Chapter 27
That night, I leave my Prius at home and take an Uber to work. The plan is that Liv and Heather will swing by the bar to meet me at the end of my shift, and then we’ll all drive to the Whisky together. Seated in the back of my driver Randall’s red Honda Accord, dressed in the black jumpsuit with the single cross around my neck, I try to figure out how to resume my awkward conversation with Nick by running some lines in my head.
Is there anything else you haven’t told me?
What’s really going on between us?
Are we a thing? Or not really?
“Are you talking to me?” asks the driver. His reflection in the rearview mirror looks a little wary.
Oops. I guess some of the lines in my head managed to slip out of my mouth.
“No, sorry,” I tell him, flustered. “I was just…uh—never mind.”
I pull out my phone, open the Uber app, and bump Randall’s tip up an extra 10 percent.
***
At Pete’s, I do a quick scan of the bar as I walk in. As is typical for a Wednesday night, the place is pretty empty. Fingers crossed, that means Nick and I will have a chance to finish our discussion.
But as my gaze shifts over to the bar, I stop. The guy at the register with his back to me is dressed like Nick, in jeans and a tee, and he’s Nick’s height, but he’s nowhere near Nick’s broad, muscular build. For a moment, I wonder if this slayer-vampire prophecy has somehow worked in reverse, if Nick has fallen in love with me and lost his vampire powers—but no, that’s just wishful thinking. Unlike me, Nick had the big, buff bod long before he was turned. And the head full of thick, coarse gray hair definitely belongs to someone else.
“Pete?” I say, continuing up to the bar counter.
The deeply suntanned, sixty-something owner of the bar turns and gives me a welcoming smile that emphasizes the lines around his eyes and his mouth. “Carrie,” he says warmly. “How are you?”
“What are you doing here?” I blurt out.
Crossing one long, denim-clad leg over the other and folding his arms across his chest, Pete leans back against the register and surveys me with amusement. “Well, it is my bar,” he says.
“I know, but where’s Nick?” I ask.
“He asked for the night off.”
“He asked for the night off?” I ask.
Pete cocks his head and raises his bushy gray eyebrows at that. “He didn’t mention it?”
“Nope,” I say. “He most certainly did not.”
***
In the back room, I stow my belongings and close my locker, and my head is absolutely spinning. I don’t know what in the actual hell is going on here. At first, I thought Nick and I might be the real deal. I really did. But then, after talking to Jenn, I started to worry that Nick might just be trying to trick me into having feelings for him to eliminate my slayer. Except then, after my dress rehearsal with Quentin and my subsequent conversation about it with Heather, I started to think that maybe Nick is in my corner after all.
But now? This unexpected absence of Nick—on tonight of all nights—is raising a whole fresh crop of concerns.
If Nick is on my side, wouldn’t he be here, by my side, right now?
And since he’s not? Maybe this past week really has been about romancing me to take away my power.
And since that hasn’t been successful? Since I’m still a slayer? Maybe tonight is some kind of a nefarious backup plan. Maybe it has been all along. Maybe me walking into the Whisky will actually be me walking straight into a trap.
I know I could be letting my doubts get the best of me. But regardless, as my father would say, look at the evidence. Nick didn’t mention that he wouldn’t be at work tonight. It’s yet another thing he didn’t tell me. And goddammit, if that’s the case…
How close can the two of us really be?
***
Pete is at the beer taps, expertly scraping extra foam off a Sam Adams, when I take up my usual place behind the bar. He glances over at me, then does a double take. “You okay over there?”
I nod, a little embarrassed that my employer is seeing me all distracted and moody on the job like this. “Oh yeah,” I tell him. I stand up straighter and try to put on a more professional expression. “I’m totally fine,” I say, forcing a smile.
After studying me for a beat, he gives me a nod and walks off. I watch while he serves his customer the beer with the kind of easy smile and casual banter that’s been perfected over decades of tending bar. Like Nick, the guy has some enviable people skills.
Eventually Pete leaves the patron alone with his drink and ambles back over to me. “You know, I think he’s just nervous about tonight,” he says.
“Wh-what?” I stammer.
“Nick,” says Pete. “Said he needed the night off to prepare. This show at the Whisky is a big deal for him, you know. First major venue with the new band and all.”
“Oh,” I say, a little surprised that Nick would have gone into so much detail when he called Pete to bag out on his shift. “Yeah, I get it.”
And I do. Considering how anxious I always am before I have to audition, I totally understand the nerves. But why would Nick tell Pete all this and not tell me anything?
Pete leans a little closer to me, and his tone gets softer. “I’m sure he meant to tell you,” he says.
“What?” It’s a little disconcerting that the guy seems to be able to read my thoughts.
“Probably just forgot to mention it,” says Pete. “What with his jitters and all.”
I’m starting to feel a little jittery myself. “Hey, no need for Nick to run his schedule by me,” I say with a quick shrug. “I’m not his boss.”
“No,” says Pete. “From what I hear, you’re a lot more than that.”
What?
I’m so used to my father’s cross-examinations that I immediately start to wonder if I might be stumbling into a trap with my employer. “Is there some kind of a no-fraternization policy I don’t know about?” I ask warily.
After a moment of silence, Pete bursts out laughing. “Hell no,” he says. “I’m just glad that the two of you are finally together.”
Muscles I didn’t realize I was tensing start to relax, and— bam! That’s when it hits me that Pete seems to know things about Nick and me. Things I certainly didn’t tell him.
“So,” I say, “do you and Nick talk… often ?”
“Some,” he says. “Especially since he’s my tenant as well as my employee.”
Now things start to snap into place.
“You own the loft?” I ask.
“I own the building,” Pete says. “Nick used to DJ for me at the karaoke bar.”
Nick’s interest in karaoke makes a bit more sense.
“When he first started bartending, he used to still work an occasional afternoon shift there,” continues Pete. “If I had a day booking for a private party or something.”
I think back on all the times Nick showed up late for work, all the times I thought he was being lazy and irresponsible and just plain slacking off. Except it sounds like he was actually the opposite of a slacker, pulling down two back-to-back jobs.
“But he doesn’t seem to be available during the day anymore,” adds Pete.
No , I think. He wouldn’t be.
And since Nick became a vampire, he’s been on time for work every single night. Clearly I misjudged him on this count, but Nick’s work ethic isn’t really the thing I’m most interested in right now.
“And,” I say tentatively, “Nick talks to you about… me ?”
“Are you kidding?” asks Pete. “I couldn’t get him to shut up about you if I tried. I swear, that boy was bonkers for you since the first time he laid eyes on you.”
Hearing Pete say it, I remember Nick confessing something similar the night we spent together in his loft. I recall all the feelings his words ignited in me, and not one of them was doubt. I had no reason to doubt him then, and listening to Pete talk, I realize that I’ve had no real reason to doubt him since.
“For a year, I’ve been saying, ‘Just tell her how you feel, Nick. Just tell her how you feel,’” says Pete. “But with the childhood he had, well, you can see how putting himself out there like that would be difficult.”
Of course. Nick lost his family in a car accident. Then he pretty much relived that loss over and over again, being shuttled from one foster family to another. No wonder it’s taken a year—and something as extreme as our current situation—to get him to declare his feelings.
“I’m just glad he finally got up the nerve to talk to you,” says my boss, who apparently also doles out advice to the lovelorn.
“And he told you the two of us are together?” I ask, just to make sure I’m understanding correctly. “As in together together?”
“He did,” says Pete with a warm smile. “And I must say, I’m very happy. For the both of you.”
Something loosens in my chest, and for the first time in days—since the day I first met Jenn—I feel like I can breathe.
If a slayer falls in love with a vampire, the slayer loses their power.
Maybe it’s true. And maybe Nick even knows it. We’ll have to discuss it all eventually and clear the air. But regardless, that doesn’t mean that what’s going on between us isn’t real or that Nick is acting out some devious plan to set me up and take me down.
I mean, Nick may have a motive to lie to me, his slayer, but he has absolutely no motive to lie to Pete. So if he told Pete that the two of us are together…
We’re together , I think. We really are together.
I smile back at Pete. This time, the smile is real. “I’m happy too.”
***
“So Nick’s been talking to Pete about you all this time?” asks Heather.
“Yup,” I say.
“And Nick told him that he had a thing for you?” pipes in Liv.
“Yup.”
“And he told him that the two of you are together?” asks Heather.
“Three for three,” I say from the back seat of Heather’s SUV. As promised, Liv and Heather showed up at the bar a little before closing, and Pete was kind enough to let me go early so I’d be sure not to miss any of Nick’s set. “I think I can stop worrying about trusting Nick. Right?”
Heather nods as she steers onto Sunset Boulevard. “Nick has no reason to lie to Pete,” she says, seeing things the same way I did. “And Pete has no reason to lie to you.”
“See?” says Liv from the passenger seat. “I told you so. In Bar Wars , the vampire and the vampire slayer live happily ever after.”
“Well, I’m not thinking about how this all ends,” I say, sitting back with a smile. “I’m just glad to know that Nick and I really do seem to be starting something.”
But as we approach the Sunset Strip, traffic slows to a crawl, and things in the interior of the SUV get quiet. The atmosphere starts to feel heavier, more serious. And suddenly, my offhand reference to “how this all ends” echoes eerily, taking on a more ominous meaning.
Heather is the first one to break the silence. “Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asks me with a nervous glance over her shoulder. “I mean, I know I kind of teased you about the training sessions and all, but did they work?”
“Because if you’re not ready for this,” says Liv, “we can just do a U-ey and turn this car right around. As soon as we can get somebody to let us into the left lane.”
With a sigh, I think about it for a moment.
Am I ready for this?
Well, I’m ready to stop looking over my shoulder at every turn and start looking ahead to the future—a future that seems to include Nick. And if controlling my slayer in front of a bunch of vampires will enable me to do that? Sign me up.
I suppose I could delay this confrontation until I’m feeling a little more secure in my ability to contain my alter ego. Except I don’t think I want to do that. I’ve already spent too much of my life procrastinating, avoiding the hard stuff, putting off the tough conversations, and in retrospect, it’s only ever made things worse. It’s time to make things better .
In a way, tonight isn’t just about conquering my slayer. It’s about conquering all the worst aspects of myself.
And honestly? Over the past week, I’ve faced off against demons a whole lot scarier than my slayer. Or any vampire for that matter. And I’ve managed to come out on top.
“I’m ready,” I say. “But…”
“But?” prods Liv.
Looking from one of my friends to the other, I suddenly start to have doubts. Not about me but about them. Or rather about the wisdom of them coming along.
“But maybe you should just drop me off at the Whisky,” I say. “Maybe you shouldn’t come inside with me.”
“What?” says Heather.
“What are you talking about?” says Liv.
“It’s just…we don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“Exactly,” says Heather. “Which is why we’re going to have your back.”
“We’re your ride or die,” says Liv.
“And I don’t want the die part to become literal,” I say. “If anything happened to either of you—”
“Stop,” says Heather. She turns around in the driver’s seat to face me—which sounds risky, but it’s not like she needs to watch the road. The traffic has gotten so thick that we’re at a total standstill. Three green lights have come and gone without us moving an inch. “Stop right there,” she says. “Because however you’re about to end that sentence? That’s the way we feel about you too. So no way are we letting you face this alone.”
“Friends don’t let friends walk into a club full of vampires without backup,” says Liv.
I could fight them on it, of course. But even with my supernatural sword of flames, I’m not sure I’d win this battle.
“Well, okay,” I say slowly. “But I think we need to set some ground rules for tonight.”
“Ground rules?” echoes Heather.
“Like what?” asks Liv.
I do a quick mental review of everything I’ve learned this past week.
“Once we get out of the car, we can’t talk about slayers or vampires or anything like that,” I say. “Vampires have supersensitive hearing, so they could be listening to anything we say. We don’t want to blow my cover.”
“What if we use code words?” ask Liv.
“Code words?” I ask.
“Instead of ‘vampire,’ we could say ‘accountant,’” says Liv. “Or ‘mechanic.’ Or ‘fishmonger.’”
“No,” says Heather. “No code words.”
“Hand gestures?” asks Liv.
Heather rolls her eyes at Liv and looks at me. “We’ll watch what we say. What else?”
I think for a beat. “Remember, vampires also have something called influence . They can get into your head—literally. I don’t know exactly how it works, but I’m thinking maybe we should avoid making eye contact with anyone but each other.”
“I can do that,” says Liv.
Heather shrugs. “Tonight, I’ve only got eyes for you two.”
“And what else?” asks Liv.
I’m sure there are about a million other things I should be warning my friends about, but I can’t think of any of them. All I can think is…
“You’re the best,” I say, trying not to choke up. “Really. Both of you.”
“No, you are,” says Liv. She makes a face to keep things from getting too weepy.
“No, you are,” I return with a grin, grateful for her lighter vibe.
“If only flattery got you anywhere in LA traffic,” grumbles Heather, turning back to the road.