Chapter 38 The Drunk Confessions Trope
Stick a fork in me because I was done. My two boyfriends were gonna go on a date.
And the two of them were both giving me trouble.
How much more clearly did I have to explain that I was a vampire?
I had bit Tyrone in the neck and he still didn’t want to believe me.
And Vlad—what was that, a grand gesture or an act of spite?
It was like he’d never watched Say Anything.
Heaven gave me a side hug as we left the gym. “It’s okay. He’s cute, but I don’t know…seems like he’s got issues.” She dragged out the word issues into two long syllables to make it sound like a disease.
“Tyrone is a saint. I’m the problem.” I defended him without a second thought, but she could be right. It’s not that Tyrone didn’t understand what I was saying. He didn’t want to. Who would want to hear that the woman you’re dating is a vampire?
“I was talking about Vlad, but they both got issues.”
Dr. R popped out from behind Heaven and nodded her head dramatically to back up Heaven’s diagnosis. I was officially not living the dream.
My drunk therapist obviously couldn’t drive herself home. “Do you need a ride, Dr. R?”
“Uhhhhh…” She got stuck on that word for a long time like she forgot what she was doing. Then she blurted out, “Yes! I would love a ride.” She whispered, “I don’t handle alcohol well.”
“What? I never would have guessed,” Heaven said with a glance at me. “You have a lot of private information…You shouldn’t be drinking like this in public.”
Dr. R dramatically mouthed, “I know,” and laughed.
“I would have been better off as a gynecologist. I know way too much about everyone. I’m sorry, I normally don’t act like this.
You can have your next session for free,” she said to me, clinging to the exterior wall of the gym like it was the only thing holding her up.
Heaven took her by the arm and shot me a you-owe-me look.
When Dr. R saw the hearse, she blinked hard.
“Is this a—?” She started laughing in an unhinged, I’ve-been-holding-it-together-for-too-long way.
“Tiffany,” she managed, “we gotta talk this through, babe. But first, come here.” She made a motion to give me a hug.
I tried to resist but she wrapped her arms around me and swayed. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Then she buried her face in my shoulder and drunkenly confessed, “I needed a hug too.”
The hearse wasn’t that great for giving rides to the living.
It had two bucket seats in the front. The back was a large flat expanse with a rail system.
I’d taken the coffin out, but there were some Home Depot bags I’d never brought inside and a few throw pillows I’d meant to return scattered around.
Dr. R started in with the laughter again.
After she caught her breath, she braced herself against the car and blurted out, “Don’t worry.
I won’t tell anyone that you killed Jeff.
That’s between you and me and…” She looked at Heaven.
“It’s between you and me and Heaven and…
” She looked over my shoulder into the shadows.
Heaven mouthed, “Who’s Jeff?”
I held up my hand and was about to tell her not to worry about it when I saw Tyrone standing in the shadows with a stormy expression.
“What is she talking about?” He took a few steps in our direction and stopped like his feet were too heavy to lift.
Now she’d gone and done it. Tyrone and his Jeff issues.
“Maybe we should talk later,” I said. “I want to get Dr. R home.”
I shut the back door on her. She’d shared enough for today.
Laser focused on me, Tyrone said, “Did she say you killed Jeff?”
Vlad had just unlocked his SUV. He glanced between his ride home and the unfolding human drama with impatience.
Dr. Rosetti undid the curtains in the back window of the hearse and looked out peekaboo style. Loud enough to be heard, she yelled, “Tyrone thinks he killed Jeff too. You two should straighten that out.”
The mercury was rising for Tyrone, emotionally speaking. “Tiffany? You know it was my fault. You were there.”
Dr. R nodded through the glass. “There we go. Uncover that truth.” She made some kind of witchy hand motions and lost her balance.
“Tell me what you think happened, Tyrone,” I said firmly. “I don’t think we saw the same thing.” Another group walked toward a nearby car, laughing and chatting. I waved and smiled like we were doing the same. Nothing to see here.
Tyrone took a deep breath. “Do you know why I went out there that morning?”
“Tell me again,” I said.
“When I bought the farm, I promised Jeff’s parents that I would keep him on, but I couldn’t. All he did was derail things and lose money.” Tyrone looked to the middle distance and gathered strength to tell his truth. “I was going to fire Jeff that morning.”
Made sense.
“Like usual, he hadn’t shown up when I needed him. He’d gone ice fishing instead.”
I nodded to show I was following.
“I stormed out there, mad as hell, walked onto the ice, and fired him, which pissed Jeff off. He got up and told me the company was his rightful inheritance and I had no business being there at all, let alone firing him.”
This all tracked.
“He walked right up to me and punched me in the face. I wasn’t going to take that, so I slugged him. We weren’t fighting for more than a few minutes before he went through the ice and…” He looked down at his shoes, shaking his head. “I couldn’t save him.”
And there it was.
Dr. R called, “Good job, Tyrone. You needed to let that out.”
I stepped in front of Dr. R to block her as best as I could and reached for Tyrone’s hand. “Tyrone, did you hear yourself? That wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”
Tyrone’s eyes became shiny with unshed tears and his shoulders sagged. He’d clearly been holding on to this guilt for a very long time. “But it wouldn’t have happened if—” His voice cracked.
“Jeff was an ass. You were entitled to fire him. He swung at you first. That was nothing but a horrible accident.”
Vlad rubbed Tyrone’s back. “Not your fault man. I’ve done much worse.”
I gave Vlad a warning look before he launched into one of his war stories. When Tyrone started crying, Vlad looked a little uncomfortable with the display of emotion.
“I would have killed him on purpose,” Vlad said. “I don’t understand why you’re sad about this.”
Vlad wasn’t joking. Jeff would have been toast long before he earned the top spot on Street Fighter II if Vlad had been around.
Tyrone dabbed at his eye with his sleeve. “You’re right. Jeff was a fucking ass.”
Dr. R clasped her hands together. “Awwww! Look at that!” With a dopey smile, she said, “These two…Merry Christmas, everyone.”
“It’s not Chrithmas,” I said, exasperated.
“Christmas lives in our hearts,” Dr. R said.
Vlad clapped Tyrone on the shoulder, casual dude style. “Come on, we’ll talk. You can catch up with Tiffenie later.”
“Vlad,” I implored, “don’t do anything.” He had better not hurt one hair on Tyrone’s head. I couldn’t handle any more blood on my hands. Not one drop.
“Tiffany,” Dr. R said as she opened the back door. “If two”—she glanced at the guys—“veeerrrry attractive men want to get naked and give each other sexual pleasure, that is their business.”
Tyrone huffed out a brief laugh at his drunk therapist.
“That’s not my issue, Dr. R,” I said. For all I knew, they would have sex. Vlad was a vampire, for God’s sake. As long as Vlad didn’t drain Tyrone. Of blood, that is. I could handle jealousy, but nothing more.
Heaven shut the back door firmly and said, “Let’s get this shitshow on the road.”
With a tight smile, all my hopes from earlier dashed, I said, “Bye, Tyrone.”
Tyrone looked lost and emotionally spent, but Dr. R was right. Getting all of the guilt he’d been carrying off his chest and into the air was healing. I wanted to be there for him, but after tonight, I suspected that he might not be there for Tiffenie Ruba, immortal vampire.
His limit seemed to be BDSM for beginners with Tiffany Amanda Blair.
Before I drove off, I sent Vlad a text.
Me: don’t hurt him. not even a nibble
Vlad: It’s okay. Relax. I love you.
I started the car with a heavy heart. I couldn’t even with these men. How was that supposed to be reassuring?
Vermont. Hallmark. Happily ever after. My picture-perfect dreams had gotten so messy.
I steered the hearse past my favorite stores on Main Street.
“All I wanted was to move from the big city to a small town and date a farmer. To live happily ever after, even if it was just for his lifetime,” I said.
Dr. R started laughing. “Say what?”
Heaven raised her eyebrows. “Neither of those fools is gonna make you happy.”
“Why not?” I exclaimed. “Why can’t things be simple?”
“How old are you, Tiffenie?” Heaven asked.
“I stopped counting.”
“I don’t know how you are this old and still so fucked in the head, but a man is not a happily ever after.
What do you think you’re in, a Disney movie?
” In an extremely judgmental voice—and I had to admit, as delightful as she was, Heaven was pretty judgmental—she said, “How many times have I said, ‘Good dick ain’t nothing’? That’s not a joke, it’s a proverb.”
Dr. R nodded emphatically. In a professorial tone, she said, “Relying on a man to provide your happily ever after is a vestige of a patriarchal society where women held little to no power and the best option for improving one’s station in life was marriage.”
Heaven said, “I don’t need you to PhD translate for me, doctor.”
It was so easy for these baby humans to explain how relationships should be.
It’s not like I didn’t know things. Most women knew things.
Even they acted contrary to their best interests.
“I am an actual vestige of the patriarchal society to which you refer,” I said.
“So is Vlad. Of course we are ‘fucked in the head,’ as you so eloquently put it, Heaven.”
Softer, Heaven said, “Just fix yourself first, Tiff. Some dude isn’t going to make you happy even if he is hot and owns a Chrithmas tree farm.”
In the back seat, Dr. R started singing “Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, flow sista.” Without a seatbelt, she slid backward. She giggled as she rolled across the back of the hearse.
Heaven glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know if you should be asking her for advice.”
Dr. R tried to right herself, mumble-singing, “Gitchie, gitchie, ya-ya, da-da.”
“I have no words,” Heaven said.
“Don’t worry ladies. I’ve got this,” Dr. R said. She didn’t. A minute later, she lay down on one of the throw pillows and passed out stone cold.
“Dr. R,” I said, “what’s your address?”
Heaven shook her head. “Damn, this small town is messy. Not bad, but a real mess.”
“Dr. R,” I called into the back again.
No response.
I could text Jessica to figure out where she lived, but Dr. R might be too drunk to be alone anyway. Taking her to our place wasn’t ideal, but it seemed like the best option. Plus, after the craziness of the night, all I wanted to do was go home.
She was going to be our first guest at Radiance.
We pulled up to the inn. In the quiet of our driveway, Dr. R passed out in the back, Heaven and I sat absorbing the events of the evening for a moment.
“You’re right, Heaven. I will try to work on my issues a bit.
Whatever that means.” It sounded like such a cliché but I needed more work than our condemned inn, apparently.
After Heaven and I carried Dr. R upstairs and tucked her into my bed, I slipped out of the Arwen dress.
Finding nothing of my own, I reached into Tiffany’s closet and grabbed an oversized black T-shirt that said No fear across the chest in bold, jagged letters.
There were several of them, all with motivational sayings.
This one read Second place is the first loser. Tonight, that resonated.
I always say that sleeping in a coffin is for posers, vampires who are just trying to throw their status in your face.
Hey, look at me. I’m a vampire! There’s no reason not to sleep in a bed.
They are objectively more comfortable and fit with a modern design aesthetic.
But tonight, I needed a tight lid to block out the world.
Luckily, no one had responded to my Craigslist ad: “Black lacquer coffin, velvet lining, lightly used, $3,000.”
I climbed into the coffin and lowered the lid. I didn’t even do my skincare routine.