No Life Kid 7

“-nd you know, me being a good friend, I told Lauren, like twice I told her. I said, ‘you can not wear that top, not with those jeans’ because, like, obviously it clashes, you know? But she was all like ‘It’s vintage, it’s s’posed to clash, Jessica’ and I’m like, vintage doesn’t mean good, it just means old, y’know? Like, my grandma Jessamine’s couch is vintage but no one wants to wear that outside. Oh my god, could you even imagine, Zander? Like, wearing a couch to school, like the… huh, that would be… actually kinda might be fierce if you styled it right. Wait, are you even listening? You’re doing that thing with your sunglasses again where I can’t tell if you’re asleep or just being all mysterious like.”

Zander Cray tilted his head back, butter-soft leather of the 7-Series cradling his skull as the auditory deluge washed over him like a warm bath. Wow. Yeah, it was… a lot; a solid wall of sound that Jessica Stanley had kept at a constant frequency since Walter had opened the door for her a good hour and a half ago back in Forks.

Just a continuous stream of teenage consciousness that required minimal input to maintain momentum. Like a shark, she stops talking and she dies. “I’m listening, Jess.” The lie slid out smooth like the bourbon he wasn’t old enough to drink. “Trust me, you could pull off a couch. Start a whole trend, too. Derelicte, y’know?”

“Oh my god, you are listening! Nobody ever does!” She shook her head, blush rising to her cheeks that made the car smell like vanilla and sugar. “I mean, totally. I could definitely pull it off, right? But Lauren, nuh-uh, she’s cute, but she doesn’t have the… the range, y’know?” One hand came out in a gesture, pink-painted nails flashing in passing streetlights as they entered the borders of Port Angeles; the small city opening up in front of them.

“Totally.”

As much as he was wearing a grin, it wasn’t all that funny. Sure, cosmic-joke on him funny, but not ha-ha funny. Here he was, sitting next to a pretty girl whose biggest problem right now was the aesthetic integrity of Lauren Mallory’s outfits, while his own gut was eating itself alive like he had the mother of all ulcers.

All because the blood bags in his cooler were starting to taste more like freezer-burned copper pennies than the life fluid they were. Perspective.

Zander held back a sigh, head lolling to the side as he stared out the window. It’s a bitch.

The Beamer’s low German growl was enough to distract him a little though, the car held film under Walter’s tight leash. The old drudge drove like he had nitroglycerin in the backseat and a tail behind the car; smooth stops, neat swerves, and accelerations that pushed you into your seat without jerking your neck. “We’re here, sir.”

The car glided in tight to a car in front of the ‘here’ in question — 929 Woodfire Grill — Jessica’s words coming to a halt as soon as the car did.

Walter was out the door before Zander could even say a word, the man rounding the vehicle with speed more than an elder his age should have. Natural or not — it wasn’t — he opened Jessica’s door with a bow that was as butlery as one could get.

“Thank you, Walter!” Jessica smoothed out her skirt as she stepped out of the car, voice an eager chirp. She looked good, wearing heels for the first time Zander had seen her; each step a clicking rhythm on the pavement.

Zander unfolded himself from the backseat, one hand on his glasses as he took in the Port Angeles air; all the salt water, exhaust and grease on the air one could ask for. It was better than Forks, though, just a bit warmer too.

He offered an arm that Jessica took with a squeeze of nervous energy.

With a simple nod to Walter, they walked up to the front door, heavy oak doors swinging open as a maitre’d met them with a tight-pinched stare that had Zander rolling his eyes.

“Reservation for an Alexander Cray.”

The man paused, expression loosening into something like a smile as those tight eyes went wide. “Ah, y-yes. Mr. Cray. Right this way.”

They stepped inside to an empty restaurant.

Not ‘slow night’ empty or anything like that. No, empty empty; every table was fully set with pristine and proper white cloth, candles flickering on each one and absolutely no people. Just a full set of staff standing against the far wall like empty suits of armor in a castle.

“Where is everyone?” Jessica’s voice slid into his ear, a tight whisper as she looked around.

“Not here,” Zander smiled her way. “Place is all ours tonight.”

“Insane,” Jessica whispered to him as they were led to a window table overlooking the black water. “This is actually insane. You rented this whole place? How? How do you even know about places like this? You’ve been here like, a month.”

Zander smiled and slid into his chair, picking up the wine list before the waiter could even offer the water. “Walter’s got excellent taste. Plus, money talks pretty loud when you know the language.”

“Bottle of the ‘98 Barolo,” A quick glance had him pick something that looked like it wouldn’t taste too bad, Zander tossing the menu onto the table with a soft thwap. “And two glasses. Don’t worry about the ID.”

The guy opened his mouth, already pre-loading a script. Policy. Law. Liability. You look twelve.

Zander let his glasses slide down just a fraction; blue eyes met brown and locked on. He didn’t bother with the heavy stuff — no need to fry anybody’s brain — just a little push. 

“E-excellent choice, sir.” The guy coughed, nearly swallowing his tongue as his lizard brain got the hint before the rest of him.

The guy walked away. 

Fast.

Jessica’s giggle was as nervous as it was high-pitched, the sound bouncing off the crystal. “You are bad. Like, actually bad. I love it.”

“I try.”

Dinner was a performance with no blood to actually make it worth the effort it took to chew. Beef carpaccio came as the appetizer, raw enough to appeal to the animal brain but distinctly dead to the vampire one. 

His jaw worked silently, the feel of it fine but the taste might as well have been unseasoned hamburger for all that it did anything for him. Fuel. Just fuel.

“So…” Her knife cut into her plate of fish, seafood her choice.

“So?”

“So…” Jessica’s eyes hadn’t left him the entire time as he chewed in silence, trying to work down the meal his instincts could barely tolerate. “Journalism. That’s the plan, y’know. Broadcast journalism. I want to be the one asking the questions, you know? Actually… digging. Talking to people who matter. Celebrities, like, not on E! or anything but y’know, big people.”

She leaned forward, eyes catching the candlelight “It sounds shallow, I know. ‘Oh, Jessica Stanley wants to be on TV. Who’d have guessed?’ But it’s not just that. It’s… I want to be in the mix. Where it happens.”

Zander paused, fork halfway to his mouth, as he looked right in the eyes of the girl that wanted more, the simple popular girl mask slipping just enough he could see the hunger in there staring back at him. “Ambition ain’t a dirty word, Jess. It’s not shallow at all, y’know? Most people just wanna exist. Wanting to live? That’s different.”

“Exactly!” More blood rushed up as she blinked, the smell of it almost enough to make the beef in his mouth worthwhile. “God, you get it. You so get me. Mike just looks at me like I’m speaking French when I talk about leaving. He thinks doing exactly the same thing his dad does is ‘a solid career path.’” 

Her eyes rolled so hard it almost looked painful. “Just kill me first and toss me in a ditch, y’know?”

The spike in his gums stung the more she talked, the more she blushed, the faster her heart raced in her chest. He could almost taste her pulse on the air, the frantic rhythm under skin that smelled like vanilla and oxygen; a hypnotic thump-thump-thump he had to force himself not to look at.

She took a sip of wine, lips pursing as she pretended to like it. “What about you? And don’t give me the mysterious Zander answer. I know you’ve got goals, beside all the investing stuff. You’re smart, right? You’re not just gonna sit around counting interest.”

Don’t look. Don’t track the vein.

Zander dragged his eyes up to hers, the blue tint of his glasses a blast shield. “I wanna make the world s-safer.” The words fell out before he could polish them, honesty and nothing but sliding from his lips.

Jessica blinked. “Safer? Like… a cop?”

“… yeah, kinda like a cop, you know…” He stared at the glass of red in front of him, the fluid settled to the point it almost looked like blood. “Just more…”

His brain stuttered, trailing back to the last time he had a conversation like this, two years ago now in McLaskey’s office; bounty hunter, marine, cop if i’m bored, something with guns. 

“More specialized work.” The smile on his face was tight at the corners of his mouth, fangs still aching to drop. “Get rid of those monsters that prey on innocent people, all the ones that slip through the cracks that police are too busy to catch, I guess.”

Jessica stared at him, fork hovering. “Okay, that got dark. But also… kinda heroic? Like, Batman? I didn’t think you were that kind of guy.”

“Batman’s got issues,” Zander took another bite of the carpaccio to drown out the sound of her heart. “Also, what kind of guy?”

As Jessica rambled apologies and excuses, Zander let his mind drift back to his feeding situation; fully unable to deny it now. At over a month old now, the blood bags were stale, all the vitality drained out of them and not by him. Running on fumes the way he was, he needed another hunt to top himself off before they collected a new shipment.

Or I’m gonna do something stupid. Lke lean across this table and see if Jessica tasted as loud as she talked.

“Finished?” A single raised finger went up, signaling the waiter.

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The crisp seaside air wasn’t as fresh as it looked, smelling of low tide, fish guts and old coffee grounds for some reason. Shadows stretched out long under the streetlights as they walked slow, hand-in-hand, the click-clack of her heels on pavement something else to focus on.

“Okay, rude.” Jessica shivered, rubbing her arms. “It was not this cold a half hour ago.”

Zander shrugged off his jacket, draping the weight of custom-made blue leather over her shoulders without a word.

“Oh my god.” Her nose buried itself in the collar, Jessica pulling it tight around her. “It smells like you. That’s… nice. But aren’t you gonna freeze?”

“Miami blood.” The lies came easier the less he had to put into them. “I run hot.” At best, he ran room temperature, a lizard in a human suit even with blood pumping through him courtesy of a fake heartbeat. She leaned into him anyway, her body heat radiating through like a branding iron. 

Yeah, a lizard. She was the sun and he was just basking in it.

“You’re really… different, Zander.” They paused by a railing, both of them staring out at the dark water with their hands resting on the metal guard. “Like, you listen. You actually listen. Most guys… they just wait for their turn to talk. Or they talk at you.”

Zander looked down at her, neon light catching the curve of her cheekbone and making her look no less fragile than a piece of porcelain. “I’m like every other guy. We’re all idiots, just at different times, and in different ways.”

She looked up, big eyes searching his face, then stood on her tiptoes.

Soft lips claimed his, the warmth and taste of cheap gloss sending a chill through him as he froze in place.

The predator brain screamed to bite, tear, feed; the jugular right there and begging to be bitten into. His hands came up, not to snap her neck, but to cup her face; thumbs brushing her skin  as he kissed her back. 

When they broke apart, she was breathless, eyes wide and dark. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” His own voice came out rougher than he intended. “Wow.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

The drive back to Forks was silent as the tree line blurred past the window, black shapes against a black sky with Jessica asleep on his shoulder.

Zander looked up at Walter in the rearview mirror, the old man’s eyes meeting his with no judgement in them.

Just acknowledgment.

I’m in trouble.