Fashionably Dead by Robyn Peterman Page A

shocked and appalled. This was not part of our normal routine. They were pissed at me for waking them up at 8:00 AM. They shouted and screamed and flipped me off. Who knew that a change of schedule would turn them into such cranky little turds? I returned the middle finger salute and rolled out of my bed with superhuman, or rather, super non-human effort. I wasn’t happy to get up either. I was in the middle of a very graphic sex dream about that bad Vampyre. I just couldn’t get rid of him.
    Getting up in the morning for a new Vampyre was a terrible thing. A very terrible thing. We were supposed to sleep during the day because we were stronger at night. We weren’t dead during the day and alive at night. We were dead all the time—we just liked to sleep when the sun was up because we tended to get crispy.
    I was going back to work at the senior center today. I was informed that if I took anymore sick days from my art classes, my very old and talkative students were coming to my house to take care of me. That alone scared the shit out of me. So I was going in. I was fairly sure I wouldn’t eat anyone. Pam assured me I would be fine.
    I tried to get an evening meeting, but apparently people over eighty-nine hit the hay at 6:00 PM sharp. Right about the time my monsters and I usually got up.
    Pam laughed as I entered the kitchen. I couldn’t blame her—I’d be laughing too if I wasn’t so damn tired. I had on sweat pants and tennis shoes, a long sleeve turtleneck, a big floppy hat, sunglasses and my old boyfriend’s soccer goalie gloves from high school. To make things worse my face, the only skin exposed, was covered in thick white sunscreen. I was hot, as in sweaty not sexy. It was June, for God’s sake, and I was dressed for winter weather. However, the floppy hat and sunglasses slightly evened up my outfit’s chances for qualifying as summer attire.
    Who was I kidding? I looked like a dork.
    Thank God Almighty other Vampyres weren’t out during the day. I’d die if one of them saw me looking like this. Especially Ethan. Stop thinking about him. He’s a bad, bad Vampyre. I just wish I didn’t feel all tingly when I pictured his face . . . or his butt.
    “Well, Asscan,” Pam gloated, “I don’t envy you.” She laughed and put down copies of my tax returns. Was nothing sacred? “You should probably think about a new career.”
    “I’d make a great night watchman,” I snapped.
    “There’s always phone sex,” she offered.
    “Yep,” I replied and nailed her with a pillow. I grabbed my new Prada purse, and the keys to my old Toyota and headed for the front door.
    “Have fun with the old folks,” Pam yelled after me.
    I saluted her with my middle finger and left. I could hear her laughing all the way to my car.
    ***
     
    “Did you get your boobs done?” Charlie asked, reaching out to cop a feel.
    “No, I did not,” I said, swiftly moving out of Charlie’s grab range. “And if you try to grab my boob again I will yank that toupee off your head so fast you won’t know what hit you.”
    “Awww, come on, give an old geezer a break,” he moaned, adjusting his false teeth and giving me a cute leer.
    I slapped a wad of clay in front of him and moved on to the next row. Being back at the senior center felt good. I loved these cranky old bastards. Well, most of them. I could even kind of pretend I wasn’t a bloodsucking Vampyre for a couple of hours. Well, except for the fact I was covered in sunscreen and covered up like an Amish woman. Thank Jesus most of the class was practically blind. “Where are Martha and Jane?” I asked, dreading the answer.
    No one said a word. They feebly beat on their clay and avoided eye contact with me. Oh shit. My stomach dropped to my toes. I hated those old bitches, but . . . “Did they die?” I asked in a tiny voice.
    “Too mean to die,” an old gal whose name I could never remember yelled from the back of the room.
    “They’re on the crapper,” cute little