Those
points weren't nothing to sneer at. Earn enough of them and you got to spend
some stud time on one of their cattle ranches—where all the cows were human.
And young.
Neither
Al or Kenny or any of their pack had been to one of the farms yet, but they'd
all heard it was like incredible. You came back sore, man.
Al
didn't particularly like working for the vampires. But then he couldn't
remember ever liking anybody he'd worked for. The bloodsuckers gave him the
creeps, but what was he supposed to do? If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Plenty
of guys felt the same way.
Another
thing that didn't set too well was being at the bottom of the pecking order.
Seemed he had to take orders from everybody except Kenny. Stan said that would
change. Told them how he'd started at the bottom too. Learned the ropes and
soon got to be leader of his own posse.
Stan
and Jackie was some sorta team. A good one. Al looked at Jackie. Not the
greatest looking piece with that wild bottle-blond hair all black at the roots,
but considering the severe lack of poontang around these parts lately, she was
starting to look drop-dead gorgeous. Al could've really used a piece of her,
but he knew if he went for it he'd wind up on the wrong end of that Bowie knife
Stan kept strapped to his belt.
Jackie
might cut him too. Just for fun. One tough broad, that Jackie. But her real
talent was smoking out the ladies. Like the old bitch in the trunk. Jackie
pulls out her piercings, gets dressed up in clothes that hide her tats, then
goes knocking door to door, pretending to be looking for her little girl.
Nobody figures a broad's gonna be working for the bloodsuckers, so sooner or
later one of them answers the door and then blammo, the posse's there like
coons on an open garbage can.
Al
just wished the old bitch was younger. Then he coulda had a little fun with her
before—
"Hail,
hail, the gang's all here," Jackie said as they rounded a corner and
pulled up before St. Anthony's. "And there's Gregor." She grinned at
Kenny. "Maybe you should go ask him what you gotta do to earn your wings.
I'm sure he'll be glad to sit down and chat about it."
Kenny
didn't say nothing.
The
old church was like the unofficial meeting place for Stan's posse and Gregor,
the numero uno bloodsucker in charge of the Jersey Shore . One mean son of an undead bitch, that
Gregor. Even the other vampires seemed to be like afraid of him. He was big,
with these wide shoulders, long dark hair, ice cold blue eyes, and square pale
face. But then all the bloodsuckers had pale faces. It was his smile that got
to Al. Most times it looked painted on, but with all those sharp teeth of his
it managed to make him look both happy and very, very hungry at the same time.
The
posses had to meet with Gregor every night and tell him how things had gone
while he was cutting his Z's or whatever it was the bloodsuckers did when the
sun was up. It was part of the job. Al's least favorite part of the job. He
didn't know what it was that made his skin crawl every time he got near one.
Wasn't their looks, their dirty clothes, their stink. Something else, something
you couldn't see or smell. Something you felt.
Al
spotted Gregor by the church steps with his guards. He was dressed as usual in
a dark suit, white shirt, no tie. Always the same, like he was going to a
business meeting or something. Which put him a cut above most vampires, who
never changed their clothes. Ever.
Hey,
this was weird. Usually he had one or two undead goons guarding him. Tonight he
had four. What was up?
Al
didn't get the bodyguard thing. Like who'd ever mess with Gregor? But he didn't
seem to go anywhere without them. They
points weren't nothing to sneer at. Earn enough of them and you got to spend
some stud time on one of their cattle ranches—where all the cows were human.
And young.
Neither
Al or Kenny or any of their pack had been to one of the farms yet, but they'd
all heard it was like incredible. You came back sore, man.
Al
didn't particularly like working for the vampires. But then he couldn't
remember ever liking anybody he'd worked for. The bloodsuckers gave him the
creeps, but what was he supposed to do? If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Plenty
of guys felt the same way.
Another
thing that didn't set too well was being at the bottom of the pecking order.
Seemed he had to take orders from everybody except Kenny. Stan said that would
change. Told them how he'd started at the bottom too. Learned the ropes and
soon got to be leader of his own posse.
Stan
and Jackie was some sorta team. A good one. Al looked at Jackie. Not the
greatest looking piece with that wild bottle-blond hair all black at the roots,
but considering the severe lack of poontang around these parts lately, she was
starting to look drop-dead gorgeous. Al could've really used a piece of her,
but he knew if he went for it he'd wind up on the wrong end of that Bowie knife
Stan kept strapped to his belt.
Jackie
might cut him too. Just for fun. One tough broad, that Jackie. But her real
talent was smoking out the ladies. Like the old bitch in the trunk. Jackie
pulls out her piercings, gets dressed up in clothes that hide her tats, then
goes knocking door to door, pretending to be looking for her little girl.
Nobody figures a broad's gonna be working for the bloodsuckers, so sooner or
later one of them answers the door and then blammo, the posse's there like
coons on an open garbage can.
Al
just wished the old bitch was younger. Then he coulda had a little fun with her
before—
"Hail,
hail, the gang's all here," Jackie said as they rounded a corner and
pulled up before St. Anthony's. "And there's Gregor." She grinned at
Kenny. "Maybe you should go ask him what you gotta do to earn your wings.
I'm sure he'll be glad to sit down and chat about it."
Kenny
didn't say nothing.
The
old church was like the unofficial meeting place for Stan's posse and Gregor,
the numero uno bloodsucker in charge of the Jersey Shore . One mean son of an undead bitch, that
Gregor. Even the other vampires seemed to be like afraid of him. He was big,
with these wide shoulders, long dark hair, ice cold blue eyes, and square pale
face. But then all the bloodsuckers had pale faces. It was his smile that got
to Al. Most times it looked painted on, but with all those sharp teeth of his
it managed to make him look both happy and very, very hungry at the same time.
The
posses had to meet with Gregor every night and tell him how things had gone
while he was cutting his Z's or whatever it was the bloodsuckers did when the
sun was up. It was part of the job. Al's least favorite part of the job. He
didn't know what it was that made his skin crawl every time he got near one.
Wasn't their looks, their dirty clothes, their stink. Something else, something
you couldn't see or smell. Something you felt.
Al
spotted Gregor by the church steps with his guards. He was dressed as usual in
a dark suit, white shirt, no tie. Always the same, like he was going to a
business meeting or something. Which put him a cut above most vampires, who
never changed their clothes. Ever.
Hey,
this was weird. Usually he had one or two undead goons guarding him. Tonight he
had four. What was up?
Al
didn't get the bodyguard thing. Like who'd ever mess with Gregor? But he didn't
seem to go anywhere without them. They
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