all learning how to make a drink none of us like to, um, drink?"
"I saw one of the bartenders at Scratch make one and thought it looked cool. Once I was sure one of the layers wasn't blood—"
mmmm, blood, precious blood
"—I thought it'd be fun to try. And I wasn't going to ask that vampire how to do it. She's fairly surly as a bartender, and worse when she's hostess."
Where had
that
come from? Actually, I was starting to think about blood a lot more and more. You know those cartoons when the wolf looks at his friends and they turn into rib roasts and stuff before his eyes?
Jess and Marc were starting to look
reeeally
good.
"Maybe if you were a little friendlier to the Scratch vampires," B-positive—I mean, Marc, began, "they'd treat you—"
"Look, nobody's trying to kill me right now and that's just fine. If they don't
like
me, that's just how it goes. I got over needing people to
like
me in tenth grade, when I spied the captain of the cheerleading squad on her knees in front of the offensive line of the football team under the bleachers, one day after school. I figured that wasn't the life for me."
"Of course," Jessica observed as she experimented with different rainbow colors, "she somehow still pulled off Miss Congeniality two years later."
"What was your secret, Betsy?" Marc's eyes glittered with a fascination. "Did you do the defensive line instead? I hear that's where all the votes are."
"Honey, you tell me. You probably blew more guys in high school than I did."
He laughed. "Miss Congeniality! Seriously, that's great! Do you still have the crown and sash? I could get a date in no time if you'd lend me those props for five minutes."
I drank another failed rainbow and ignored an empty bottle of vodka as it tumbled to the floor and rolled under the table. "Forget about it."
"Yeah, but just think—"
"Marc, I said fucking forget it, okay? Do I have get out the hand puppets? Knock it off!"
"Jeez, Betsy, I was only kidding around."
I resisted the urge to throw my empty glass at him. I wasn't mad at him. I wasn't mad at anybody. I was just…
Just really thirsty.
"I'm sorry," I said, not meaning it, but that was what people said in such circumstances. "I'm a little on edge these days."
"Sure, no problem. I had half your problems, I'd stress out, too."
Well you don't so why don't you SHUT THE FUCK UP?
"Uh-huh," I said brightly. The smell of all the booze was making me a little light-headed. Not to mention the smell of B-positive's aftershave. I probably shouldn't have been drinking so much on an empty stomach. Not that I could get drunk. Well, maybe I could. Eventually.
"Yeah, uh, Betsy, we've been meaning to talk to you about this." This from myeloma. I was pretty sure I could smell it now.
"About what?"
"Your no blood-drinking thing."
"It's not a
thing
, it's a lifestyle. You know," I added brightly to Marc, "like yours. I'm
choosing
not to drink blood."
Marc almost dropped the grenadine. He turned to give me his full attention when Jessica jumped in with, "Nuh-uh! Picking a fight to get out of talking about this won't work."
"Right," Marc said, looking less convinced. "That won't work. Bitch."
Nuts
. "Oh, come on, you guys!" I rested my forehead on the table. "I figured you'd be supportive."
"Supportive of you breaking Sinclair's heart and making yourself nuttier than you usually are? Honey, your temper these days is almost as bad as mine."
"Well, why don't you shut your fucking face, then?" I straightened up in a hurry as my vision cleared. "Sorry. That sort of slipped out."
"Great," Marc mumbled. "Vampire Tourette's syndrome."
"And Sinclair's heart isn't broken. And even if it was, it's none of your business."
"How's he supposed to feel when you tell him not only are you going on a hunger strike, he is, too, unless he cheats on you with other people?" Marc
"I saw one of the bartenders at Scratch make one and thought it looked cool. Once I was sure one of the layers wasn't blood—"
mmmm, blood, precious blood
"—I thought it'd be fun to try. And I wasn't going to ask that vampire how to do it. She's fairly surly as a bartender, and worse when she's hostess."
Where had
that
come from? Actually, I was starting to think about blood a lot more and more. You know those cartoons when the wolf looks at his friends and they turn into rib roasts and stuff before his eyes?
Jess and Marc were starting to look
reeeally
good.
"Maybe if you were a little friendlier to the Scratch vampires," B-positive—I mean, Marc, began, "they'd treat you—"
"Look, nobody's trying to kill me right now and that's just fine. If they don't
like
me, that's just how it goes. I got over needing people to
like
me in tenth grade, when I spied the captain of the cheerleading squad on her knees in front of the offensive line of the football team under the bleachers, one day after school. I figured that wasn't the life for me."
"Of course," Jessica observed as she experimented with different rainbow colors, "she somehow still pulled off Miss Congeniality two years later."
"What was your secret, Betsy?" Marc's eyes glittered with a fascination. "Did you do the defensive line instead? I hear that's where all the votes are."
"Honey, you tell me. You probably blew more guys in high school than I did."
He laughed. "Miss Congeniality! Seriously, that's great! Do you still have the crown and sash? I could get a date in no time if you'd lend me those props for five minutes."
I drank another failed rainbow and ignored an empty bottle of vodka as it tumbled to the floor and rolled under the table. "Forget about it."
"Yeah, but just think—"
"Marc, I said fucking forget it, okay? Do I have get out the hand puppets? Knock it off!"
"Jeez, Betsy, I was only kidding around."
I resisted the urge to throw my empty glass at him. I wasn't mad at him. I wasn't mad at anybody. I was just…
Just really thirsty.
"I'm sorry," I said, not meaning it, but that was what people said in such circumstances. "I'm a little on edge these days."
"Sure, no problem. I had half your problems, I'd stress out, too."
Well you don't so why don't you SHUT THE FUCK UP?
"Uh-huh," I said brightly. The smell of all the booze was making me a little light-headed. Not to mention the smell of B-positive's aftershave. I probably shouldn't have been drinking so much on an empty stomach. Not that I could get drunk. Well, maybe I could. Eventually.
"Yeah, uh, Betsy, we've been meaning to talk to you about this." This from myeloma. I was pretty sure I could smell it now.
"About what?"
"Your no blood-drinking thing."
"It's not a
thing
, it's a lifestyle. You know," I added brightly to Marc, "like yours. I'm
choosing
not to drink blood."
Marc almost dropped the grenadine. He turned to give me his full attention when Jessica jumped in with, "Nuh-uh! Picking a fight to get out of talking about this won't work."
"Right," Marc said, looking less convinced. "That won't work. Bitch."
Nuts
. "Oh, come on, you guys!" I rested my forehead on the table. "I figured you'd be supportive."
"Supportive of you breaking Sinclair's heart and making yourself nuttier than you usually are? Honey, your temper these days is almost as bad as mine."
"Well, why don't you shut your fucking face, then?" I straightened up in a hurry as my vision cleared. "Sorry. That sort of slipped out."
"Great," Marc mumbled. "Vampire Tourette's syndrome."
"And Sinclair's heart isn't broken. And even if it was, it's none of your business."
"How's he supposed to feel when you tell him not only are you going on a hunger strike, he is, too, unless he cheats on you with other people?" Marc
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