Scary Dead Things - 02 (7 page)

“They’re heading to A.C. for the weekend to piss away my inheritance,” was my reply as I started sipping on my blood. “Their neighbors are away, so they have nobody to watch the cats.”

Ed gave an amused sniff in return. “Cat sitting, huh? You vampires get all the cool gigs.”

“Tell me about it. Hey, you wanna head down with me? Dad bought a sixty-inch plasma TV a while back, full HD. Got a pretty sweet sound system to go with it.”

“He really
is
pissing away your inheritance.”

“Yep, so I might as well get some use out of it. I figure we can throw on a few movies, maybe smoke a few blunts...”

“A few?” Ed asked skeptically.

He had a point there. Due to my vampire physiology, things like that tended to have less of an effect on me than they did on normal humans. One of my roommates’ more pleasant experiments had involved such. Based on our
extensive
testing, we estimated it took roughly three to four times the amount of alcohol (
or other substance
) to get me as shitfaced as it normally would. If I ever sat down to have a drinking contest with Marion from
Raiders of the Lost Ark
, I'd win...probably. The effects also tended not to last as long either. In short, when it came to better living through chemistry, I was no lightweight. The downside, though, was that it wasn't exactly friendly on the old wallet, unless I consigned myself to a night of drinking caseloads of shit beer. All things considered, I'd probably rather be staked.

“Tempting, but I might have some shit to do on Saturday,” he continued. “Maybe I'll pop by on Sunday if there's anything left of you.”

“Your loss.”

“So what about the rest of the week?”

“Oh yeah,” I answered as realization dawned. “Maybe I should have put in for a vacation from work.”

Ed just sighed and shook his head. “Dude, we work from home and pretty much set our own hours. Every day is a vacation.”

“There is some logic to your words. Still, it’s probably too late to put in for some time off anyway. I think Jim's off this week.”

Jim was our boss over at Hopscotchgames.com. I was one of their lead game programmers, responsible for my fair share of hits, if I do say so myself. Ed worked as a graphic designer there, creating both in-game art as well as promotional materials. While it wasn't making either of us overly rich, it was a good place to work. Normally, the game industry is a kill-or-be-killed field, full of nonstop death marches topped off by layoffs so that the bigwigs don't have to pay out end-of-project bonuses; however, our company was pretty cool. As long as projects were finished and the money kept flowing in from users, they had a pretty laid back attitude. Give it a few years, and I'm sure they'd get big enough to adopt a corporate asshole atmosphere, but for now I enjoyed it.

Even better was that I was technically considered a permanent tele-worker.

Since a vampire and sunlight do not a wonderful pair make, after I was turned I had gotten my physician friend, Dave, to give me some bullshit excuse of a doctor's note to give to my company. I had traded my services as a guinea pig to him to do so, but so far he hadn't taken much advantage of that outside of some minor tissue samples. Thanks to him, I had been working from home for the past six months, and...and it suddenly hit me, as it always did...and that meant it had been six months since I had seen
her
.

As always, whenever I thought of her, my stomach clenched up and I felt a little light headed. I had hoped that perhaps a state of
out of sight, out of mind
would take over and make it easier for me; it hadn’t. Love stinks, especially when the other person isn’t aware of it. I thought about it for a few more seconds, feeling my good mood start to fade as I did; however, then I realized that perhaps now was finally the time to do something about it.

“Maybe I'll go in for a day this week,” I said casually.

“Where?”

“Work, obviously.”

“You do realize that there's this little thing called the sun in the sky during the day? You do remember what that does to you, right?”

“I know,
Dad
,” I answered sarcastically. “It'll be OK. I can cover up, and Dave gave me this medical grade sunscreen to try out.”

“It's a stupid risk,” Ed rightfully pointed out.

“I know, but this is the perfect week to do it. With Jim out, nobody'll be around to give me any shit about my
condition
.”

“Yeah, that's fine and all, but you don't have any reason to...” Ed paused as recognition dawned in his eyes. He sighed and said, “Dude, she doesn't even know you're alive.”

“Who?” I asked innocently.

“Don't act like a bigger fucking idiot than you already are. You're going to risk evaporating in the daylight just so you can see some chick you can barely work up the guts to say hi to.”

“Sheila is not
some chick
,” I said, more defensively than I really should have. “She's...special.”

“Please tell me you did not just say that? You've said maybe ten words to the girl in the past three years.”

“It doesn't matter. You don't need words to know these things. You just know.”

“Much like you apparently know all about insanity?” Ed asked, an edge working its way into his voice.

“What I know is that if I have a soul mate in this world, it's her,” I insisted.

Ed made a gagging noise, and then replied, “Vampires don't have souls.”

“Neither do mediocre graphic designers,” I spat back.

“Probably true,” he conceded. “But that doesn't change the point. You've been acting like a high school freshman around this girl for years, making all sorts of goo-goo eyes and shit at her. She hasn't responded. Time to move on.”

“I'm going to finally do it,” I said.

“Move on?”

“No. Ask her out.”

“I'll believe it when I see your wedding invitations.”

“I’m serious. Besides, you actually have a point.”

“About what?”

“About it being time to move on,” I insisted. “You're right. It's time to shit or get off the pot. I'm going to ask her out. If she says yes, then it was meant to be. If she says no...”

“You'll come home and cry yourself to sleep for the next month?”

“Probably,” I admitted. “But when I'm finished doing that, I'll move on with my life.”

“Like I said,” he replied. “I'll believe it when I see it.”

I just shook my head and sighed. “Dude, have a little faith. I've faced off against the very worst the underworld can throw at me. Asking out one girl isn't going to be an issue.”

* * *

OK, so I lied. Three days later, I finally entered the lobby of the building where Hopscotchgames resided. I'd like to say I had things to do that kept me busy the few days prior, but let’s not bullshit each other here. It took me until then to work up the guts to follow through with my plan. God, I am such a wuss. But that didn't matter now. I was finally here. Time to be a man!

First things first, though. I ran to one of the restrooms on the first floor. After hyperventilating for a few minutes, I peeled off the hoodie, gloves, and sunglasses I was wearing. I also washed off most of the sunscreen I had applied. No point in showing up in front of the girl of my dreams looking all greasy and smelling like rotten coconuts. Afterwards, I looked myself over in the mirror. Thank god the whole vampire reflection thing was complete bullshit! If I had even the slightest doubt that I maybe had a blemish, hair out of place, or, god forbid, a booger hanging out of my nose, the whole deal would be off before it even began.

Everything passed inspection. I looked good, or as good as I was going to get, and my breath didn't stink (
I had munched a whole tin of Altoids on the way over
). This was it. It was now or never.

I rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor, one of the two floors my company occupied. Mindful to be as discrete as possible, as I was, for all intents and purposes, technically considered
disabled
, I used my company badge to let myself in through the side entrance. I walked down a hallway past the sea of cubes, the clicking noises of many keyboards filling the air. At last it was in sight, Jim's office. Seated at a desk just outside of it was his assistant, Sheila...the girl who owned my heart, non-beating as it were.

She was slim, about five-five, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair. She had the most unusual eyes, almost a grey in color. They kind of looked like the sky on a cloudy day. OK, time to stop that. Too many of those thoughts, and I'd probably be writing shitty goth poetry next thing I knew. Anyway, suffice it to say that, to my eyes, she was truly something to behold. Hers was a different kind of beauty than Sally's. Whereas Sally would have looked at home on the cover of
Vogue
,
Playboy
...or even
Skank
magazine, Sheila was more of the girl next door type. She never would have passed as a fashion model, but she had a warm, inviting smile that said she was approachable in a “Hi, I'm really glad to see you” sort of way, as opposed to the “Please stick a twenty down my G-string” type of look I had gotten used to from my coven-mates. I tried to summon a little of my Dr. Death persona as I approached, minus of course the claws, fangs, or anything else that might scream undead demon from Hell.

It didn't work. Dr. Death was taking his vacation from the coven very seriously, it would seem. Bastard! I could feel my resolve slowly starting to crumble in the wake of her presence. My steps slowed, my knees started shaking, and that's when she looked up.

“Bill? Is that you?” she asked. Holy shit! She
did
know my name! Thank you, God!

“Hey, Sheila. Long time no see,” was my response...argh! Why did I have to sound like such a fucking douche-nozzle!?

“Yeah. We haven't seen you in months. I had heard you were sick.”

“Oh, not sick so much as I have a bit of a condition,” I stammered. “I'm getting treatment. I actually feel pretty good today.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, that friendly smile spreading across her face. “You look good.”

“YOU LOOK LIKE A GODDESS!!” I wanted to scream, but instead just replied, “Thanks...um, you too.” At least I sorta managed to sputter a compliment with that last one.

“So what brings you here?” she asked, her smile still making me melt from the inside out. I wonder if being staked felt like this...nah, probably not.

Hold on! What
was
I doing here!? Motherfucker! I had spent so much time working my way up to the actual getting here part that I hadn't bothered to come up with a single simple reason to actually
be
in the office. Unfortunately, “professing my love to you,” wasn't really an answer that I felt like giving out quite yet. ARGH! Think, stupid!

So I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “I'm here to pick up my paycheck.”