Books to the Sky

Lunatic Cafe Recap, Pt. 1 of 2

Posted on: August 4, 2008

After a month or so off, writing an exceedingly silly fantasy parody epic for JulNoWriMo, I return with more Anita recap! This is the last book in the series I’ve actually read before; from here on it, they shall technically be Anita Blake caps, not recaps. I feel I should make a joke about hats and riotous masses of curls here, but it’s not quite coming to me.

Onward!

Our story opens two weeks before Christmas, which is apparently a slow time of year for raising the dead. Clearly, the irony crowd is not big in St. Louis; I bet those cynical New Yorkers amuse themselves by having zombie-raising orgies on Christmas Eve. But I digress. George Smitz has found his way to Anita’s office, and immediately we dive into Anita closely eyeing the man’s pecs and biceps; they are the kind of muscles you get from hard labor, not sissy gym muscles. Because, you see, the very muscle fibers form differently in the rarefied atmosphere of a gym – namely, more girly. Anyway, Smitz has filthy fingernails, and Anita has a mug with a drunken reindeer. Wow! We’re only on page two when Anita tells us that she’s wearing red, which as we all know, means that she just has to wear makeup or will look washed out. It’s a hard life, being a stunning brunette. I should know.

Smitz’s problem is that his wife is a missing lycanthrope butcher, which really is, as Anita notes, too perfect. I bet she rips those dead cows apart with her fingernails – nay, her teeth. He refuses to go to the cops for fear that fuzzy wife Peggy would lose her shop if her, ahem, condition were ever revealed. Anita reminds us that colleague Ronnie is her BFF, which apparently only women have. Don’t tell my male BFF this. Or my male Other Best Friend, for that matter. Women keep track of things, she declares, and men don’t. Right. It’s not like my father is the one who reminds me to write thank-you notes because I can never remember the damn things. That’s why only women are trusted to draw up complex military plans.

Ronnie says she’ll see Smitz at nine the next morning, and Anita is SHOCKED. What an early riser! No, Anita, actually, most of us who are employed in trades other than vampire execution and zombie raising have to be into work at nine OR EARLIER! Smitz insists on seeing Ronnie that night, and she accepts. Anita observes that she’s just hit a dry spell, and Ronnie counters that Anita has hit a wet spell. Ew, gross.

Anita is driving a shiny new Cherokee with enough room to carry goats in the back. She should go car-shopping with the Mafia, bet they could offer tips about storage. She mentions that she is freezing her patooties off, which leads me to wonder what patooties are. I always thought it was “patootie”, one of those silly words for ‘butt’. Does it means boobs in this context? Something involved in her wet spell? Never mind. She sees Richard through a window and reminds me that despite my recent foray into fantasy parody, she still pwns at exuberant description. Richard’s hair is brown (and wavy), but in sunlight, it gleams with strands of gold and hints of copper. Actually, this is the result of highlights he gets once a week at the kind of spa that won’t let you in when you’re wearing a gun, Anita.

He has permanently tanned skin and chocolate eyes, which leads Anita to believe that his ancestry is not purely Dutch, as his last name would suggest. Yaaaaaaawn. He didn’t wear his coat inside, which Anita thinks is typically Richard/lycanthrope. It’s typically everyone who can stand a few moments of cold in exchange for the convenience of not carrying around a coat – which is totally not me. I am such a cold wimp. Apparently he’s also French-braided his hair or something. How, um, nice.

Anita remarks that everytime she comes to the Fox, the theater where she’s about to see a musical, she sees something new. That’s because she’s too busy staring at asses most of the time, you see. Or in this case, comparing Richard’s laugh to Christmas pudding – which is strange because pudding on Christmas seems like an English thing, and English pudding is either biscuit- (Yorkshire) or sausage (blood, black)-like. What exactly is she saying here? His laugh is flaky, fattening and/or flesh-wrapped intestines?

Richard is surprised to learn that she always goes armed. Dude, what? I’m pretty sure that her ever-present weaponry, her riotous mass of curls, lust for nipples, and need to wear makeup with red shirts are her trademarks. And now we get a convoy of sentence fragments, which are supposed to sound edgy. “Enough for me to run like hell. To get away. To survive.” One sounds edgy. Three sounds like you don’t know when to quit, and there’s another in the next paragraph. The paragraph after that is actually, in its entirety, a sentence fragment.

Anita goes through the purse meme which recently circulated LJ, revealing that she has a suspicious amount of makeup for one who wears it only with one color of her wardrobe. I begin to suspect that she wears only red shirts these days, as an excuse to slather it on. She wears a fanny pack when not dressed up, which amuses me because both my parents do that when traveling. They sit down, and Anita mentions off-hand how she lusts after Richard. No seriously, she says she “lust[s] after his body something terrible.” To illustrate, she goes on about how much she loves the way he smells and contemplates molesting his neck in public.

After the show ends, they gaze at one another, Richard’s eyes gleaming with lust. I bet this means little hearts are floating around in his pupils. Anita first approves of Richard’s love of musicals, then disapproves because happily ever after doesn’t happen in real life. It’s a lie, she tells him, and has been since she was eight. Cue Painful Past. Hey, Anita is my age in this book!

Suddenly, Jean Claude appears out of nowhere, announced by “that nearly touchable laugh”. But wait, Christmas pudding sounds pretty touchable too. He tells Richard not to make promises (about not dying on Anita) that she can’t keep. JC is seximous, which is my new portmanteau of “sexy” and “ominous”. Anita spends a paragraph describing his outfit – old-fashioned tux, white shirt, cravat, spats – and another on his hair and eyes, which are the color of a really good sapphire.

Drinks, readers! Four on these two pages. JC has a voice “rich like cream”. I think Anita’s just hungry in this section. People start commenting on smelling each other’s desire, which squicks me out just a little. Another drink on the next page! JC is pissed that Anita asked Richard out on a date; remember, he lusts after her body AND magicks. I mean, mind. JC reveals that Richard’s entangled in some lycanthrope alpha struggle, which I vaguely remember is a major subject of this book. His rival is a dude named Marcus, who I bet is totally haaaawt. No longer gleaming with lust, Richard’s eyes are now glittering with anger. This means that little lightning bolts are flying around.

Another drink! Now Anita is mad because Richard doesn’t want her involved in his werewolf shit; not like she’s ever tried to protect anybody from scary stuff. Oh no. Anita threatens to break up with him if he doesn’t tell her everything, and much as I like to poke fun at her, I sympathize. If my sweetie had a contract out on his life, I’d like to know. I might run screaming in the opposite direction, but you have to know these things to know where to run screaming.

Three more drinks before the chapter finishes. Now JC’s laugh is like freshly laundered flannel. Geez, Anita, make up your mind. Anita tells JC that if he harms Richard, she’ll kill him. Not because she thinks so highly of Richie but because she hates JC so. Oh snap!

Anita calls Dolph, a cop who’s been paging her during that riveting confrontation, who tells her they need her help on a murder scene out in the middle of nowhere. Anita borrows a pen and goes on about the pen owner’s cashmere coat and the lady’s diamonds and the golden engraved pen and blah blah. She leaves, only to see a woman trying to hide under a streetlight, which makes complete sense. Butter yellow hair, thick with waves, down to her waist, too much makeup. Prostie, you ask? No, just a vampire. Remember, the seximous people are almost always vampires. Or werewolves.

Seximous Blonde throws a spell at her, which beats along her skin like tiny clubs. Anita pulls her gun, and just then, a cop wanders by and orders the crazy lady to put her gun away. She gets frisked and thinks sadly that it wasn’t very thorough. Anita really needs to get some action. Seximous Blonde Jedi mind tricks the cop into leaving them alone, but while he’s wearing his crosses, all she can do is freeze him in place. Seximous Blonde tells Anita to leave JC alone, and Anita explains that she wish that she could, but she is just too gosh darned haaaawt for her own good. Seximous Blonde, Gretchen, persists in threatening Anita if she comes near JC. Does it count if JC shows up on her dates with other people? Just then, JC appears and tells Gretch that he doesn’t love her. She turns sad and ugly, and I get two more drinks. JC apologizes and disappears into the night.

As she travels to meet the police, Anita ponders the socio-demographic state of the neighborhood, something about dead-eyed children shooting each other. Old houses, Chrysler plant, fast food, and something called the Maritz building that “gets your attention like an overly aggressive date.” Superfluous description actually feels much the same, come to think of it. The Ozark Mountains (do they really go as far north as St. Louis? I am skeptical) like sleeping giants, naked trees, limestone cliffs, neat farmhouses, empty corrals, a lone horse, more socio-demographic pondering, a car like a crumpled flower crashed into a pole… and she arrives.

No wait, we’re not done with description yet. Annual snowfall of St. Louis and surrounding areas, boots v. jogging shoes, more naked trees, a plaque with raised metal letters, a gate, branches scraping down her new paint job, her protectiveness of her new paint job gone all to hell. Oh lord, it just doesn’t stop. A large meadow, weeds, siren flashes, traces of a lawn mower, another farmhouse, lots of cars, sheriff with a Smokey Bear hat who thinks being tall makes him tough. High heels and snow do not mix, she informs us. The deputy sheriff tries to kick her out, and apparently Dolph didn’t warn this giant asshole that she was coming. That’s some nice procedure from Missouri’s finest. As she’s trying to play it cool, she slips in the snow and falls on her ass. They play Ring Around the Rosie with her Jeep and engage in pointlessly hostile banter, which ends when he draws his Magnum. Classy. Anita yells for Dolph and Zerbowski.

She goes on about hats while a Detective Perry walks toward Deputy Crazypants and Anita. Anita hints that Detective Perry has a Mysterious Past in addition to a nice hat. As Perry talks Crazypants off his Crazyledge, the deputy turns his back on Anita, which hurts her feelings. Perry suggests that maybe the deputy shouldn’t go around shooting civilians, but Crazypants declares that he doesn’t take orders from “no nigger detective”. I gasp. He calls Anita a bitch, too, which is somewhat less shocking. Crazypants had apparently turned back to Anita, because now he whirls back to Perry, and Anita draws her gun as he does so. The tension mounts!

People tell Anita to put the gun down, but Crazypants declares that he doesn’t need “no nigger detective” protecting him. Double negative PLUS racist epithet. This cracker ain’t no good news. A big guy enters the scene and tells Crazypants to put his gun down. He is a round sausage man with grey stubble and tiny eyes in a doughy face. Anita needs her some breakfast, I think. Crazypants begins to whine about “this nigger”, but Sheriff Sausageface tells him they don’t hold with that kind of talk. Bet he doesn’t remind him of that quite as often when there are no big city detectives hanging around. Just sayin’.

Sausageface calls Anita “miss”, which cracks me up. It pisses her off, and she refuses to put her gun away. His beady eyes lose their shine and become angry – more lightning bolts. Dolph repeats the request that she put her gun away and she does. This scene is a little boring, now that no more guns are out. They talk about what happened, while Crazypants grips his gun (is that euphemism?) and glares at them. Sheriff Sausageface tells him to stop that, which makes me think it might be a euphemism. There’s a female cop here too, who looks like a cute little pixie. Precious.

There’s also a police chief – how much brass does this scene require? – who looks like Sean Connery, after whom Anita lusts. In his old man state (not that I wholly blame her). There’s talk of turf or something, and my eyes glaze over. The female cop is named Holmes. Sausageface bitches for awhile, then laughs when he finds out that Anita is the legendary Anita Blake. Guess she’s bigger on TV. She remarks that they “have licked enough jurisdictional butt for one night”, which gives me a horrible image of Scalia’s naked ass, for some reason.

The intern comes around with coffee. Oh wait, he’s the caretaker at this fine estate, who’s studying for his doctorate. Crazypants mocks him for it, and Sausageface declares that he doesn’t need no college degree to know a bear attack when he sees one. Maybe not, but these guys could do with a healthy dose of Strunk & White. Dr. Caretaker points out that there’s never been a bear attack in the area, which is admittedly hilarious. Dolph cleverly tricks Sausageface into letting Anita near the body. She exchanges her heels for tennis shoes and puts on coveralls. Right, it wouldn’t have made any sense to do that earlier.

Anita doesn’t break any land speed records to get to the body, and Sausageface taunts her. Then she falls on her ass again and slides down a slope to land at the body. It’s a dude, with a half crushed face, his throat torn out, and a ripped-up stomach. His organs are MIA, and Anita guesses it was teeth that wrought this damage, much bigger than human (or ghoul, vampire or zombie) teeth. As she noted earlier, Sausagefest did a shitty job securing the scene, and the only tracks she sees are shoe tracks. She rules out dragons, gargoyles, and trolls, then realizes what I suspect as soon as I saw the word “teeth” – lycanthropes! Sure enough, she finds some fresh scars on a tree, where she suspect the lycanthrope was lurking. Being out of her element with the shapeshifters, she is monumentally useless.

She asks Sausageface why he thinks he’s a bear, and when she says, “You are a pain in the ass,” he doubles over laughing and calls her a laugh a minute. Clearly, people in St. Louis have a different, perhaps masochistic, sense of humor than I. But he believes her, and they part ways, after she thinks something about “the frozen heart of eternal night” being 2 am in December. It sounds more like the next installment of my fantasy parody epic, but that’s not important here. They take casts of lycanthrope tracks. Were-reporter Irving shows up as she’s getting home, and she makes girly coffee for them. Irving reveals that fuzzy wuzzy Richie fought alpha Marcus once and could have won but chose not to kill him. He’s telling her this, it seems, because Marcus wants to meet Anita. I predict this going off without a hitch. Marcus is apparently a big fancy surgeon, but Richie has forbidden anyone in the pack from contacting Anita. Oh Richie, what series have you been reading??

Anita agrees to meet Marcus – that night, after some skilled guilt tripping from Were-reporter – in exchange for Were-reporter being her guide to the fuzzy world. Anita changes from her fancy date clothes into a more casual ensemble… which includes a red polo shirt! I was right! But she wears a green sweater over it to hide the back-up gun. They argue over who’s driving and finally they get to this meeting at the Lunatic Café at what must be an ungodly hour at this point. Were-reporter is quiet, and Anita decides she doesn’t like Marcus.

This time, someone laughs “high and bright like a hand rising from the noise.” The bartender/owner Raina is seximous lycanthrope – tall, auburn locks, pixie face, amber eyes, etc. Anita realizes that most of the crowd are shapeshifters. Gasp! Raina gives us a laugh which makes her eyes and body look even more seximous – and she’s the alpha female, quite the imaginative sadist. Another seximous woman, this one Anita’s height, dainty, short hair like black lace (weren’t JC’s eyelashes like black lace in the previous volume?). They go somewhere, and suddenly Raina decides to smut herself up some more; this is her real form, you see, while she keeps her other form (which Anita thinks looks like this form’s sister) in case she has to do something bad. Um, most people put a little more effort into their disguises, at least dyeing their hair and shit. She stands around “cradling her breasts,” which makes me think of her singing lullabys and cooing to her boobs.

There’s a platform with two dudes on it. One is big ol bodyguard with skintight jeans and manly chest hair showing from under his shirt, and Anita proclaims him badass. The other guy is shorter, with “that funny shade of blond [hair] that has brown highlights in it but still manages to be blond.” Okay, sure. Square jaw, dimple, thin lips, pale blue suit. This is Marcus of course, who moves “in a cloud of his own vitality.” Isn’t that the latest CK fragrance? Alfred is the name of the bodyguard. Marcus is impressed that Anita can see their auras, but I’m pretty sure anyone would be suspicious of the violent intentions of a six foot something dude wearing all black.

Raina is threatening, and her voice purrs around the edges. Right. She tries to engage Anita in some girl talk, but we know that Anita is as pure as the driven snow. Marcus looks older up close, which means he doesn’t do the body enhancement Raina does to make himself seximous. People threaten one another. Marcus admires Anita’s cleverness and bravery somewhere during this morass of hostility, and finally we get to the body search. Again, not a very thorough one, but this time Anita’s glad about it.

Everyone sits, and another sexy woman enters – not seximous because she’s wearing a pinkish skirt and a blousy tie. People start pouring in, including Rafael the Rat King, who is Mexican seximous, which means he’s dark and arrogant with sensuous lips. There’s a guy in white and pink, and another man even more seximous than Rafael – not only does he have the lips, but he has leather boots, leather pants, a muscle shirt, leather straps and spikes, and a black coat. Do I sense some oncoming S&M? Sure enough, the woman next to him is wearing matching black leather. There’s some more hostility, and Alfred grabs Anita by her throat. This meeting is off to a great start. She pulls her gun when he reluctantly releases her, and there’s another round of threats. Good lord. She shoots, she scores! Marcus now believes that she doesn’t bluff, how sweet.

LeatherMan Gabriel gives her a look that was “pure fucking”. She blushes, as a dead body bleeds between them. Leatherchick observes that Anita’s not so tough without her gun, to which she basically replies, “No shit Sherlock,” (her answer is longer and unfortunately less snarky) and I’m with her. Hanging out with weres, she needs some advantage. Everyone’s either licking or wishing to lick the dead body, which is kinda gross. Anita knows well enough to try to slip away just now. The dude in pink and white, Kaspar (the friendly were-ghost!) slips out with her, as does Wererat Rafe. The weres are getting riled up by all the blood, and Rafe’s eyes go pure black. Oh noes, the black oil aliens have infiltrated St. Louis!

Some dude with light blue eyes comes crawling up to Anita, and she reasonably enough puts her gun to his forehead. He nuzzles her stomach, but she’s not actually worried till he bites her. The great pissing contest that has been this meeting continues, but Rafe saves us from another corpse by offering his own blood to this Jason fellow who doesn’t quite grasp the concept of personal boundaries and not eating people we don’t know. Jason throws Anita aside. Turns out Kaspar is a wereswan (awesome!) and can’t do much for these shapeshifters who are suddenly hungry for some chesty size six human. Marcus gives her a folder as she gets the hell outta Dodge and sends her off with Kaspar. Rafe reverts to rat form, and Kaspar and Anita escape to a soundproof room. This is the weirdest fucking meeting ever.

Anita feels an overwhelming urge to touch Kaspar’s hair, which he graciously allows. They go back out the dining room, and Kaspar gives Anita his business card. He sells antiques, which seems oddly suitable for a wereswan who wears pink. And… gasp! Edward is at the bar! He’s the winter-eyed sociopath assassin, you may recall. She keeps moving and finally gets to bed.

But she doesn’t go to sleep; she curls up with her favorite penguin (damn her for collecting the same stuffed animals that I do!) and reads the folder Marcus gave her. I’m a bit insulted that she feels the need to tell the audience that Peggy is a (admittedly inexplicable) nickname for Margaret. It’s the list of disappeared lycanthropes and people Marcus thinks she should talk to – the list of which somehow makes him a controlling little bastard. Right, it makes much more sense for her to wander around St. Louis and asking everyone on the street if they know what happened to this folks. Then she calls Eddie to ask what he was doing in town, and he promptly returns her call. He saw her and the folder and asks her to come by his room to see if he can identify the shapeshifter he’s on assignment to kill. It takes two pages of dialogue to explicate this. She wonders why Edward wants to share his info, has a nightmare about the corpse calling to her, and wakes up to go Christmas shopping.

She thinks about her awkward relationship with her stepmother, for which I can’t really blame her. Anita’s stepmother wants her to be the perfect feminine daughter (who wears makeup with EVERY color top, I presume), and mine wants to me to be… not there. Ronnie is a tall, well dressed blonde, and of course, she totally had to twist Anita’s arm to get her into a short blue skirt, a jacket the color of JC’s eyes, a matching shirt, and black pumps. Anita gazes at Ronnie’s gray eyes (seriously) and then they talk about Richie, Anita’s nephew (who’s totally not into clothes and thus takes after Anita, who never describes her clothing in excrutiating detail), and JC. I almost laugh out loud when Anita refuses to discuss her problems with Richie because she’s mad at him for refusing to discuss his problems with her. Ronnie reminds her that she has to buy a present for Anita, and she angsts that maybe deep down inside, she’s looking for an excuse to dump Richie.

Anita then has an appointment at her office with one Ms. Elvira Drew, whose fingertips glint like abalone shell, colorless until the light hit it. Shimmery blue green dress, long elegant blonde hair, near invisible make up, blue green eyes, blah blah. Anita likes her for leaving her hair down but worries what the effect of her smile would be on poor weak menfolk. Ms. Blue Green Drew wants info on a wererat for her Book o’ Weres, and Anita politely excuses herself to bitch out her boss, who assured Ms. Blue Green that Anita could help her rat out (ba-boom chh!) her friends.

Bert, the boss, also has grey eyes, but they’re small and the color of dirty window glass. He’s a former football player, white hair, pale skin, blah blah. He’s in the office with Kaspar! Anita has barged in, of course, and demands to speak with Bert. Bert tells her to do it, she refuses, she tells him to clear her clients with her first, he agrees and tells her that Kaspar’s there to engage her zombie services to raise some family. She damns him, then he gets pissy about her wearing a gun. Bert, meet Anita.

She goes back to her office, tells Ms. Blue Green she may be able to help, then calls Kaspar in. He tells her Marcus wants to apologize with a wad of cash, but she remains hostile. Still, she’s going to help Marcus with the shapeshifter disappearances. Anita stares at Kaspar’s feathery eyebrows, and they chat about Marcus’s ambitions to be world despot. Richie calls and sounds angry and insists they meet somewhere to talk – private because there will probably be yelling. She hangs up, afraid about the fight they’re going to have. Kaspar and Anita chit chat some more about Marcus being a jerk and about Kaspar being Marcus’s little swan minion. Kaspar gets teary-eyed – or rather, raw-pain-eyed – talking about his wereswan curse and says that fairy tales are pretty gruesome. This is true.

Anita gets back to her apartment and nearly draws on her old neighbor lady and her Pomeranian. Richie appears then, his hair “a mass of rich brown waves”, which sounds more like chocolate ripple ice cream than anything else. The dog goes nuts around Richie, but old neighbor lady wubs him. He has Chinese, and they set out dinner and make a little exceedingly awkward small talk – in the dark, weirdly enough. Then the fight begins! Why didn’t you tell me, he didn’t want to involve her like JC did with Nikolaos (who admittedly almost killed her), he gets pissy at her gun, he’s mad at her for killing Alfred (the bodyguard), she tried to warn him, everyone’s talking about her, he’s scared for her, she can handle herself, Alfred was a bully, Richie may or may not have hurt Were-reporter, she threatens to shoot – but only wound – him, he admits that he didn’t hurt ol’ Irv, he’s amazed that she would choose Irv over him, nothing’s fair, Richie is convinced Marcus wouldn’t kill him, Anita begs to differ, Riche just wants to know if she thinks he’s a monster. His eyes brim with sincerity. Anita answers no, he’s not a monster, he asks why she hasn’t touched him, she reasonably enough replies that they were mad at each other and she doesn’t know if they’re still mad, but he best not hide stuff from her anymore. He makes her promise not to kill Marcus, and she agrees – unless he attacks her, Richie, or a civvie. Riche is shocked at how casually he could kill Marcus and Alfie but he still wants to hold her. She flashes back to all the blood of the night before, then they make out. She straddles him, he takes his shirt off, she takes off her gun (bow chicka bow wow), but when he touches her back, she decides they’ve gone far enough.

And now we hear the story of Anita’s Disappointed Love. Back in college, she dated this guy and got engaged to him. They had sex, and he ran away. His family didn’t approve, you see, of her Mexican heritage, and she was heartbroken. So she promised herself she would never have pre-marital sex again because no one ever falls in love until genital contact occurs. Richie reacts by proposing to her, and though she should say no, she accepts. Still not sex, though. This really doesn’t seem like the right incentive for a proposal, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

She shows up late to Eddie’s hotel room after her zombie raising, smeared in chicken blood. As room services brings up Eddie’s steak and wine, she washes her face and angsts over being engaged again. There are exactly six sentences fragments in two paragraphs, and I begin to go mad. Eddie placed two orders of steak, which really is suspiciously caring of him. He even knows that she likes her steak well done (blech, Anita). WTF? That is some quality stalking. Eddie flips on the film he wanted to show Anita, and it’s a porn flick. The dude of the sexing pair is the late Alfie! Alfie leaves, and a masked man takes his place, though he’s more draped atop her than actually inside her, it seems. His skin starts rippling, then it splits along his spine. Goo spills over him, fur sprouts all over him, and then the were-leopard nips the woman. Alfie returns, kisses the woman, and then he changes. The leopard rolls away, and then werewolf Alfie fucks her but good. She makes convincing orgasm noises until Alfie tears her to ribbons. The leopard cleans up, and they both chow down.

Anita delivers what is probably the best line of this book, possibly of the series. “If you eat that [Eddie’s very rare steak] right now, I will throw up on you.” I applaud.

Eddie is sociopathically calm afterward. He got it from the woman’s father (gross) who hired him to kill the shapeshifters therein. He offers her half the fee for having killed Alfie, and she refuses to divulge the details of last night because she doesn’t want to help him assassinate the were-leopard. But she will look into identifying him. When Richie doesn’t answer at home, she calls the Lunatic Café and demands to speak to Richie. When the woman on the phone hears that it’s the world famous, chesty Anita Blake, she runs to get Richie. She tells him to hurry over to Eddie’s room and he busts her ass for having threatened the woman on the phone. Richie tells her to knock it off because apparently she’s a rogue dominant lycanthrope – so when she makes threats, people believe them and quiver in their excruciatingly fashionable shoes. Richie demands she apologize to were-Polly, which is a pretty funny idea.

Eddie is rightfully amused, and when he laughs, a shimmering glow darker than humor spreads across his face and glitters in his eyes. That may be the plutonium-enhanced body lotion he uses. He starts talking, and suddenly his eyes go cool and distant. That’s another side effect of radioactive body cream, I hear. He goes a little creepy on her, sizing her up for a good old-fashioned duel to the death, but he assures her that he was just curious and wouldn’t actually kill her just for fun. For profit, yes. Eddie admits that he might have ordered steak just to see if she could eat after the flick, which is endearingly sociopathic. She goes to hide in the bathroom, and Richie follows her. When she tells Richie it’s porn, he gets jealous, and Anita LOLs. But he already knows about this lycanthrope/human smut ring – which he refused to participate in, natch. She reveals that it’s a snuff film, and he is shocked. SHOCKED. Has he met Marcus or Raina?? Alfie was in it, and he is even more shocked.

‘Richard stiffened at the first image,’ the prose reads, and I LOL. Oh dear. Anita gets up to sit by Eddie because the thought of seeing this whilst in close proximity to her were-sweetie is a bit much. Richie sees Anita watching him and tells her not to watch him. He’s sweating, and his eyes are bright. I can see why’d say that. He turns to look at her, and there is rage and hatred on her face, but not directly toward her. When the woman dies, the rage blossoms on his face (again?), and he wails and falls to the floor. POR QUE!?!?!

When the feasting begins, he runs to bathroom and is sick in the toilet. Guess Anita won that round. Eddie admires her speed with her gun and compliments her, blah blah. She asks if she can enter the bathroom, and he admits her. He’s huddled over the toilet like a frat boy on a Sunday morning and jerks away when Anita goes to touch him. He’s SHOCKED still and insists that Marcus couldn’t have known about this. Please. She reaches again to touch him, and he screams at her. You see, he wants her haaaawt bod after the seeing the pre-murder part of the flick. There’s a heat to him that has nothing to do with horror, he tells her to imagine how it would be to make love with his power crawling over her while he was inside her. Way to woo a girl. He offers her his hand, and after some angst, she takes hit. His skin is burning hot, his licks her wrist, and leaves. Eddie’s just hanging out, and Richie departs after promising to speak to Marcus about this snuff ring.

And there the recap finishes! We’re at page 154, beginning chapter 20. The second half should be up by the end of the week!

Now I must away to catch up on my co-blogger’s posts!

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1 Response to "Lunatic Cafe Recap, Pt. 1 of 2"

Heh, “seximous.”

I’m a nerd, so I fact checked. The Ozarks do not, in fact, reach St. Louis; the upper reaches are still quite a few miles away. You’d know better than I how realistic Anita Blake’s St. Louis is… although there are vampires and werewolves, so I guess all bets are off.

Considering where this series ends up going, Chaste Anita is pretty funny.

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Books to the ceiling,
Books to the sky,
My pile of books is a mile high.
How I love them! How I need them!
I'll have a long beard by the time I read them.
--Arnold Lobel

From the moment I picked up your book until I laid it down, I was convulsed with laughter. Some day I intend reading it.
--Groucho Marx

Interested in writing for us?

We're looking for a few more people as devoted to guilty-pleasure reading as we are! Email bookssky (at) fshk (dot) net!
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