“It’s Gail, please,” my mom said, and if possible, she beamed even wider. “Or Mom, even.”

Ben was always telling me I had too much family. Even if it were just my parents, he’d probably still say it was too much family.

“Ready for the big day tomorrow, Ben?” Dad asked next.

Ben’s eyes went a little wide, and for a moment he seemed to be at a loss for words. As a lawyer, he recognized when he was being cross-examined. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he said, managing a thin smile.

“It’s going to be wonderful, ” Mom said.

Ben, his smile frozen, gave me a sideways glance that clearly pleaded, Say something, get me out of this.

Poor guy. “So,” I said brightly. “Any other big plans this weekend? Besides the stuff that’s all about me.”

She said, “We’re going shopping. I’m going to treat myself by spending too much money, and your father’s going to carry the bags.” Dad rolled his eyes, but he seemed just as happy at Mom’s good mood. “Do you have time to join us? I’d love to buy you something nice.”

Was it too late to ditch the whole show? “I’m afraid not. Maybe you could buy something nice for me anyway.”

“Maybe I will.”

And at that moment I was glad to be here, glad they’d decided to come, because it was so nice seeing Mom smiling, happy, and not thinking about being sick.

But tomorrow, somehow, some way, I was going to find time to sit by the pool with a froufrou drink. I might even miss my own wedding to do it.

I had to have makeup done. I sat in a chair while a nice woman made me look gorgeous. I had to wear nice clothes. Erica brought in a wardrobe person to dress me up: nice slacks, shoes with heels, a low-cut blouse in a photogenic shade of red. I was a different person when they all finished with me. I never had to worry about this kind of thing on the radio. I loved wearing jeans to work. I reminded myself to keep that in mind the next time I thought about doing something like this.

My stomach was roiling. I had done remote shows before. It was always a bit of an adventure, working with strangers and wondering if an unassuming glitch was going to derail the whole process. The trick was to keep plowing ahead like nothing was wrong. The minute you started acting, sounding, like something was wrong, the audience could hear it, and you’d lose them. They wanted confidence. Whatever went wrong, make it part of the show.

But I had never done this in front of an actual audience. This added a whole new level of anxiety. If—when—something went wrong, I wouldn’t be able to hide behind the microphone.

Ben stood backstage with me and held my hand. “Wow, you really are nervous.”

My palms were sweaty. I kept telling myself, I can do this. I was in control here.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’m thinking this is a little crazy. What if no one shows up?”

“Wait, are you worried that no one’s going to show up, or are you worried about doing this in front of a bunch of people?”

I whined a little. “I’m not sure.”

“You going to be okay?” What he meant was, was Wolf okay? Was I going to be able to keep it together? When I got nervous, scared, or felt trapped, the Wolf grew agitated. Harder to control, harder to keep inside. I had to stay in control, or she might come bursting out of my skin, a snarling werewolf onstage in front of a theater full of people.

That might make the morning papers. There was such a thing as bad publicity. I didn’t want to go there.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I squeezed his hand. That did make me feel better. “Thanks.”

I couldn’t stand it anymore. There were noises on the other side of the curtain. Crowd like noises. I had to look. Edging up to the curtain, I pulled it back a couple of inches and peered out.

The place was almost full. I spotted a few empty seats, and a few people wandering up and down the aisles. Their voices made a rumbling ocean of noise.

I quickly pulled back and ran into Ben. “Omigod. It’s full. The place is packed.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s great. It’s fabulous. I think I’m gonna die.”

He tried to give me a pep talk. “Haven’t you ever been onstage before? You seem like the kind of person who did a lot of theater in high school.”

Not that I wanted to be reminded. “I did one play. Annie Get Your Gun. I was a dancing Indian during the politically incorrect Indian song.”

He looked doubtful. “You played an Indian? Kitty, you’re blond.”

“I wore a wig made out of black yarn. It wasn’t a very ethnically diverse high school, okay?”

A woman wearing a headset, the stage manager, caught my attention. “You’re on in two minutes, Kitty.”

“Thanks.”

Another deep breath. But not too deep. I was about to start hyperventilating.

“So,” I said. “How many people do you think are out there with silver bullets in their guns waiting to take a shot at me?” Like Boris and Sylvia?

He gave me a look. “I wish you hadn’t said that.”

“Ha! I’m not being paranoid, you thought of it, too.”

He pressed his lips shut and didn’t say a word.

The stage manager gestured at me again. “It’s time.”

Deep breath. I mentally rehearsed my intro again, imagined myself walking out there and being brilliant. Not a problem.

Ben gave me a quick kiss. “Knock ’em dead.”

“Thanks.”

I walked out into the spotlight like I knew what I was doing.

Chapter 9

We’d been on for an hour and no one had taken a shot at me. Halfway there. I considered it a victory.

Nevada State Senator Harry Burger, the man sitting next to me on the stylish office chair we’d set up for my guests, was a classic western politician, complete with cowboy hat and boots, big silver belt buckle, and swagger to match. He could defend the Second Amendment and denounce Washington politics with the best of them.

He was explaining why he had introduced a bill to the state legislature creating a law that would ban psychics, vampires, and anyone else with supernatural abilities from Nevada casinos.

“Here in the great state of Nevada we take the security of our casinos—and our guests—very seriously. When cheaters win, everyone else loses, that’s our motto, so the gaming industry has worked hard making sure none of these people get ahead. This is just another brand of cheater, and we won’t tolerate it, no sir.”