Shane is already waiting at the bar, chatting with Lori.
“Ciara, look who’s here.” Lori grins as if she personally dug him up for me.
“It’s just a business meeting.” I point to the brown ale he’s drinking. “Give me one of those.”
“Our very own microbrew.” Lori reaches for a pint glass. “One of my boss’s basement experiments, but I swear it’s safe. This batch didn’t explode hardly at all.”
I climb onto the bar stool. “Hey, Lori—Shane and I have a secret.”
“Cool! What is it?”
Shane turns to me. “You’re kidding, right?”
I pat his arm, which feels cold through his shirtsleeve. “Don’t worry, everyone’ll find out in a couple weeks. But Lori should get the best-friend scoop.”
“Scoop on what?” Her brows pop up as she fills my glass at the tap.
“Shane, along with all the other DJs at WMMP, is a vampire.”
She gives a little laugh and flicks her glance between us. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s our new marketing campaign. You know how each of them has a radio show based on a certain time period? The idea is, each of them actually lived in that time. That’s how they know the music so well.”
Lori sets my beer in front of me. “Cool idea.”
“It gets better. Have you ever heard of the 27 Club?”
“Isn’t that the weird thing where all these famous singers died when they were twenty-seven? Like Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin?”
“And Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain—”
“Robert Johnson, the Stones’ Brian Jones, Al Wilsonfrom Canned Heat,” Shane adds, his voice low and reluctant. “Pigpen of the Grateful Dead, Badfinger’s Pete Ham, Wallace Yohn from Chase, Uriah Heep’s Gary Thain, Helmut Koellen of Triumverat, Jimmy McCulloch from Wings, the Minutemen’s Dennes Boon, Mia Zapata of the Gits, and Hole’s Kristin Pfaff.”
“Wow.” Lori seems impressed and a little disturbed at his knowledge. She steps away and picks up a rag to wipe the sink. “So what about it?” she asks me.
“Get this: each of these DJs died and became a vampire when they were twenty-seven.”
“Huh.” She looks at Shane. “So how old are you supposed to be?”
He tries to smile. “I’m thirty-nine.”
“It was my idea.” I execute a pitch-perfect hair flip. “We even have T-shirts.”
“That’s brilliant. People will love that.” She gasps and whaps the rag against the bar. “We should have a kickoff party here at the Pig. We’ll dress up all Gothy and serve blood-red beer. It’ll be like Halloween in June!”
I gesture to her and look at Shane. “Can you tell why she’s my best friend?”
She high-fives me across the bar, then heads for the phone near the cash register. “I’ll call Stuart and see if he’ll go for it. It is his bar, after all.”
When she’s out of earshot, I turn back to Shane. “See? Everyone will think it’s a gimmick.”
He pushes his pint glass slowly against mine, gliding it toward the edge of the bar. “This is one of those moments when I ask myself why I like you.”
I catch my glass just before it topples. “Do you have an answer for yourself?”
“Still looking, with hope.” He slides off the stool and heads for the cozy corner table.
I join him with a basket of popcorn, which I place on the table between us. “You all live in the basement of the studio, right? Past the ‘Keep Out’ door?”
He nods. “That door leads to our underground apartment. It has a bedroom for each of us, plus a living room and a kitchen. Not exactly a Park Avenue penthouse, but it’s free. Not to mention safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“Fire, for one thing. Probably a comet impact. Definitely a nuclear blast.” He tugs on the white threads fraying his sleeve. “But the sun is what we worry about most. That’s why the station’s front door is always locked and the windows boarded up.”
“Curtains wouldn’t be enough?”
“Even a little daylight bleeding in around the edges can hurt. So we use civil twilight
“Ciara, look who’s here.” Lori grins as if she personally dug him up for me.
“It’s just a business meeting.” I point to the brown ale he’s drinking. “Give me one of those.”
“Our very own microbrew.” Lori reaches for a pint glass. “One of my boss’s basement experiments, but I swear it’s safe. This batch didn’t explode hardly at all.”
I climb onto the bar stool. “Hey, Lori—Shane and I have a secret.”
“Cool! What is it?”
Shane turns to me. “You’re kidding, right?”
I pat his arm, which feels cold through his shirtsleeve. “Don’t worry, everyone’ll find out in a couple weeks. But Lori should get the best-friend scoop.”
“Scoop on what?” Her brows pop up as she fills my glass at the tap.
“Shane, along with all the other DJs at WMMP, is a vampire.”
She gives a little laugh and flicks her glance between us. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s our new marketing campaign. You know how each of them has a radio show based on a certain time period? The idea is, each of them actually lived in that time. That’s how they know the music so well.”
Lori sets my beer in front of me. “Cool idea.”
“It gets better. Have you ever heard of the 27 Club?”
“Isn’t that the weird thing where all these famous singers died when they were twenty-seven? Like Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin?”
“And Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain—”
“Robert Johnson, the Stones’ Brian Jones, Al Wilsonfrom Canned Heat,” Shane adds, his voice low and reluctant. “Pigpen of the Grateful Dead, Badfinger’s Pete Ham, Wallace Yohn from Chase, Uriah Heep’s Gary Thain, Helmut Koellen of Triumverat, Jimmy McCulloch from Wings, the Minutemen’s Dennes Boon, Mia Zapata of the Gits, and Hole’s Kristin Pfaff.”
“Wow.” Lori seems impressed and a little disturbed at his knowledge. She steps away and picks up a rag to wipe the sink. “So what about it?” she asks me.
“Get this: each of these DJs died and became a vampire when they were twenty-seven.”
“Huh.” She looks at Shane. “So how old are you supposed to be?”
He tries to smile. “I’m thirty-nine.”
“It was my idea.” I execute a pitch-perfect hair flip. “We even have T-shirts.”
“That’s brilliant. People will love that.” She gasps and whaps the rag against the bar. “We should have a kickoff party here at the Pig. We’ll dress up all Gothy and serve blood-red beer. It’ll be like Halloween in June!”
I gesture to her and look at Shane. “Can you tell why she’s my best friend?”
She high-fives me across the bar, then heads for the phone near the cash register. “I’ll call Stuart and see if he’ll go for it. It is his bar, after all.”
When she’s out of earshot, I turn back to Shane. “See? Everyone will think it’s a gimmick.”
He pushes his pint glass slowly against mine, gliding it toward the edge of the bar. “This is one of those moments when I ask myself why I like you.”
I catch my glass just before it topples. “Do you have an answer for yourself?”
“Still looking, with hope.” He slides off the stool and heads for the cozy corner table.
I join him with a basket of popcorn, which I place on the table between us. “You all live in the basement of the studio, right? Past the ‘Keep Out’ door?”
He nods. “That door leads to our underground apartment. It has a bedroom for each of us, plus a living room and a kitchen. Not exactly a Park Avenue penthouse, but it’s free. Not to mention safe.”
“Safe from what?”
“Fire, for one thing. Probably a comet impact. Definitely a nuclear blast.” He tugs on the white threads fraying his sleeve. “But the sun is what we worry about most. That’s why the station’s front door is always locked and the windows boarded up.”
“Curtains wouldn’t be enough?”
“Even a little daylight bleeding in around the edges can hurt. So we use civil twilight
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