4. Brody
Brody
Ihave to confess to being a lazy slob, but last year Matt decided he needed to start looking after himself a little bit more, on account of the whole being immortal thing.
“This body has got to last me for a long time,” he’d told me in June, sucking his stomach in as he twisted in front of me, asking me a barrage of questions about whether his beer gut was visible. I guess that’s one of the downsides of not having a reflection.
We made a commitment to get fit together and it’s been going pretty well.
I’ve even started to take these pre-mixed shakes into the office with me to make sure I get my protein hit in the middle of the day.
I feel like a bit of a twat if I’m honest, but it does seem to be working.
Although I do have to write my name on the bottle in huge black letters with a sharpie for fear that someone else will simply help themselves.
Oh, the joys of the communal office fridge.
I’m just contemplating getting my shake, I bought a chocolate flavour in today and if you don’t concentrate too hard you could be forgiven for thinking it was just a delicious ice cold milkshake. I’m almost looking forward to it. But then there’s a screech from one of the meeting rooms.
“Jesus, shitting, fuck!”
I turn to look at the door to the room just in time to see it come flying open and Danely to take a tentative step into the hallway. And then, in a scene reminiscent of the Exorcist, he opens his mouth and bright red projectile vomit streams in an arch onto the carpet tiles at his feet.
“What the actual fu—” my boss starts to say from inside the meeting room but he’s interrupted by the bellow from Danely as he turns to point a finger directly at me.
“You!”
I look around me, as if he could possibly be pointing at some other poor sap. “What did I do?” But even as the words are leaving my mouth I can see the bottle in his hands. The chocolate flavour protein shake with my name written in block capitals across it.
The bottle that I’m starting to suspect did not, in fact, contain what it purports to on the label.
“You!” Danely splutters again and takes a few tentative steps towards me, but his face is deathly pale and he stops in the middle of the office.
“You.” This time it’s nothing more than a whisper as he clutches his stomach with one hand, the other moving to cover his mouth in a pointless attempt to stop another stream of vomit from bubbling between his fingers.
This time the smell hits me and it’s unmistakable. Like pennies. Or a slaughterhouse on a warm day.
Blood.
I’m called into the tiny cupboard my boss, Clive, likes to call his office. There’s just enough room for a small desk and a chair on either side.
“Take a seat,” he instructs, giving the whole set up far more gravity than it deserves. “I think you know what this is about.” He sounds serious, steepling his fingers in front of him like a bad villain in a B-class movie.
I debate my reaction. I can play dumb, pretend I have no idea why he’s called me in to this room like a recalcitrant child. I can apologise, say it’ll never happen again and beg for him to go easy on me. Or I can…
“Danely stole my lunch.” I put the weight of my anger into my words. Because that is the truth of what just happened. Danely stole my shake and suffered the consequences of being a thieving little shit.
“There. Was. Blood. In. A. Bottle. In. My. Fridge.” My boss clips each word so completely each one sounds like the end of a sentence. “Blood,” he reiterates.
I don’t reply. I can hardly deny that was what was in the bottle. The evidence is sprayed all over the floor and some of the walls. “Danely shouldn’t have stolen it.”
“Blood, Brody.”
I want to tell him that I don’t actually think it was blood blood.
I can only assume Matt is behind this and he wouldn’t waste the good stuff on a prank.
Real blood, like Sanguis or Hema or whatever other posh brand all the really fancy vampires are drinking is seriously expensive and so Matt generally makes do with the synthetic knock off stuff he says tastes like piss.
I’m so busy thinking that I miss what Clive says next. “Pardon?” I ask, leaning forward slightly so he’ll repeat himself.
“I said that we can’t have these kind of antics here at The Code Circle.”
“I agree. Lunch theft needs to be dealt with seriously,” I reply, but I know that isn’t what he meant.
He huffs out a sigh. “I think it would be best for everyone if you found another job.”
“You know that being a vampire is about to be made a protected characteristic?”
“I’m well aware of the pending legislation, but it isn’t enshrined yet. And besides, you,” he jabs a finger towards me, “are not a vampire.”
“But you’re firing me because my friend and housemate is.” I don’t phrase it as a question and stand as I reach the end of the sentence.
Clive recoils slightly in his seat as I tower over him.
But then he clears his throat and stands to meet me face on.
“I’m not firing you because your friend is a vampire.
I’m firing you because you pulled a stupid prank and now I have vomit all over my favourite Nikes.
Blood red vomit. Over my favourite white Nikes. ”
I guess he does kind of have a point.
Matt’s in the kitchen when I drag my despondent ass through the door just after six pm.
“Bad day?” he asks, and then makes a face when he sees my expression.
“Kind of,” I reply.
“Well,” he steers me towards the breakfast bar.
Or what we call the breakfast bar anyway.
It’s more of a cheap piece of plywood tacked on the side of one of the kitchen units, with two mismatched bar stools shoved underneath.
When we first moved in last year we thought we were so fancy.
“Come and tell Uncle Matty all about it.”
“I took the wrong chocolate milk to the office,” I tell him.
“Oh?” There is no one in the world who knows me as well as Matt does and his whole demeanour immediately changes as he watches me. “Did he? Danely?” His hand rushing to his mouth makes him look like a gossiping teenager.
“Yep.” I nod slowly.
“He didn’t.”
“He did.”
“Oh shit!” There is glee in his eyes, he’s been desperate for Danely to get his comeuppance for being a creepy little bastard for months.
“But then I got fired.”
“No.” His face crumples. “But it was meant to be a joke.”
“You’re a fucking prick, Matt. You know that?” But there’s a softness in my tone. Because yes, I got fired. And yes, it’s going to be a pain in my ass to find a new job. But oh my god, the look on Danely’s face as he stood in the middle of the office.
Matt nods solemnly, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth. I know he’s desperate to ask for all the details. And I can do one better.
I slide my phone across the breakfast bar, face up, the video ready for him to play. One of the girls in the office was in the middle of recording some TikTok update and managed to capture the whole thing.
We watch in silence and then Matt catches my eye. My defences crumble and I can’t hold the laughter in any longer.
“Was it epic?” Matt asks.
“It was. It really was.”
“I’m sorry you got fired.”
“Are you?”
Matt shrugs. “You’re too good for that place, you know. You could do anything. Do something you really love.”
An hour later, Matt knocks on the door to my bedroom. “Come in,” I call out, putting down the book I was reading as he walks in holding his iPad in front of him like it’s some kind of precious offering.
“I want you to look at this,” he says and hands it over.
“A job advert?” I squint at it.
“For your dream job.” He grins. “A start up app and you’re more than qualified.”
“But it’s a vampire job.”
“There’s no such thing as a ‘vampire job’.” He does the air quotes. “Some human places won’t hire vampires, or not yet anyway, but it doesn’t work like that the other way round. Besides, a job is a job and you’ve always said you’d love to work for a start up.”
“But…”
“No buts. I already sent an email to ask for more information.” His grin stretches further, reaching almost gurning levels.