4. Vi
vi
. . .
It turned out that bartending was sort of like riding a bike—you never really stopped remembering what an ounce of Cuervo felt like.
I wiped my hands on the rag I’d tucked under the counter, adding to the mottling of red blotches staining the ivory fabric.
While the spirits were second nature, what I did have to get used to was the consistency of the synthetic blood products that O kept behind the bar. I’d failed all but once to get the thick liquid into a glass without making a huge fucking mess.
Though I guess I should’ve been happy that Alpha Nutrition and A Plus even existed, since it meant that vampires weren’t out stalking us humans in the dead of night anymore… mostly. There were creeps in every species.
“This is disgusting,” muttered a reedy vampire, his carnelian eyes narrowed at me as he leaned heavily on the bar.
He was young, and if I had to guess, it was his first time inside. O had serious restrictions on the sort of vampires they allowed inside, given the free and giving nature of the facility. Rigorous background checks for every coven that joined and steep fees in place to deter casual guests in favour of the annual membership.
But, there were still day passes. Meaning if you were fairly well off in your mortal life, even a freshly turned vampire could find themselves inside… If they were willing to spot the fee.
I blinked, the familiar embarrassed heat that usually accompanied making a mistake snaking up my spine. Pulling the ticket off the silvery spike, I glanced over his order again.
A glass of B negative. No additions.
Slice the bag and pour it into the cup. Easy .
“I’m sorry,” I said, smoothing my hair nervously and replacing the ticket. “Came right out of the pouch. Maybe you’d like to try something else?”
“Tastes like it’s been sitting for days, and it's cold,” he muttered, making a face. “I thought you served top shelf here.”
“Er—” I started, my eyes swinging to Ren, who barked a laugh.
“If you wanted a premium experience, you shouldn’t have that wristband, buddy ,” she snarked, snapping the golden plastic against the vampire's wrist. “The live bar is members only .”
Sel, a slight, masculine vampire with a short, dark pixie cut not unlike Ren’s, snickered, fangs flashing. “You think a newbie like him can afford the fees?”
Irritation flashed across the guy’s face, dark brows moving low over his eyes. He downed the rest of his glass, pressing his lips together angrily.
Ren smirked and met my gaze with a look that said obviously not before her eyes carved a trail down my body to rest on my bare thigh. I tried not to let it turn my knees to jelly.
I’d been doing that all night, ignoring the way that the beautifully handsome vampire made me feel weak. And, with a night’s worth of practice? It was starting to feel like riding a bike too.
If riding a bike was insanely more difficult with every lingering look or careful, non-accidental brush.
“Can I get you anything else?” I asked politely, narrowly hiding the breathy laugh in my voice.
One look at the less-than-designer shoes and wrinkled white button-down he wore, and I could’ve guessed that the club’s membership fee was well out of reach. Especially considering he was wearing chinos and no jacket. But the real giveaway was watching him actually look at the prices of drinks on the menu.
None of the other vampires I’d served tonight had done that.
Being the most exclusive in the Lower City meant a hefty door price for casuals and an ostentatious cost for members. It was a big deal, especially since for vampires a lifetime membership could span centuries.
Lucky dickheads.
“A rum and coke,” he gritted through his pointed teeth.
A basic drink that was going to cost the asshole damn near twenty-five dollars, and that was for well liquor. The premium was almost thirty.
I could’ve moaned thinking about the tips I’d already made tonight, enough to cover my overdue fees with the storage company at least.
“And I’ll have another too, please,” Sel called, their pale green eyes twinkling with mirth as they lifted their half-empty glass to me. “When you have a minute.”
I nodded tightly and went to fix their drinks. The rum and coke was easy enough, something I could make with my eyes shut. I set it down on the bar with a wedge of lime tucked against the rim a few moments later, offering a polite, if not a bit flirty, smile.
Brokeback Vampire threw down some cash, sneering as he turned and wove his way through the crowd toward the smattering of tables clustered around the stage. It wasn’t long before his tense, angry shoulders disappeared between the other patrons.
I couldn’t say I was sad to see him go. Something about him just… made me feel uneasy.
“I hope he left you a half-decent tip,” Sel remarked, tipping his glass back to suck on an ice cube.
By the look of their eyes, they were old. And I mean old —like ancient. Ren had introduced them as one of her regulars, and on first glance, we could’ve graduated together.
But I knew better.
It wasn’t every day you saw a nightwalker with enough years behind them to have anything but brown eyes, much less as clear as theirs.
New vampires, like the one who’d just left, had red eyes. Coloured by their own human blood working through their veins. Usually, after the first few years, they dulled to a rusty brown, darkening as the vampire worked through their human lifespan and embraced their new immortality. Eventually, if you lived long enough, they’d clear back to what they were before you’d been changed.
Vampires like Sel, who’d been around long enough for that to happen, were incredibly rare. It meant that they’d been around well before the Unshrouding, when vampires came out of hiding.
I collected the cash with a breath of laughter, my mind wandering to what life must’ve been like when they’d been human. How different things must be now.
Well, most things. I imagined that even in Sel’s lifespan men had always been creatures ruled by their fragile pride.
“You bruised his ego.”
They waved a scarred hand dismissively, shoulders shaking with a chuckle too low for me to hear. “Newbies always want to flaunt their status. Shame they never have the resources to back it up.”
“Come on, Sel,” chided Ren from the other end of the bar. “You’re really going to chase off Vi’s customers?”
They snorted, taking a long drink from the fresh glass I’d sat in front of them. “I don’t think Vi was too impressed by that one. She seems like a smart girl,” they remarked, studying me closely in a way that felt more curious than predatory. Sort of like I was a clue in a crossword puzzle they couldn’t quite remember the answer to, or the name of a song on the tip of their tongue.
It lacked all of the heat of where Ren’s eyes lingered on my skin.
“I try,” I said, pulling glasses for martinis.
“Our lone wolf has a new little friend,” Ren said with a smirk.
“All by yourself, are you?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
“Not by choice,” Sel muttered. “Turns out living forever makes finding friends who won’t stab you in the back hard to find.”
“Come now, are you still on about this? Dahlia and Samuel?—”
“Yeah, yeah. I don’t need another lecture from you,” Sel grumbled with a sigh. “Let me drink my sorrows away in peace, Ren.”
With the conversation clearly over, I preemptively fixed Sel another drink —earning myself a grateful grin—and dropped it off before checking on my other guests.
I’d gotten my bearings quickly, weaving between serving drinks to patrons sitting at the bar and fixing orders from waitresses flitting from table to table. Even with the somewhat foreign ingredients at times it felt like I was already on autopilot.
Ren and me had fallen into such a natural rhythm, I’d almost forgotten that I absolutely wasn’t taking this job. Almost .
I was just adding cherries to a couple of cocktails when the music shifted abruptly, signalling the start of the third act of the stage show.
It was a group number first; the girls dressed in elaborate peach-and-champagne feathered costumes as they ground against each other to the beat. I took the opportunity to settle the bill for one of my guests looking to move to get a better seat for the show, flashing a fang in my direction as I looked at where he’d written his number on the receipt.
Turns out I didn’t need Ren to show me the POS after all. O used the same one as the Silver Dollar—the bar I’d worked at in college. So I’d be able to pick it up almost instantly, clicking through the screens to find the different cocktails.
Same POS or not, even I had to admit this clientele was a hell of an upgrade from a vampire biker bar. Tipped a lot better, at least.
I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes, turning to busy myself with putting the payment slips in the register.
What kind of sleazeball gives his number to a girl but barely tips 15%? No fucking thanks, dude.
By the time I was done squeezing two bags of AB positive into large domed wine glasses, the number was over, the deep red curtains closing amid applause and whistling.
“I think you’ll like the next act,” Ren said, topping up some tequila shots with a light-yellow fluid that had to be plasma. “On the main stage, we mostly keep it PG-13 to give them a reason to pay for the membership to get to the back. How’re you making out?”
“Oh, you know, sir ,” I threw a new nickname at her with a teasing wink. “Same old, same old.”
Her gaze burned, lips twitching in the threat of a smile.
Yeah . I was abso-fucking-lutely teasing.
I was a professional . And professionals did not under any circumstance fantasise about hot, tatted-up coworkers between rushes.
Especially not when they rolled up their sleeves to give me a better look at all that delicious artwork trailing up their forearms, flexing as they pushed their hair back like some kind of cover model?—
“Earth to Vi,” Ren said, making me realize I’d gotten lost in thought. “You in the weeds?”
“No, no!” I rushed out. “I’m all good! Getting the hang of it.”
“You’re doing a great job,” she praised, tilting her head to the side with another one of those lingering looks. “You know, if you want the job… It’s yours.”
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally, glancing at the roster of drink orders, relieved to find we were caught up for the time being.
Ren leaned into my space, dropping her voice suggestively as she boxed me against the bar. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a yes from you, hm?”
I opened and closed my mouth like a fish, my eyes darting from the soft features of her face to the tattoos peeking out of her collar.
Stay strong, I scolded myself. You cannot be swayed! You have convictions! A favourite florist at the market! A degree you don’t want gathering dust!
Ren’s smile didn’t waver, eyebrow raising in a silent question.
No job prospects and rent due in —I did the mental maths— eighteen days. A stack full of mom’s medical bills that just keep getting higher…
And a certain bartender who kept inching closer and closer…
Suddenly, movement on stage drew my attention, the curtain parting to a spotlight that illuminated a low-hanging swing held to the ceiling by heavy golden ropes. A petite vampire sat in the middle of the seat, her pale blonde hair shining in the warm glow. Her delicate hands, covered from the tips of her fingers to the crook of her elbows by black satin gloves, wrapped around the ropes to keep her balanced as the swing rose with the first trills of a sexy, vibrant tune.
The music pulsed through the club, conversations ending abruptly as the guests craned their necks to get a good look at her. I couldn’t blame them; it was impossible to tear my eyes away.
Ren chuckled, a subtle bitterness to the sound as she stepped away from me. “Fucking Elsie, always stealing the show. I’ll get an answer from you yet, Vi.”
The vampire’s—I could only assume given the distance—pale thighs were visible through dramatic slits in her flowy skirt. The fabric cut so high at the top of her hips, a tease of her black panties was visible between the folds as it swayed. Criss-crossing straps covered her chest, a bra-like top cupping her breasts as she leaned back on the swing, her throat bared to the room. Her blonde hair turned to a molten wave of spun gold.
She was, in every sense of the word, stunning .
A spotlight shone down on her as she kicked, her legs arcing through the air as her toes pointed up in a pair of high, strappy heels. The music swelled as the swing reached its apex and began to rotate slowly, allowing the crowd to see her from all angles. She wrapped a hand around her throat, the fabric of her gloves contrasting dramatically against her milky skin as she slowly ran her fingers down over her breasts and stomach, eventually trailing into the folds of her skirt.
In a display of vampire agility that confirmed my suspicions, she slid off the swing, now ten feet in the air, landing lithely on her feet.
It was a miracle she didn’t snap the thin heel of her stiletto. I was only super jealous that as I rapidly approached thirty sometimes I threw my shoulder out by sleeping on it weird.
Vampires, really living the life.
My lips popped open in a silent gasp as the vampire continued to dance, the glow of the stage lights catching on the myriad of rhinestones affixed to her costume.
“She’s something else, isn’t she?” asked a vampire with bright coppery hair as she perched on a bar stool with her back to me, eyes on the stage. “That’s Elsie—our headliner.”
I hadn’t even noticed her approach.
It was like popping a bubble, and I shook myself, returning to earth with several quick blinks. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought she was a siren, with the way she’d drawn the attention of everyone in the room.
Y’know, if those existed.
Elsie’s call was more powerful than anything I’d experienced before, the longer that she was on the stage the harder that it was to force my eyes away from it.
Head in the game. Making a quick buck, remember?
“She’s amazing,” I conceded, giving into the urge for another long look.
Fuck .
On the stage, the vampire took a few steps, then leaned heavily onto one hip, tossing her gently curled hair. The lights shifted into something cooler, and the once golden strands turned silver, not unlike the strings silkworms left in trees during the August heat.
With another shift of her weight, she was standing straight once more, bringing her legs together to sway her hips. Elsie’s left arm flew out, the right walking its fingers slowly toward the end of her long glove until she was pulling it away from her fingertips in jerky segments that did nothing but build the coil of tension in my stomach. She twirled it in her hand before tossing it aside, repeating the motion on the right.
Mesmerising.
Her bare fingers made their way from her hair down to her breasts, where she rubbed briefly, the dark fabric straining to contain her chest before she continued her descent down her stomach, pausing to pat lightly at her hips as she circled them.
She tugged at the tie on the front of her skirt, holding onto the two sides as it came apart, her hips swaying hypnotically.
My heart raced as I waited for the inevitable moment when she would strip it off.
“Shouldn’t you be asking me what I want to drink?” the redhead asked turning her head to look at me, pulling my attention to her deep red lips, pursed with irritation.
Behind her, Elsie dropped the gauzy fabric to the polished stage floor.
I jerked into motion with my cheeks flaming, moving to grab a glass.
“Shit, sorry. I’m not used to… Anyway, what can I?—?”
“I’m fucking with you. I’m Juniper, I do the costuming for the club,” she explained as she leaned her elbows on the bar behind her. “Babydoll told me to come say hi to the new girl.”
“Oh,” I said, my eyes flicking from her soft jawline back to the stage in time to catch Elsie turning her back to the audience.
She dropped into a squat with a move that gave the room a view of her perfect, round ass as she rolled slowly back to standing, keeping her legs together, her hands trailing up the back from her ankles, up her slender calves, and to her hips.
Juniper wolf-whistled, her fangs glistening in the neon lights as Elsie peeled off her bra, her nipples hidden under thin straps connected to her harness. “That’s my girl!”
“You’re her girlfriend?” I guessed, leaning against the counter.
“One of many,” she confirmed, turning to catch my eye with her aquamarine stare. “Ren and Dana too; we’re a coven.”
I blinked.
This vampire had to be older than Sel.
She could’ve been—and probably was—Ren’s sire. Dana’s too.
“Oh,” I said again, lamely, everything clicking into place at once. “I see.”
That explained Dana and Ren’s flirty competitiveness at least. Covens, though not always polyamorous, were like little vampire family units. At their centre was a sire—the head of the family—the rest of the vampires off shooting like wheel spokes.
If Elsie was the moon, with her silvery blonde hair and pale skin, Juniper was the sun, with that fiery copper hair and the expertly careless bronze eyeshadow ringing her narrowed eyes. The effect, paired with her soft round features and full figure, was stunning.
I really, really needed to get over my aversion to dating apps. Every single woman who worked here was somehow completely different from the other and entirely my type. A recipe for absolute disaster if I didn’t at least try to keep my head.
My eyes flicked to Ren down the bar, finding her already looking back at me with her mouth set into a line.
Another little rush zipped through me.
Jealous vampire.
I couldn’t say that I minded.
“That a problem?” Juniper sneered. Annoyed, I guessed, by my shifted attention.
“No, not at all,” I answered quickly, offering her a smile.
She hummed thoughtfully, swivelling in her seat to look at the stage. “Oh, I love this part.”
Elsie was lying on the stage now, her cheek pressed to the polished wood with her ass lifted, slowly bringing it to the floor with a roll of her hips.
My mouth was completely dry on the third rotation. No wonder she was the club’s moneymaker.
She kicked her feet slowly, lifting her hips and pressing them down in a way that made me wonder what she’d look like in a strap. Specifically while Juniper, with her dark red lipstick, had her lips wrapped around it.
Like she could hear my thoughts, I had the undeniable feeling she was looking right at me, her painted lips parted on a pant that sent heat pooling to my core.
Girl, get a grip . Don’t you have a job to do?
“Can I get a refill?” Sel called with a smile, like they’d read my mind. “Unless you’re on the menu. I like a live one from time to time.”
I pushed off the bar and grabbed a shaker, leaving Juniper to watch Elsie on her own. “Sorry, honey. Not tonight.”
“That’s not a no,” they said with a chuckle, earning them a scowl from Ren. “Then the drink will do. A double.”
“Coming right up!” I said quickly.
I’d nearly missed Ren’s hissed, “You can’t be serious, don’t do this to me again man.” as I rushed through making the cocktail, eager to have them served so I could watch the rest of the number, but by the time I was done pouring the dark red liquid from the shaker into a coupe glass, the last few notes were coming from the speakers.
I handed Sel their drink and accepted the offered bills—way too much for a single cocktail.
“How much change?”
“Keep it. When you’re old like me, you have more than you know what to do with.” They waved me off, grabbing their glass and heading into the crowd—likely to find a better seat to enjoy the rest of the show.
Or maybe, I wondered absently, to make their way into the VIP to play.
I clutched the money against my chest, crumpling the hundreds in my fist.
In one transaction, I’d almost made my entire rent. Not that they'd had any way of knowing that.
Fuck. I really am going to take this job, aren’t I?
I looked up from the register in time to catch Elsie pointing directly at me, mouthing the last few words of the song. Well, maybe it was at me… More likely, it was at Juniper. The plush, curvy vampire content to remain perched right in my field of vision.
Thunderous applause kicked off as she turned to walk toward the back of the stage, disappearing between the black curtains with a final swish of her hips.
I dropped the cash into the tip jar, paying no mind where it fell.
By the time I’d finished clapping, my hands were numb.