“Why was it the hot mean girls always ran in packs, like hyenas?”

“Have I mentioned how hot Michael is? Hot, hot, hot. I mean, all guitar players are crushworthy - it's like it's issued with the talent - but I've been noticing lately that he is total Hottie McHottie of Hotland. Not that I could tell him that. Luckily, he is a boy. Hence, too dense to figure out why I'm staring at his ass.”

“Claire sighed. She supposed people always did like that sort of girl, and always would. And secretly? She envied Monica's confidence. Maybe just a little, traitorous bit.”

“We had this talk,” she said. “You may be dead sexy, and I mean, like, really dead and really sexy, but you don’t get to tell me what to do. Right? And no head-shrinker stuff, either, or I swear to God, I’ll pack my shit and move!”

“I heard this girl worked for Bishop,' said one of the guys, who had a tire iron resting on his shoulder. 'Carrying around his death warrants. Like one of those Nazi collaborators.' 'You heard wrong,' Shane said. 'She’s my girl. Now back off.' 'Let’s hear from her,' said the leader of the pack, and locked stares with Claire. 'So? You working for the vamps?'Shane sent her a quick, warning glance. Claire took in a deep breath and said, 'Absolutely.''Ah hell,' Shane breathed. 'Okay, then. Run.”

“Yeah, she was hot, all right, but I think she had the hots for you - kept saying how she saw you over at the Waterhouse last year and you were all, like, wow, amazing. It was like a menage a trois, only you weren't there, thank God.”

“I’m not a kid!” she told Shane hotly. “I’m only, like, a year younger than Eve!”“And girls are much more mature.” Eve nodded wisely. “So you’re about ten years older than Shane, then.”“Seriously,” Claire insisted. “I’m not a kid!”“Whatever you say, kid,” Shane said blandly. “Cheer up. Just means you don’t have to put up with me telling you how much sex I didn’t get.”“I’m telling Michael,” Eve warned.“About how much sex I didn’t get? Go ahead.”