fast, I can get something resembling a buzz. And hey, no hangovers! The virtues of
Vampyrism. Evie sidles back over to my side of the bar and refills my glass. She doesn't
really need to do that since the bottle is right in front of me, but it's a nice gesture.
Every gesture Evie makes is a nice gesture because she's just that kind of girl. The kind
I like to look at, but can't touch. I take another drink. She fills me back up. From the
ground up she's wearing cowboy boots, low-cut jeans, a baby-doll T-shirt with the word
TITS stretching tight as a drum across hers, and a smile that's all for me. I look her up
and down and take another drink.
She fills my glass, takes a pull from the bottle and gives me the smile.
--So, can I come over tonight?
I bob my head up and down.
--Could be, could be.
She leans on the bar and puts her hand alongside my face.
--We could watch a movie maybe. Maybe play a little.
--A movie, hmm?
--Yeah.
She leans closer, puts her cheek against mine and flicks a tongue at my ear. I shiver. I
almost cry. But I don't. Someone calls for a drink. Evie smiles at me and walks away down
the bar. I watch her ass and take another drink.
This is what we do. This is what we do instead of sex. Not all the time, but some nights
this is what we do. We flirt and tease. We slap and tickle. We go home and watch porn and
make out. We jerk each other off through our clothes or sometimes we take them off and
jerk off ourselves in front of each other. This is what we do because Evie will never take
the chance of giving me her sickness, and it makes her feel guilty as hell that she won't
fuck me, but that's just because she doesn't know that I'm afraid of giving her mine.
I don't know how to make a Vampyre. As far as I know, nobody really does. The Vyrus is
certainly carried in the blood, but like HIV it might be in my come as well. I can't have
sex with Evie because I might turn her into one of me, which would cure her, which would
mean we could be together for ... I take another drink.
Evie finishes up with her customer and wanders back over to me.
--So am I coming over tonight?
--I guess you are, babe, I guess you are.
--Cool. And maybe in the morning I can take you out for breakfast.
--Funny, you're a funny girl tonight.
Evie thinks I'm allergic to the sun. She thinks that because I told her I'm photosensitive
and suffer from solar urticaria that would make my skin erupt in boils if I were exposed
to sunlight. For that matter, that's what anyone who knows me well enough to know I don't
go out during the day thinks. For that matter, I am allergic to the sun when you get right
down to it.
She taps the tip of her index finger against the tip of my nose.
--I could
make
breakfast.
--And I could choke on it and die.
--Fuck you.
--You want breakfast I'll call someone and have it delivered.
--Well that's what I meant when I said I could make it.
--Silly me.
The phone rings and she grabs it off the back-bar. She talks to someone for a second then
brings the phone over to me.
--It's for you.
It's Leprosy.
--What?
--Pitt?
--Yeah, what's up?
--I got something.
--What?
--Just come meet me.
--Is it the girl?
--No. I. Just meet me.
--Where?
--That garden on B.
--With the tower?
--Yeah.
--Don't fuck with me here, Lep. Is this solid?
--I'm not. Just meet me. Now.
He hangs up. I hand the phone back to Evie.
--Leprosy?
--Yeah. I got to go.
I stand up and realize I'm not packing. Not even a knife.
--You got that bat you keep behind the bar?
--Sure.
She reaches under the ice bin and comes up with a Frank Thomas edition Louisville Slugger.
It's a big bat. She passes it to me.
--What's the matter?
--He didn't call me fuck face.
I walk away. She calls after me.
--I'm still coming over.
I stop and take a practice cut with the bat.
--Goddamn right you are.
And I walk out the door.
I'm pretty sure the guy who
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