zoning problems, homicide problems.
“A woman found dead last night in a hotel Dumpster has been identified,” said a newscaster, his voice appropriately grave. He bent down the corners of his mouth to show serious concern. “The body of twenty-one-year-old