Chapter 2
Chapter two
Shot Glass
Idon’t know what it is about monster motels, but there’s always a dive bar not too far away.
This one happened to be called the Shot Glass.
They’re usually never good, but they are cheap, and that’s probably the only thing I or anyone else likes about them.
It’s a lazy, distracting thought that makes my Highball that much more palatable as Gabby continues about our plans for the weekend.
“So, I’m thinking we can do both Universal Parks tomorrow, MGM the day after, and end on Magic Kingdom!” Her bubbly words pair well with the little handwritten sheet she shows us.
“You do know it’s June?” V huffs. “And it’s the sunshine state. Not great for vampires.”
I swirl my whiskey soda mix before adding, “Also, I’m guessing ghouls don’t sweat that much, but there’s not enough perfume, moisturizer, sunscreen, and deodorant in the state to keep me together in the sun that long.”
I run my thumb across the scarred stitch line by my lip to punctuate my point.
“That’s why I wanted to go this weekend!
” Gabby’s answer sounds more like a rehearsed speech than a response.
“It’s usually cloudy in the afternoons, and it’s supposed to be extra cloudy, but not too rainy, the next few days.
That and all the parks have great evening hours, so it shouldn’t be too bad.
Besides, our days barely start till mid-afternoon anyway, and it’s not like we can’t sneak around after closing. ”
That last bit earns a smirk out of V. “You should have led with that. And here I thought you actually wanted to do souvenir shopping.”
They share a giggle mixed with googoo eyes, and I’m met with another exhausting moment where my gratefulness that my two best friends dropped everything to see me slams up against my need to see anything other than a happy couple right now.
“Okay, well, while you two plot the best trespassing destinations in the most closely guarded spaces in the state, I’m gonna hit the head.”
I really don’t mean to sound so gruff and dismissive, but every look and smile and kiss cuts so deep, reminding me of what I lost, of the awful way I lost it, making me wonder if I ever even had it.
I could say something, could be a bitch about it, but speaking up like that just isn’t me.
Or maybe that’s just a typical monster stereotype?
I walk by the short line for the restroom, and even though my creator did pick a bladder two sizes too small for the rest of me, I give a small exhale of thanks that I don’t actually need to go. Oh yeah, my creator. Great, now I’m lamenting two assholes.
That tightness in my chest returns, that agonizing, suffocating, trapped feeling.
It’s a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time, not until Chad, and almost every day since what he did.
My breathing gets harder, chest tighter, and before I know it, I am stumbling out the back exit of the bar, gasping for anything other than the smell of stale beer.
My lungs fill with the thick, humid summer night air, making me feel like I’m drowning in a totally different way.
I practice my breathing, one deep breath in, one long breath out, trying to get a hold of myself.
I know the feelings, the actual moments haunting me are far behind me, but the scars, like so many places on and in my body, just won’t go away.
“Hey, you okay?” A voice from behind me cuts through everything.
I go stiff, my spine straightening in that awkward way I always do when I’m surprised. “Oh, uh, yeah.”
I turn to see a guy with a thick beard and thicker hair squatting on the curb, cigarette in hand. He eyes me up and down, not leering or ogling as most people do, but more observing. “You sure?”
“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, trying to turn the accusations back on him.
“Well, I mean, the panting, and you just stumbled out of the employee entrance.”
Shit, that’s a pretty good point. “Well, what are you doing here?”
“Smoke break.” He pulls a pack from his back pocket and offers it to me. “Though it looks like I’m not the one who needs a smoke.”
I want to say no, I should say no, I should probably go back inside before I embarrass myself anymore, but the air and the chance to be anywhere but orbiting a happy couple suddenly seems like paradise.
“Yeah, actually yeah, thanks.”
I take the pack, fishing out a cigarette and the lighter inside, and light up.
The moment I inhale, the refreshing taste of menthol, the cooling vapor rolling down my throat and into my lungs, makes me feel weightless for the first time all day.
Even as I exhale, the coolness continues to spread through my limbs to my fingertips, eliciting an involuntary moan as my eyes close and my neck rolls back.
“Better?” His low tenor voice reverberates through me along the same wave as the menthol, making me suddenly embarrassed by the sound I just made.
“Ohh, uh, yeah.” I blush, handing back the pack and lighter, wondering how many of my stitches and scars he can make out in the dim light of the street lamp. “I’m guessing you work here?”
“Not all the time, just during the summer. My uncle's place.” The man takes another drag off his cigarette. “Though most nights aren’t this exciting.”
I give him a slow blink, trying to make sense of the comment. “Why’s that?”
He smirks at me, like the answer is obvious, and when my expression doesn’t change, he shakes his head. “So, I am guessing you work at the haunted house?”
“Haunted house?”
“Yeah, the one in the parking lot up the road. Not gonna lie, I’m not sure I would run from a sexy Frankenstein.”
“Oh, no, uh.”
His eyes go wide, the bits of his face not covered in hair flushing red with embarrassment. “Oh, oh my god, I am so sorry.”
“No, it’s fine.” It really isn’t fine, too many assumptions in that pickup line to count, but he did just give me a cigarette, so I think I can let it slide.
“No, really, I’m so sorry.” The guy stands up, and only now do I realize how tall he is, going from a hunched-over ball in a branded graphic tee to a towering wall of thick muscle.
He looks less like a dishwasher and more like the bouncer.
“I should have …it’s my uncle's place, of course, it’s like that. ”
“Oh, are you?”
“My uncle is. Werewolf.”
“But not you?”
“Haha, no, not yet. However, he does make me keep this on me.” He pulls a little silver cross out from under his shirt. “Irony is, I’m not Christian, and neither is he.”
“Oh, how does that work?”
“No clue, but it’s easier to buy a silver cross than a silver crescent.”
Something bubbles up inside me, a feeling so foreign it takes me a moment to even realize I’m laughing. A long, deep, uninhibited laugh, and it feels good. When was the last time I laughed like this?
“I’m Manny, by the way. Well, Arman, but my friends call me Manny.” The guy waves his fingers before hiding back behind his cigarette. Oh my god, is he actually nervous?
“Franky,” I finally manage. “My name's Francesca, but my friends call me Franky.”
He gives a warm smile at that. “I like Franky.”
“I like Manny,” I reply with my own smile, a warm awkwardness settling between us.
The tender moment is cut short as his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and then lazily stomps out his cigarette. “Sorry, duty calls. I’ll see you in there?”
My smile grows a little wider. “Yeah.”
He turns to go in, before stopping and looking back at me. “Actually, do you think you’d wanna hang out? Maybe after my shift?”
My mouth opens, an enthusiastic “yes” hanging on my lips, but then the world comes crashing back in on me.
The fact that this trip isn’t for me to find a rebound, it’s to get distance, to heal from Chad and stuff I’m still not sure I am ready to talk about.
Besides, our night is just starting, and V and Gabby are still waiting for me inside.
“Uh, I wish I could, I just, I’m with my friends, and-”
“No, I get it,” he says, cutting me off. “Really, it was a long shot.”
I think I see him wilt a little before that same unburdened smile crosses his face. “Anyway, I’ll see you in there.”
He goes inside, and the moment the door shuts, I feel a little of that tightness creep back into my chest. Fortunately, I still have my cigarette to ease my ache, but as I savor it, each puff makes me think of him, of the interaction I just shared.
The first unburdened distraction I’ve enjoyed in what feels like ages.
I mouth the words “sexy Frankenstein,” a large grin burning my cheeks.
But then I shake the thought along with my head.
“Am I really that easy? Does it really take that little for me to fall for someone?”
I finish the cigarette and head back inside. I get back to the table just as V is done yelling something into her drink. “Can you believe that bitch gets royalties on these things? Vodka, tomato juice, and Tobasco, and she gets 1% every time!”
“How many has she had to drink?” I ask Gabby.
“Oh, this is her first,” Gabby teases. “The bartender was busy, and the other one took ages.”
I look to the bar and see Manny. He’s talking to a small group of blonde bimbos, doing little bottle tricks, making them smile as they stare at his big arms. And of course, one of them slides her phone number to him on a bar napkin.
I close my eyes as the ache in my chest creeps back in.
I should have known he wasn’t actually interested in me; he just met me, and he doesn’t know me at all.
He’s a bartender, for Christ's sake; he was probably just being nice.
“And where were you?” V asks me, breaking my view.
“Daydreaming,” I huff in a defeated tone. “Let’s get out of here. I’m starving.”
I grab my leather jacket and get up from the table.
“Hold on, I just got my drink,” V hisses as she chases me.
“Just bring the glass, it’s not like he’ll notice,” I sneer back as I head for the exit.