One Youu know, there’s something very unsexy about meeting your lover behind a Dumpster. But, hey, at least Gloriana St. Clair still had a lover to meet. There had been some nights recently when I’d been afraid I’d have to give celibacy another shot. You think a woman PMSing is bad? Try taking on a celibate vampire. But no worries. My guy was waiting just around the corner. I adjusted my black “Cher in the eighties” wig, slung my purse over my shoulder and navigated the alley in my five-inch heels. “Jeez, something reeks.” Valdez, my bodyguard, sniffed. “You got that right. Even ritzy hotels have bad garbage.” I had a leash attached to him, but God forbid I actually tug on it. We gave the Dumpster a wide berth and walked right into a guy with a camera. Guys with cameras were the reason we were sneaking out the back door in the first place. Camera Guy looked me over, trying to figure out if I was “Somebody.” Then he eyed the dog on the end of the leash. Apparently even the canine failed the test. “Forget it. I’m getting out of this pit and hitting the front door.” The photographer snorted in disgust. “Good idea. I heard Usher’s coming down.” I saw him sprint away and glanced down at Valdez. “Your disguise did the trick.