Erika didn’t bother saying that Annabelle always came crying to her afterward. She never said, “I told you so,” even though she had been right every time: about the sleazy older man who’d said he was a record company executive and could get her gigs if she gave him what he wanted; about the pair of brothers who ended up getting busted for drugs (and it was a near thing, Erika thought, that Annabelle hadn’t gotten arrested with them); about the innumerable piano- or guitar- or sax-playing players who’d told her lies and written songs for her.
So they said, but Erika reflected with some cynicism that nothing was more recyclable than pop song lyrics, unless it was newspaper horoscopes. People looked for their own case in those vague words, and sure enough, found it. Whatever the hustle, Annabelle was the perfect mark. She was endlessly credulous, and stubborn in her delusion.
Six Sentence Sunday excerpts from Erika and the Vampire continue in the month of July. Look for more discussion and reviews of the New Vampire Story (the vampire genre post-Twilight).