I woke up on the evening of my nineteenth birthday praying no one would remember it.
It became clear the moment I stepped into the kitchen, however, that my prayer had not been answered.
My mother was standing over our gas stove, a pan handle in one hand and a spatula in the other.
“Mother,” I said, panicked, rushing over to where she was standing as my mind conjured images of things catching flame, of her forgetting the pan or stove top was hot, of her falling or seizing onto the open flame… I snatched the pan from her hand and pushed her away from the stove. “You know you can’t use the stove!”
“I am forty-three years old,” she said with a pout. “I can make my daughter pancakes if I want.”
“No, you can’t. It’s dangerous, mom. You should still be asleep. Have you taken your medicine yet?”
She frowned at me, making her answer clear. I signed as I grabbed her pill-case and emptied out the ‘Thursday Morning’ compartment. “You have to take your medicine,” I scolded as I handed her the pills.
“I don’t like them, Sammy.”
“I know you don’t.” I went back to the stove, taking over the pancake endeavor.
“They make me numb,” she continued, a speech I’d heard all too many times. “They dull the world away until everything is just a fuzzy, sleepy haze.”
“Well, maybe something better for you will come around at some point,” I said absent-mindedly. “Things are constantly advancing, ya know?” But, even as I said it, mother and I were both aware nothing better would ever come about. Medication was a human thing and in a world ran by vampires, there was never much advancement in human things. The pills calmed my mother and that’s all they would ever do.
“Why pancakes, mom?” I asked after a few moments of silence. My mother was never one to cook. Even when she had been well.
“I don’t know how to make a cake,” she answered, the pills clearly kicking in as her voice started to slur. “My mom always had cakes for birthdays. And you’re always out so late, sweetie…”
“I know, mom. I have to work. So we can have the house and water and gas and electricity and food. And, please, I really don’t want a big deal made about my birthday.”
“It’s a day of celebration, Sammy. You should have fun.”
I shook my head and looked back at my mother. Her hair was graying, crows feet surrounded her eyes, and wrinkles marred her once beautiful skin. Death was creeping up on her. And she wanted me to celebrate getting closer to that.
“No, I’d really rather today be like any other day.” I pulled the pan off of the stove and clicked the burner off, watching the flame die away, before piling up a pancake on each of our plates. Idoused mine with syrup and handed mom's to her plain. She never was a fan of sugar, but the medication made her stomach so weak she couldn’t even eat it if she wanted to.
"Mom," I said, downing the pancakes as fast as I could. I needed to get to work soon and was only even having breakfast because I knew I'd more than likely work straight through lunch and didn't want my stomach to be growling all day. "I’m serious. I really don't want a big deal made about today, okay?"
She hummed as she meticulously broke her pancake into pieces and ate, ignoring me.
"Mom?" I said.
She continued to ignore.
"Seriously mother!" My voice was harsh and loud as I stared at her, getting more upset by the second. "I need to know you're going to listen to me."
She sighed and looked up at me. "No," she said. "We're celebrating and you're going to have a good time rather you like it or not."
"My house, my rules," I growled.
She looked hurt for a moment, but I knew with the pills in her system she didn't really care about anything all that much.
I muttered a curse under my breath and was ready to keep arguing despite her silence but before I could she interrupted me, as she grabbed my plate. "Now, you're going to be late if you don't hurry along."
I sighed and nodded, before grabbing my bag and heading out the door, feeling angry and frustrated with my mother.
The walk to the club I worked at was long, but I didn't mind too much. I kind of liked the walk. It was the only time I had to spend myself. The human sector of the city was abuzz with people absorbing the last few minutes of sunlight.
It was a rather unfortunate part of our biology that we need to have the sun's light, for both physical and mental health. Almost everything was open only from sunup to sundown. Once the sun was up, the vamps were inside, making all the sunlit hours useless for anything but sleep.Which often left us humans in a weird place. Our circadian rhythm was adjusted in a very particular way and while we'd evolved to need less natural light than our ancestors and were okay sleeping in the daylight, most of us suffered from awful insomnia and had to keep sun lamps on at home and heavy blinds to trick our bodies.
The human sector of town was pathetic and sad looking. It was really more of a slum or ghetto than anything. There were areas that were nicer than others, but for the most part the sidewalks were cracked, the buildings were fading, and crime was rampant. Still, I’d take my slum over a nice vamp house anyday.
The closer I got to work the nicer things were. The club was right in the middle of downtown. It was vamp central and often times I couldn't help but feel scared for my life. It was well known that vamps had the ability to kill humans in a split second and while technically it was illegal, more often than not "accidents" involving humans were overlooked.
I saw a few vamps out, lead lined umbrellas held over their heads to protect themselves from the sunlight. The sun was one of the deadliest things to a vamp. It would burn them in a few seconds. In fact, it was one of the very few things that could harm them. Actually it was the only thing that could actually hurt them as far as I knew. Physicality certainly didn’t phase them. I'd once tried to punch one after he'd grabbed my ass, but only served to break to my hand in 3 places and have him laugh at me. And get fined for battery.
Figures I'd be oh-so lucky to break my hand and get sued in the same day. But, then again, my luck did always seem to go that way.
Either way, vamps were scum in my humble opinion.
After what they'd done to my mother there was no way I could ever be okay with any of them. When I was little I had been naive enough to think that maybe they all weren't bad. But I was young and innocent and very very wrong. Nineteen years have passed since my birth and I've yet to see a single vamp, besides maybe Lucian, that isn’t awful. But they have money and control and pay my bills so I have to play the game.
641Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡntBlgoyLLH
Downtown was filled with towering buildings, lead-lined terraces that covered the sidewalks, and music that flooded through the streets.
The club looked rather small when surrounded by the other downtown buildings, but all in all it was a pretty nice place. It wasn't open yet, so I threw open the front door and just walked in.
"Hey guys," I said as I made my way into the kitchen. The dancers were setting up on stage, but I ignored them. The wait staff, Lucian, and bartenders were in the kitchen getting ready for the day. "I'm here." Most everyone else had already arrived at work.
"You’re later than usual," Lucian, my boss, observed as he looked at me. He was strict about punctuality and behavior, but as far as vamps went, he was okay.
"Yeah, I know," I said, “I got held up at home."
"Is your mother okay?" he asked. A concerned look crossed his flawlesss features. I rolled my eyes.
"Oh, we just had a bit of an argument I guess."
"Why?"
"She made me pancakes."
"How dare she," Lucian dead-panned. "Sounds like something only the devil himself would do. If I were you I would leave her on the street tomorrow."
"Ha-ha," I laughed sarcastically. "There's more to it than that. I just don't really want to get into it. Want to just work and get this day over with so I can do it all over again tomorrow."
"That's the spirit, Samantha."
I heard the bell on the door ring as someone arrived. Probably Rachele. I didn't see her anywhere in the kitchen and she was always one of the last ones to arrive.
"Sammy!" I heard someone cry out. Yup, that was Rachele. The doors flew open and my closest friend jumped on me, hugging me so suddenly I almost fell. A wide smile crossed her face. “Happy birthday!”
“It’s your birthday?” Mitchell, the bartender, asked. Of course.
I simply nodded, feeling a tug of anxiety at the attention on me as I put on my apron. “Yeah, but I don’t want a big deal made.” Living in a vampire run world had made me hyperaware of every year passing, knowing the eighty years I would live to were but the blink of an eye for the creatures that I cohabited the earth with.
“How old are you turning?” asked Lucian.
“Nineteen,” I replied simply. He screwed up his face like he was trying to figure out what nineteen would equate to in the life of a vampire. “About twenty-five percent through life.”
“Well, happy birthday, Samantha,” he said as he watched the everyone bustle around the kitchen, getting things ready to go for the day.
We opened just after nightfall and stayed open until an hour before daybreak. No one came into a club at nightfall, though. We were always almost empty until a few hours into the night and the later it got the more crowded it got, until it became difficult to move through the dense throng of bodies.
So, when I heard the bell on the door ding that someone was entering just after open, I was surprised. Grabbing my notepad, I left the kitchen and went out into the main area. It consisted of circular tables spaced out along a nice wood floor, a bar, and a stage with poles for the dancers, none of whom who were putting any effort into being entertaining yet. Initially when I started working here, I’d applied to be one of the dancers. While I didn’t relish the idea of taking off my clothes for money, I loved to dance and knew I was good at it. Lucian, however, told me I was too young and gave me this waitressing job instead.
At one of the tables off to the back of restaurant the man that had entered moments ago was sitting. I made my way over to him, giving a forced smile.
“Hello, sir,” I said in an overly sweet voice. “Can I get you anything?”
He turned and looked at me, as though only just noticing my presence. I couldn’t help but shiver at his gaze. His skin had the smooth, perfect quality that vamps had and his red eyes sent chills down my spine. He was a rather slight man, but his presence seemed large.
“No, nothing,” he said, sounding shockingly normal. “I don’t need anything.” He looked away from me, keeping his eyes on the lackluster dancers.
I put a hand on my hip. “Look, mister, you can’t just sit here to watch the dancers and not order anything.” We didn’t have an entry fee so we counted on people actually buying something. He rolled his eyes at me.
“Fine. Bring me a whisky. And, uh, some O neg.”
“Neat or on the rocks?”
“Neat.”
“Great,” I smiled once again, before heading off into the kitchen.
"Dude, Rache," I said as I entered the kitchen, grabbing my friends arm and leaning in to whisper. "That guy out there is super weird."
"Really?" she said, peeking out.
"Don't look!" I hissed pulling her back into the room.
"Yo, Mitch, I need an O neg and a whiskey neat," I called out, remembering I did have a job to do.”
"What kind of whiskey?" he asked.
"Cheapest one we have," I told him.
I turned back to Rachele, going back to our conversation. "He's just, ya know, got something about him that's just odd. Kinda threatening I don't know how to describe it but he really creeps me out. Who comes to a strip club this early anyways? And he was staring at me. Who stares at a waitress where there’s perfectly pretty women taking off their clothes at the from of the a place!"
"Maybe you're just overreacting, Sam.” Rachele leaned out, getting another look at the vamp. “I mean, he looks normal. Nothing threatening about him"
Glancing at him from the kitchen I'd have to agree. He had a small build and really wasn't all that great looking for a vamp. Most vampires had intense and beautiful features. This guy did not. His face was round, he was short and a bit tubby. His deep-set red eyes were really the only thing of note about the guy. This guy was just plain.
“You’re probably right.”
“I know I am.”
I grabbed the glass of whiskey from Mitchell the bartender and the glass of O-neg.
“Ugh, I hate when they order O-neg,” I said, shuddering at the luke-warm red fluid.
“Why’s that?” Mitch said.
“Oh, it’s my blood type. Feels weird to be serving in a glass.”
I carried the glasses out to the man, putting on my smile as I left the kitchen. “Here you are, sir,” I said, placing the glasses down. “Anything else?”
“No, this will be all. Thank you.”
As I turned to leave, he grabbed my wrist. “You should grow out your hair,” he said. I felt my heart leap up into my throat and was ready to scream for Lucian.
I pushed my short cropped hair back with my hand and laughed nervously. “Uh, no. I like it short.”
I heard footsteps approaching me and jumped as I saw Lucian standing behind me. ‘Oh thank god,’ I thought, having never been so happy to see the man.
“Sir, no grabbing our wait-staff. If you do so again I will be forced to remove you from the premises.”
The man left go of my wrist and I immediately clutched it close to my chest, rubbing at it and hoping it wouldn’t bruise.
Lucian placed a protective hand on my back and led me back into the kitchen. “Michael?” Lucian said as we entered. “Could you cover the man in the back of Samantha’s section for today?”
“Hey—” I protested, thinking about my tip.
“No,” Lucian interrupted. “I don’t like the way he was looking at you. Your safety is important. I’ll give you someone from Michael’s section later if you want.”
I nodded, knowing he was right, but the stubborn streak in me still wasn't happy with it. I could handle one measly guy!
Though, in my heart of hearts, I knew I couldn't. Not if the guy was a blood-sucker. Hell, I wouldn't be able to get a hit in without hurting myself as well, a fact I knew well. Being human sucks.641Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmxXwbEMItt
