“Mom?” I croaked into the cell phone. I cracked open an eye and rolled it toward the digital clock on my nightstand. “It’s barely 7 p.m.” “I’m sorry to wake you early from your undead sleep, Jessica, but I didn’t know who else to call.” “The police?” I suggested. What? I don’t like being jolted out of my vampiric sleep by crazy Mom phone calls. “Don’t be ridiculous!” Ugh. Grugh. Blurgh. “I’m not the one shooting love gods.” “Jessica!” “Sorry, Mom. Just gimme a sec to process.” “Jess? Everything okay, love?” My husband’s voice wound through the dark room like awesome music. You know, like Wham’s “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.” I reached out across the bed and stroked his shoulder. I had excellent night vision, so I saw the glint of his sex-me-up grin.
