When Frankie came back the next week, we nodded to each other and settled into our respective books. Every now and again we'd laugh out loud at something we read and then perhaps share the joke, but by the end of the night, we were friends. Cautious friends, but friends just the same.

We even went out to one of my old haunts afterwards.

There were a bunch of my friends there, and they were a little surprised to see me since I had all but fallen off the planet in the past few months. It wasn't like I had been trying to lose touch, but between working at the porn store and trying to first understand, then be rejected by vampire society, it wasn't that hard to do. Then, of course, I had my weekly protest in front of HTDK, and that was a solid hour of commitment. Besides, I had my habit to feed, and I didn't like doing it where I knew people, so I had mostly been hitting the dive bars on the other side of town. Much easier to be bad where your friends weren't watching and posting stupid pictures on their Facebook and Instagram feeds.

Craig and Danny bought me a drink. Well, Danny did the buying since he was the one who was an actual friend and had noticed that I hadn't been around as much.

"Dude, what's with the sunglasses?" Danny asked after shaking Frankie's hand.

"My future's bright man. You like 'em?"

"They'd look cooler on Bono. You ain't no Bono." This was Craig. He really wasn't a friend of mine anyway, more a friend of Danny's, and they seemed to come as a package deal these days.

"Fuck you too buddy-boy."

"I thought he was already fucking you." Craig jerked a finger at Frankie. Danny sprayed laughter and whiskey.

Things went downhill quickly after that.

There's a thing about friends of friends. They always seem to think that their friendship is more valuable to your friend, and as a result, they always seem to be competing to be the better friend, even if it comes down to fighting you. Especially if they don't like you too much, and the only reason you tolerate each other is because of said mutual friend. If you two are ever left alone, it's only a matter of time before a fight breaks out. Since I had been missing for months now, Craig assumed that my friendship with Danny was no longer an issue, and all alliances were off. I was now fair game, and Danny, of course, would automatically be on Craig's side in any altercation.

A bit of perverse logic, I know, but true nonetheless.

Now, of course, things might have been just a little different if I hadn't all a sudden, because of my "condition," developed actual reflexes.

In my defence, though, Craig threw the first punch.

It was one of those careless sucker punches that kids throw in Junior High, the kind of punch that geeks since the dawn of time never seem to be able to duck, even though everybody else could see it coming from miles away. Since I have thrown those kinds of punches, I knew it was coming, so I knew I could duck it, and I knew that I could get my own blow in.

I just didn't anticipate how fast I moved and how hard I kicked.

I should have remembered my earlier altercation with Julio.

I should have remembered that I wasn't human anymore.

But what I really should have done was kick a hell of a lot softer.

Craig was curled up on the floor, hands cradling his testicles and I could smell blood in the air. That was when I knew I had done some serious damage and my stomach dropped. The humour quickly left the situation, and I could only stare, aware only that Frankie was pulling me away, and trying to tell me something.

It was the look of betrayal on Danny's face that sold it to me, though. The betrayal and the horror on his face that clearly said I had gone way over the line. And all I could say was "What? I didn't even kick him that hard. Did I?"

Frankie hailed a cab, and we got out of there.

"I don't think you should go back there, dude."

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't. Say anything that is.

I had Frankie drop me off at the closest subway, but I didn't go home. I found the closest dive bar and went to get a fix.

***

I still made an effort to see my other friends from time to time, but word about Craig was spreading through some arcane method known only as "blogging" and of course really long and insulting Facebook posts. I fucking hate reading the comments section, especially when they were talking about me. Of course, it was an entirely fabricated version of what had actually happened, but it was out there on the internet, so it had to be true, right?

While turning into a vampire didn't turn me into a leper or a complete asshole, the altercation with Craig had nearly the same effect. All turning into a vampire had done was change my diet in huge ways, got me addicted to the smell and taste of blood, much like a junkie with heroin, and I could no longer see the sun.

For a while, I kept expecting the cops to show up at my job or to wake me up during the day at my apartment. Sammy could see I was getting jumpy, especially since I was hyper-vigilant for a few days, reacting to every customer that entered, and then in one case, actually hiding under the counter from a cop who just wanted to buy some specialty condoms.

"You're freaking me out, dude. Quit it."

After a while, when I wasn't arrested, I began to relax.

**********************
AUTHOR'S NOTE: 

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