by J. Thorn
But back to surprises.
Sitting on the hood of my brand new Corvette was a guy. You might be wondering if he was cute. Sure. He has a certain Brad Pitt thing working with his little bit of scruff and his sparkling eyes, but I think I may need to reiterate something. He. Was. Sitting. On. My. Corvette.
“You must be Ava,” he said this like his butt was not leaving an imprint on the sweet, red paint of the hood of my Corvette.
“You must be—” And that was when the smell hit me. Chocolate cake dipped in Dumpster filth.
“My name is Jeremy Ames.”
“You’re a vampire,” I spat. “And you are sitting on my Corvette!”
He looked down like he was noticing that most beautiful automobile for the very first time. Then he slid forward and stood up. I wanted to stake him right there.
But, Ava, you are probably saying, he looks like Brad Pitt? You could dunk Brad Pitt in raw sewage and I’d still ride him like a roller coaster. Did you miss the part about him sitting on my Corvette? Or that he slid off of it?
“I may not eat you,” I snarled. “But I do know how to make your type turn into a little cloud of ash.” I patted the bag at my side, the one that still had stakes and holy water and all manner of killing implements that removed pesky undead or your money back.
“Belinda said you were a real interesting sort,” Jeremy laughed.
His fangs caught the light and flashed. If this were a movie, or one of those silly romance books, I would have found it ‘strangely attractive’ or some such nonsense. The only thing that found it was annoying.
“And what does that pain in the ass want?” I snapped as I shoved past the uncomfortably attractive—but still stinky—vampire. I rooted through my carry bag and found a crumpled tee shirt. I leaned in close and began removing the near-perfect butt print from the hood of my car.
“She has sent me to accompany you on your assignment,” Jeremy said.
“I don’t need, nor do I want help from one of her little toadies.”
“She said that you would refuse.” Jeremy came up beside me. “Missed a spot.” He actually had the audacity to point! “But she told me to explain that Morgan insisted I join you now that you no longer have…” He stopped talking.
I looked at him and realized that not every vampire seemed to be able to hide their feelings. Jeremy looked openly cautious.
“Since you no longer…” Jeremy paused and seemed to consider what he was about to say, basing his caution on the obvious look of disapproval on my face. “And these are her words, not mine, so please don’t do anything crazy.”
Did I seem like the kind of person to do anything crazy? Did I fly off the handle over little things? And who was this guy to imply that I might be unstable.
“Just spit it out!” I growled.
“Since you no longer have your silly pet human,” Jeremy said those words so fast that my brain had to add the spaces between each one; otherwise it would have just sounded like so much gibberish.
I stared at him for a long moment. Actually, I was waiting for my fingers and toes to do their thing. However, nothing happened. I would have to think on this more later, but for now, I was going off of the assumption that nothing Belinda said would matter to me one way or the other anymore.
“Do you have any idea what it is that I am doing?” I asked after taking one more look at my hood for any lingering butt prints.
“Not really,” Jeremy said with a shrug. He reached inside the front left pocket of his much-too-loose-for my-liking jeans and pulled out a phone. “But it was important enough for Belinda to give me this.”
“A phone?” I wasn’t impressed. I had a phone. Hell, everybody had one.
“This one has a tracking program.” Jeremy’s fingers flew over it and he held up the display for me to see.
“So she wants to know where you are…whoop-di-frickin’-do!”
“You don’t understand.” Jeremy stuffed it back in his pocket. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought that I saw a hurt look flash across his face. “She doesn’t care where we go or what we do as long as we make our monthly tributes and don’t end up on the news.”
“So what you are saying is that Belinda isn’t much of a hands-on type of leader?”
“That is putting it lightly,” Jeremy grumbled. “When I moved here from San Diego thirty years ago, I thought I would have it better. But I guess Erma Bombeck is right.”
“Who?” I opened my door and put my stuff inside.
“This lady who used to have a column in the papers…not that anybody reads the paper anymore…”
Great. In all the books and movies, these cute vampires show up and get all macho. They save the pretty girl or fight other vampires to defend her honor. They are badass dudes who sweep the girl off her feet whether she wants it or not. I get the sniveling philosophizer hung up on ‘the way things used to be’ or some such nonsense.
“Your point?” I gave him the ‘hurry up’ gesture with my hands.
“Just that Belinda never gives us a tracking phone. I honestly don’t think that she would notice if we were gone until the dues went unpaid.”
“Wait, you have to pay dues to her?” What kind of messed up situation was this? And I have read a few of those books now since Morgan said that some of them actually have nuggets of truth in them. I don’t recall anybody mentioning membership fees. This might be interesting later, but right now, I had The Queen of the Zombies to deal with.
“…all of the Kiss leaders decided.”
Damn, I guess Jeremy had been talking. Oh well, I really do have enough on my plate right now. The last thing that I need to be worrying about is vampire politics. I mean, I wasn’t actually all that interested in regular politics, so the vampire’s problems were really his own.
“If you are going, then get in.”
I hopped in my car and allowed myself just a few seconds to bask in the comfort. Seriously, if this thing came with an option that gave vibrating seats, I would never need a man.
I glanced over at Jeremy who was dutifully fastening his seatbelt. He was either safety conscious…or has some doubt as to my ability to drive this baby.
Ladies, what in the world is wrong with men? I mean besides all of the really obvious stuff. They think they have the handle on everything. And if a lady gets in behind the wheel of a sports car, they act all crazy, like we don’t belong. Same thing with motorcycles. Let a gal cruise down the highway on her hog and you’d think she was Lady Godiva for all the stares that she gets. I got news for you, just because we don’t…doesn’t mean that we can’t. Seriously, boys, you can be replaced by a few inches of rubber and a couple of D-cell batteries, so I wouldn’t be too cocky. Hmm…that was almost a pun.
As I pulled out into the street, I noticed Jeremy try to casually put his hands on the dashboard. Fine…you want to have something to be afraid of, mister? Do any of you have the slightest idea what it feels like when the gas pedal hits the floor in the new Corvette? I take back the comment about needing vibrating seats.
“Not much for being subtle, are you?” Jeremy yelled above Simon and the boys laying down their funky groove about a girl named Rio.
“What?” I batted my eyes and played the innocent. Of course, with my dark glasses on, I doubt he noticed.
“You always drive with this much anger?”
“How come when a guy drives fast, it is no big deal, but when a gal does it, it has to be about anger or being crazy?”
“I was talking about the gray skin.” Jeremy touched my arm.
It was only a slight touch, but it gave me a tingle. His finger was cool and it only ran down my skin for the briefest of moments, but it felt great. I had this sudden thought that it had actually been quite a while since I’d had sex. Well, with a partner at least. Just because I’m a ghoul doesn’t mean that I’m dead. Wait. Actually it does. But I still have my regular sex drive and all that jazz. I guess that might be confusing.
Wait a minute! a
voice screamed in my head. This is not one of those weird ‘paranormal romance’ thingies. I am not going to get caught up in one of those. Like I said, I’ve read enough of those books. They always start out fine, but somewhere along the line they become all about sex. The lead female usually turns into a bit of a whore. Sure, she tries to play it off as being a ‘strong, independent woman’ as she hops from bed to bed, but we are all thinking the same thing. Right?
I yanked the wheel hard to the right and slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop in the emergency lane. I took off my glasses and turned in the seat to give my full attention to the vampire beside me.
“I want you to pay very close attention,” I said. “I have no idea why Belinda sent you. I am pretty sure Morgan is involved in this somehow—”
“You’ve met Morgan?” He asked it like somebody might do if you say you have met Jesus. And let me clarify that a bit. Not ‘Have you found…?’ but in the literal sense of actually meeting the real life Jesus.
“Of course I have,” I snapped. I hated it when people interrupted me. “What’s the big deal?”
“She only meets face-to-face with the upper echelon of the supernaturals in her district.”
Now he was acting like I was Jesus. He was staring at me with these great big eyes that belonged on a Japanese anime character.
“Stop changing the subject!” I snapped. “Now, as I was saying…” Damn. Now I couldn’t remember what I was saying. Well, at least until I noticed that he had a pretty wide chest and that his shirt was open. Then it hit me like a dose of Spanish Fly.
“This isn’t some sort of hook up. Are you following me?” Jeremy nodded. “This is some sort of arrangement where you have been sent to spy on me or something. We won’t be going all Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. You understand what I’m saying?”
Once again Jeremy simply nodded. But I was pretty sure that I detected a smirk.
After another of my ‘untouchable’ glares, (you know the kind, ladies)… We’ve all been to the club and had some guy start giving us more than a casual glance. He is sporting his backwards baseball cap and has that hideous lump in his lower lip that hides a big dip of some sort of nasty chew. You know that no amount of alcohol is going to be enough. You pull out that one special look that makes their little wee-wees shrivel. Of course they will tell their buddies that ‘she’s probably a lesbo’ or some such nonsense. Yeah, I used that look on him.
We rode in silence the rest of the way. To his credit, Jeremy sat there and even had the sense to tap along with my music. We were just taking the turn into downtown when the song Fallen Angel by Poison came on.
Now I have been known to hurt a few people’s feelings in my day with my ‘say it like it is’ nature. One of my big—ain’t that cute how I said ‘one’?—pet peeves is when people who have no business singing along choose to do so. There are a few people that nobody should ever try to sing with: Geoff Tate from Queensryche, Rob Halford from Judas Priest, and Freddie Mercury from Queen. That last one isn’t because he has such a crazy range, but simply because Freddie has the voice of an angel and deserves respect. Very close on my list is Brett Michaels from Poison. I just think he is dreamy and I have vowed that I will drop everything and be on the first plane when he kicks the bucket. His sweet little ass is mine…literally.
Sorry, I tend to drift off a little when I start thinking about Mr. Michaels. Anyways, most people who sing along in the presence of others have no business doing so. Jeremy started singing and I already had one in the chamber. My standard question is: “Hey, who sings this?” They usually are able to answer with the correct artist; in this case it would be Poison. I quickly follow that with: “Then maybe you should let them do it.”
That never fails to shut them up. Oh sure, you get the ‘hurt feelings’ look, but at least you get to listen to your song. Am I right?
However, Jeremy started in and I was so taken by his voice that I drove right past that laundry and pizza strip mall location that I’d come to that first night. In fact, before I knew it, I was at the outskirts of town. Now before you get the wrong idea, Estacada is really small.
When the song ended, I hit the button on my stereo and brought up my song menu. I dialed up Every Rose Has Its Thorn. With as much casualness as I could muster, I continued to drive like I knew where I was going. Unfortunately, I think I passed the high school three times before the song was over.
“You lost?” Jeremy said as the song ended.
“Just trying to see if I can sense her,” I lied.
I pulled into the parking lot and parked in front of the pizza place this time. I shut down my car and glanced over to Jeremy, who had the sense to still be sitting there like nothing was going on. I was absolutely not going to play another song for him to sing. Seriously, if he started in on Something To Believe In, my panties might very well end up on the floor.
Not a romantic comedy, not a romantic comedy, I started to chant in my head. Of course, if I just treat him like one of those coin-operated horses that used to be in front of the store, I could ride him once and call it good.
See? That’s just the sort of thinking that starts sending things on the road to ruin. Pretty soon some werewolf with amazing abs will show up, and then the two will be fighting over me, but I will be so torn, because I truly love them both…
Blech!
You see how silly that all sounds? I mean it might be good for thirteen-year-old girls who have not been called ‘slut’ or ‘whore’ by everybody at school yet to think that it is perfectly normal to ‘be in love’ with two guys at once. However, I seem to recall society having an entirely different view of those sorts of things.
Being a girl is a lot harder than it looks. Sure, the guys all think we hold the strings…and for the most part we do. But it all starts with the anatomically impossible Barbie, continues with every single magazine that waits at the check-out aisle at the store, and is celebrated in the movies.
10
One Thing Leads To Another
Look at me getting all ‘issue’ oriented. You don’t need me to tell you this crap. I bet you’re wishing I would hurry up and just go to town on The Queen of the Zombies, aren’t you? Well let me share something with you.
I bet a lot have you have seen that movie, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Well, you know how he breaks away every so often to talk to the audience? That is what I’m doing here. Don’t worry about Jeremy, he won’t move until I take the pause button off of this story.
I have been digging in to the horror thing ever since Morgan explained that some of the stuff you read is actually based on reality. Even more interesting, this stuff goes on right under your noses, and most humans don’t even realize it.
I guess the closest you have come is Bigfoot. Oh yeah, he’s real, but we can talk about that later. But the thing I wanted to discuss is your impatience. You want me to hurry up and deal with Adrianna. Am I right?
Just think about it, if everybody stayed out of the water, Jaws would have been a pretty boring movie. Are you following me on this? No? Then let me try to be a bit clearer.
Have you ever been watching a movie and the bad guy is right there in the crosshairs of the hero? Only, instead of pulling the trigger, something happens and the bad guy gets away. Or maybe the bad guy has the good guy all tied up. He is going to kill him, but first he has to tell him his plan. During that little monolog, the hero manages to wriggle free and escape. Think about it; if he didn’t, the movie would have only been twenty minutes long and you would all be complaining about being ripped off.
Now are you on the same page? I hope so. Yes, I want to get Adrianna just as badly as you want me to, but if I would have figured out that she was right across the street the first time I went to Estacada…or even if I could have blown her away when we met at Voodoo Doughnut Too (hmm…wish I still like regular food, a bacon maple bar would be yummy), well then this would be just another short Ava adventure. So sit back, pop some corn, and just hang out with me for
a while. I’ll get her, don’t you worry. If not, then this is going to be one of the shortest book series ever. Now back to me and Jeremy sitting in the car.
“So what’s the plan?” Jeremy asked.
“Plan?”
I don’t know who he had been getting his information from, but I’m not much for planning. Besides, plans just lock you in to a set of actions. Then, when it all goes wrong, you are standing there wondering what to do next. Sorta like that whole playing dead idea if you are ever attacked by a bear. If that doesn’t work, you are really going to have a hard time implementing a second option.
“You know,” Jeremy prompted. He even did that whole thing where he rolled his hands at the wrists like that would kick start my brain or something. “Like we sneak in the back door or something?”
I started to giggle. I’m sorry, but once he said that, all I could think of was him trying to get in Adrianna’s ‘back door.’ Maybe I’m wrong, but in our limited exposure to one another, she actually struck me as kind of prudish.
You ever sit someplace where there are a lot of people walking past and try to imagine them having sex? No? Oh, you absolutely have to do this. The next time you are out someplace by yourself, just take a seat on a bench and watch people as they go by. Now try to figure out if they are super freaky, or DMV boring. In fact, that was where I came up with this little game. I was standing in line at the local DMV for what felt like eternity.
“What’s so funny?” Jeremy asked. Although, from the look on his face, I am guessing that it wasn’t the first time he’d done so.
“You said back door,” I chortled while attempting my really bad Beavis & Butthead impersonation.
At first he just stood there with a blank look. I was afraid I’d sprained his brain…until he smiled. Then, very slowly at first, he joined in on the laughing.