4. Chapter Four #2
He chokes, panicked. “Let me go and I’ll tell you!”
“Tell me now or I’ll slit your carotid artery right here.” But the hunger hits me too fast. My vision blurs, leaving me unfocused. I let my hand fall from him in an attempt to steady myself. He slips away, stumbling up the stairs before I can call for him. And with that, he’s gone.
I clutch the counter, grasping at oxygen that I don’t even need.
The image of her lingers, repeating the vision over and over again.
The curve of her mouth, the defiance in her eyes.
That’s when the memory becomes clearer in my head.
Her degrees. The name on all of the certificates. Elowen Briar. Bingo.
This bastard was fantasizing about his therapist. The same woman he was gawking over in the lobby. I connect the name to the vision. I can understand the desire, but not the predation. If I hadn’t slipped back into his psyche, I would have never been able to connect the two.
I can think of someone I would love to slip into even further though, Ms. Elowen Briar. With consent, of course, and much unlike our friend here.
The difference between Benny and I, I won’t track her down. I don’t need to involve myself. I whisper the name, tasting it, “Elowen Briar.”
I am fucking starving. By the time Kai bursts in holding a rope and a spray bottle, I’m composed enough to immediately recognize his antics.
“Ahh, I got you, mother—” he stops. “Where’d he go?”
“Our trespasser?” I say. “Probably halfway home by now via Uber. I wouldn’t have let the charter service take him anywhere anyways.”
Kai frowns, “I was ready to back you up.”
“With what?” I nod to the bottle. “Fucking cleaning supplies? You let that guy slip right by you, by the way. Not trying to point fingers, but maybe no headphones if we have a busy store?”
He grins. “You’re trying to pin this on me, but you never told me you were coming down here anyways.
I only stumbled down here because I saw that guy jet for the road out front.
I just needed to find a weapon first to protect you and this was all I could find.
” Kai lifts the supplies up, showcasing his weapons.
I scoff and start to search for the cellar keys in my pocket.
“You underestimate me, Beau Drewitt. Power is in the bees. Or, power is in the eye of the bees? I don’t know.” Kai stumbles over his words.
I roll my eyes and grit my teeth at him. “I like you less every day. Power is in the eye of the beholder, Kai. Beholder.”
“Well, you still need me,” he says cheerfully. “I’m your only frie—employee.”
I toss him the keys, groaning. “Nice save. Lock up behind you, kid.”
He beams. “Gone so soon? We were almost to the part where we’re supposed to hold hands and you thank me for being your valiant knight and protector as we skip into the sunset.”
I groan. My knight in shining armor. My hero. Ugh, assassinate me, please.
By the time the shop closes, I’m running on fumes. Hunger gnaws at me, and the memory of her won’t fade. I tell myself I imagined it. I decide to brew some espresso before sitting down. I can smell the aroma it gives off as I sit down.
No, brain. I need to do my job. My actual job. The backbone of this business is me. Without me, it all falls on Kai. That’s a bigger problem in and of itself. I have responsibilities larger than my dick… Well?
I type out the newsletter and hit send before I can distract myself again.
The cash is no big deal. I jot a plan on a sticky note to combine tonight and tomorrow’s deposits for the bank.
I wonder if Elowen lives nearby. It shouldn’t be an issue with the deposit as long as I don’t wait too long.
I doubt I will ever see that guy again, so the opportunity is gone to wring any more information from him.
As I finish my tasteless, but extremely strong scented cup of espresso, my phone buzzes from the newsletter I just sent out.
The espresso is honestly just a habit that refuses to die.
As I reached the 2000’s, self-help books really came into style.
Fads are a huge portion of learning how to modernize oneself, especially as a vampire.
Lucky for me, I will always fancy a new piece of literature and desperately needed the help just the same.
One of the books I had ordered for the store seemed interesting and upon picking it up, informed me that a routine was important to finding joy in life.
The espresso then became part of my OCD personality.
One of my many habitual routines. I can’t function without it unless I want to be riddled with thoughts of all the harm that would come if I don't finish at least one cup a day before closing.
At least it smells good?
Another notification causes my phone to buzz.
One new message:
From: Kai Moreno:
All locked up for this evening. See you in three hours.
We don’t open the downstairs speakeasy until ten o’clock at night to avoid unnecessary interactions.
I have a loft upstairs with all my essentials.
Kai is allowed to stay, leave, loiter, or come back whenever he wants before the speakeasy opens.
During his designated shifts, he can leave at night and show up before noon to help with the store.
I pay him very well, so he gets a good deal.
I pay everyone that works for me well. I have my hand, named and unnamed, in almost every money flow operation in Darkwater.
I learned how to build wealth a long time ago.
It’s easier to get involved now that anonymity isn’t so strange of a thing in the higher classes.
The difference between some of the rich class and me, though, is that I’m not peddling dirty money.
Minus the prohibition. I had to make a start somehow.
The spiral staircase on the left side of the store leads to a sitting area covered in leather chairs and velvet tapestry.
In the far right corner of the loft sitting area is a door to the additional rooms. It’s embarrassing to live where I work, especially when it comes to women.
Although, sometimes it has worked in my favor.
Hey! Wanna come upstairs to my one bedroom loft and get tied up? You have to leave before I open the store though.
But, this is my home. I open the door to my room and lock it behind me so I can feed and rest before opening the speakeasy.
My room is cluttered wall to wall with retro movie posters and old memorabilia.
Sometimes I wonder if my place gives off “teen who just moved out” energy or “middle-aged man who peaked too early.” Probably both.