Disclaimer: Most characters belong to Charlaine Harris. Yvetta Not-A-Cardiologist belongs to Alan Ball.

SVM Timeline: Bill * nirvana * Machu Picchu * Peru * glorious

By the time we got back to the El Dorado, the final coordination meeting was already in progress. As Amelia and I stood in the lobby, I could tell she was torn between feeling concerned for me—about my Bill revelation; excitement over her "date" with Tray; and anxiety at spending the weekend with her father. Amazingly, I couldn't detect anything to indicate she was at all frightened about what the gala might bring, despite her insider's awareness of the lingering threats.

"You going to be all right?" Amelia looked up, her blue eyes on mine. She was adding her cell phone number to my phone. "Call me if you need to talk."

"Yeah," I nodded, forcing a smile. "I'll be fine. Thank you." I let out a breath. "We were already broken up, anyway."

She nodded, but I could still see worry reflecting in her eyes.

Wanting to change the subject, I thought I'd ask about her dress dilemma. I didn't have anything but I thought Pam might have something for her to wear.

"Do you still need something to wear to the gala?" She shot me a puzzled look. "Your cat? The hairball?"

Amelia emitted a delighted peel of laughter. "Sookie, I'm gonna let you in on a secret. Bob is actually a friend of mine." A tinge rose on her cheeks indicating Bob was likely more than just a friend. "My dad stopped by my place unexpectedly one morning and Bob freaked 'cos he's afraid of big bad Copley Carmichael. So Bob wouldn't have to face my dad, I changed him into a cat." Although she shrugged as if such a feat was a commonplace occurrence, Amelia's eyes belied her pride. "The end result is my dad thinks I have a cat—which comes in handy when I want to shop for new clothes or I need to explain why I'm not wearing any of the ugly stuff he buys for me."

"Oh!" You could've knocked me over with a feather. Or a cat toy. Or maybe a clove of catnip. "Is Bob okay? You changed him back?"

"Oh, yeah," Amelia nodded. "Of course. It's just…things haven't been the same since. I mean…" she grimaced. "Even before I did the transformation spell, the whole being scared of my dad thing? I mean—what a pussy, you know?"

Knowing fully well she meant Bob's pre-transformation state, I drew my lips into a tight line and nodded a silent assent. Staring blankly ahead of her, it was obvious from Amelia's smile when she refocused her eyes on mine that more pleasant thoughts were now occupying her mind.

"Tray, now," she said with a grin. "I can't see him being afraid of Cope. I can't see him being afraid of anything. Can you?"

I had to agree with her on that. It took a lot to instill fear in Weres and shifters.

"What is he, anyway?"

"A Were."

Amelia's smile got wider at that and I instructed myself not to think too much on it.

"Well, I'd better check in," I told her. "I'll see you and Tray at the gala."

After a final hug goodbye, Amelia and I went our separate ways.

A few minutes later, I saw that Carol, one of the room attendants, was filling in at the front desk. I figured that meant Christian was sitting in at the coordination meeting. If Christian was already attending the meeting, did that mean I still had to go? If it felt like your heart was splitting in two, was that a good enough reason to miss a meeting? Or did that kind of behavior gain me membership into the Simpering Miss Club? I knew Adele Stackhouse had not raised me to be a simpering miss.

While the afternoon spent watching my new friend Amelia cast protective wards had been an excellent diversion, I now found myself left to my own devices. With no more distractions, it was just me and my newfound knowledge about Bill.

I tried to convince myself that I'd already cast Bill Compton out of my life. Whatever suspicions I had about him now—wondering if he had some kind of perverse hidden agenda for seeking me out —didn't matter.

I already despised him for his betrayal. I was already sorry I'd lost my virginity to someone who in the end had proven themselves so unworthy of my love. I'd sunk to so many new lows on account of him. I'd even killed for him.

If I found out that he had never loved me, and all I had ever been to him was a task assigned by the Queen of Louisiana, did this ultimately change anything?

I kept trying to tell myself No. I kept trying to tell myself it was in the past. I didn't need to think about it. I didn't have to let it hurt me. I didn't have to let Bill Compton hurt me. Again.

But somehow I wasn't doing a very good job convincing myself.

I've always been good at throwing myself into whatever task I had before me. It seemed like I was forever putting off thinking about things until a better time presented itself. As for considering this particular revelation, I couldn't imagine a worse time for it to come to light.

Given what the night still held for me—the gala, bomb plots, witches, Weres, fairies, and keeping people I cared about safe—I really didn't have time to devote to thinking about Bill Compton.

I might fall apart if I dwelled on it too long.

I seriously did not have time to fall apart.

Besides, if Oprah, Jerry Springer and Ellen were to be believed, America was a revolving door of really messed up people coming out of horribly twisted relationships. As far as I could tell, those people all continued to work. We didn't have to shut down the economy because everyone was just too emotionally distraught over bad break-ups to go to work. Sure, maybe those workers, once at work, made poor decisions that resulted in the tanking of the economy or the toxic contamination of the Gulf of Mexico, but at least they continued to work. It was the American way. Right?

Not sure if my little self-pep talk left me feeling any better, I decided to just attend the meeting. Since I was there, and I was still collecting a paycheck, I made my way to the casino. I reasoned with myself that I'd just feel better knowing the status of everything as the gala was only a few hours away. Just confirming who was still around—Jake, Quinn, Frannie—would be a worthwhile exercise.

As I pushed open the door to the casino, everyone glanced up at the sound. Conducting a visual survey around the table, I was relieved to see everyone was there. Well, everyone but Indira and Connie the Corpse since it was still too early for vamps. Quinn halted mid-sentence to give me a nod of acknowledgment, while Christian, smiling, raised his hand and waved. The 180 degree change in my previously stiff-lipped Swiss colleague continued to amuse me.

Scanning the room as I made my way to the center table, I saw that protective covers and tablecloths were being placed on the game tables so that the tabletops wouldn't sustain any damage. (Of course, if a vampire battle was going to happen later, all bets were off on the effectiveness of the tablecloths.) Someone had seen to the floral centerpieces, including the "water" filled hurricanes complete with the floating candles. The candles, of course, had not yet been lit.

Several long buffet tables had been placed lining the interior space in front of the east wall and west wall slot machines. A temporary stage had been placed at the front of the room, slightly out from the casino's north wall.

The crystal chandeliers were on and the room was aglow in light. I knew from previous meetings that later that night, both the chandeliers and the higher built-in ceiling lights would be dimmed. Special stage lighting had been set up by the stage.

Upon my arrival at the meeting table, Julia, the owner of The Vintage, smiled at me and gestured invitingly to an empty seat. Sending a silent smile of thanks to the older woman, I settled myself onto the seat beside her and attempted to pay attention to the discussion already in progress.

"So, the final head count is in?" Quinn was apparently posing this question to me but at my startled look, he redirected it to Christian.

"Yes, yes," Christian nodded. "I have the updated list." Christian began to distribute copies of the guest list.

Looking at it, I eyeballed the 'Type' column where a 'H' or 'V' indicated if a guest was human (or mostly human, in the case of shifters and Weres) or vampire. Eric and Pam, of course, were on the list as were a number of other Area Five vamps. It seemed the list of Area Five vamps attending was different from the original list and I figured it was due to the fact that somebody had to stay home and watch the fort. Or watch the witch. Clancy was no longer on the list. Indira, I knew, was overseeing the blood supply for the gala. Thalia, Maxwell, and Chow were the other Area Five vamps on the list.

The Louisiana vampires included the Vampire Queen of Louisiana, Sophie-Anne LeClerq. In addition to Sophie-Anne there were three other vamps coming in from New Orleans: Andre Paul, Sigebert, and Wybert.

The Arkansas vamps included Jennifer Catar, Peter Threadgill, Jade Flower, and Henrik Feith. Their total number was six, not four. Someone—it must have been Christian or Carol since I knew it hadn't been me—had jotted '+2' in the margin. Curious, I raised my hand.

"Yes, Michele?" Christian nodded for me to speak.

"What's the '+2' mean on the Arkansas party?"

"Apparently there was a miscommunication. The total contingent from Arkansas is six but we do not have names on the additional two."

No names? That sounded like a red flag to me. How would they not know who was coming? Unless they decided at the last minute to bring reinforcement for some reason? Needed bodyguards? Definitely food for thought…

That reminded me that Eric said he would ask the Queen of Louisiana about Jennifer Catar's interest in Area Five. I wondered if he'd ever gotten around to doing that.

Russell Edgington, the King of Mississippi, was not attending. Having seen Russell in action, I couldn't help but be amused. Being the vampire Hugh Hefner certainly had its perks. The man's day-to-day life in his Jackson compound was probably so much fun, it took something really important to drag him away. At least there was one group of vamps I wouldn't have to spend the night dodging and praying they didn't recognize me.

The Texas vampires, on the other hand, were attending. Stan Davis, Joseph Velasquez, and a vampire I didn't know named "Rachel" were listed as coming. Forcing back a snort, I realized Eric would be forced to acknowledge his 'Leif' alter ego after all…

Franklin Mott, who I had met in Mississippi, was also attending. OSM. Next to his name was Tara Thornton's. Her name hadn't been on the list because she was Franklin's '+ 1.' It hadn't even occurred to me that my friend Tara might attend this event. Shit. Someone else I'd need to keep my eye on.

Glancing up, I realized Todd Donati was speaking.

"So we're keeping our eyes open for the two disgruntled former staffers and we have special instructions on how to deal with them."

Oops. Totally missed what he said. Dipping into his head, I saw that he was referring to Marnie (who he knew was dead but we were still pretending wasn't) and Irena/Yvetta (who he knew had never actually been an employee of the El Dorado but had been a dancer at Fangtasia). I also saw that the "special instructions" were to use force and let the vamps deal with any police investigation. I also saw that Donati, while disturbed about his evolving role as head of security, understood that, with supes, the rules were different.

Ain't that the truth.

The remaining ten minutes were spent reviewing the gala timeline. The program was scheduled to start at nine, while doors would open for the cocktail hour at eight. According to Ray, the servers from The Vintage would start setting up the food on the buffet tables at seven-thirty. The casino bartenders would be tending the bars starting at seven forty-five. E(E)E would finish setting up the room, including the tables, lighting, and stage equipment, by six-thirty. Jake would light the candles on the tables right before nine o'clock. I cut my eyes to Jake. The Were seemed completely at ease with his role of lighting the candles.

Eric and I had never come to a satisfactory conclusion on exactly how the explosives were to be detonated. Since Jake seemed so calm with the idea of lighting the candles, I could only surmise that lighting the candles had never been the trigger. (Since we'd swapped out the explosive material for some benign gelatinous goo, we were confident that, regardless of the trigger, there wouldn't be any explosions.)

Looking at the centerpiece on the table before me, I extended my arm out and casually lifted the glass hurricane. Lifting it to my nose, I pretended to sniff the candle, while I slipped my fingers to the underside of the glass. Feeling around, I detected a small, square raised pattern stuck to the bottom of the glass. It was a tiny computerized RFID chip. Tada! Our detonation trigger.

"What are you doing?" All of a sudden, Jake Purifoy's voice, cold and angry, rang out above the others.

"Just sniffing the candle. I wondered if they were scented." I replaced the hurricane back to its spot in the centerpiece.

"No, no," Jake snarled, giving me a suspicious look. "They're not scented. If you wanted scented, you should have said something to Rafe weeks ago." Apparently, his reaction was so unlike him, several of his colleagues took notice.

"You okay, Jake?" asked Quinn.

Realizing how out-of-character he sounded, Jake let out a loud sigh.

"Yeah, yeah." He brought his eyes to Quinn's before turning to give me an apologetic look. "Tired. Job's been a long one. Anxious to get home."

Without another word, the subject was dropped and we resumed the meeting.

Frannie handed out copies of the evening's program booklet. Opening the booklet, I was certain my eyes showed the surprise I felt as I saw the evening's agenda included a speech from everyone's favorite vampire sheriff/bar owner. I fought back a snicker.

Greetings: John Quinn

Introduction of Keynote Speaker – His Honor Garrick D. Clover, the Mayor of Shreveport

Keynote Speaker - Aileen Arsley, Director of Film Shreveport-Bossier City

Welcoming Remarks Grand Opening of El Dorado Casino – Eric Northman, El Dorado LLC

Ribbon Cutting Ceremony - Sophie-Ann LeClerq, El Dorado LLC

Dinner, Open Bar, Dancing

Of course, I knew Eric, as a businessman, had to do stuff like this, but it hadn't occurred to me that he'd be giving a speech as part of the evening program. For some reason, I found the idea funny. Envisioning him giving the speech was only made funnier by envisioning him giving it while wearing a pink tank top and pink and aqua swirled Lycra leggings. Don't ask me why my brain picked that moment to recall that outfit, but it did. Maybe hysteria was looming. I swallowed a snort of laughter and focused my eyes on the program.

Although the casino lacked windows, I knew immediately when the sun went down. My phone buzzed. I noticed Quinn cast his eyes over to me in a pointed stare. Ignoring him, I flipped my cell open and saw I had a text from Pam.

Did all go well with Amelia and the wards?

Before I had a chance to reply, a second buzz announced the arrival of a new message. This one came from Eric.

Are you okay?

Staring at the message, all my intentions of remaining strong in the face of what was—most assuredly the cruelest kind of betrayal a girl could be confronted with—came close to shattering. With considerable effort I was able to compose myself.

Not wanting to be the one person at the meeting not paying attention, I texted first Pam and then Eric each a succinct "Yes."

I desperately wanted to ask them what they knew about Bill knowing Hadley but I knew it wasn't the kind of thing you text. Without warning, an idea took shape in my mind that left me with a chill running from my head to my toes.

How did I know Eric and Pam didn't also know about Hadley? They knew the Queen. Why wouldn't they know her girlfriend, Hadley? Maybe Hadley had blabbed that I was a telepath to all the supes in Louisiana? Maybe there was a supe chess match going on and I was the pawn everyone wanted but only for my ability, not because any of them truly wanted me.

Another buzz. Through teary eyes, I read the message.

Bullshit. Stay there. I am on my way.

AN: Like how I dealt with Bob? I do. This is the last EFC. Whatever chapters remain (6? 7?), Eric is in all of them.

Please review. Reviews are my catnip and my inspiration. Without them, I tend to lie lazily on the windowsill, limiting my activities to rolling over and licking myself periodically :D