H.T. Night's 8-Book Vampire Box Set (89 page)

Just like I expected, there was no one in
the bar except a couple of the regulars, old guys who would talk
your ear off about politics and the state of the American economy,
if you let them. Not tonight, I thought. I walked to the bar area
and Megan was behind the bar, looking as hot as ever. She was
wearing a hot, black skin-tight top with a pair of cut-off jeans
shorts. The girl sure knew how to get a tip.

“Hey, Tommy, have a seat, cutie.” She seemed
genuinely glad to see me; she was probably bored to tears listening
to the old men talk about elections. I caught some of their
conversation in dribs and drabs. It was tedious.

“Trust me, Megan, there is only one cutie in
this bar and it sure as hell isn’t me,” I said, as I planted my
butt on the high barstool.

Megan smiled at me flirtatiously and said,
“Jonesy is looking hot tonight.”

“Yes, he is. No one but Jonesy is quite able
to pull off the old-school MacGyver mullet hairdo and mix and match
it with a Vincent Price goatee and Elvis sideburns. What’s not to
love?”

She laughed. “That’s for sure. What can I
get you, Fighter Boy?”

I hesitated and then said, “I’ll have a
Patron. Make it a double shot. Neat.” Sometimes, I like to order a
drink to impress, but it’s hard to impress a bartender with
anything but a tip.

“Sure thing.” Megan grabbed a Patron bottle
from the back of the bar. She had to tilt up her body to get the
bottle and thank God she did. I caught a glimpse of an ass cheek.
Wow, that did the trick! I would put that image in my mental vault
and whip out that baby as needed in times of solitude.

I’m not a pig, so I definitely didn’t let on
to Megan that I was pretty turned on by her little
reach-up-to-grab-a-bottle performance. A woman like Megan knows
she’s hot and works it for all she’s got. I’m sure the ass cheek
slid out on purpose from her tiny cutoffs. If I was to comment, it
would just put me in a category of every hard-up creep who comes in
here looking to hit on a defenseless lady bartender. If Megan
didn’t work here and I had met her out in the real world, I might
have hit on her. But there was no way I would do anything other
than harmless flirting. I make it a point not to shit where I eat.
Shiners was my home away from home and I took it seriously that I
should not get involved with the employees. No matter how cute.

Megan turned around and poured me a double
shot and set it in front of me along with a couple of limes and a
salt shaker.

“You know me so well, Megan.”

“I aim to please.”

“I know you do.” I put a little salt on my
wrist and cut a lime in half. “Here’s to the new year!” I licked
the salt, downed the double shot and sucked the lime. It went down
smooth, Patron always does. “Slow night?” I asked.

Megan smirked at the idiocy of my obvious
question. “I expected it,” she said. “I have no idea why the owner
even has this place open. He gives us two vacation days,
Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

“Well, I’ll tip you good.”

“I know you will, you always do,” Megan
looked over my shoulder and then paused. “Don’t look now, Tommy,
but a ‘Ten’ just walked in and she’s all alone.”

“Wow, a ‘Ten’ even.” I didn’t look
around.

“She’s hot. I’d do her.” Megan said.

“She’s either really hot, or really nasty,”
I said, under my breath. Hot girls tend to make out with
odd-looking chicks at parties. There’s something about a bad,
genuine hard-ass chick that turns on straight girls. But that sort
of girl does nothing for me.

“She definitely hot! Turn around, you
chicken-shit.”

“I’m not chicken-shit, I’m savoring the
moment. I like to pace myself.”

“Well, Mr. Pacer, you blew it. She just
left.”

“You’re fucking kidding me.” I turned around
and saw the door close. I looked at Megan and gave her a look that
said ‘this girl better be worth going to the parking lot to check
out.’

“Go see for yourself,” she said, and began
wiping down the counter.

I got up and hurried past Jonesy and went
outside. I opened the door and right beside the door on the right
was a beautiful brunette. She was sexy in a hot Playboy centerfold
way, but still had enough girl next door in her to tell she was
grounded. At least, I hoped so, you never know with girls from
Southern California. She was looking at her phone and typing a text
message. I decided I’d better do something, too, so it didn’t
appear like I had only come outside to see her. Which I had. I took
a couple of steps to the left and pretended to text on my
phone.

I mouthed out loud what I was supposedly
texting to give the illusion I was really interested in my
make-believe text. I had to play it like I was completely unaware
of the hot brunette that I was standing next to me in the parking
lot. This kind of move hardly ever works, but it was worth a
shot.

I took my time and eventually looked over at
her to see that the brown-haired beauty and me were about fifteen
feet apart. She caught me looking in her direction and I gave my
sincerest, warmest smile. Her eyes locked in on me. Bingo! She was
interested.

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe it was just the way you
were looking at me.”

“How was I looking at you?” I said,
laughing.

“I don’t know. You looked at me like you
recognized me.”

“Sorry, I was just texting a friend and you
caught my eye.”

She nodded her head like a woman who hears
that kind of thing all the time. She stopped texting and looked up
at me and said, “Why is the bar so dead?”

“It’s usually pretty active. It is New
Year’s Day.”

“Oh yeah, it is. That’s funny, I was up
until noon last night, I took and nap and then came here. So, it
feels like the next day. Even though it’s the same day.”

“That would do it to you. Sleeping during
the day always messes up my internal body clock.”

Then something odd happened. She looked at
me with a concerned, puzzled look. I looked at her and then she
motioned toward her nose. You know, that motion people do when you
have a booger. Are you kidding me? Really? I have a big booger
hanging out of my nose? Apparently, not just a small one, she
looked at it like there was an asteroid hanging out of my nostril.
I was horrified.

She continued to stare right at my nostril
and now her face went from moderate concern to absolute horror. How
big was this booger? I finally reached toward my face and as I did
I felt a drip fall from my nose to the ground below. Holy shit, my
nose was bleeding.

“Are you okay?” she asked, rushing over to
me.

I tilted back my head and the young lady
pulled some tissue out of her purse.

“Don’t put your head back you’ll choke on
your own blood,” she said. “You need to lean forward and pinch your
nose.” She grabbed my hand and led me back inside the bar. She
walked me across the bar to the restroom area.

“It only took you five minutes for her to
punch you in the face, Tommy.” Megan yelled out, laughing, as I was
being swept off by my new brown-haired friend.

She took me into the ladies’ room. She was
still holding my hand while she opened the door to the bathroom.
The first thing I noticed was that there were no urinals and all of
the stalls had doors. There was even a little table with a plant on
top. Are you kidding me? The men’s bathroom was disgusting, and
this bathroom looked like a room at the Hilton.

“Lean over the sink,” she said. “Why is your
nose bleeding? Did you get into a fight?”

I pinched my nose and leaned over the sink.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Damn! Even their mirror was
bigger! The blood flow seemed to be slowing.

“You have a name, bleeder?” the woman asked
wiping my nose for me. She leaned in and wow, she smelled
incredible. She smelled like vanilla and I liked vanilla a lot.

“My name is Tommy.”

“Tommy? Is it short for Thomas?”

“No, and that wouldn’t be short. The two
names are almost just as long.” I counted the letters in my
head.

“Okay, smartass. You never answered me. Is
there a reason why you’re bleeding all over me?”

I owed her an explanation; I mean after all,
she had brought me into the women’s bathroom. “I’m a professional
mixed martial arts fighter and sometimes my nose just unexpectedly
bleeds. It has to do with the fact I’m constantly losing
weight.”

“A professional fighter?” her eyes lit up.
“Nice. That is about the most interesting thing I’ve heard all
day.”

“Is it more interesting than a guy bleeding
in front of you, seconds after meeting him?”

“No, that definitely was more interesting.
You’re two for two in the intrigue department.”

“What about you, Florence Nightingale? Do
you have a name?

“Yes, I do.” She continued to wipe my
face.

“Well...”

“My name is Sasha.”

“Sasha?” I asked.

“Yeah, I know it sounds like a stripper
name, but it was the name I was born with. I’m Argentinean and my
parents were trying to be more American.”

“Bambi or Bubbles wasn’t on your parent’s
radar?”

She laughed. “I guess there are worse
stripper names. I should be thankful.”

“I don’t think it sounds like a stripper,
more like a villain in Batman.”

“There you go. I could be Catwoman’s twin
sister.”

I finally took over and wiped my nose. “Not
too many American girls would do the whole hot-nurse bit routine.
So, I do have to give it up to Argentina.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all American, I was
born here. My parents are from Argentina.”

“Well, be sure to thank them for me. They
raised an outstanding young lady.”

“Wow, you lay it on thick, don’t you?”

“In any other case, that would be an
accurate statement, but in this case, I couldn’t be any more
serious.”

“You’re sweet.” And then she finally did it.
She gave me the ‘I think you’re hot too’ look.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. It was the
least I could do.

Sasha looked at me in a way a girl does
right before she makes the ‘I’ll hang with you for the next couple
hours’ look. “Sure,” she said. “And you’re in luck. The bleeding
has stopped.”

“That’s good. It would give a whole new
meaning to a Bloody Mary.”

“Now, that’s just gross.”

“Hey, you’re the one who got intimate with
my nose, minutes after meeting me.”

Sasha shook her and laughed and swung open
the door. I looked at my nose in the mirror and it was bright red.
Nice, I look like Rudolph.

Sasha stepped outside the bathroom and took
a seat at one of the many empty tables in the bar. I followed her
and yelled out, “Megan, two more shots of Patron.” I decided to
look at Sasha to see if tequila was okay.

“Patron sounds good,” Sasha said, “and a
beer chaser would be great. I only like imported beer; I’m girlie
like that.”

“Okay, green bottle it is,” I shouted one
more time to Megan. “Make those two shots and 2 green bottles.”

“Wow! Fancy, Tommy. She must have cleaned
you up real good!” Megan winked at me.

I ignored the comment.

Megan made the drinks and brought them over
and Sasha and I talked and laughed for the next couple of hours
until Megan yelled out ‘last call.’

Sasha told me she was a waitress at a coffee
shop in Brea. She had gone to nursing school, but had to quit, due
to lack of funds. We joked and laughed and made fun of just about
everything we could think of. She was my kind of chick; she could
dish it out and seemed to be up for anything.

The bar closed down and I walked Sasha out
to her car. I hadn’t drunk any alcohol since the first shot when we
first sat down. I knew I had plenty of time for the alcohol to make
its way through me. I could pass a breathalyzer test any day of the
week. Sasha, on the other hand, was a buck fifteen at the most, and
she followed her shot and beer with about three more beers and two
more shots.

“You okay to drive?” I asked

“Oh, is this your big ‘don’t drink and
drive’ move, where you convince little old me to sleep over and
you’ll give me the bed and you’ll sleep on the couch?”

“Who said I would be the one sleeping on the
couch?”

“Oh, confident, are we?”

“Not confident. I just have my dates take
the couch. I find it’s the right thing to do once I’m completely
done with the seduction aspect of the evening.”

“Seduction? A girl should be so lucky!”

“Honestly, I thought I’d take you to Denny’s
to get some coffee. I don’t make it a habit to take girls to my
place right after I first meet them.”

“Oh, you live with your parents!” Sasha
began laughing hysterically. “I knew your charm came with a
price.”

“No. I live alone in a two-bedroom apartment
by myself. And, I don’t remember my parents. I was raised by my
grandparents. My grandma mostly.”

“Aww.” Sasha was really buzzed. She began
touching my face in a way that wasn’t the least bit sexy. “That
explains your Southern charm.”

“Southern charm?” Maybe Southern California
charm. There is nothing Southern about me.”

“Trust me; I’ve spent a lot of time in the
South. You would fit right in. They’re all corn-fed like you.”
Sasha then began feeling my muscles. “Damn, you’re really muscular.
How many hours a day do you work out?” She felt my entire upper
body. I eventually stopped her hands before she got to my legs and
put them by her side.

“Look, let’s go to Denny’s. You’re drunker
than I thought. We’ll hang out there until you can think
clearly.”

Sasha had taken out her keys when we first
left the bar, but now she was putting them back in her purse. “I
guess I could use some coffee. Coffee would sober me up.”

“That’s my Mustang over there.” I pointed
across the parking lot at my bad boy.