Beatrice was waiting for me when I escaped the store an hour later. She stood on the street corner staring at the sky as light flakes of snow drifted down. It wasn't proper snow, just the light dusting that melts as soon as it hits your face, the type that seems to play with the laws of gravity just so it could look pretty hanging out in the glare of the streetlight.

"I didn't know you were waiting for me," I said, trying to think of something clever to say and failing abysmally.

Beatrice turned to look at me, and there was something lost and completely vulnerable about her. It was almost as if she didn't know where she was for a moment, the way she just stared right through me as if I didn't exist in whatever reality she was occupying.

She looked away from me, back up at the falling snow in the light, and once again I wondered just how long she had been out there. Her thick wool coat hung open around her shoulders and snow had gathered in the folds and on the shoulders. I only noticed this detail in passing, not like I was doing some Sherlock Holmes shit, just more like one of the tiny details people see about other people without actually thinking about it. In any case, it did get me thinking that she'd been out here a lot longer than I would have guessed.

I tried to see what she was looking at, but all I saw was the snow dancing in the streetlight and the dark building across the street.

"What are you looking at?"

Beatrice snapped back to me, and this time she recognized me. A smile split her face, and there was that slight mania back in her eyes.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I bet you're hungry. Let me buy you some food."

***

Beatrice took me to the club. Of course, she did. You don't get someone on the hook for a wonderful new drug and then fuck with the supply. No, what you do is let them know that you have to depend on them and that you can cut off their supply at any time. That was exactly what Harry was doing to me via Beatrice, and I knew it and hated him for it. As I stood in the middle of the downstairs part of the club, watching as Beatrice rode the glass elevator up to the second floor, I knew that I was totally fucked.

I got Otis the bartender to put in a food order for me, the biggest fucking steak they had on hand.

"Hungry much sir?" Otis asked as he poured me a gigantic glass of something expensive.

"Like a vengeful motherfucker," I agreed. "Don't worry, I'm taking most of it home anyway."

"I'll make sure the kitchen packs some of my 'special sauce' to go with it, sir. By special sauce, I mean a bottle of something expensive."

"This is still on the house, right?"

"I'd warn you if it wasn't."

"You're a good man Otis."

"Well, you are a good tipper, so there's that," Otis grinned, then something caught his attention. "Redhead at one O'Clock and closing fast."

"Regular or newbie?"

"Regular for sure."

I nodded and downed the glass of expensive scotch. I glanced up at the balcony and wondered for a moment if Beatrice was watching from upstairs, then decided that I didn't give a shit. I was getting exactly what I wanted, right? That was all that mattered. Right?

I didn't even ask her name. I took her into a VIP booth, and as I swallowed the mouthful of her hot, hot blood and felt that euphoria spread through my body, I had time to wonder exactly how long I could keep on doing this.

***

Two weeks.

Okay, so it didn't last long, but what did you really expect? I could always lie and say that I held out and kept my shit together for at least two, maybe three months, but I really can't be bothered to lie right now. Hell if I start lying about that, I might as well just lie about everything else and then me telling this whole story would be completely pointless.

So yeah: two weeks.

The easy access to expensive food, the occasional smuggled bottle of booze (thanks to Otis) and the ready supply of blood from a rotation of beautiful and nameless chicks, kept me on a short leash. It also kept me very well fed to the point where I didn't even have to think about going to the supermarket for supplies. I couldn't even remember when I'd had to spend money even once in the last couple of weeks, and as a result, Otis got a bigger tip than I could usually afford. Just because it was "free" didn't mean I had to be an ass and you're never an ass to your bartender. I had my monthly MetroPass, so I never had to hunt for random change when I wanted to take the bus or the train; a $20 Tim Horton's card that one of our regulars kept leaving for Sammy every week; dinner, booze, and blood were taken care of courtesy of HTDK. I had it made in the shade, living the good life, and for once, I was actually staying out of trouble.

The King started showing up at the store, actively wooing Sammy, but apparently she was playing hard to get and he was acting more like a lovesick 12 year old than a 300 year old vampire or however old he was. Sometimes we'd shoot the shit for a while, but I had the feeling that I was damaged goods, so I didn't really push the issue of hanging out with him as much as I wanted to.

"You could always ask her to go to the club with you?" I suggested to him one night. Sammy was in the back, changing out of a dress that was way too small and too sparkly for our customers to handle, so I kept the conversation low-key.

The King shook his head.

"I kinda wanna keep her away from there."

"Too many vampires for your liking?"

"You know it," he said. "How you holding up man?"

I grinned and deliberately didn't ask him for a ride to the club. Sammy wouldn't have cared if I had split early, but that really wasn't the point. I was actually beginning to enjoy my little routine. The Ugly Twins had mostly been giving me the stink eye something terrible, but they'd left me alone as long as I stayed downstairs and didn't make a fuss. Hanging out with the King would have brought its own brand of trouble, and I was afraid of jinxing it.

"I'm actually doing okay. Waiting for my buddy Claude to get back from a work trip for things to feel kinda normal again, you know? It's still a bit of a trippy experience, you know?"

"That's what I keep hearing. One of the reasons Harry likes to string 'em along for ten years."

"That's one hell of an internship program. Designed to keep idiots like me out."

"Something like that," the King smiled. "It's not always successful though. Some psychos are good at playing normal. You need to watch your back."

It was a subtle warning, and unfortunately went right over my head. The King must have thought that I had caught on and knew what he was talking about, since he moved on. I just shook it off and eventually forgot he had even said anything.

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

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