Page 1 of Vampire Soldier
ChapterOne
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One day, I’ll stop hoping my brother will finally do what he says. Apparently, that day is not today, though.
Eyeing the growing clouds in the distance, I check my phone again as I stand at the curb of the sidewalk. Blood Street is filled with people, humans and not, as spring starts pushing away the dreary days of winter. The wind is picking up, sending goosebumps all over my exposed arms and legs. I’m wearing one of my favorite summer dresses, which was perfectly fine when at my waitressing job two streets over. Not so much with the sun set and the first of many spring storms rolling in over the Barrows.
I’d have been home by now, should have been home by now, if my brother hadn’t sworn he finally had part of the money he owed me and wanted to meet me here thirty minutes after my shift.
That was over an hour ago.
“Jesus, Sam,” I grumble, rubbing my arms and looking at the time on my phone again. Maybe he meant somewhere else on the street? I look around me, across the street from the entrance to the most popular nightclub in the Barrows. Sam has had enough run-ins with the Nightshade vampires, he’s probably fang shy at this point.
Sighing, I shoot a message to Charlie.
Still waiting on Sam. I’m checking one last place before heading home. You ate dinner? Homework done?
Charlie’s reply is almost immediate. And full of as much pre-teen sass as a 12 going on 17 girl has.
Jeeeze mom, yeah. HW is done.
Why not bail on him? It’d serve him right. Maybe he’d finally stop sucking ass.
What’d I say about cursing?
Fine.
I swear I can feel my daughter’s eyes roll across the city.
sucking butt* better?
Yes.
I head down Blood Street, weaving through the foot traffic and keeping an eye out for Sam’s latest car, a white sedan that’s seen better days. I’m not one to judge, considering I haven’t had a car... ever.
That’s what happens when you put your life on hold at seventeen when your egg donor of a mother shows up out of nowhere with your six-month-old little sister. Along with a tub of expired baby formula, half-empty pack of diapers, and a couple sets of stained onesies.
Charlie’s twelve now and she’s taken after me with her interests, except rather than art, she adores architecture. I get her sketchbooks and pencils whenever I can, even if money is tight. And our favorite thing to do on my days off is to take the bus over to Topside and walk around the museum district.
Three weeks ago, we were exploring the museums when I saw the advertisements for a new restaurant going in. Charlie had been chatting my ear off about some monastery in Spain, and how she’s hoping to add it to our itinerary for her high school graduation trip.
Spur of the moment, I pulled out my phone and looked up the business. I look damn good, having spent the last 12 years of my life dancing five nights a week. But dancers have an expiration date and, while I wasn’t ashamed of my job, Charlie talking about her dreams made me remember my own. If I was going to save up for a trip to Europe, even if it’s five years from now, I needed to do more than strip. I wanted Charlie to have a mom who had a normal job. Somewhere she didn’t have to go hang out for 8 hours if her babysitter canceled.
I want to be home at night, sleeping across the hall from my daughter, rather than relying on another person to keep her safe at night.
When I realized the place was going to be a burlesque theater and restaurant, I spent the rest of the day warring with my thoughts. The dancer’s wage wasn’t enough, not when I was already making more than that and the dancers wouldn’t get tips. However, they were looking for a stage producer.
Since I’d worked for Tonya at her club for over a decade, I’d started to take on more and more responsibilities. Looking at the experience required, I might not technically qualify but I could make a case for it.
Experience choreographing routines? I created my own pole routines and helped new dancers, just the same as I’d been helped when I first started.
Management of a dance troupe? I didn’t have an official title, but I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with the politics of dressing rooms filled with women and keeping the peace.
I’ve stepped in for the tech, having to learn about lighting and sound on the fly. I’ve even managed the sound and DJ booth on nights when ours bailed or were fired.
I don’t have experience managing a costume department, but managing my own outfits might as well count. I’ve helped Tonya come up with theme nights and special events, and even stepped back into my role of waitressing or bartending when she needed me.
After twelve years, the only thing I’ve never handled for Tonya is The Gentleman’s Study’s books and finances.
